Around the 1:50 mark she denies a handful of the colonel's secret recipe. Uh uh. If that's her idea of cutting back on carbs, I'd love to know how she celebrates Thanksgiving. But the real question is: How many 2-for-1 Golden Corral coupons does it take to make this transaction possible?
Every day, everywhere you look people are spamming fears of USD collapse and political discourse. While I'm over here waiting for things like this to start happening in Chipotle parking lots during daytime hours again. #boomer #oldfashioned
3:40 is today's highlight. The fact that this behavior generates sustainable income blows my mind. Imagine taking one of those suburban mass shooter interrogation videos and crossbreeding it with Pepto Bismol. Then masturbate with steel wool cause that's the pain I feel watching.
There's just no going back after making a video like this. She'll be forever known as the degenerate that got famous for rawdogging a South Park character. She's essentially a walking, talking Twitter activist for borderless sexuality... and yet stays in semi-boner material territory. An enigma, if you will.
The amazing thing? Multiple people thought these were good ideas and put a whole lot of effort into them. I.E. the guy who had to cut a dick hole in a giant Wheaties box or the man controlling the giant octopus dildo tentacles.
Once again we're honoring the best of the worst in the world of webcam modeling. Where cute crazy bitches and really weird dudes are willing to stab at their own kidneys for our amusement and tokens.
Did flashing interns at the local 7-11 becoming a challenge or something? Apparently this miscreant prefers the orifices less traveled. Specifically the ones small enough to give Tiger Woods anxiety attacks. C-L-A-S-S-Y.
Bob is the type of dude that wears gas station sunglasses indoors and shouts "WOOOO" when excited. Bob has also finally gathered the $315 necessary to fulfill a life long fantasy of his, AKA "The Most Fail Interracial Porn In History".
Not exactly the most unexpected chain of events from a class of people that come less prepared for war than whoevers handicap stall I invaded at Waffle House last week. Sorry Wheels, but the bucket in the janitor's closet simply doesn't meet my capacity standard.
It's almost like as time passes, society has less than a fuck to give about where they burn the midnight salami. Reminds me of the time I was almost caught defecating in a Blockbuster return box in protest to late fees accumulated on Surf Ninjas. [my balance remains due]
You know that feeling: When it's 0600 hours, the sun is shining, and you find yourself 4-inches deep inside the only girl that believed your story about using the same plumber as Zac Efron. In other words: Perfection. That is, unless Lucya "The Wolverine" Chernyshevsky is leader of the neighborhood watch.
