(MIC FEEDBACK) (POPS TONGUE)
It’s the Basic Ball. A ball for the rest
of the LGBT cuties. And tonight,
we all serve ferocity, whether you’re Mother Exhausted
from the House of Tired. Or one of the eternal children
of the house of Forever 21. -♪ (DANCE MUSIC PLAYS) ♪
-Y’all better bring it! The category
is clinical depression. For all my children serving
chemical imbalanced realness. That’s right, make your way
to the floor if you can. You are tired! You are unmedicated
for the gods! (CHEERING) Walk for the judges.
Now vogue. Oh, I see you eating carbs.
I see you. I see you too depressed
to leave the house. I’m looking for sadness.
I’m looking Eeyore in Dior. (CHEERING CONTINUES) Oh, she is serving you
a whole nap! Bitch is in full deep REM sleep
on the floor. Judges, your scores.
Ten, ten, ten. Diagnosis is depression. The next category
is barbecue daddies. -♪ (MUSIC CONTINUES) ♪
-Come through, barbecue daddies. Oh, yes. I have two daddies
and they are serving leather and linen.
They’re serving me, “Let’s argue about routes
to work.” “I take the 405 to PCH.” “Oh, I just stay on Caheunga
the whole way down.” You’ll gag.
They are cookout ready, Betty. Oh, he didn’t start the grill
until everybody showed up, and now, you won’t be eating
till nighttime. He’s late. He’s basic as fuck.
It’s breathtaking. You better work.-♪ Damn ♪
-(CHEERING ERUPTS) Oh, he is passing out
matching shirts at the family reunion.
Barbecued realness. Layers, judges. Layers. Serving mispronounces-all-
realness. Serving “calls your friend
Terrell, ‘your friend Tyrell.'” Judges, your cards please.
Ten, nine, nine. Family reunion daddy,
grab your trophy. -♪ (MUSIC CONTINUES) ♪
-Running errands. The next category
is running errands. Oh, did you remember
your reusable canvas bag? I’m having all of it.
Oh, work, girl, she has all the receipts.
Yes, she knows the return policy and she will not take
store credit, baby. Oh, yes, she’s running
a quick errand and didn’t think anyone would
see her, but uh-oh! Uh-oh! You ran into your boss. Now, he knows you don’t have
eyebrows, bitch. (CHEERING) She’s serving you
a full Whoopi Goldberg. Judges, your scores, please. Ten, ten, tens across the board. And now, it’s time
for the grand finale. The category is just awkward
in the body. Oh, there’s nothing wrong
with you. You’re just awkward
in the body. Yes. Oh, you are so awkward.
You are serving me, “We both said goodbye,
but now we’re walking in the same direction”
awkwardness. Oh, the waiter just said
“Enjoy your meal,” and this bitch said, “You too.”
You too! Bitch, he’s not eating!
He’s at work. Oh. My. God! The try hardiness! Yes, she’s the queen
of awkwardness. Judges. Ten. Shut up. Ten. Ten!
Across the board. Oh, and that’s
the walk of the night. -♪ (MUSIC STOPS) ♪