I had a Liam Neeson nightmare. I dreamt I kidnapped his daughter and he just wasn’t having it. They made 3 of those movies. At some point, you’d have to wonder if he’s just a bad parent.
You’re probably thinking, “My boyfriend said this was a superhero movie but that guy in the red suit just turned that other guy into a f*****g kebab.” Well, I may be super. But I’m no hero.
It’s a big house. It’s funny that I only ever see 2 of you. It’s almost like, the studio couldn’t afford another X-Men.
I know, right? Whose balls did I have to fondle to get my very own movie? I can’t tell you, but it does rhyme with “Pulverine”. And lemme tell you, he’s got a nice pair of smooth criminals down unda’.
Here’s the problem with round-the-clock torture, is that you can’t really step it up from there.
Daddy needs to express some rage.
Cancer’s only in my liver, lungs, prostate, and brain. All things I can live without.
You bet on me to die. Wow. Motherf*****, you’re the world’s worst friend. Well, joke’s on you. I’m living to 102. And then die. At the city of Detroit.
Threats hurt, Jer. Though not nearly as badly as serrated steel.
Some kinds of anger can’t be managed.
One thing that never survives this place is a sense of humor.
Not often a dude ruins your face, skullstomps your sanity, grabs your future baby mama and personally sees to 4 of your 5 s***tiest moments. Let’s just say it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
