These Are the Most WTF Spotify Playlists We Could Find

As with many things out there in the vast, mysterious landscapes of the Interwebz (subreddits… Harry Potter erotic fan fiction… you know, that kind of stuff), things can start out totally normal and PG-rated but quickly descend into previously unparalleled levels of bizarre, offensive, fucked up or just plain confusing. As we discovered today, Spotify isn't immune to this syndrome: apparently, when you give all sorts of inhabitants of the Internet the ability to make their own playlists and choose their own usernames, shit gets spooky. Luckily for us, Spotify has yet to put their responsible PR hat on and stop the mayhem—which leaves us with some pretty insane playlists to marvel at. Behold: here are the most WTF Spotify playlists we could find.

Okay, so y'all know what a queef is and y'all also know all too well what a queef feels like (don't lie, you've been vaginally farted on/have exuded a vaginal fart way more often than you'd like to admit, sex is weird, deal with it). You also know what a nugget is—mostly in the wasted-at-2-AM-throwing-chicken-mcgnuggets-at-your-face context. But… but… together? Like, the two don't match. It should be scientifically impossible to turn a sweaty, moist, untimely explosion of gas into a tiny, appetizing lil' solid that you would presumably want to ingest. However, 'thebeastinu' must have had some solid foundation for believing in this mircale combination, so it's only logical that we turned to our trustiest source for defining the most important things in life for some more context. Yes, people, urbandictionary.com confirms that queef nuggets are, in fact, a thing. Behold, the definition of a 'queef nugget':

A vaginal projectile, propelled by the force of a particularly powerful queef. Usually a crusted remnant of a womans most recent ovulation, or perhaps the hardened remains of a particularly impressive ejaculation. Most commonly produced by only the skankiest of women with the most questionable of hygenic habits. Sometimes used as a colorful insult.

Kay, not gonna lie, that's kind of amazing. Like, yeah it's gross but also holy shit! The human body can actually fuck someone over so much that it elevates the classic queef into a beastly combo of queef PLUS random bits floating around in a woman's uterus! What a time to be alive! Anyway, now we that queef nuggets are a real thing and are paranoid that it's going to happen to us sooner or later. Thanks, thebeastinu: you've made all of our sexual insecurities multiply exponentially before we've even checked out your track list. And apparently, Eminem, T.I. and Sam Smith are what you should be listening to to make that queef nugget as sexy as possible. GO QUEEF NUGGETS.

Take a second and consider the thought process that must've gone on here. This man, Henrik Balthasar Josefsson, is not like everyone else. He's not like, "Yeah, BITCHES n' crime. BLUNTS 'n crime. BALLIN' with my BITCHES wearin' all ma BLING… 'n crime." No, no, his brain was like, 'Fuck all y'all, the best compliment to crime must be… boogers.' It's a little badass, really. A little… unorthodox. Daring. Like, not only did this man get us to think about boogers which no one bothers to remember exist because they're gross and just ew: this man got us to think about them IN THE CONTEXT OF CRIME. He kind of made boogers seem cooler than they are. Also, food for thought: could this playlist have been inspired by this debate about the legality of putting boogers in sandwiches? The plot thickens!

And so the day arrived, after years of racking up his orgy-meter, after countless dips-in and dips-out of his metaphorical paintbrush, so finally came the day when Connor experienced his 17th orgy. Holy shit, Connor. You did it! All orgies up until this moment were subpar; bland; unremarakable compared to the 17th. Why brag about the 10th, or even the 16th? No, no—the 17th orgy is the crown prince of orgies, the prized diamond, the rare unicorn, so good for you, Connor. You go celebrate that 17th orgy by making a Spotify playlist. You go put Fall Out Boy and R. Kelly on that playlist with PRIDE because you're a boss, Connor, and you know it. #17orgies

Not a thing people talk about these days, Necrophillia, is it? You never walk into the office on a Monday and Gary from Accounts is all like, "Lovely weekend. Watched a bit of Downton Abbey. Went for a walk around the lakes with the missus. Fucked a corpse. Milk in your coffee, right?" No, we don't get to hear that kind of stuff—so what a relief that Kate Hickman's here to remind us that necrophillia equals love! Yes, people! Making sweet, sensual love to an enticingly chilled, lifeless vixen is the real thing! And just like love, the song choice is pretty overwhelming, too. We've got The Clash for your rougher, more impulsive romps with your rotting queen or king; we've got Imogen Heap for those moments when you really just want to deeply stare into bae's lifeless eyes and let her know you care. Kate Hickman's got ya covered, guys.

Best part here is the number 3. Like, what happened to Good Feces 1 and 2? Didn't make the cut for a playlist, apparently. Also must address the use of the word 'feces' here: like, he's not talking about taking a hot, steaming, satisfying dump. He's talking about good feces—which sounds more like foreign bits of excrement an expert would examine with a microscope, perhaps, eventually deciding that the feces were in fact up to par. Also confusing is the match of the songs to the feces: IDK but we wouldn't necessarily gravitate towards thinking about feces when we play The XX or Caribou. Remembering our moody teen days? Maybe. Remembering that one time we saw some particularly good feces? Naw.