Burpney is dead and probably smells like a chicken leg permanently.
A mess at them ringing out her Vegas sweat towels at McDonalds into the deep frier, only for her to come later that night to consume the whole dollar menu.
Come to think of it, "Work, Bitch!" is such an ironic song for a dead, fat, incapable woman to sing. So is "Perfume", as if she wears any stench besides drug/old meat
That mom is serving a Gloria Mott tea just TAKING that from him. And I remember people in the thread on here being like "He's letting out all his repressed feelings!", but it looked more like he's been doing that forever.
The fact that this goes on for hours. 
