The term "social score" can be quickly defined as a person's standing in society. It determines who your friends are, the places you hang out, the kind of opportunities that will arise for you in the future, and even how your significant other looks (if you're superficial like that, which I, for one, am absolutely not. I'd date nickels no matter how successful I became.)
Shallow or not, this kind of human behavior is inescapable. Starting at birth, we're forced to learn the rules of this communal social labyrinth, figuring out how to proceed through its murky and unfair waters as we go. Eventually, we begin to grasp different cues, using that knowledge to develop as social creatures.
Since much of an adult's social class depends on where they stand economically, it's no secret that this article could be as short as saying, "Be Rich." Unfortunately, that's simply not possible for many. I can relate to those who weren't lucky enough to be born into wealth. Not that I grew up in poverty; Lol, EW! I had it worse, much worse: I was the poorest of the rich.
You may have grown up malnourished - wondering where your next meal would come from - but you've never had to cancel a pool party after word got out you had an above ground, forcing you to foreclose all your friendships and move schools to save you from the embarrassment your parent's brought upon your name…
For people like us - the poors - we're forced to find ways around our lack of funds in a creative way.
Excuse me, do what? Be yourself? What's your end goal with that? Be yourself straight into minimum wage? Jesus Christ…I'm talking about real-life advice here. Put down the children's books; Dr. Seuss lied. How do you think he became so filthy rich? Certainly not by being Theodor Seuss Geisel...
Listen, I’m not here to waste your time by feeding you bullshit lines I stole from the Kardashians:
For 26 years now, I’ve been living far above my social worth. I can assure you I don’t get invited to do things because of my 2009 Honda Fit. I’ve had to adapt, learn, and evolve with the times.
Here, I plan on sharing the knowledge I’ve acquired over my lifetime, providing you with four concise tips to boost your social score. You can think of it as a social Experian of sorts…Let's dive right in:
1…Dropout of Harvard
Off the cuff, this may sound a little complicated and counterintuitive; Just stick with me for a moment…
Common knowledge tells us that dropping out of school is a sure-fire way to be viewed as a loser. Typically, that may stand true, but seeing as though you’re playing from behind, “playing it by the book” isn’t going to get you where you need to be. Like a professional blackjack player, we have to find any edge we can get. For that reason, dropping out of college is normally a bad idea unless you’re a Harvard dropout.
By dropping out of Harvard, you’re making the statement, “I’m smart enough to attend Harvard but choose not to because it’s not a good use of my time.”
"But I’m not smart enough to get into Harvard."
Trust me, I get it. I graduated from Central Michigan University, which places my IQ somewhere between the guy who used Flint water to wash down lead-based paint chips as a child, and that character Cuba Gooding Jr. plays in the movie, Radio.
JESUS CHRIST, NO...well, yes, technically the Gooding Jr. character was an African American...but no...
ALRIGHT, THAT'S ENOUGH! Is this who my fan base is made up of? Will someone please get this man out of my article before he says something else inappropriate? I'm not going to stand for bigotry, not even from my own followers.
Oh, wow...Thought there were more people behind that speech bubble...Alright, fine; Let him back in...
The point I’m trying to make is that if there’s a will, there’s a way. Lucky for you, I’ve found that way. What many don’t know is that Harvard now offers classes online for free or a small fee (which can be refunded):
By enrolling in a Harvard course, you are, technically, a Harvard student. After that, milk it for every bit of social currency you can get. Put it on your LinkedIn resume, buy a Harvard sticker, tell your friends and family...
“That’s not real. That doesn’t count…”
Not real? Have you taken a look around you lately? We’re living in a simulation (which, by the way, I’m intelligent enough to understand because I dropped out of Harvard).
Reddit - a site that simultaneously offers parenting advice and a wide selection of fairy porn - has manipulated the stock market.
A reality TV star won the presidency, got kicked off Twitter, was commonly accused of being worse than a man who exterminated millions of Jews, gained a cult following of questionable alt-right characters who may or may not be into the guy who exterminated millions of Jews, pardoned Lil Wayne and Kodak Black, and then lost the presidency to the more progressive guy who said poor kids are just as bright as white kids.
...Yet you're concerned about the validity of HarvardX? Nothings real anymore. Just go with it, have enough confidence in the things you say, and people will fall in line. You’re a Harvard dropout, Goddammit. Start acting like one.
2…Delete Your Instagram App (For Poor Men)
"But how am I supposed to show off all the cool things I’m doing?”
Listen, Chris - I’m not sure if you already forgot, but you’re poor. How do you expect to compete with Max after he posts about being in Miami South Beach for the 5th time this year? For God’s sake, your last post was the new “putter” you got for disc golf, A.K.A. golf you should keep to yourself.
Is your goal to freak out the kids at the nearby playground every time you hit the course? If so, you’re doing a great job. Because by the looks of the 1994 Nissan Vera you pulled up in and the ominous backpack on wheels - filled with more frisbees than any one adult should ever own - it feels as though you and the boys are starting a national school shooter convention.
Deleting your Instagram app promotes the notion that the things other people are doing pales in comparison to whatever mysterious stuff you’ve got going on. Most likely, that’s just you cleaning your Riley Reid vagina-inspired pocket pussy, but for all they know, you’re laying pipe, non-stop.....on your Riley Reid anal inspired pocket pussy:
Now the next time you hang out with Max, and he starts his story with, “I’m sure you saw I’ve been in Miami for the past three weeks…” you can cut him off, telling him you had no idea.
Congratulations - You’re officially in the driver’s seat. Now bring up how you attended Harvard, you pretentious little superstar, you.
