They always forget the record button.

Y’know, when I’m watching them on their cameras… I’ll have them heaving and groaning and crying, with drool running from every visible orifice, and without mentioning it, I’ll hit “record”. Just like that, their moment of disgusting, red-faced, unfettered desperation is saved for posterity.

I’ve got lots of that tucked away in my camera roll. Hours and hours of videos documenting their various acts of sluttery and shame, just sitting there. Mostly unseen and unappreciated.

But I can fix that.

At the fall Gathering, I’ve decided we’re going to sit around the TV, I’ll AirPlay my iPad to the big screen, and we’ll spend a pleasant evening watching each of their disheveled, grunting, ludicrous little displays. It’ll be hilarious, and hot.

Mostly hilarious.

Which is what will make it hot.

Because there’s nothing hotter than four girls laughing and one girl crying.