"Euphoria" Is My Guilty Pleasure, And I Must Bring These 21 Things To My Deserted Island

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Nothing in this life has held itself together stronger than Maddy's curly baby hairs. She's giving us 2002 Ashanti, and we applaud her technique and edge control. The amount of time it must take to get ready for the day at this high school is insane. Maddy could be in the middle of an emotional breakdown, and those edges will dangle like a tiny duck pee-pee. I can use them as rope for a raft or make a spear.

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It was a hard choice between her shiny eyelash decals, angel wings, or this fuzzy pink backpack. It looks like she killed a Furby and strapped it to her back, and it's a symbol of all the badass energy Jules brought to the Euphoria universe. The minute she walked in the door and established her presence at the house party like Carrie on prom night, I knew I was in love. Imagine all the supplies and survival goodies I could stuff into that little backpack. 

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I get he's a literal demon spawn, but let's not pretend like we don't think about it when shirtless Nate hits the screen. The "it" I'm referring to is Nate's birthmark, which deserves a spinoff. It's so cute and adorable, and it's connected to the body of "Lord have mercy" personified. It will be hard to explain bringing any other part of Nate Jacobs with me, so I'll take the one thing he was born with and didn't develop from trauma and toxic masculinity.

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Nobody told me that sexual awakenings can snap your vision back to perfection. The minute Kat put on a choker and a little kitty mask, she threw them Warby Parkers in the trash can. She can see clearly now that the square bear is gone. She got that She's All That, just add water makeover, and she can't be tamed. I can use these Coke-bottle lenses to start a campfire since Velma is a dominatrix now.

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She was almost nonexistent in the first season, but we know she constantly stood on the sidelines watching her tragic friends and sister make fools of themselves based on her Euphoria fanfiction. If Lexi's East Highland High School Musical is remotely based on her friends, she's about to get suspended over this play's drug usage and sex scenes, so I must read the rest of her creative work on that laptop while I drift to the island. Stat!

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Ali is giving me the second act of a '90s gang-affiliated movie where the hero goes to prison and becomes enlightened by an inmate who read one book. Ali was dropping knowledge bombs on Rue left and right, but she was deflecting those jokers, everywhere but in his burnt-out brain. Ali is a wise man, and that must be a heavy-duty double knit Kufi cap protecting that genius skull. I can turn it into a raft or a small shelter and set myself up real nice on the beach. Thanks for the support, Ali. 

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Euphoria said we will give the worst representation of queer men in television history. I guess we can't win them all in the HBO roster. Cal is a walking bucket of toxic trash. We hate him, especially for ruining the mental state of the school's hottest student. Give me these bandages so I can use them for something real. Ashtray barely tapped him with that shotgun, and he's walking around looking like The Mummy Returns. There's nothing hurt but your pride, and you don't get to claim the rainbow kind. We don't want you, Cal.

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Rue may be fooling everybody else with her fake sobriety, but the minute I see that hair — I'm not listening to anything coming from Halle Berry's "crack hoe" (her words) natural look in Jungle Fever. I did not see Rue pick up a hairbrush for both seasons, so I know the brush must be brand new and still in the box. The moldy maroon sweatshirt can hide that lion's mane forever, girl. At some point, you need to take some Herbal Essences and a hot comb to that madness. Your natural beauty won't survive all those drugs. 

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For once in their lives, the hot girls of East Highland High are giving minimum effort. Nobody in the entire gym is impressed, not even Nate's problematically horny ass. There are not enough Lisa Frank decals and Dollar Tree body glitter in the world to take this performance to the next level. To be honest, it's serving Today Show Hilary Duff's "they don't pay me enough for this" two-step. For that reason, it's 100% joining me on the island.

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If McKay would've kept his head in the game and stopped daydreaming about Cassie's fast tail, then maybe he wouldn't be struggling on the football field. The last thing his boy needs is a sad boy bench to pout like he's the only one in the world who unsuccessfully turned a __ into a housewife. Let Cassie crash and burn without you on the sidelines, bro-bro. It's not worth it. Now, look at you. You can't even get more than two seconds in Season 2 running behind that girl. The bench is coming with me.

