There's a thin line between trailer park erotica, and soul-deep emotional trauma. Where that line exists I don't know... but judging by the amount of dollar store tattoos I'm seeing on that body, I'd say this human Hindenburg sure as fuck does.
Trying to convince your wife to participate in what can only be described as gathering of the juggalos that serves pasta salad? Bold. But her response? Giggling like she found an extra tender in her 4-piece. Relationships shlamationships.
What happens when you let your BBC-obsessed husband talk you into the kind of Smackdown WWE would be jealous of? Here's a hint: You end up booking a legendary Iron Man match, but there's no winner.
Every so often I come across an individual that makes me ask: How much tarantula fucking middle aged misguided trailer park moonshine did they drink before this became a good idea? It's like someone took Rosie O'Donnell and made it harder to see her naked.
The real hero of today's adventure should be whatever surgeon sews that bag of expired beef back together in the last clip. It seems learning how to be a boxer through YouTube videos with a language barrier has consequences. More [here]
The finest collection of eardrum destroying, vomit inducing orgasms you'll wish you never saw. Emphasis on the whole wishing you never saw this shit part. One dude nuts so hXc that he actually ruptures a fucking blood vessel and spurts red. 2.15 mark. You've been warned.
What happens when you try to clone Mike Tyson, but the machine takes the eggplant emoji seriously? Sorry, but that specimen needs to be noted here. Was it's purpose to inflict maximum damage, or an aerodynamic choice to reach a new velocity?
Three years later and it seems [our boy] has ditched the mashed potatoes recipe and moved on to crafting a signature carne asada. ¿Felicidades mi amigo?
Feast your eyes on a collection of o-faces so outlandish, it would be impossible to get a nut off in public without being caught. Especially if they are a distance shooter. Chances are they'll let loose near an active bus stop and catch one of the locals in the crossfire. It's called "The Cuban Waterslide" and I'm still paying the price for it to this day.
You clicked the original one so many damn times, I had to dive deeper into her discography. Unfortunately it turns out all her roads lead to this evolutionary cul-de-sac using her as the only form of exercise he's seen since Jock Jams was a thing. Don't look that up. [-PART I-]
Anybody have the technical name for this phenomenon? or a real explanation? Specifically one that doesn't involve voodoo dolls, Penn & Teller or Planet Wing's suicide sauce. I want answers.
