Amongthe benefits of descending into your basement laboratory and jigsawing out your lady parts is early onset menopause. Fuck those big pharma commercials where women are scratching their menopausal human shells into bloody shreds. Jolie finds it calming. Like a serial killer after taking a victim. Jolie claims menopause makes her feel all grown up. Jolie maintains that contrary to the opinion of every person ever, lopping off your tits and reproductive organs makes you more womanly. She takes comfort in her kids never having to hear, your mom died of ovarian cancer. Your mom is super creepy and makes shitty movies apparently not a problem. Also, car accident.
Every time Angelina Jolie lops off another reproductive organ she celebrates by writing directing and producing a grossly disheartening foreign film. Is she legally not allowed to make depressing art house movies in the U.S.? I couldn’t read all the Sony emails. Jolie’s captured the horrors of the Bosnian war and that crappy Japanese tranny run prison torture camp. Found footage of her and Brad Pitt being emotionally callous in wigs in the South of France is set to bomb this weekend. She’s currently directing another film from her own script about a Cambodian human rights activist during the Killing Fields holocaust of the 70′s, before moving on to an animated feature about an Afghani girl who has to pretend to be a boy to keep her family from eating Grandpa.
Come up for a smile, Angelina. Your international cuddle of purchased children love you unconditionally. The Hollywood Foreign Press have a waiting list to suck on your future gender balancing power penis. We just want you to be happy again. Maybe get into some YouTube prank videos or something where nine of the eleven people who see your films don’t intentionally get their bare toes bloodied in the escalator sprockets just to feel something after your movie. What the fuck happened to you? I suppose you were always miserable deep down, but you faked a perfect smile to match your tits. We were happy. When did we stop mattering?
Writer director Angelina Jolie is surpassed in horror only by oncologist clairvoyant Angelina Jolie. I might have that reversed. I could finally finish my Psych 101 paper requirements watching Angelina pre-cog her breasts and uterus out of her body. I see no redeeming value in a movie starring Jolie and her go-along to get-along husband about an artistic American couple living in the South of France struggling with their marriage. And not just because in real life she and Brad Pitt are an artistic American couple living in the south of France struggling with their marriage. Though that’s a good part of it.
It’s finally time to pity Brad Pitt. It’s tough enough when you have to smile politely at your wife’s freshly thrown pottery glazed in her backyard workshop. Taking four months to carefully act out the most annoying parts of your relationship in 70′s costumes has to be super fucking painful. She’s behind the camera. She knows you’re faking it. I will wrap your mouth in my last fallopian tube and smother you to death, asshole. Now act!
Angelina Jolie will take a break from freaking out her kids with her preventative organ removals for matters of international importance. Like when the United Nations Security Council calls her in to solve the Syrian refugee problem. Having a high school dropout with severe emotional problems as your chief figurer outer on Syrian refugees doesn’t mean you’re not a competent organization, it probably just suggests you could operate out of a strip mall with something less than six billion in funding. I may be alone in thinking Angelina should be good at her day job before we let her take weekend control of the world army of blue helmets and French diplomats with a penchant for hotel maid rape. The UN gets nothing done so this is mostly for show. It’s like when you ask your girlfriend how can you be a better boyfriend. Everybody gets laid for a night and feels like they’ve made progress. Come morning, you’ve got ten thousand Syrian Shias dead in a ditch but there’s always more girlfriends.
I feel feminine, and grounded in the choices I am making for myself and my family. l know my children will never have to say, ‘Mom died of ovarian cancer.
That’s a good point. If you keep cutting out organs, you will never die of cancer. Also, if you never eat you won’t have to worry about GMOs. Angelina’s deleted reproductive system was tested and showed no signs of cancer which doesn’t mean that she wouldn’t someday get cancer, only that if Jesus is a prankster, she’s going to take a quick fatal hit from a fast moving bus. Busses don’t give a shit about proactive.
Sometimes I wonder about important shit. Like if seeing hot selfies of single girls helps or hinders the dating process. Just kidding. I don’t think about that shit. I just look at their tits and ass and hope they put out after apps at TGIFridays like the rest of you.
Single Chivettes with hot selfies looking for love. (TheChive)
Mexican model Alejandra Guilmant shows off her naked tamales for you. (Egotastic)