I honestly thought she was faking/farming interaction up until the middle of this. After that her reactions are priceless. Particularly the "i think there's a pack of wallabys gnawing the inside of my sphincter" look that is persistently peppered within this fever dream. Find her live [here]
Meet Melody: A 33% shareholder in the trio of Italian freaks known as DollsCult. Apparently in between marathoning episodes of Metaloclypse and getting death threats for wiping their genitals all over public property - they actively participate in community service. #getamop
If anyone's interested in a wager, I have Season 6 of Bill Nye the Science Guy on bluray that says my pet chinchilla drops bigger deuces than this chick. More of her HERE.
The reality of having less musical talent than an asthmatic hedgehog must have hit her like a sac of 90's PSA videos and she needed clout, badly. How can life get any worse you ask? Well... I'll let searches for "how do you stitch a butthole" answer that.
He came packing a mullet, social-awkwardness and the body type/skin tone of a marsh mellow with prescription glasses. But that day back in 1998, he was a hero for 10 minutes at a gentleman's club in Arkansas.
This self-titled pimp from Arkansas goes by "Mrlongstroke2015" and today he has invited two ratchets over for a threesome show. One problem: the girls just beat him up.
Great body. Classic look. Even has the courtesy to scrub daddy her dirty walnut before doing the coney island cha cha. There were definitely a couple moments of genuine concern on her face, but now you know why wedding rings exist. [song]
Classic case of overconfidence. If only he put as much effort into his hygiene as she did into Walmart bathrooms she choose to get tattooed in, then maybe this permanent mark on his resume could have been avoided. Live, learn and always wipe twice.
Consider this an open letter to the content creators out there: I will donate the $13.75 I made trading Krypto Kittys with down syndrome to a charity of your choosing, in exchange for promising to never use condiments on your wiener ever again. The balls are in your courts.
