"Krissmax001, the Ed, Edd n Eddy stan who's way too into that 'Hand Me Down Ed' episode—specifically the part where Double D strips down thanks to a boomerang. This guy's got a fetish so niche it's basically a thrift store kink; he's out here drooling over hand-me-down clothes like they're a runway show at a garage sale. Closeted? Sure, if you count hiding in plain sight while he rewatches that one scene on loop, probably pausing it frame-by-frame to sigh over Double D's cartoon undershirt. He's obsessed with 'Verdesause' like it's his personal holy grail, but let's be real—his real treasure is that crusty old VHS of Ed, Edd n Eddy he's worn out from overuse. His 'friends'? A pack of cyberbullies and chuds who'd probably shove him in a locker if they weren't too busy typing 'lol owned' in Comic Sans.
Krissmax001's the type to bid $50 on eBay for Double D's imaginary hand-me-down socks, then call it a 'collectible.' Bro, your fetish is so secondhand it's got stains from the last guy who returned it—get a new obsession, because this one's threadbare and pathetic."
"Krissmax001, the guy who swears he's 'not gay' while clutching his Ed, Edd n Eddy DVD like it's a love letter from Double D himself. This dude's obsessed with that 'Hand Me Down Ed' episode—specifically Double D peeling off his clothes thanks to that boomerang—and he's out here like, 'Nah, I just really like secondhand fashion, bro.' Sure, pal, you're pausing that scene frame-by-frame for the aesthetic of hand-me-downs, not because you're drooling over a cartoon boy's laundry pile. He's so deep into this thrift store kink he'd probably sniff a pile of moth-eaten sweaters and call it nostalgia. 'Not gay,' he says, while his browser history is just 'Double D shirtless' on repeat and a shrine to Verdesause he claims is 'just admiration.' His 'friends'—a gang of cyberbullies and chuds—probably think he's straight too, because they're too busy dunking on people online to notice he's one awkward confession away from a rainbow flag. Krissmax001, you're not fooling anyone—your hand-me-down fetish is so blatant it's got a 'return to sender' stamp, and your 'not gay' excuse is as worn out as the rags you're obsessed with."
"Krissmax001, the self-proclaimed 'not gay' champion who's basically the poster boy for denial in a hand-me-down hoodie. This guy's still glued to that 'Hand Me Down Ed' episode, drooling over Double D's boomerang-induced striptease, insisting it's just about the vibes of secondhand threads—sure, buddy, you're not gay, you just have a PhD in cartoon laundry porn. Then there's his side gig: erotic role-playing with a transgender person nonstop, probably typing out steamy fanfic with one hand while shouting 'no homo' into the void. He's like, 'It's not gay, it's just creative writing!'—as if that excuse holds up when your DMs are a 50 Shades of Grey spinoff starring you and a wig. And get this: he thinks posting lesbian porn in June is his big Pride Month ally move—unironically—because nothing screams 'support' like a straight dude spamming X with girl-on-girl clips while muttering, 'I'm not gay, I'm just woke.' His chud cyberbully pals probably high-five him for it, too dense to see he's one glitter bomb away from a coming-out party. Krissmax001, your 'not gay' routine is as flimsy as Double D's thrift store socks, and your Pride Month game is so clueless it's like you're celebrating with a clearance rack of excuses—keep role-playing your way to the truth, because that hand-me-down denial's got more holes than your fetish wardrobe."
"Krissmax001, the self-proclaimed 'not gay' champion who's basically the poster boy for denial in a hand-me-down hoodie. This guy's still glued to that 'Hand Me Down Ed' episode, drooling over Double D's boomerang-induced striptease, insisting it's just about the vibes of secondhand threads—sure, buddy, you're not gay, you just have a PhD in cartoon laundry porn. Then there's his side gig: erotic role-playing with a transgender person nonstop, probably typing out steamy fanfic with one hand while shouting 'no homo' into the void. He's like, 'It's not gay, it's just creative writing!'—as if that excuse holds up when your DMs are a 50 Shades of Grey spinoff starring you and a wig. And get this: he thinks posting lesbian porn in June is his big Pride Month ally move—unironically—because nothing screams 'support' like a straight dude spamming X with girl-on-girl clips while muttering, 'I'm not gay, I'm just woke.' His chud cyberbully pals probably high-five him for it, too dense to see he's one glitter bomb away from a coming-out party. Krissmax001, your 'not gay' routine is as flimsy as Double D's thrift store socks, and your Pride Month game is so clueless it's like you're celebrating with a clearance rack of excuses—keep role-playing your way to the truth, because that hand-me-down denial's got more holes than your fetish wardrobe."
