DawnChorus
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jun 13, 2021
Goddamn it, Chantal. You look like you are giving birth to yourself. This sort of thing only happens, generally, when a super-fat lies down and their face fat spreads and their neck disappears inside shoulder fat, making it seem as if a head is emerging from a disembodied torso. But you've accomplished it while vertical. Outstanding.
The absolute state of this woman.
How much more of this can we, the audience, can take? She needs to have a stroke, or Nader needs to go to trial on the Mae charges and Chantal is forced to testify about his whereabouts, or she goes to jail in the People's Republic of Canuckistan for objectifying this poor refugee's gross culture, or she gets audited so hard she can't shit for a week, or something. There's not enough amusement left in watching this weeble waddle around in a lethally bisecting onesie, nearly dying when she is forced to compress her massive midsection when she tries to lean over five degrees in order to use a putting iron. Once a full body shot of her in the wild was enough, and now it's not even close enough to make up for the sheer boredom of TRY ME DEEDEE YOU MESSED WITH THE WRONG ONE I'M SMARTER THAN YOU BOTH HOW COULD ANYONE DO THIS TO SOMEONE THEY LOVE MAE'S A LIAR I'M AN EMPATH AND KNOW A NARCISSIST WHEN I SEE ONE YOU CAN'T HELP WHO YOU LOVE [CAT DEMON VOICE DEFLECTION] YOU'RE GOING TO PRISON!" bullshit she's been putting out for the last nine months.
I keep following to see the stoned car wreck that requires the jaws of death to get her out. Or the heart attack. Or the brutal stabbing. Or Peetz breaking down and going on a killing spree that begins and ends in Chantal's room. Surely it's gonna happen soon, right? Right fellow Kiwis?
Only a nuclear blast can take cockroaches out, or maybe her cpap will conk out one night and she drifts into eternal sleep.