Tap-tappity-tap-tap! Coming down the pipe as we speak, comrades. Jeesum crow, this shit is weird. We’re about to be surrounded and infiltrated by a whole gang of jack knobs donning wacked-out medieval mask-and-robe combos. Let the horse-trading of human beings commence! They’re important, these traditions! Otherwise, how would we know who among us is popular and promising? Give me candle wax and antiquated nouns or give me death.
Outgoing: Glow
Folks, pucker up and kiss that tan goodbye. Over break, you spent long, laborious hours greasing down with SPF 10 and fine-tuning your bronze. Aloe. Moisturizer. Probably other stuff I’ve never heard of. Your epidermis was a tropical-scented cocktail of pricey Neutrogena products. But it was all for naught, shitbirds. Nothing gold can stay. Sunny McTannerson, meet The Baron Von Flakenberg and his cousin Paley Palerton. If your skin tone was gonna gitchu laid, youda already done got laid. Back to the ol’ dim lighting and vodka shots maneuver.