Imagine how bad a comic convention smells. Now imagine how terrible most dance clubs smell when in full party mode. Now combine the two. You're welcome!

I know, I know, I have a hard time telling the difference myself.

I mean, nothing to do with her looks, I just can't adjust the gamma settings anymore after this influx of day-glo coloring.

I mean, until that little penguin guy found out what they spliced in with his ecstasy. Things got weird after that.

It's not even so much that raver gear surprises, shocks, or horrifies me any more. That's not what gets me. I'm just amazed that kids are still overloading their senses on questionable drugs and more questionable music on the weekends like we're still in 1998 Essex or something.

Alternatively: "Don't worry, we're from the internet."

This is like a grab bag of costume store accessories.