Hey! Dipshit! That girl over there? You see her? Yeah, her. She's interested in you. Not her, her, or her. I know you think you two are just friends and believe me, brother, you keep ignoring her advances, that's all you turn out to be. So, um, yeah, quit being a schlub and ask her out to coffee.
Also? Your friends? The ones you smoke pot with all the time? Yeah, you're graduating high school this year. Hate to tell you, but their bullshit is, well, bullshit. You are not going to get anywhere hanging out with a bunch of reprobates. Put the pipe down for two minutes and learn how to keep a job, smokey.
Remember how you decided to not go to Penta County Vocational two years ago? Well, it's too late to talk sense into you now (my time machine allows me to talk to my dumb ass at eighteen, not sixteen). And fuck knows that the internet in 1999 makes looking for post-high-school vocational education a drag but crack open a phone book, man. For real. Send away for some pamphlets.
Also? Move out of Mom and Dad's house before you turn twenty one, please. I know, the free rent was nice. But wait until the old man tries to put a ten pm curfew on your ass. You want to wait until then to move out? With help from some Grateful Dead fan from a Christian-owned and oriented cabinet shop you work at? No. Move out before the end of summer. I've got the address of a great place that you can afford provided your ass holds down a job.
Don't do acid. You'll hate it.
Opium is pretty great but don't do it to the point where you keep losing jobs because you'd rather stay at home and watch The A-Team and chase the dragon or whatever.
Do not go down on Greta Hale. I know, I know, you're not interested in her in the least, but in a few years, you're going to run into her at a bar. Let me just spare you the suspense, brother, she doesn't wipe and she's a mean, nasty drunk.
Get a haircut. Really. Just do it now. Grunge is already over, my man, and in a few years you won't own even one flannel shirt. You have nothing to hold on to by having long hair.
Chris Allen's girlfriend, Kelly, is crazy. Don't worry, you don't do anything stupid with her beside trying to start a band with her because she plays bass. But she'll tell Chris that you macked on her when you didn't. Also? Stay away from Chris Allen. Really. Guy has problems. Lose his phone number.
Ryan can not play drums.
Wampy can not play drums.
Jesse can not play drums.
Phil can not play bass.
Next year, you're going to meet a drummer named Karl. He can play bass better than he can play drums and he can play drums better than he can repay a loan. Start a band with him, never loan him money.
For Christ's sake, learn to cook for yourself now instead of waiting until you're twenty four.
Minneapolis is pretty cool. You'll like it there. Just go to a real school, though.
Also? You are not a size XL. Buy t-shirts that fit you goddamnit.