PP finally shows up in the front part of a semi-truck with Casey. It is labeled “wide load,” which I would think is not the best way to enter your senior prom. PP herself admits that it could be seen as redneck, but she had so much fun so screw everyone. And I love her more.
Someone needs to rethink her branding.
PROM QUEEN TIME!
The dance flashes at us for about two hot seconds, then it’s time to crown the prom queen. And the winner is. . . Blandrea. Boo!
Enjoy the pinnacle of your life, honey!
I’m so sad for PP since she really deserved it, but the Plastic Blandrea played a better game and probably swallowed a lot more DNA to get that crown. PP is a classy and gracious loser, which is extra kind considering that moment is going to be the highlight of Blandrea’s life. That’s alright, that’s okay, Blandrea will be pumping PP’s gas someday!
Can’t she just be voted America’s player?
PHEW, that was round one of Prom Queens, but gurd your loins, Gasmii, there’s another episode to enjoy! I’ll hold back the screams of anger until after the next one, just so I can finish this for you lovely readers.
This time it’s the Princess vs. the Party Girl.
Hey, girls! You both have dead eyes and minimal self-worth. Let’s party!
The scene of the crime this week is Miami. First up is “Princess” Annie, and she’s already wearing a pink tiara. Apparently she has a collection of them, but we don’t know from what. Do they give them out as consolation prizes in wet t-shirt contests? Her title card informs us that she is the Student Body Vice President (not good enough to win?), Head of Prom Committee (I hope there’s a cheating scandal!), and a Tiara-Wearing Princess (I already want to shake some sense into a bitch).
Vote for Lady Douchebag
According to Princess, she is a big ball of sunshine, to which I call bullshit. She also says that she is just a girl version of her dad, whom we now see is super old guy with a receding hairline to rival Tyra Banks’. I can only hope that future is in store for Princess. Her dad, Kenn with two Ns, is supportive to the point of practically offering to murder the competition.
“I’ve already got a bathtub full of lye ready for anyone who gets in the way.”
Our fair Princess started wearing tiaras in eighth grade and a photo montage clues us in on her style: loud. Her wardrobe is a mishmash of bright colors, and she dresses the way a 6-year-old would if you let her have her druthers. I’m surprised she isn’t just wearing a tutu and fishnet stockings with flippers on her feet.
1,000 Things I Hate About You
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