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Betty, that performance was a bold choice for someone filming from the comfort of their pillow fort, but please, keep the pillow talk to a minimum.

Zoilo, you’re touching your shoulder like you’re trying to find a spine, but that Mini Cooper behind you is the only small thing in this frame.

Zoilo, congrats on spotting that Beetle, but I’m more concerned that your shoulder joint is held together by thoughts and a prayer, you damn freak.

Betty, that was less of a boy band ballad and more of an internal scream from a couch that clearly needs a deep cleaning.

Look, sweetheart, that frantic hand-rolling is exactly how I imagine you try to dry your nails after a bad breakup; just pick a fight already.

Betty, you’re rocking that Hi Barbie shirt, but those yellow straws on a bucket are making a sound like a tap-dancing insect having a panic attack.

You listed enough dairy to give a small village a stomach ache, yet you still managed to sound like a barista’s basic, caffeine-addled fever dream.

Samantha, the only thing you’re body-slamming are those pillows, though I bet the local penguins are terrified of your "stunt driving" skills.

Latasha, dipping fries into a McFlurry isn't a "vibe," it's a culinary hate crime against your own arteries at 2:00 AM.

You’ve got the caffeine range of a tired college sophomore and the articulation of a toddler struggling with a mouthful of sticky marshmallows.

Kansas, your snack tower challenge is doomed if you keep doing sit-ups; that conduit pipe on your ceiling is the only thing working harder.

Honey, your shirt says "SURVIVING" but those frantic fist-rolls look like you're trying to manually restart your own heart in the classroom.