How to Become a Loser (or Did You Earn That Reputation?)

The more dysfunctional your family, the better. Most people do not have control over the family they grow up in, but you could influence your family to make it more dysfunctional than it is. After your father smacks up your mother, hunt down your little siblings and torment them. Those little brats deserve it anyway, so you may as well rationalize torture tactics that make them wish your parents never brought them into the world.

When your parents finally divorce due to the abusive nature of their relationship, the excuse for your future loserness now exists. Blame your future escapades with your buddies Jim, Jack, and Jose on the fact that you never learned how to cope with conflict due to having to suffer the kind of abuse usually saved for terrorist suspects. Of course that is in your future when you use this excuse. Now, take advantage of the privilege of youth and cause a ruckus in your neighborhood. Random acts of vandalism at night will go a long way towards shortening your neighbors' lives. You don't like them anyway, because their dogs bark all night long right outside your window. You feel justified, but what do you care, you're only thirteen.

After you become a hellion, you and your friends should begin to steal your parents' car to go joy-riding around town. Your friend's parents' van makes the perfect joy-riding mobile. Remember that you cannot just take that vehicle out for late-night spins, because even though his parents are stupid, they aren't that stupid to never catch on. Your mother is much smarter than they are, so when you take her vehicle, make sure to not do anything foolish. Push the car down the street for a block or two to make sure the unique ticking noise is not heard by anyone other than the neighbors' dog you want to kill. It may bark and wake up the neighborhood, but mice also cause the dog tell the whole world it saw something. Maybe the lonely drunk next door will put the dog out of its misery.

When you are joy-riding in your mother's car at fourteen, remember that police inhabit the roadways and are looking for drunk drivers. You are fourteen and probably do not drive much better than an inebriated grandmother. When the cop quickly pulls up behind you with berries and cherries flashing, keep going. You are scared ****less and will begin to see your life flash before your eyes. You are a thief and your mother must have caught on to your foolish deviant behavior. The cop blows his buzzer, telling you to pull over. You finally get the courage, pulling into a church parking lot, hoping that Jesus owes you one from some past life that your crazy psychedelics-popping cousin always tells you about. You hope that the holiness of the ground will save you. The cop speeds by. False alarm. You collect yourself, and continue to drive until you see signs of the sun creeping up the horizon.

Now you're sixteen years old and you have just passed your driving test. Your mother gives you the keys, thinking that this is the first time you are driving her car without her. You take off for school to show off your brand new license. After leaving school, you think it is a good idea to drive 80 in a 45, just because you can. You move to pass some old grandma probably not even moving at 25, just to have a police officer pull up at the intersection you are passing through. You have not had your license for even two hours yet and you already have been nailed for speeding. Everyone always told you how smart you were. Now you've proven it. Lucky for you, the police officer happens to be your mother's cousin. He hasn't seen you since you were five, and you did not recognize him. Apparently, he seems more than happy to elevate your blood pressure and then let you go without a warning. Kids just being kids. At least that's what he thought.

You have your license, and in a matter of two weeks, your mother buys you your first car. She was sick and tired of always planning out the schedule for the only vehicle in the house, and your growing responsibilities caring for your younger brother requires transportation. Of course it's a piece of junk, but it's yours. You will come to call it "Satan's Pile," because it seems appropriate. It's a Ford Escort and only a belief in satanic conjuring could keep that thing chugging. You write "I Break for Butterflies" on the bumper and plaster the back of the vehicle with stickers. Now you are fresh meat for police officers. More than once, a cop will pull you over. I am sure it had nothing to do with your "Satan Lives in Central Wisconsin" bumper sticker. Eventually a wheel will fall off when the wheel well caves in.

You hate high school. You think you are smarter than most people and you are probably right. A few may possess more wisdom based on your decisions, but you are definitely smarter. You continuously outwit people because you have never been caught for any of your antics. Because you think you are too smart for school, you start skipping most of your classes. College...who needs college. You would be better off wasting life to fulfill hedonistic desires. That's what you think anyway. Not that anyone ever cared what you think. Everyone knows you are on the wrong track. You don't care because you know you are smarter than everyone. Who needs the advice of others?

The new crowd of people you hang out with can never be your friends. They are antisocial deviants and will screw you over. They pay you off with baggies full of drugs. You know they rob veterinarian clinics and probably pharmacies based on the collection of chemicals they provide. You couldn't care less. You hate life. Your girlfriend bosses you around and you want to run her over with your car. "Get in the ****ing car, *****!" you exclaim wishing to rid her from your life. You dump the queen of pathetic. She reminds you that you have become a terrible person. You don't care, because you know she's right.

How does it feel to be a dropout? Even though life will prove you to be a prisoner of the consequences of your actions, you think you have been liberated. Drinking binges become a means to sedate the emptiness in your life. In times like these, you wish you could go back and right your wrongs. **** it, pass the bottle, you say. Nothing like reverting to infantile states for comfort.

