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Report: I am the Most Fuckable Person in this Resky Brunch Line

After careful consideration, I have determined that by every metric both physical and immaterial I am the hottest motherfucker in a 4 mile radius of this brunch line. Fact number 1: the person on my left, a pleb without airpods in is completely unsexy in every way. What kind of fool would catch themself dead without the constant soundtrack of an Indie coming-of-age movie bumping in their head? Fact numero dos: the person to my right is obviously a virgin due to their very poor gauge of “sunday sweatstyle chic”. Adidas slides and socks are not as “lazy library day vibes”as you think. Guess you forgot we’re not on an eighth-grade field trip right now! Your feet smell ripe, your second toe is incredibly long, and you’ve never had sex.

I’m out here doing the most while looking like I’m doing nothing at all, which is incredibly hot, by the way. The amount of times I look down at my phone to pretend to text someone is exactly correlated with my pure, unadulterated fuckability, and it’s not like my phone has no notifications because nobody wants to contact me. Obviously, I can redownload Tinder at any time and instantly be swimming in it, but I’m just so tired of these apps clouding people’s souls. It’s like, when did we stop getting to know each other and start treating these tiny little pictures like our god?. Anyway, for your info, I didn’t take my airpods out to say hi to the person that waved at me because I’m avoiding the absolute disaster of them saying “how are you” and having all the uglies I’m surrounded by hearing my conversation. There’s only one convo I’m equipped for right now, and it’s the baddie on the other side of the resky zig zag asking me who I’m listening to. It’s LCD Soundsystem. Yeah, they’re pretty cool but I don’t blame you for not knowing them. James Murphy is kind of a god, they actually were supposed to headline Coachella in 2017 but the world wasn’t ready for that.

By the time I get into the dining hall, I actually feel bad for the poor saps around me. I mean how can you go on with the sheepdog after you’ve seen what the wolf’s got, if you catch my drift. All these cats have been rendered celibate for the next month just by me walking by. Oh yeah, I did look at what was being served at the vegan station just so everyone knows I’m health conscious and also have an immaculate physique before getting eggs and tots just so everyone knows I’m not stuck up and very fun to be around. And yeah, occasionally, when they run out of tots, I might start hooting and hollering, but I’ve gots to have me my tots, ok? Honestly, these squares are doing the hard work for me, this absolute loser dropped his box while trying to pick up ketchup packets. “My bad, little ketchup boy,” I yell as I step on his back to get by. Everyone would laugh in a normal year at this incredibly funny bit, but, ya know, masks and such. Bzzz. Bzzz. I can just feel the DMs pouring in. I grab my silverware on the way out the door in one swift motion, slowing my roll just enough so the entirety of the line gets a quick look at me in all my grey-sweatpanted glory. Fucking nailed it. As my guy Travis Scott says in his hit party essential OUT WEST, vibes in this bitch.


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