Shame Level: Being slightly attracted to Grandma’s roommate at the retirement home.
Shame Level: Telling a bartender that you want “the usual” but they have no idea who you are.
Shame Level: Getting caught making faces in a two-way mirror.
Shame Level: Playing an embarrassing song out loud on your computer because you plugged your headphones into the wrong jack.
Shame Level: Your parents chaperoning the school dance.
Shame Level: Waving back at someone only to realize that they were waving to the person next to you.
Shame Level: Still singing after someone turned the music off.
Shame Level: Waking up with glitter all over your body but you can’t remember why.
Shame Level: Grinding on someone at a club only to realize that you’re related when you see their face.
Shame Level: A Freudian slip or two.
Shame Level: Having a specific fedora for each season.
Shame Level: Having lipstick on your teeth throughout an entire first date.
Shame Level: Your parents knocking on your door and asking what you’re doing during “private time.”
Shame Level: Farting while bathing with someone.
Shame Level: Getting a non-ironic “YOLO” tattoo.
Chozen: No Guilt, All Pleasure.* Judge for yourself:
*OK, well some guilt, only in that he spent 10 years in jail on drugs and weapons charges. But that sh*t was a SETUP, and now he’s out. Out for revenge, out to rebuild his career, out to grind on some fools and make the dopest, grimiest hip-hop videos y’all ever seen.