Scott

Last night I was at my friends' apartment. I had brought along a loaf of freshly-baked artisan bread, some delicious Denmark's Finest imported creamy havarti cheese, and a big bag of Starburst fruit chews.

My shopping process was something like this:



The treats were well-received by my very amiable hosts. One of them drew "I <3 Dane" on my bicep with a ballpoint pen. I felt so hardcore.

Then one of the girls began to panic.



"Who's coming?" we asked

"A guy from my class! I don't even know him! He knows where I live!"

Enter Scott: the exact sort of oblivious, self-centered and uncouth boor that I love to not associate with.



He was a very quotable person, with loads of personal anecdotes, racist jokes and defensive statements about his fashion. Also, he was on YouTube.



So we watched them. For thirty minutes.



My favorite Scott-isms of the evening:

"It's not that I'm no good at relationships, it's just that mine always turn out really bad."

"The king dude in the Lord of the Rings had a really patchy beard. I bet I could grow a really sweet beard if I started shaving."

"I think that I'm a really deep person for 23."

"I live at home still, but whatever."

"I love being racist."

"I also love rape."

A few of those may not exactly be direct quotes, but that is how I remember them anyways.

Then there was always this:





It wasn't long after becoming aware that Scott existed that I realized the strange feeling down in the pit of my stomach was known as 'hate'.

So while I sat on the other couch I used a laptop belonging to one of my hosts and made this short but very very satisfying comic to commemorate the occasion:

SCOTT: A BAD IDEA