When you’re handed your Bachelor of Arts degree, it comes with several things: pride in your craft, a new societal standing, and years of crippling debt. But strangely, what it doesn’t come with is street cred.
What is street cred, you ask? Short for street credibility, it’s the respect you garner from the survival of your surroundings and the thriving within. For instance, someone who was born on the streets of Detroit selling smack to feed his or her ten siblings and can hold a handgun sideways when involved in a shoot-out with a rival gang member would typically have more street cred than, say, a post-collegiate suburban quasi-hipster white woman whose main concern is that she will not be off work from her editing job in time to catch the buy one get one half-off sale at Ann Taylor Loft.
Ohmygodsocute.
What’s a girl to do? You can’t help that you were born in a neighborhood that fed into a fully accredited public school and that you learned to drive on a Saturn, nor was it your fault that your shoulders are sloped perfectly for frequent pastel cardigan-wearing.
Or for tasteful necklaces.
The easiest way to combat the lack of street cred is to earn it in full force, and the fastest way to do that is to kick someone’s ass. Now, sensible woman that you are, you know you can’t just go around kicking anyone’s ass, lest you inadvertently thrash up a nun who is having her habit dry cleaned. You have to step out of your comfort zone a little, because if there’s one thing that a dependency on kitten heels in your wardrobe guarantees, it’s that a scrap will not easily find you.
Trouble repellant.
You don’t want to start throwing ‘bows with someone you know, though – that just makes you look like an unstable lunatic, and then who will want to go to the Passion Pit show with you? Instead, you have to use the age old formula for fights: alcohol and culture clash.
Step 1: Choose the locale.
The best place to have a good ol’ fashioned pub brawl is in the white trash section of town. So how do you know where that is?
White Trash Neighborhood Checklist:
- Bar with no windows
- A marina titled with someone’s first name
- More than one tire store per any given block
- A 7-11 that has been converted into a church
- Signs for palm readings
"You make weak financial decisions."
Go to the bar furthest off the road, as it will probably be populated with true locals (you may have to bribe the Shell station clerk with a boob touch for this information); if the walls are wooden planks and it smells like Winstons then you’re in the right place.
You may also see this man.
Make sure you have a friend with you. You may not survive unless you travel in a pack.
Step 2: Select your target.
It should be someone of your same race, gender, and sexual preference (or you could be charged with an alleged hate crime), no matter if you think you could take the Asian lesbian spitting cigar bits onto the floor in the corner of the bar (note: you can’t).
You don’t want her to be too young (as 22-year-old women typically have strong fingernails and a disposition of invincibility), nor do you want to go too old (because fair is fair, and cat-scratching a septuagenarian, no matter how much she watches FOX news, ain’t).
"Did you know a colored man is president?"
Thirty-something is usually a good choice, for the following reasons: she’ll have slower reflexes but will not be seen as defenseless, plus she’s probably had children, which decreases her will to survive to continue the race. That’s just evolution, baby.
How do you know if your target is a true white trash maven and not a disguised suburban post-collegiate? Check her name beforehand. If it’s Destiny, Cheyenne, Misty, or any name that doubles as a gemstone, you’re in business.
Just be sure to not pick a woman with bleach blonde hair that has clearly been blasted with Aussie Scrunch Spray, because she will show no mercy.
Shudder.
Step 3: Start said fight.
Usually this is the easy part, since white trash ladies are primed to want to kick your school-book-learn-ed-ass up and down the boulevard without much prompting from you anyway.
There are a few courses of action you can take:
1. Snicker at her Coach purse as she walks by.
Q: What if she doesn’t have a Coach purse?
A: White trash women will always own a Coach purse.
Like a moth to a flame.
2. Announce loudly that you can see her “scar from her Caesarean” in her “midriff top.” This works especially well if she is not wearing a midriff top.
Bingo.
3. Announce loudly your affection for MSNBC and its unbiased broadcasting.
It's like looking into the face of an angel.
