I transcribed Sam's list of losers from How I Survived High School for you zyber-lamoes

A lot of you ask me, you look as like a role model, you say to yourselves, "How does sam get the hot girls and the cars and he's got a position in life that I'm envious of? What was this guy's deal in high school?" You're looking at me saying to yourselves, "This guy's a nerd. How can he possible be as cool as he is, he's obviously a nerd." The story that I relate to people is the story of how I survived high school, my formative years.

You know that old classic nightmare, the one everyone's had at least once? You know the drill by now; You wake up, and WOW, you're in class but somethings wrong. Holy cow! It's your pants! You're not wearing any! You're only in your underbriefs. Either that, or your most embarassing pair of spandex pants. Maybe even all the pretty girls you like are there with front row seats, laughing up a gigglestorm at your shorts. Everyone hates you. Why you? Why me? Why are they doing this? Why oh why did my mom forget to lay out my trousers this morning. Stupid mom. And then it stops. Then you wake up. Everything is a-okay, good, all clear, right on. You're in your nice warm bed, and your clothes, and yes, even your trousers are arranged nicely and warmed up by your dear loving mother. You smell a delicious breakfast banquet wafting into your room from the kitchen. You'll leave the house fully dressed no doubt, and make it through the day with all of your classmate friends, buds, and pals too. After class maybe you'll walk home with some friends of yours by the side of the river, and they'll all compliment your style of trousers and undergarments, and cool japanese gadget attachments all over your overcoat. As the sun starts to set and you all part ways, heading home and waving goodbye and looking forward to another formative day in high school, as you walk home there's no longer a trace of that bad dream you had earlier.

Well for me this is no silly dream. This was no "night terror" that I could simply have just "waited out" and woken up from into warm blanket and a morning greeting. This was no load of bologna community college-style self help "I'm going to wake up mid-dream and take hold of the situation" dream diary type thing. This was my real, everyday life. I was there in class being held upside down by my classmates, totally pantsed, lobster red, whipped into a real sweat from embarassment, as all my fellow classmates and my teacher pinched and prodded my feelings into a tizzy, and dunked my head in a bucket of the brown stuff, chocolate milk.

High school was more than a nightmare for me. I'm talking personally right now. It was something more like H-E-double hockey sticks. I was burned and seared by cool kids from the moment I stepped in the halls. Hot jocks sprayed extra-sour super blue razz Gogurt directly into my face as soon as that first bell tolled. Something was dreadfully wrong, but I was too busy getting stripped down to my skipperous pantaloons and dunked headfirst into every single toilet in a 5 mile radius to even stop and think. Welcome to my world, and boy is it a world of hurt.

Good old Hilltop High, where the ruling class jocks and "Sensi", which is short for sensually hot girls, lord over the social toilet. You got nerds, you got your no-life cybernauts, you got your ugly wimps, you got your crud-for-brains, you got supernerds, you got zyber-lamos, you got super-duper bad-at-sports weaklings, you got weak hearted-wimplings, you got bug collector kids, you got left-over paper bag sack lunch dweebs, you have stupid kids, you have oatmeal raisin losers, you got failed goths, you got super zany troll experts, facebook commentators ("Zuckernerds"), facebook likers, kids who talk about how they don't have TV at home, kids who talk about how they listen to NPR at home, raised by anime, Goku freaks, lunchroom wanderers, toilet swimmers, toilet divers, kids with rashes, tween bumblerboys, trash heap garbage kids, prom clowns, prom jesters, lunchroom floor dweebs, snot nosed idiots, scoundrel humble-beggars, pump-happy iron pounders, rump-slumping bumblebabies, badly-dressed geektards, gothic style proto Invader Zim trolls, classroom masturbators, classroom chameleons, California Raisins fans, raised-by-tumblr kids, pantsless fools, and the list goes on and on. And guess what? I literally fit into every category.

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