The first 60 seconds of this contains a cluster of words that have absolutely no business being chained together in that order. In fact, in my native language just about every single thing out of her talking hole would be considered a grievance offense. (i speak english)
The 70's were a special time in history where no one gave a fuck. Smoking in hospitals, untamed pubes, sexually harassing midgets at the workplace, and faking a cum shot with a limp penis and shampoo? No problem. Nothing was sacred.
Based on a true story about a peanut butter sandwich, the dangers of masturbating, and how Aunt Opal made her nephew a man. A man with issues needing life long therapy, but a man none the less.
Special shout out to clip #12. For those of you that have never had the luxury of riding a San Fransisco BART train between the hours of 12:00AM and 11:59PM, you just got second hand experienced special delivered by Aunt Jemima herself.
See the thumbnail? Get used to making that face. For you're about to meet a woman with enough human-grade roast beef to end global hunger. I never finished medical school... but it's my professional suggestion she uses the $47.00 paid for this scene to buy a pair of hedge sheers on the way home.
If the 1980's taught me something, it's that ANYthing goes as long as there's a killer soundtrack behind you. Except this. Not even the renaissance of crack will be held liable for this shit.
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.
Pug-faced Hispanic drinks herself so numb she doesn't even notice when last night's chimichanga is hanging halfway out her asshole. Her laugh is as bad as her hygiene. Sounds like something Steven Urkel would emit while making love to the dude from Wonder Years. Watch this one all the way through.
Any college girl can pull off a DP, but to pull off near mythical feats of penetration you need a chick that's on a whole other level of promiscuous. Take Malibu Barbie over here, she can't even tell how many cocks are in her at any given time.
Started from the bottom, now we're here. And by here I mean vigorously being tested for sexually transmitted diseases because Dustin from the Target parking lot insisted on not using any form of protection during his big moment. More Blake Blossom here where she apparently streams on Twitch now?
2004: Facebook launches for the first time, Ashlee Simpson jigged her way into irrelevancy and this jovial mother fucker was using his power of aspergers to give second stringers a reason to show up on set. Half girth, half Pokemon.
