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John Xina needs your credit card info
🚨🚨CALLING ALL TENCENT GAMERS🚨🚨 JOHN XINA 🇨🇳🍦LOST HIS SOCIAL CREDIT 🤯 🤭AND NEEDS YOUR HELP TO GET IT BACK 👍👍🇨🇳 ALL HE NEEDS IS THE 1️⃣2️⃣ DIGITS ON YOUR SOCIAL CREDIT CARD 💳 ALONG WITH THE EXPIRATION DATE 📅 AND THOSE 3️⃣ WACKY DIGITS ON THE BACK 🇨🇳🇨🇳🇨🇳🍦
🚨🚨CALLING ALL TENCENT GAMERS🚨🚨 JOHN XINA 🇨🇳🍦LOST HIS SOCIAL CREDIT 🤯 🤭AND NEEDS YOUR HELP TO GET IT BACK 👍👍🇨🇳 ALL HE NEEDS IS THE 1️⃣2️⃣ DIGITS ON YOUR SOCIAL CREDIT CARD 💳 ALONG WITH THE EXPIRATION DATE 📅 AND THOSE 3️⃣ WACKY DIGITS ON THE BACK 🇨🇳🇨🇳🇨🇳🍦
twitchquotes:hey i just want to let you guys know i really want to win and if i say something about your skill its just because im frustrated and i dont want any of you guys to take it personally but ive been having some rough games
hey i just want to let you guys know i really want to win and if i say something about your skill its just because im frustrated and i dont want any of you guys to take it personally but ive been having some rough games
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