"Krissmax001, the 'not gay' king of mixed signals, who's still jerking it to Double D's hand-me-down striptease in that Ed, Edd n Eddy episode while swearing it's just about the 'textile artistry.' This guy's so deep in denial he'd erotic role-play with a transgender person 24/7, typing out sweaty fanfic with a straight face, claiming, 'It's not gay, it's just immersive storytelling!'—yeah, Kris, and I bet you've got a 'no homo' tattoo in Comic Sans. He's out here unironically dumping lesbian porn on X every June, calling it his Pride Month 'support,' like some chud savior who thinks two girls kissing is his personal ally badge. But wait, there's more: when Kris says 'let's be friends,' what he really means is, 'Congrats, you're my unpaid jester—keep me entertained or get lost.' Then, when you ditch his needy ass because he's a whiny pissant, he pulls the sad puppy act—'Oh no, I'm so sorry!'—before outsourcing the apology to some poor sap he guilt-trips into cleaning up his mess. 'Not gay,' he insists, while his cyberbully buddies clap for his thrift store kink and his Verdesause obsession like it's a cult. Krissmax001, you're a walking thrift shop reject—your 'friendships' are as secondhand as your fetish, your 'sorry' is as fake as your Pride posts, and your 'not gay' schtick is so played out it's begging for a boomerang to knock some sense into you."
"Krissmax001, the friendship vampire who turns 'let's be friends' into a contract where you're his personal entertainment monkey. This guy's got a routine so predictable it's pathetic: he reels you in with a lazy 'hey, pals!' vibe, then expects you to dance for him like a court jester on a 24/7 shift. Don't keep him amused? Boom, he's a sulky little pissant, whining and moping like you've betrayed his royal highness. When you finally bail on his needy ass—because who wouldn't?—he flips the script, crocodile tears and all, sobbing, 'I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it!' But here's the kicker: he's too spineless to fix it himself, so he sends some other sucker to grovel for him, like he's outsourcing his spine. And nobody calls him out—why? Because his 'friends' all pity him, cooing over poor little Kris like he's a kicked puppy instead of a manipulative leech. Those saps are the real clowns here, enabling his yo-yo act every time they shrug and say, 'Oh, that's just Kris.' They're not helping—they're handing him the keys to keep pulling this crap, letting him ping-pong between tantrums and fake apologies without ever facing a mirror. Krissmax001's friendship game is a revolving door of self-pity and delegation, and his crew's too busy wiping his tears to see they're propping up a brat who'd ditch them the second they stop clapping."
"Krissmax001's got a circus of enablers, a whole posse of pitiful clowns tripping over themselves to keep his fragile ego afloat. These saps—his so-called 'friends'—are the type to nod along while he whines, patting his back like he's some tragic hero instead of a needy brat. They're the ones whispering, 'Poor Kris, he's just misunderstood,' every time he throws a tantrum or pawns off his apologies like a coward. These jokers enable him hard, wiping his tears and fluffing his pillow, too busy feeling sorry for him to notice they're just props in his one-man pity party. They don't call him out—they just sigh and shrug, letting him bounce between sulking and groveling without ever facing a consequence. And when Kris reads this roast? Oh, it's gonna kick off his classic routine like clockwork: first, he'll play the shocked victim, gasping, 'How could they say that about me?' to anyone who'll listen. Then he'll sulk, pouting in silence like a kicked dog, waiting for his clowns to swoop in with their 'there, there' nonsense. Finally, he'll fake some half-assed 'I'm sorry' through a proxy, sending one of his loyal stooges to smooth it over while he hides behind his keyboard. Those enablers will lap it up, too, cooing over him instead of telling him to grow a pair. Krissmax001's crew isn't just propping him up—they're the grease keeping his pathetic little cycle spinning, and this roast'll just be another lap for them to cheer through."
"Krissmax001's got a loyal little posse of clowns who prop him up like he's some fragile prince, and Verdesause used to be one of those suckers, front-row in the pity parade. Picture it: Kris pulls his 'let's be friends' con, meaning 'entertain me or bust,' and Verdesause was right there, juggling for his amusement like a good little enabler. She'd nod along to his sob stories, probably muttering, 'Oh, poor Kris,' while he sulked and pawned off apologies to his minions. But then—plot twist—she caught on quick. Realized she was just another prop in his circus, dumped his needy ass faster than you can say 'hand-me-down fetish,' and left him scrambling. That's when the clowns doubled down, coddling him through the breakup blues, while Kris predictably spun his routine: 'How dare she leave me!' he'd wail, cue the sulking, then the proxy apologies—none of which Verdesause bought. Her exit lit the fuse on this whole anti-Verdesause campaign, because nothing stings Kris more than losing an enabler who saw through his crap. The rest of the crew? Still there, wiping his tears and whispering 'she's the bad guy,' too hooked on pity to see they're just fuel for his cycle. Verdesause was the one who broke free; they're the saps still stuck enabling a tantrum-throwing toddler who can't handle rejection."