Today's visuals couldn't get better if you slammed an Ambien cocktail and hit the boardwalk wearing nothing but a smile and Walmart's finest body spray. Speaking of New Jersey, not even [-carl-] himself would be caught $7 dollars deep in whatever spawned in the last clip.
Symptom #67 that you've graduated from pornstar to full blown drama queen: 3 pumps from Manuel Ferrara's ham hog makes her tap out faster than the Frank Shamrock/Kevin Jackson fight (look it up). Like my reaction after hearing Oprah Winfrey wants to run for president, you can literally see fear in her eyes.
Arnost and his 1 inch mosquito bite take a nosedive into humiliation whilst trying to perform in front of a live studio audience. Sorry friendo, but I think it's best you take that CHUD haircut and make your way back to the subreddit you done crawled up out of.
Today's episode isn't about the money. It's about sending a message. Specifically to the derelicts that have used the Riemann hypothesis and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture to justify paying for what you're about to see: Stop it. Get some help.
What's mine is yours. And what's yours makes her think walking away from that 4-year degree in Anthropological Gender Studies of Amazonian Tree Frogs to do this instead was a bad idea.
Although this scene of Gianna Micheals finger banging herself had to be cut short after only 4 mins, Gianna proves once again how badass she is and just finishes the scene best she can.
Noob's first and final attempt at porn stardom lands him in a gang bang shoot. He doesn't care, he thinks he's ready for anything... but nothing can prepare you to be a premature ejaculator's innocent bystander. PEW PEW
I don't even know what's worse: $100,000 dollars being sunk into this abhorrent hunk of cinematic shit... or the fact that it blows away the last 4 seasons of The Walking Dead in both action and character development. #bringbackshane
A rousing assembly of women that don't believe teh night is over until their clout levels have reached unmeasurable proportions. Reminiscent of a reoccurring dream I keep having involving Brock Lesnar and Long John Silver’s Cocktail Sauce.
If attempting to monetize your most private confessions is any sign of a recession, I'd say we're at the tip of an iceberg that would make the dotcom bubble look like like an afterthought. I'll be expecting a lot more of this until Jim Cramer capitulates.