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I'm utterly terrified of Rosemary's Baby and his ability to always escalate a situation to the worst possible scenario. He had no real home training because he was raised by violent drug dealers. I will give him props for being the only helpful person in the city. He's selling groceries, Fez's bodyguard, and his voice of reason (when he actually talks). If you noticed early on, somebody is setting up Fezco and Ashtray with some cold fade haircuts. My guess it's this bad boy. Real talk: He got hands. I want those clippers, so I can be edged up before I embark — and maybe save somebody from getting sliced up by a T-blade trimmer.

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I take it back. Ashtray is the second most terrifying person in Euphoria. The minute Laurie was calmly barking out orders to her henchmen from the living room without lifting a finger, it was game over. She never raises her voice, scowls, or blinks. I'm putting my money on her being a heartless demon or a new Terminator sent from the future to prevent Rue from overdosing. She saves Rue's life and threatens to sell her into sex slavery in one whole breath. This energy level is superhuman and must be due to the state-of-the-art massage chair her goons stole from a kiosk at the mall. Wait until my talking volleyball sees my snazzy chair.

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I just know that chili tastes like a crusty tire on the side of the highway. This family is the complete opposite of anything champion, but they claim they know how to cook. The only thing I saw them cook well so far is a lifelong series of generational trauma that singlehandedly destroyed the lives of the already chaotic bunch of teenagers. I want every last pot and pan of this dog food chili so I can use it to poison the carnivorous monsters on the other side of the island.

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Most of the parents in Euphoria are oblivious to anything happening in their kids' lives. Not Suze Howard. She is nosy and was there for every significant event, including Rue's drug odyssey, her daughters, and their wild friends exploring their sexualities. Suze is one of those moms who takes all the car keys at the beginning of the party and thinks she deserves a Nobel Peace Prize. No, girl. You need to go to jail. I'm going to blame your drinking habits on your bad choices, so the wine glasses have to go. I'm taking every last Olivia Pope bucket glass with me to save you from a CPS visit.

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Lexi Howard is my girl. She's the only one on campus with ordinary high school problems. She just wants to fit in, but her best friend is too busy walking around in drugged-out dream sequences, and her sister is blowing Viola Davis Academy Award-winning snot bubbles because of her sex life. Lexi had to spend a fortune on this authentic Bob Ross wig, and since my edges are dead, I will need it if I'm going to look anything like Tom Hanks on Castaway. Lexi doesn't make mistakes, just happy little accidents.

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The sights Fezco has seen sitting in his sturdy, little plastic patio chair from Walmart. He is the gatekeeper of the drug game for all the baddies at East Highland High, so it's a throne fit for a king of crackhead kiddies. Unlike Nate, I can forgive Fezco for his behavior because he protected the ones he loves from getting sold into slavery by Laurie, the sweet lady drug dealer who scares me to my core. A strong patio chair will serve me well on the deserted beach.

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This woman has an endless supply of salty "I promise I'm a good girl" tears at her disposal for any time she decides to make a dumb decision, which is at every turn. She's hopping into Nate Jacobs' truck or dirty bathtubs because she doesn't mean to be nasty; she was just drawn that way. Well, I have to get my hands on baby Jessica Rabbit's tear ducts because it's gallons on gallons worth of water.

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Barbara Brooks needs to go. Who, do you ask? Exactly. Apparently, this girl was following Maddy and the crew around since Season 1 that I barely knew existed. She was mean to Kat, and she's constantly doing too much to impress the main squad. You never had your own episode for a reason, sweetie. It's time to hand that social status over to somebody who can do something with it. Am I jealous she was invited to Maddy's birthday party? Yes. Am I heated because they dogged my girl Lexi out in this picture and let "the girl with no name" sit in the front? Absolutely.

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Somebody come get her; she's scaring all the strippers. The minute she walked in and shot Fezco's dad in the kneecaps, it was on and popping. Grandmom Marie went into the trunk, pulled out a rusted crowbar, and beat that Ozark extra into a coma. I was almost cheering her on until she popped my sweet baby Fezco in the head, giving him a permanent Harry Potter part in his haircut and a trap rapper mumble. Grandma, you need to find a different way to express yourself before you end up killing the whole family tree. Give me that crowbar.

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He will bring nothing but trouble, but I refuse to argue about this one. Dominic Fike as Elliot is one of the best things to happen to the Euphoria universe. He's basically the older hipster version of Ashtray and completely captivates the hearts of our favorite gal pals, Rue and Jules. I would let him enable me into a stupor, and I wouldn't even be mad when I came to my senses. This island is big enough for both of us, so expect Elliot, his guitar, and that little cigarette dangling off his lips to be strapped in.