That feeling when you realize a backdoor studio in Japan with a $300 makeup budget is closer to the source material of the Resident Evil games than any official movie and whatever the fuck crawled out of Netflix headquarters put together. 2 thumbs up, would Jill off into my sandwich again.
The real reason caucasian people have trouble getting a job is because they all started drug testing, and the only white recreational activities left are substance abuse, incest, patriotism, fords and watching millionaire black's play school yard games.
I've sat through 8 billion brother fucker incest storylines, the desecration of an icon and whatever the fuck this is. That being said, it's comforting to know I can still find astonishment in the super weeb fever dream you're about to witness. Good luck.
Classic case of overconfidence. If only he put as much effort into his hygiene as she did into Walmart bathrooms she choose to get tattooed in, then maybe this permanent mark on his resume could have been avoided. Live, learn and always wipe twice.
If attempting to monetize your most private confessions is any sign of a recession, I'd say we're at the tip of an iceberg that would make the dotcom bubble look like like an afterthought. I'll be expecting a lot more of this until Jim Cramer capitulates.
You know at one point in time her dirt tulip at full pucker was still smaller than the cock of an Eskimo in January. I want to know where that footage is. And more importantly, the followup video of John McAfee announcing her as his running mate for 2020?
What weighs 95 pounds, likes the look of cock, and gets messy at the Arizona glory hole? Yeah, that chick. Personally she annoys me to death, but some of you fukr's can't get enough.
It's like the girl with the super hip mom that totally supports her daughter getting ring-blasted by guys named after sports cars got a pep talk and couldn't wait to bring it on the grid iron. Then gets jobbed out like the 2008 Detroit Lions. A Karen of the Kum world if you will. TY for listening to my cunTED talk.
See that rush of fear around the 3:00 mark? That's the kind of reaction second only to a man that has miscalculated his maximum capacity for P.F. Changs Orange Chicken in a public venue. And I think that's something we can all relate to. L, OH, fuckin L
Notorious shake shack enthusiast decides to document one of his many attacks on titan. He sabotages his own rubbers, fakes empathy and could give less than a shit about divorce papers. This could only end one way.
