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Tons of boys line up to dance seductively, but purely, with Priscilla. She’s a beautiful girl (I refuse to use the word “sexy” to describe a 14 year old) and dances like a snake, so I can see why the boys are all there. They’re all different sizes of the same guy – fuzzy, barely-there mustaches, Affliction t-shirts, and blow outs dancing like Ron Ron.
Priscilla’s dress seams have torn and her dress is falling down, so she changes into her go-go outfit. LouAnn points out the fact that the hearts on Priscilla’s boobies and buttcheeks are like bullseyes for the boys and she works that shit like crazy. Priscilla picks out the cutest guy in the room to be her prince and Drunk Baby declares them prince and princess. So, Priscilla and this kid are going to get married based solely on looks, which is probably the most moral of their moral ideals. Pat-a-Baby tells us that this is the motherfucking party of the fucking millennium and reminds us that he dedicated the party to the sister he murdered.
Were you sent into a tailspin by the line-blurring “morals” of the gypsy people? My mind is officially blown. I can’t decide how to feel about any of this…except, of course, I do know that Pat-a-Baby is a certified molester and probably wears mirrors on his shoes to look up his own daughter’s skirt. I’m glad the same people aren’t on each week. It took me a while to get through this one – it certainly was overload. Tell me what you thought of it!
I’ve got to go scrub myself raw and cry in the shower now.
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