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Friday, we stumbled across a Trashua squabble between a couple of little hoodbunnies. We were able to identify them, and they’re just as terrible as you’d imagine.
Donna Clement, AKA Fanta Pants, is the broad with the fupa to end all fupas, and what looks like a case of serious clitoris cleavage and/or a beef bullet.
60% of Turtleriders thought she was hiding a bologna baton in those fanta pants, but I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news and crusher of dreams, but, it’s reproduced.
So, it is indeed a case of an extra wobbly mooseknuckle. And we all know nothing says mom of the year quite like a junktacular, barefoot ho’down throwdown right after the babe’s morning bubba. Nice meth burns around her cockwasher, too.
She is clearly the epitome of class and grace. I mean, just look at the flower crown.
Looks like her kid is pretty low on her list of priorities, though, as she’s barely mentioned – that’d take away from her dedication to her man, Mr. Morris, and also the girly-faced, indoor-sunglasses and flat-brim-lovin’ chud who graces her cover photo…
…and apparently, her bingo wing…
…who is a dead junkbox by the name of Randall St. Laurent. He’s dead, so not much to say other than he was an absolute peach and just the kind of dude I’d love to have a permanent tribute to on a highly visible place on my body
Donna is also pretty partial to a certain sportball team. Ya know, the symbol that automatically conjures up images of ratchetry in normal people’s minds whenever they have the misfortune to see someone donning it.
In the most surprising turn of events, I have not been able to locate any type of arrest record for Fanta Pants. Seems she’s either good at flying under the radar, or unzipping flies after the radar clocks her to keep her name squeaky clean. Either or.
Her boyfriend and presumed sperm donor is pretty great, too
Lives in Fitchburg and doesn’t work – gotta be something in the water over there!
Seriously, get a load of this creep. He is reminiscent of Aaron Carter back in the day before the hardcore drugs kicked in.
He also enjoys cosplay by the looks of this photo, what with the Super Saiyan hair and all
He’s gotta have something going for him to be playing bury the broomstick with some of Trashua’s finest hoodbunnies… right?
Wait! There it is. It’s the fact that he’s got his priorities straight. Tattoos FTW! My body is a canvas, who cares if I have to cram myself into the back of a 2000 Geo Metro to catch a snooze? #YOLO
Anyway… who is the other half of this ratchet royal rumble?
Gingy McStuffins, AKA Whitney Manley. And she’s still all smiles showing off her booboo from being slammed around
I hope she cleaned that scrape up ASAP ’cause that place looked like it was ripe for picking up the HIV
Thankfully, it doesn’t look like Gingy McStuffins has reproduced. However, she is also proudly funemployed and lovin’ it.
She also has quite decent, hardworking men in her life, just take a gander at this exchange on one of her profile pictures
Jose “Quevo” Gurley is her on-again, off-again drug slingin’ boytoy
who has also has an affinity for flat-brimmed Bulls caps, dollar store flip phones to sling weight on, and Newport 100s. The wooden rosary adds an air of “good Catholic boy” to this ensemble.
He also enjoys pushing ladies down and stealing their pocketbooks
Tyler Putnam, Captain Save-a-Ho and racist backwoods redneck extraordinaire, is also quite the looker:
Nothing quite like redneck ratchetry, folks. The camo-esque flatbrim, the oversized belt that hangs to the knee, and the Kmart special wannabe Timbs. Hawt.
Clearly, these ladies only surround themselves with the best of the best.
Gingy McStuffins has herself a record:
Although I am disappointed it is not for anything exciting.
It appears she’s been troubled for some time, though
Seems whoever raised this mini lurchbeast did a bang up job. But hey, at least she didn’t get knocked up yet!
So there you have it, some of Trashua’s finest young ladies. We still have no idea what the beef was over. If anyone knows, we’d love to hear it!