All he's got in life is his balls, his bike, a GoPro and a dream. So ride along with our anonymous protagonist as he cruises through the city visually tea bagging unsuspecting females.
I gotta emphasis the "sOcIaL eXpEriMeNt" you're gonna see at the 2:00 mark. Normally this attempt at public depravity would be immediately thrown into the compost pile for wasting our time. But I'm told this lunatic is legit, and has a history of freebasing randoms along her journey. You and your Zappos membership can be the judge of that.
Volume #5 in a collection of videos that Charlie Sheen would be ashamed to attach his name to. And without even a single appearance from a graduate of the Woodman School of Rectology, that's saying something.
Think your marriage is in trouble? Time to reevaluate things, Ham Hock. Today we have a pioneer of female empowerment that does it all. And by all I mean a.) buttsex b.) buttsex while wearing her wedding ring and admitting it on camera. yikes = big
Here it is. Round 2 in what is arguably the most offensive thing you can do in public besides mothershipping the handicap stall at Baskin Robbins. But unlike those shit gremlins - these titans of societal norms actually film the entire thing.
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.
Some women need a good meal and a text goodnight to reach their sexual peak. Others; a couple finger loops around the ole pastrami butterfly. And then there's [Vai] who will stop at nothing less than the full power of Optimus Prime to activate her O-face.
Here it is. The Citizen Kane of ewww your semen tastes like Gene Wilder's deceased asshole. Actually, I'm not entirely sure whether or not Gene is deceased, but I trust that the implied mental image is effective all the same.
You know you had fun when the next day you wake up with a concussion and realize you not only left your phone, but you also forgot your clothes, underwear, sunglasses and self-respect at the club.
Not since ejaculating to Samuel L Jackson's death scene in Deep Blue Scene have I felt this much cinematographic remorse. They just let his wonder worm flap around without even an attempt at Photoshop. Five more leading roles like this and she'll be ready for Paul Anderson.
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.
