Our colloquially disenfranchised youth of the suburbs deserve a voice not observed by the more gritty Urban Dictionary; and so, we hereby inaugurate Suburban Dictionary, offering its first entries.
Someone reduced to sitting on the curb for an ordinate period of time, unable to walk home due to the disorienting effects of marijuana.
Johnny was such a curbong yesterday, almost got run over by my dad’s lawnmower.
To cut in line at Home Depot where an attractive girl is cashiering, in efforts to attain a date, somewhat irrationally by an excessive purchase which often requires caulk.
Dude, don’t caulkblock me bro, I bought a gazebo.
To not enjoy living at the end of a cul-de-sac, either as vague existential commentary, or because it’s difficult to get to.
My life cul-de-sucks, you’re lucky you live on a normal street.
The act of defenestrating out one’s upstairs bedroom window (à la Yves Klein) into a swimming pool or pile of raked leaves; not encouraged, but highly honored when properly executed.
See this cast? Yves, bro.
To patronize Taco Bell, usually around or after midnight, somewhat gluttonously.
We were so bellin last night I woke up with hopefully sour cream on my face.
To patronize Jack in the Box, usually around or after midnight, primarily to get jalapeño poppers, as supplement to unsatisfying meal prepared by one’s mother.
That casserole sucked, I need to go jackin later.
Incorrect surname applied to only Hispanic family in the neighborhood.
Luis Lopez is really cute and sings beautifully.
Incorrect surname applied to only Asian family in the neighborhood.
Dennis Chong let me copy his algebra homework.
To be lured by one’s parents to the strip mall by the promise of procurement of desired item (video game, Slurpee, makeup, chinchilla), only to discover they only wanted you to carry something heavy (watermelon, cat litter, charcoal) back to the car.
Dad is such a strip tease. Never believe him.
An erection induced by a friend’s young step-mother; unlike the milf, she has not yet reared children.
Dude, your mom gave me a total momon when she bent for the oven. Nice brownies, btw.
An argument between siblings, and occasionally one’s father, about who is monopolizing the router when the initiator perceives compromised streaming or downloading.
Greg and I totally had a wifight just now when I tried to watch Twilight.
To cry in front of a girl while referring to a plastic bag caught in a faint cyclical wind, as demonstrated in the film American Beauty. This is often used as a third-base technique.
I bag balled my way in Kim’s pants last night while you dumbshits were jackin.
Simply not caring about the consequences of an action (e.g. urinating inside a swimming pool; consuming a large bag of Cheetos; not applying for college; removing fish from tank without plans for their return).
I’m so bored, feel like fucking it somehow.
A | A | A
1. Finding things you love doing is a very special process.
The first time I saw you, I was working in a coffee shop up in the mountains.
I want to heal people’s hurt. Make them realize it’s not a perfect world but there are still people out there, like me, who are broken but believe in love anyway. Who want to make other people happy.
Still, all of the above is still better than having a roommate, am I right #studiostrugglers?