The soundtrack was so bangin, I had to fulfill your request(s). Wanna know what's not though? Whatever the fuck must have happened to this girl earlier in life to make her like this. Probably haven't seen that kind of wreckage since the great crave crate challenge of '97.
This condition is more commonly known as "high maintenance". It happens when all your sexual experience comes from Ikea tutorial videos, so you seek the refuge of desperate males and develop less communication skills than The Undertaker. #sadtbh
You originally saw her at the end of [Public Degen 12]. Turns out this misfit has a treasure trove of historical content featuring her getting kung pow'd by the general public in all kinds of places you should never be caught slamming ham in. Maybe next time she can participate in the west's most notable pastimes: Cuckolding within 300 yards of a 7-Eleven.
She escaped communist China in search of a better life. Only to find herself in a Detroit warehouse angrily jerking off dudes and giving unhappy endings.
If your social skank score is measured by the amount of times your bare ass has been caught on CCTV, I'd say these highway hoebags are sitting somewhere between "Code Orange" and "Threat to Society" Now, DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE YOU GO
For my Japanese-deficient friends, the original title of this masterpiece roughly translates to: "Nana Maeno Refrigerator Girl I Put My Step Sister In The Refrigerator And Turned Her Into A Frozen Sex Toy Nana" Do I believe more than 3% of those words? No. But honesty never got in between me and my cum sock before, and it isn't about to start now.
[what you know]: Anyone that's had a TV on after 1:00AM between the years 1997 and 2003 are still trying to get this fucking theme song out of their heads. [what you don't know]: Doug "hobgoblin" Stanhope had the approachability of post-nut clarity Clint Howard. I demand a reboot.
If the 1980's taught me something, it's that ANYthing goes as long as there's a killer soundtrack behind you. Except this. Not even the renaissance of crack will be held liable for this shit.
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)
An all-minority female cast ultimately leading to me losing faith in life itself? You can go ahead and file this under The 2016 Ghostbusters Reboot of Porn. And Bill Murray can't save you this time.