Avoid lofty insults (i.e., “Someone’s looking a little nouveau riche this evening.”) – you have to go straight for the adolescent smackdown. If you’re out of verbal slights, just look over in their general direction and whisper with your drinking partners. Then let nature take care of the rest.
Step 4: The Challenge.
“WHAT’RE YOU TALKIN ‘BOUT MEH?!”
“BE-ITCH, I WILL KICK YUR AYUSS!”
“YOU GOT SOMETHIN’ TAH SAY, LITTLE BE-ITCH?!”
Any variation of the above phrases constitutes an invitation to come to blows. You can respond by either a confirmatory, Yeah, so?, or a simple, Maybe I do, or, if you’re feeling terribly bold, the go-to Suburban White Lady passive-aggressive catchphrase, Well, I’m sorry you feel that way.
Be sure to have this look on your face.
By this point she will have thrown a minimum of seventeen swear words, called your outfit ugly (white trash women never appreciate floral babydoll dresses and patterned Target hosiery), and demanded that you step outside to the parking lot.
Shit's about to get ugly.
Step 5: Prep.
Remove all expensive jewelry. Even if you’re wearing a semi-precious cocktail ring that you think would be a vital aid in causing Amber nasal septum deviation, consider the time and effort it will take to replace it. How long ago did you purchase it? Would it still be in stock? Could you devote yourself to finding it on the internet? Remember, you can always buy a new nose for yourself, but the garnet-encrusted cocktail ring from éclectique Mélange is going to be a huge pain in the ass to track down out of season.
Too cute to be permanently fused to a girl named Amber's face.
Have your friend quietly call the cops.
Take off sequined belt.
It's ass-whoopin' time.
Step 6: The Battle.
You don’t have long to build up a rage whereas your white trash contender has had her whole life to be pissed off at your middle-class privilege, so think fast. What gets your goat? People who take up two parking spaces with non-fuel efficient vehicles? Knowing that Rob Thomas has three Grammys and some people have never even heard of Joni Mitchell? The fact that Arrested Development was canceled? The world is full of injustice, so you have to pick one and get fired up.
The face of rage.
The rest won’t be easy, but you have a lot of advantages. Pull her inexorably long hair and tell her you think Brad Paisley is a sub-par songwriter. Kick her in the shin and holler, “That’s for the McCain-Palin sticker on the back of your Mustang!” You’ll probably get a little bloodied up through her stunning use of acrylic nails, but if you can just keep that picture of Jason Bateman is in your head, there will be no stopping you.
Until the cops come.
Step 7: Dealing with the police.
You may think this is a disadvantage to getting in a bar fight, but if you want street cred, it has to be documented, plus they’ll be able to pull an irate Crystal off of you, who is pissed that you ripped her Confederate flag babydoll tee.
It took many gas station visits to find the perfect one.
Being the nice suburban gal that you are, you know how to start crying when speaking to authority figures, unlike Crystal, who will still be yelling obscenities at the “muther-fuckkin” deputy who is stuffing her in the back of the cop car.
I needed a good excuse to post this picture.
Sure, they’ll probably take you down to the station, but you can coo at the booking officer enough to sway him to believe that you were unprovoked and acting in self-defense. Besides, even if they don’t buy it, your friend’s brother is a lawyer and he can probably have it knocked down to a disturbing the peace charge anyway.
Step 8: Collect street cred.
The best way to spread this is to drop is subtly; you can’t just launch into a story all willy-nilly about how you were in a bar fight, otherwise, you look like you’re making it up. So say something along the lines of, “Oh, no, I can’t have a beer. I’m – I’m sort of on probation. No, no, it’s a long story. You don’t want to hear it, believe me. It’s, it’s just so awful what I did.” And then, when they prompt you, act uncomfortable and excuse yourself to the bathroom to retouch your Lancome bronzer. Have the friend that was there offer up the details. The best street cred is the kind that gets spread – purportedly – on its own.
I said, Gott DAMN, you are gansta.
Ghent Girl Raves. 
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