Shutup, SCTV isn;t your own personal QVC. Stop hawking your friends shitty, tasteless products. You’re boring everyone.

Wearing a Jeremy Scott outfit is comparable to being escorted into an abandoned house in rural Alabama by a shaven transgender carnie with a suitcase packed full of clown suits that previously belonged to a New Jersey based child pornography ring. A bottle of champagne and a rail later, you’re toppled over and partially clothed in fluorescent satin as it lingers above you selecting the right gauge and lube from an “I Love Lucy” lunch box.

I wish I had a cunt, so I could buy one.