How does it feel being homeless? I am sure you are enjoying yourself. Eddie the local drunk has become your buddy sharing his daily fifth of vodka. You listen to how his life used to be different. Then one day Eddie disappears. Cops must have finally found a reason to lock him up. They don't want drunks spanging on the streets. Who would have thought life could prove to be so pointless? You go to free meals trying to keep on weight. Over the next month, you lose over 50 pounds in a month while continuously feeding your system with LSD. Your friends tell you that you look like ****. What happened to you? Everyone told you that you were smart, that someday you would put your stamp on the world. Instead, you put stamps on your tongue, living within a different reality than everyone around you experiences. You see shadows of creatures that are in your head, hear voices, think the world is out to get you. Out of nowhere a wonderful idea enters your consciousness. You decide to freestyle walk on a hand rail. You forget to let go. Spinning around like you're on a horizontal bar you face-plant into the metal rail. Congratulations moron. Now you have to explain the egg between your eyes. Everyone laughs at how smart you prove yourself to be.

Pneumonia sets in and is probably caused by living in homeless shelters and one bedroom apartments housing ten people. Seeing bums with rotting feet at the homeless shelter, and witnessing orgies from your bed on the floor between the bathroom and bedroom cause you to sleep on the streets to protect yourself from further illness. You know you need to escape. You cannot live like this, and neither should anyone else. Death begins to haunt you, and you wish you would die. It would be preferable to living on the streets and being harassed by pigs. A friend visits you and tells you that she is taking you back home. She will not allow you to die after seeing you in this condition. You wonder why people help you when you do not even help yourself.

Drinking has become your pastime of choice. You and your friends play a game on an almost nightly basis called "First one to point two five wins." The first one to black-out is a winner. You like to be the winner. Then you decide from now on you will attempt to out drink the entire party combined. Seeing the potential to go out like a rock star, you decide to try drinking yourself to death. It proves to be a futile effort. Some moments prove to be memorable, but many are just the tales others tell you about yourself. You hate people like yourself. Why won't they just die?

Everything appears to be spinning. You are laid out on the concrete wondering how you got here. Two baffoons across the street seem to be laughing at you. They dare you to do it again. Whatever they want you to do again must be how you ended up on the concrete. You wish you could remember, but that seems to be a symptom of your heavy drinking. Some things are probably not worth remembering anyway. The baffoons remind you that they bet you wouldn't bulrush a car across the street. You do it again because you don't care how stupid you act anymore. A bouncer dashes out of the bar and threatens to kick the **** out of you for ramming his girlfriend's car. Lucky for you some friends are there to rescue you. You wonder how long before they will not be there anymore to bail you out of the stupid situations you put yourself in.

That's not good, you tell yourself. You know you ****ed up big time, but there is nothing you can do. Try rationalizing fleeing from an accident. Drunk as you are, you were lucky to find your car, much less drive it. The concert sucked anyway. Now you are facing your first DWI. Stupid fool. How long did you think you would get away with drinking and driving? "It will never happen to me. I am a good driver when I am drunk," you say. You knew you were lying to yourself. Even though you quit smoking cigarettes you go into the gas station to buy a pack. You thought life sucked before now. Wait until the cops come. Another vehicle slams into the back of your abandoned vehicle dumfounding you. Now you think that some higher force caused you to have an accident to take a drunk driver off the road. A cop tells you to walk a line. You stumble by and he handcuffs you. "Thanks for letting me show you I am not drunk *******," you think. They take you in for blood tests. Point two oh they say, over three hours after the accident. You feel lucky you didn't kill people.

After living recklessly for years, you decide it is time to change your life. Time for college, you say. Everyone used to tell you how smart you were. Now prove it. Every class you take, you receive an "A". It goes to your head. You decide to begin drinking again. Life seems boring to you. Everything comes too easily. The last few remaining loved ones know that you live in an illusion that your life has changed. Rather than work, you drink around your schooling. On the easiest test of the year, you receive a "B." The final class of the year and you break your four point oh. "I am a failure," you think. Your classmates celebrate the end of the year, while you see it as drinking away your misery. Why couldn't you have done better, moron?

Old patterns are easy for you to fall into. You spend the summer drinking and smoking it away. Drive drunk some more, dip****. You didn't learn the first time even though you would like to think you did. You may continue to be lucky, but it is only a matter of time before your luck runs out. You go to a party. A friend causes you to fall thirteen feet from the rafters of a garage to the concrete below at a half-barrel party. You should have died, but instead lucked out. Why won't you die? The universe must think you are important, but you are probably just smarter than it, you think. Because of the head injury you suffered, you now know the universe is smarter than you. No broken bones, but it still hurts like a son-of-a-*****. Nothing comes so easily for you anymore.

The head injury forced you to change your focus of study. Numbers no longer make sense. Thoughts seem random. One day you wake up and realize you are addicted to amphetamines and methamphetamine. So focused on your studies, you didn't realize how long you had been using drugs to cover up what you thought was your lack of intelligence. You were convinced that fall in the garage made you stupid. Your addiction proves you are stupid. Knowing that quitting will not be easy you wish to walk in front of a bus. Things would be easier then.

Liver dysfunction almost kills you. The doctors say they have no idea what the cause is. You wonder if they ever know anything. Eventually they call it non-viral hepatitis. You know they are right, because the past still haunts you. Things like this should make you reconsider your behavior. You do, but you forget. You are smarter than most so you think you know what you are doing. Continue to test fate, and eventually you will get what's coming to you.