Orange County California is by far one of the greatest places to live in the country. From the consistent, near-perfect weather to some of the most beautiful people on the coast, it’s easy to get comfortable in these picture perfect suburbs.
In fact, it’s so perfect that there isn’t much of a demand to escape the OC until it’s too late. People have been known to lose their minds and to dive off the deep end in such flawless conditions.
From 4th of July in Newport, to worldly travels to Las Vegas, it often feels like you’ve seen it all while not being exposed to anything new for over a decade. Think we’re crazy? Here are the 12 signs that you might not ever leave the OC:
You’ve gotten into a brawl at Del Taco.
God forbid anyone roll up to Del Taco for a Macho Combo listening to Avenged Sevenfold. You know you’ve lived in the OC for too long if you’ve been fighting with the same kids from high school or different kids still in high school at the Mexican drive-thru. Communication is only 20% verbal. Fighting words only consist of a darker tint and rims bigger than yours. It’s on.
The farthest you’ve traveled in the last six years is Las Vegas or Lake Havasu.
The world is a beautiful place. From Mykonos in Greece to Lake Como in Italy, there’s a lot of ground to cover to absorb some culture into your bloodstream. Unfortunately, the fact that your passport only contains receipts from Las Vegas and Lake Havasu only confirms the fact that you’ve been in the OC for too long.
You’ve spent more years in OCC than high school.
Orange County College is the academic Bermuda Triangle. There have been brave souls with such promise and hope that never made it out to see the light of day again. What’s supposed to be a stepping stone towards the Cal State or UC programs ends up being the last set of books you’ll ever see. You know that awkward 40-year-old asking impertinent questions 30 seconds before the class is over? Yeah, that could be you.
You’ve made that sketchy trip into Tijuana for Somas.
Have you ever heard of the term ‘hotboy’? From that sketchy walk back over the border, the visits to the transvestite-filled strip clubs, and the mandatory stops at some of the sketchiest pharmacies in the world, there is nothing that tests your manhood like a trip to TJ with the bros.
You’ve been dating strippers for over a decade.
Orange County is home to perhaps some of the greatest blondes in America. Because your beloved OCC has the largest population of strippers and porn stars per capita in the entire American educational system, it’s easy to fall in love with a hooker. They’re much cheaper than their east coast counterparts, so enjoy as much as you want! Look at it this way… You can’t catch Herpes twice.
You’ve spent more on limo tints than your college degree.
Book smarts aren’t everything, but then again neither is making your BMW 3-series look special. The fake M3 plates aren’t fooling anyone. Tints are meant to keep the paparazzi from gawking at celebrities, not to hide a frail ginger smoking a bowl of Skywalker Kush.
You’re not Persian and still go to Sutra.
Costa Mesa has been trying to earn their stripes by bringing in some of EDM’s biggest acts. Following the lead of Las Vegas and dumping tons of cash into creating the facade of nightlife in their own backyard, the fancy flyers can’t fool us all. Pop bottles ’til your Persian.
You’ve been classified as straight edge, vegan and a stoner all before you could legally buy a drink.
We all go through phases, but the fact that you’ve been labeling yourself since you were 14 isn’t such a great sign for things to come. You’re just a product of your environment, right?
You don’t make it past Seal Beach.
We all know our limits in life. Like the Gaza Strip, Seal Beach proves to be the last frontier for your travels. Friday nights may consist of aimless driving through downtown Fullerton, Huntington and Newport. It’s like being stoned with an empty refrigerator. No matter how many times you hope and pray that something new will magically appear, you’re left with the same sh*t week after week.
You’ve popped bottles at the Ultra Heat Lounge more times than you’ve paid your own rent.
The sparkler in this plastic bottle of cheap vodka is all the validation that some people will ever need. The fact that a grown man has the gleam in his eye as though it’s his first time at Disneyland is tragic. Sorry to break it to you, but popping bottles hasn’t been cool anywhere in the world since 2010.
You’re a grown ass man and have nautical stars tattooed on your hips.
It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve trained with the Punishment Team. The measure of your manhood lives and dies with the nautical star tattoos so delicately placed on your hips. Yeah, we knew you were born in Riverside all along.
You refer to the girls you’ve slept with by their MySpace names.
Not to name, names… but if you’ve f*cked any girl named “Forbidden” on MySpace you might as well have dragged your own balls through the Santa Ana river. You’ll get the same horrific burn the next morning. We all had our MySpace phase, but the fact that your top 5 booty calls are still on MySpace is a sign that you need to break out of the OC.
You can bench 400 lbs, but still carry a flat iron for your hair.
What’s the measure of a man? You know that beast in the gym with more abs than you can count, he’s the same dude that knocked out your favorite professional fighter with one punch on Main Street. He’s got the strength, the looks and the girl. But the fact that he carries around a Twig flat iron to keep his hair in place is emasculating. There’s nothing that can redeem your manhood after seeing a forehead burn from the flat iron.
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