I like her rotting in her steaming, mouth-frothing obscurity where only people not turned off by the rotten cabbage and boiled egg smell of her soiled pant-suits know what she does, but occasionally I miss posting things like this on her.
Eh. I can do without that fun anyway as long as she is gone, but...she is probably plotting somewhere.
Nursing her many grudges, no doubt!
I wish Hillar a long, long life. Every day is a living hell for her.
Excellent! Deeply satisfying to watch, even though it’s imaginary. Look at that Mug Shot on their computer.
Not trying to be pedantic, but witnesses have said she smells like rotten eggs and boiled cabbage, not boiled eggs and rotten cabbage.