James Deen slings his gentleman juice down one mouth too many in this tragic outtake from Tonsil Hockey. Moral of the story is simple. Never leave your piehole agape when you're on the business end of a 12 inch cock. haha.
Pretty much a public service announcement on the importance of knowing your limits before inking a deal. Some live to tell the tale. Others, are memed for life. But all have an abnormally intimate relationship with Newport cigarettes and Klonopin before the age of 25.
This girl has 1 of the nicest racks I've ever seen. But bundle that with an extremely frigid personality & you then have the biggest disappointment since Macaulay Culkin's The Pagemaster. Seriously, this chick's so uptight she wont even do a facial. It's tragic.
One country's quest for sexual satisfaction reaches it's peak, courtesy of a build-a-bear workshop for egg-drop rice boxes. It's hard to turn a blind eye to this actually being possible in 2020, but make sure this technology never makes it's way to Florida and you got yourself an investor.
Kinda want to emphasize those gravity bags reaching maximum velocity around the 5:00 minute mark. Jell-o has spent over 100 years trying to market physics like this and have failed miserably in comparison. Turns out all you need is a 1-bedroom apartment in Latvia and a c-section scar to make math fun again.
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.
One half of MTV's greatest creation hits the fucking SIMP jackpot. She's Cameron Canela and before her IMDB sported titles like Don't Break Me Volume 6 and Republican Candidate Wife Swap she was handing out freebies to genetics most unfortunate specimens.
Do I even need to release a service bulletin at this point? Ladies; Next time you feel like exploring your options, put in about 18 seconds of research and mAniFeSt what you're about to get into. Maybe then you'll discover something you all lack - coherence motherfuckers.
You can brag about your male pattern baldness all you want homeboy. But if you're not turning all vaginas within a 3 mile distance into your own personal bowl of Hungry Jack Mashed Potatoes, are you even living the Costanza?
Our boy is having domicile problems of the synthetic drug variety, and it's fucking up his after-work Roblox clan war. The charges? Breaking and entering, aggravated harassment, disorderly conduct and skidmarking Target's finest bedroom linen. Tensions rise, police are called, I laugh. Pretty funny shit.
