I don't know if I should be worrying about them big-ass wine bottles, your socks, or them ashy-ass knees. Put some fucking lotion on.

Ew, why are you so ashy for? Ew, bro, that's so gross. I can't, I cannot. I know if you, like, stick your finger across, like, your skin would just roll up. Ew, bro, oh my god. Put all the fucking lotion in. Ah!

But if you don't go to a pharmacy and you don't get a shave, like, *****, your legs aren't hairy as fuck! Your knees are ashy! Go get lotion and Vaseline! I don't think you will fall- afford a bottle of wine, but you cannot afford to shave your legs! Or even get lotion and Vaseline and- and just clean your legs, *****! Why are you posting this? Why? Why?

The wine bottle, it looks like expired wine because wine is not that pink. You're ashy? You have socks on. And you need to go wash and come put on some lotion.

My name is actually lotion. And I just don't understand why you have beef with me. Like, we can be friends, and you just, like, you hate me. Like, you never talk to me, you never use me. Like, my whole purpose is for you to use me, bro. You don't even, like, when you're in the store, you walk past me, you give me the side eye. Your eyes are like, you don't care about me, bro. And I feel, like, so just overlooked. And I mean, you're, you're, you're not benefiting from it. Look at you. You're actually...

Okay, blow all that ash on your leg, boy. Look like you got some weight here growing on your feet.