Somewhere in between the 493,000 Slavic back alley ganbang videos on the Internet, exists an even more offensive brand of content. Well let me tell you something chumps; Unless you're that fucking jetski level in Battletoads, I am disoriented by no man/frog. You, tho...
Amber Rayne climbs to the top of America's Most Wanted. Alanah Rae is in desperate need for Dr. Phillip. And the girl at the end has no officially listed name, and that's the bottom line because Stone Cold Steve Autism said so.
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.
Something tells me this trailer park graduate has more hyphens in her real name than California's marriage certificate database, but they just call her Alice. Her issue? PTSD inducing sex acts turn her underwear into a fish tank and there's nothing she can do to stop it.
Apologies to all the competition out there: pieallthetime not only locked down the entire Mountain Dew demographic, but she's done it with such precision I'm actually impressed. Enjoy your participation trophy nerds.
Today we learn three crucial things, so grab your colored pencils and pay attention: #1: Voyeurism is alive and well #2: Sexual misconduct is always negotiable. And #3: Lifetime bans from Macy's aren't a big deal. Lets get it.
Perhaps 'audible' is the wrong word to use here, as it suggests this misfit anticipated the scene going any other possible way. She didn't. Trust me. I've been inside a Walmart parking lot on a Friday night - I know what I'm talking about.
Pairing a guy that looks like he spends the weekend trading anti-lesbian meatloaf recipes over AOL chatrooms, with a girl that gets so purple she should be asking "where's Ronald?" doesn't seem like a contender for documentary of the year. But then you hear who's narrating it.
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.
I don't know what the fuck this thing is, but I'm pretty sure it's sentient and has enough work done to require an oil change every 3000 miles. Further proof that Elon Musk is the future.
If attempting to monetize your most private confessions is any sign of a recession, I'd say we're at the tip of an iceberg that would make the dotcom bubble look like like an afterthought. I'll be expecting a lot more of this until Jim Cramer capitulates.
