Wolf Dick on the other hand…

Or some dumb hipster blog about how hipsters do sex.

Yeah, uh-huh… Sylvia Saint.

Speak for yourself. I'm still young. I have all the netflix and chills…. haha. I'm on the fleek. I'm on the snapchat and I have all the snaps.

Word for someone who welcomes the new insect overlords.

I'm kinda getting tired of the lampshading, tbh. I know it's only been done twice so far but both times it took me out of the show so I'm not sure it really accomplished (for me anyway) what the writers set out to do with it.

Well, that escalated.

Speaking as someone who hasn't checked in on this show since the first season, I did not understand a single thing from this review which I guess is a good sign because it does make me miss the craziness of the show.

Because he knows this one weird trick.

That's exactly how it works in the movies. All the good guy with the small revolver has to do is be the main character who isn't allowed to die because he's the main character.

That was literally his "Go fuck yourself, San Diego" moment to all his more reasonable fans. He'll probably issue an apology soon enough and everyone will forget all about it.

Well, in that case I have a real boner to pick with that Dana Perino:

I had just got done watching Simon Killer - a Paris-set film - on netflix and had come here hoping to read the review of it when the newswire headline just stopped me in my tracks.

Part of what turned me off to Low Winter Sun from the start was in that very first episode where we first encounter IA officer Gale Botticer and everything about the direction of the scene made it pretty clear we the audience were supposed to see him as the usual IA buzzkill. Seriously, show… how fucking lazy is that?

The self-defeating mom joke strikes again.

Stay indoors. Stay safe.

Well, that esca—

Fair.

Reefer Madness.

Must've missed it. Agreed on it being too low.