Farted on, finger banged, told he looks like fuckin Robin Williams - this dude endures pain you can't even imagine. Fortunately he's a Sum 41 mosh pit survivor and holds a blackbelt in making Terminator-esque sound effects whilst flailing his arms like a fucking idiot, so it's all good.
My gut instinct tells me the era of slasher movies is dead when the practical effects guys start taking on jobs like this. The Friday the 13th reboot was bad. Cult of Chucky sucked. The new Halloween might work... but nothing can prepare you for this alternate ending to Fire in the Sky.
ex·per·i·menting: [1] to try out new concepts or ways of doing things [2] performing a scientific procedure, to determine something [3] to change the entire demographic for the NERF Elite Strongarm Blaster
Reminds me of something my grandpa used to say: Your output is only as good as your input. Not since the the trailer for Terminator Dark Fate have I been so disgusted with women over the age of 40.
What's that old saying? The smaller the girl, the tighter the anal? Yeah, well after seeing this desecration of a corpse I'm not so sure anymore. I'll put it this way; you know the Lex Luther Drop of Doom ride at 6 Flags? She doesn't have to pay a cover charge to experience it. It's that bad.
Three years later and it seems [our boy] has ditched the mashed potatoes recipe and moved on to crafting a signature carne asada. ¿Felicidades mi amigo?
There's just no going back after making a video like this. She'll be forever known as the degenerate that got famous for rawdogging a South Park character. She's essentially a walking, talking Twitter activist for borderless sexuality... and yet stays in semi-boner material territory. An enigma, if you will.
Flattery was never my strong point... and it still isn't. Half the decisions here look like they were made by a person that smokes wet Newports, and yet everyone is chowin down like it's grandma's old fashion applesauce. Your fellow Walmartians will be hearing about this.
Willing humiliation and receiving more hits than one of those bullshit primitive building channels. No, it's not Connor's return to the octagon. But it's still gonna cost you $79.99 if her 1st name has a hyphen in it.
I can't imagine what life decisions lead to your obituary being littered with the words "twerking" and "public nuisance" and "30,000 volts". But I'm betting it involves the neighbor's parakeet, and all 16 delicious flavors of Rice-a-Roni. (fuck you Rice Pilaf)
