- I’m not going to watch it. I’m not going to watch it. I’m not going to watch it.
- Well, maybe for, like, a minute.
- But only to see if Taylor Swift actually makes out with a girl.
- Honestly, though, I’d probably make out with Taylor Swift, too.
- If I was drunk. Or sober. Or whatever.
- So, basically this is going to be an hour of me internally crying and wishing I looked like that.
- While sitting next to my boyfriend who wishes I looked like that.
- And trying to hide his boner.
- Cool. FML.
- I wonder if I still have a membership at LA Fitness.
- Do memberships expire if you haven’t been to the gym in…ever?
- I bet all of these girls have shitty personalities.
- At least I’m funny. And I can write wicked good thank you notes. I bet they don’t even write their own thank you notes.
- That means they’re totally rude. Naturally.
- These women get paid actual money for this.
- Not Monopoly money, either. Real people money.
- I would have to pay someone to let me walk around in my underwear on television.
- Or, like, get someone to pay my bail since I’d most likely be arrested for indecent exposure.
- And not having a “squat ass.”
- I’d love to challenge one of these bitches to a Chipotle eating competition.
- You versus me, skinny Angel bitch. You versus me.
- When does Ariana Grande get hit in the face?
- That will make all this torture worth it.
- Ugh, some of these girls are actually younger than I am.
- The only thing I have accomplished in life is having more than 1,000 Myspace friends.
- And these women make money for having an awesome body and wearing a million dollar bra.
- Life is really un-fucking-fair.
- Why didn’t Judy Blume write about this?
- I wonder if these Angels have ever tried pizza.
- Or red velvet cupcakes. Or pizza.
- They couldn’t have ever tried pizza. If they did, they wouldn’t look like this.
- “Yes, I want extra cheese. What do I sound like, a fucking amateur?”
- They look like goddesses while I’m sitting here in my stained T-shirt and sweatpants, instagramming a picture of the pizza I just ordered.
- And adding a caption about how I’m totally confident in my body and I don’t need to look like a sexbot to be happy.
- I’M FUCKING HAPPY WITH MY LOVE HANDLES, OKAY?
- LOL JK, I’d be much happier if I looked like that.
- I feel like I already saw and got depressed about this whole thing thanks to Facebook.
- This is basically stripping, right?
- That’s somebody’s daughter up there.
- Ugh, the word “panties.” UGH. Stop it right now.
- It’s underwear. Or unmentionables. Or pantaloons, for heaven’s sake.
- LOL at them saying they eat before the show.
- Or ever.
- Is that what real abs look like?
- I’m pretty sure my body wouldn’t look like that even if I worked out all day, every day, for the next, uh, 90 years.
- There’s no way these girls are “angels.”
- More like seductive, potential boyfriend-stealing she-devils.
- They’re not selling clothes, they’re selling their bodies, and I am OUTRAGED.
- And also, I’d like to go buy every single thing on their website, like, now.
- Whatever. I don’t even care. Self-love. Inner beauty. Moral compass.
- Fuck this..
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