3…Don’t Get Pregnant (For Baddies w/High Aspirations)
Upon college graduation, hot chicks everywhere are faced with a decision that could determine the future of their social status. While men sadly join the workforce in hopes of finding a fulfilling career, sorority girls across the nation are left to answer the almighty question: To baddie, or not to baddie?
It's admirable for an attractive woman to join the workforce, opting to climb the corporate ladder with the use of her superior IQ and work ethic. But what's arguably more admirable is when that same woman takes a leap of faith to chase her ultimate dream: To never work a day past 25.
Although you've already been laying down the groundwork in college - posting thirst traps and possibly even dipping your toe in the waters of paid travel (not to be confused with being an escort) - the real work begins after graduation. The second you walk off that stage, your prime is already starting to slip away.
The average shelf life of a baddie is comparable only to that of an NFL player's career: 3.3 years. This narrow window is a direct result of the sea of baddie hopefuls that graduate every semester, looking to take your spot.
It's a tricky maze one must navigate. Stay in the game too long and risk becoming one of those lady's who chain-smokes cigs at the local watering hole, hoping to catch an old, rich divorced man. But settle too early and get fertilized by the first guy with sleeve tattoos and a leased Mercedes C-Class Coupe, and you'll find yourself trying to convince social media that living with his parents is only temporary until you find the right lot to build your dream house on.
If you ever want to trade in the pit bull (you bought for aesthetic reasons who's more than likely named King) for a hypoallergenic labradoodle, you must avoid the frauds. They're all around us. In fact, they're more than likely reading this article right now.
God forbid you arrive at one of my friend's lake houses and mistake me for someone who also has money. It won't be long until you find yourself waiting outside in the cold while I throw away the half empty water bottles occupying the passenger seat floor of my 11-year-old Honda Fit.
"Things can only get better from here," you think to yourself as we leave the local Planned Parenthood together.
Wrong.
Just wait a few weeks when I follow up with a Venmo request for 75% of the procedure because I'm "low on cash this month." That'll change your "pro-life" view. Either that or catch a C-section for a future section 8 baby.
I'm not going to sugar coat it. This is no longer high school - Getting pregnant back then would at least provide you the time to bounce back before your prime. But let the wrong guy's swimmers cannonball into your public pool at age 27, and it's game over. You're trying to get your own cookbook, not your own parenting blog:
Just remember to never settle and keep your aspirations high. Pursue more emoji airplanes in your Instagram bio. Find inspiration where you need it. If you manage to navigate it correctly, you may just be lucky enough to keep this going as long as Larsa Pippen.
4…Put Up Tasteful Art Celebrating Your Alcohol Addiction
In today’s society, people love to celebrate those who find “enlightenment,” choosing a life of sobriety over intoxication. However, what society leaves out is that permanent sobriety (not to be confused with temporary sobriety used for attention on Instagram) is a social death sentence.
I mean, why do you think so many former addicts find God? Is it because the holy spirit is better than the tab of acid you just got from - who you assumed - was the bathroom attendant? Of course not - God wins by default because he’s the only one sticking around.
“Yeah, well maybe the friends you lose aren’t your real friends at all.”
Is that right? Well, when you find God and his senior altar boy, Virgin Ben, as your only two friends after swapping your addiction to cocaine with Christ, don’t question why things got a little stale.
Does that make the people who didn’t stick around “bad friends?” I don’t know...wouldn’t you be a little disappointed if your friend with the season tickets to the LA Lakers invited you to a game, only to come to find out he got rid of them, opting to buy nosebleeds to the LA Sparks game instead?
As for the rest of us - fun people - alcohol and drugs are the only way we know how to take pleasure in this meaningless life of ours…not to say enjoying life sober isn’t at all possible. What kind of parent doesn’t want to hang out with their kids, watch them grow, and have tea parties in the living room with Mr. Scruffles and the gang...but then again, you know what would really spice up this tea party? Mimosas and...
Next thing you know, you and Mr. Scruffles - the stuffed animal from Build-A-Bear Workshop that plays an audible “I love you,” recorded by your dead mother-in-law when you hug it - are taking shots of Bacardi and ripping lines in the bathroom while your daughter fixes a new pot of tea - or whatever the fuck she’s doing; You haven’t actually seen her in hours.
Fun is waking up that next morning with zero recollection of the events that transpired after yesterday’s mid-day tea party turned into a full-blown blackout. As the alcohol begins to seep out of your pores and reality creeps in, you quickly realize you haven’t seen your daughter since you and Mr. Scruffles bailed on her underwhelming get together and drove to the local bar.
Panic ensues. You’re praying that she’s in her bed and not floating face down in the pool. You sprint down the stairs only to be met by your wife and daughter at the front door, bags packed, leaving you for one final time….
Strangely, a sense of relief pours over you. "Thank God," you think, the last thing you needed to tank your social score was a news article about how your kid drowned in an above ground pool.
"Where are you going with this?"
As we mature, so must the ways we present our addictions to those around us. Offering someone a Four Loko in a dark, mold-infested basement is no longer an acceptable way to persuade others to partake in your destructive behaviors. And although putting all those empty fifths of Burnett’s on top of your cabinets and taping 30-rack boxes to your wall in college was an attractive way to have others join you in drinking, the time comes when you’ll need to grow up.
The rules are simple: Put together a stocked bar, and surround it with high-class art romanticizing liver failure. Perhaps imagery of stilettos and champagne:
Or maybe even something like my personal favorite, a picture of old celebrities drinking:
But the choices aren’t limited to just Frank. Add a feminine touch with someone like Marilyn Monroe:
AHHHDAHAHAHADHADHADHAH, WHO CARES! Fuck you, Chris. If you're going to be such a Debbie-downer about everything I have to say rather than appreciate the hard work I've put into helping you become a more materialistic person, then I'll end this here. Congrats, I hope you're happy. You've ruined it for everyone.