Looking like a giant pot of salty twink soup, the reason why your teen daughter (straight or gay since at least one of them looks like a beautiful, beautiful lesbian) and gay teen son haven’t stopped screaming their tonsils raw for months bared their nipples to the sun and all dipped into the Sydney Harbor this afternoon. My brain is a place where memories die, so it’s impossible for me to memorize the name of every one of these One Direction dudes. Can we just call them Danny, Jordan, Donnie, Jonathan and Joey? Or is Posh, Scary, Ginger, Baby and Sporty easier?
I know this is the part of the post where I’m supposed to say which one I’d hit, but the answer is none of them. I’m serious. I just can’t slobber all over a piece who wasn’t even born when my first pube sprouted up and who looks at me with question marks in his eyes when I start quoting Maid to Order! But you know who’s not like me? Madge. I bet she’s down in her dungeon, running her claws against these pictures and drawing a circle around the one she’s going to order first.