https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NfqOQtiRWLA ❤
Went no contact with my birthgiver and I fear running into her around town. How should I disguise myself henceforth?
Why not disguise yourself as your birthgiver's own birthgiver? Give her a taste of her own medicine?
Given the usual hilarious stereotypes around rationales for no-contact, her birthgiver is probably one of those metal-crushing-things that transforms cars into cubes. And to impersonate one of those bad boys, you'll need serious drip.
Approach MIT's three nerdiest fraternities. Ask them if they've heard all those latest horrid rumours about them. No? No? They hadn't? Oh God. Apologise profusely. Tell them that you try be a source of positivity in everyone's lives. But your conscience simply won't let you remain schtum. Not about this. You're so sorry. But here goes:
Inform each of these three nerdy MIT fraternities that the other two nerdy fraternities reckon their fraternity has recently become, like, so horribly mainstream and normie maaaan! They've lost their nerdy pizazz! They're yesterday's news! They're Out!
They'll no doubt stare horrified at you, pale and spluttering and unable to form a coherent sentence. Instantly exploit this. Tell them: what better way to assert anew their cerebral magnificence than by designing a wicked-sick car-crusher robot suit of stupendous splendour and majesty? Eh? Eh? Nerd Kings like them? Easy peasy Nihon squeezy. Yeah bro. Poke-poke-poke their clever-clogs insecurities like there's no tomorrow. Go nuts.
All three will instantly twinkle forth the raddest and most formidable and majestic robot suits in the goddamn universe. Their bruised nerdy egos won't let them do otherwise. Wangle all three suits from all three fraternities, don the lot, and now strut around your hometown looking like Optimus Prime in one of those New Orleans parades where its members think they're re-enacting that James Bond opening scene.
You'll bump into Mumsy in no time. Screech at ear-splitting volume that she's an appalling disappointment to the family, unlike that delightful grandchild of hers. And it's time for her 9am car-cubing. Problem solved.