Thanks for the package, Wes. The $20 in postage was well spent. Sending you nudes in return.
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I don't do politics, it's not really my bag, but every time I catch a glimpse of a Democratic debate, all I can think is, "Why is Larry David yelling at that wizard mummy?" I think I've really nailed politics.
I am about to fuck up this entire chicken. In one sitting. For America and for Jesus. Alea iacta est, dulce periculum.
For sale: One (1) chest hair, formerly owned by Enrique Iglesias, obtained through morally and legally questionable means, but untraceable. Bidding starts at $95. Winning bid also gets a bonus photo of Mr. Iglesias passed out over a punch bowl of Whiskey.
I often stare myself down in the mirror and—through clenched teeth—ask that self-same question: What can a real sex doll be for a lonely man? The thousand-yard-stare that greets me back has no answer; it never does. Do the gods answer my cry this day?
Got a noise complaint from my downstairs neighbor for playing the DOOM soundtrack loudly over the weekend. My response? More DOOM soundtrack. Knock on my door, coward. Face me like a man. Unless you're a woman. Then I'm coming to the door in a sexy robe.
Do you think foreign people know how stupid they are? Or are they too stupid to notice? Like Canadians, for example, or the French. Or French Canadians. This has actually been Charlton Heston, with your Thought For The Day. I take cash or credit.
Jalapeno poppers and sour popsicles for breakfast because I'm going to die eventually anyway, fuck it, let's go out corpulent, cranked to the nines on boner pills, and screaming about how the government is trying to take away our laser assault rifles.
Guten morgen, Destructoid! Why not get your day started with a nice dose of uplifting orchestral music? Or you guys could stick to your usual routine of crystal meth and hentai. Either works, I don't judge.
I have decided to blast Def Leppard at 6 in the morning with all of my windows open. I am an adult, I lost my damn mind years ago, and my neighbors can all collectively Pour Some Sugar On Me and eat my ass. Let the complaints come flowing. They arouse me.
I was wondering why @Soulbow hasn't been that active around here lately, but it all makes sense now. I understand you wanting to keep this from us, but you don't have to be ashamed, friend. Get well soon, buddy. You're in our thoughts. You can beat this.
Playing Deus Ex: MD, and holy hell, the facial animations and lip syncing. It's like watching a ghost possess a lump of silly putty and puppeteer it to do human things and make human emotions, but the ghost has only ever seen 2nd grade claymation projects
Times are tight, but if I fudge around with the numbers, I can afford one game for under $15 from the PSN sale. As such, I want to go in carefully. Thinking Pillars of Eternity, but heard good and bad things. Anyone have experience with the port? BUMP!
Happy Birthday, RiffRaff! If you were near, I would press you to my Heston bosom and suckle you with Birthday joy. Alas, you live in the giant grease fire that is New Jersey, and so you'll have to settle for my glorious visage and well-wishes.
Finally beat DQ11 today at 140 hours. Cried a bit as the credits rolled showing the different DQ games over the years, and I'm not ashamed. Something special about a series that's been with you over the years and is tied to so many memories, good and bad.
It has been a long week, and so I greet this day the only way I know how: by throwing celebratory slices of cheese off the balcony of my third story apartment, into the parking lot below, while waving to passersby. "We made it," I declare, beaming.
Who's up watching Tremors at 5 in the morning? This guy. Who's on his third cup of noodle? This guy. Who's asking himself questions and then also answering them on the internet? This guy. Who's probably going to die alone and unloved? Frankie Muniz.
Pictured: Mike getting into the Holiday spirit, the only way he knows how. We could all learn a thing or two about the true meaning of Christmas from him. Bless you, bud. #Blessedmas #Hashtag
#Cursedmas This one is for my boy Dere.
Because my heart is without mercy or restraint, #Cursedmas; may it be laid bare for all to see. There is no escape, for this is the Great Doom of our age.
If I'm going to play Death Stranding, may as well do it right. I have named her Irene; she is an elegant lady, and I have not shown her my penis yet. We're waiting until our wedding night. Look at all of her pixels; her screen can barely contain them. Mmm
I bought a God damn thing and if it sucks I'm going to huff a bunch of nitrous oxide, paint my naked body with lamb's blood, and burn down a Hooters while chanting "Sic Semper Tyrannis," which will make about as much sense as most of Kojima's storylines.
Went through old stuff. Turns out, I had a massive, meaty, throbbing pant-stretcher for Barry Bonds as a lad. A calling, missed? Conventional wisdom says no, but I think it's time for me to start roiding and swingin' hard wood. Barry has shown me the way.
About The Actual Charlton Hestonone of us since 6:46 AM on 12.24.2017
I'm actually Charlton Heston. What, were you expecting some purple prose? An overwrought introduction? Get off of my property, you filthy God damn hippie.
Hey there. Wow, kinda smells weird in here. Okay, who left all of these wet towels on the floor? Seriously, what the hell, guys. There's garbage under the towels, too. God, I know I've been gone for a while, but where do you all get of...