Avril Lavinge: Flashback Friday

By Is Vodka A Carb?

Back when Coach was still relevant and you had a tough day at school, every betch-in-training can remember just wanting Avril. She literally always got it, like, you were pretty positive you guys were homies in the deepest sense of the word. Example: when you let your zumiez loving first boyfriend go because you heard he didn’t have a pool in his backyard, you totes regretted it when he passed a note to that so chill tomboy girl in class who pretended to know how to skate. Wait, is Avril the ballerina or the sk8r girl in that song?? I thought she was the ballerina. Whatever, fuck this.

We loved Avril Lavinge mostly because she made us feel rebellious, badass and rightfully pissed off when we had tantrums on our blow up couches in our bedrooms. Plus, we totally loved that Avril said “damn” in that one song, like what a fucking rebel. Although, honestly, her kind-of-goth kind-of-normal look was never something we were into. I bet she didn’t even shop at Abercrombie that much.

Even though you were already full #AvrilForLife after she released her Let Go album, shit just got that much realer with Under My Skin. The only problem with it was the fact that you’d be listening to “Don’t Tell Me” with your Dad in the car and you’d have major anxiety that he was going to bring up that Avril didn’t just throw away her virginity and you shouldn’t either. Good thing Dad had no idea that you were making your Barbie’s bone Ken since you were in 1st grade.

Now any betch that claims that she doesn’t get secretly stoked when Avril “accidently” plays off of her iTunes is totally lying. A “Sk8r Boy” pregame song is 100% still fair game as long as there are absolutely no boys there, all the windows are closed and everyone’s pretty drunk already. Too bad these days Avril is trying to be all girly with her new music because it totally blows. Luckily I heard from an undisclosed source that actually has absolutely no connection to Avril that her next album is going back to er roots. So fingers crossed, betches, fingers crossed.




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