Compliments aren't my strong point, but I must say... chick in the yellow dress is fucking stunning. I'd readily eat Honey Nut Cherrios out of Philip Seymour Hoffman's crusty asshole just for a chance to hold her hand. Someone Russian please hook it up.
So, who's really to blame here? The horse farm that secured their perimeter to keep her away from the livestock, or the guy with 4 Q's in his name that's keeping her on a 1-token drip for the past 4 hours?
Meet the man whose penis looks more like a belly button with testicles. The man who gives credence to the old adage of "it's just cold outside", in response to why ones cock would be smaller than a vienna sausage.
What's mine is yours. And what's yours makes her think walking away from that 4-year degree in Anthropological Gender Studies of Amazonian Tree Frogs to do this instead was a bad idea.
As we head towards the final sunset of a year that gave more than one reason to disembowel our own eyeballs with a stinger missile, it's time we reflected. May 2024 bestow upon us more trolls, deeper holes and Twitch.com finishing it's metamorphosis into Chaturbate.
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.
Today, a 19-year-old works their way into college and learns shit like Trigonometry, or Sudanese Rectal Massage Theory. Others are in it for the networking. Me? I moved to skidrow and documented hobos smoking meth while performing communal rimjobs. Revolutionary at the time... but even I never witnessed the fabled "Hammer Head" seen here. GL HF
Another chapter closed in a book that Barnes & Noble insists on displaying in the Sci-Fi section. Normally read in the dimly lit corner of a trailer park that doesn't show up on Google maps, surrounded by Newports and half-eaten cans of Costco's finest meatball ravioli.
