The eagle is a bird of prey. The prey? CHEERLEADERS.
When mom and dad heard about the price of the uniform, they initially balked. They were relieved to learn it would enjoy years of use when Kimmi gets pregnant, drops out, and goes to work slinging cocktails at an Indian casino.
You can bag on cheerleaders all you want, but I LOVE these girls. Tell me they're not adorable. Tell me they're not having fun. Makes you want to sing the school song and host a charity car wash while snorting puffy paint through your megaphone.
These bitches? OPPOSITE. The one in the middle is the reason why I dropped out halfway through high school. Who knows where I could have taken that shit? I could be fucking enormous-wanged NBA players and collecting diamonds for alleged infidelities. At bare minimum, modeling for car shows.
I'll take
Flash Gordon Caught in a Glitter Storm Without Appropriate Shelter for the win, John.
Not to get too personal, but I once had a stalker. Even
that guy doesn't scare me as much as Lion Head Girl. It's the primary reason Irmo Junior Vocational Tech remains undefeated against all opponents.
At first I was all like, "This is stupid. Cheerleaders don't hang out at the beach. Come ahhhwwwn." Then I noticed the name of the alma mater: SEA KINGS.
That fucking OWNS. It's like a street gang from the Fifties.
The Sea Kings ruled Brighton Beach and used to get into fisticuffs with the Mastiffs and the Shoobie Boys.
I'll go easy on your girls since you're all of 11, but I will impart one important little bit of advice: black tennies with bare legs will always make you look like domestic help. Trust me. I used to work at Bennigan's during the summer months. Gang up on your coach and whine in that really annoying way teenage girls do until you get better footwear. I believe in you.