Congratulations on managing to fit your entire fist up your wife's tuna casserole. It's quite the lifetime achievement. Now if only you would quiet the fuck down and learn to expand your vocabulary some!
The Oakland Doorknob. German Knuckle Cake. Mongolian Taco Punching. Not buying Bitcoin when it was 73 cents. It goes by a lotta different names. But the shame... thats always the same.
"She's beautiful!", announces mom in the voice of an angel while watching her daughter masturbate. Then dad comes home, see's mom and daughter naked in the tub on web cam. Shocker: he's totally cool with it.
Honest. Natural. Doesn't run more filters on herself than an industrial fish tank. Cindy had all the tools to become the next big thing. But 20 seconds into some Sacramento turtlenecking & she's out the door quicker than me watching Fast X. Want to steal his look? [-BUY A SHIRT-]
If there's one thing that never fails to get a fuckload of clicks - it's videos of unexpected butt love. So here's 8 of em. That's right, EIGHT, as in the number of times I defecated after eating crab wontons at P.F. Changs. Enjoy.
Not the first time I've seen a girl that got me through those awkward high school years trying to erase her past, but it might be the most indisputable. Silly goose, you can't just replace us with Twitch simps and expect us to forget lol
She seems like a nice girl. The type that would throw herself off a post office rooftop if you missed her text, or fuck the mailman's chihuahua if your Instagram pic got 0 likes. But her taste in recreational activities? Shit, I've seen happier faces cleaning toilets at the Renaissance Fair.
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.
Get ready kids, it's time to solve the burning question we've all been wondering: Just how many baseballs can you really fit in a girl? The answer will amaze you.
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?
I can't imagine what life decisions lead to your obituary being littered with the words "twerking" and "public nuisance" and "30,000 volts". But I'm betting it involves the neighbor's parakeet, and all 16 delicious flavors of Rice-a-Roni. (fuck you Rice Pilaf)
