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!
“Don't limit yourself. Many people limit themselves to what they think they can do. You can go as far as your mind lets you. What you believe, you can achieve.” — Mary Kay Ash
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.
You ever show up for the orgy but just jerk off by yourself? Or have you ever managed to be cringier than a wannabe white rapper with a pick in his ginger afro? Yea... me either. YAY!
It's that time once again to highlight some special times in webcam hookerdom. Witness e-prostitutes having breakdowns, getting attacked by small reptiles and other awesome wtfness.
For a woman that willingly had oxygen-depriving brain damage inflicted upon her, I gotta say she's pretty upbeat about the whole free for all group sex thing. 347 movies before hitting the eject button is no easy feat either. Especially during an era of pornography when 98lbs was considered obese.
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?
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.
Easily the most try-hard bogus bullshit performances I've seen since YouTube's 'social experiment' revolution went off the rails. I have to point out though: nobody was injured, student loans were paid and girl #1's convulsions can double as a permanent case study for epilepsy. #win
I gotta say; supreme vag on the redhead. Haven't seen a pair of lips that impressive since the time I got caught with a VHS rip of Fast Times at Ridgemont High and the last jar of Smuckers Sweet Orange Marmalade. Mother's Day hasn't been the same since.
Classic cases of unbridled overconfidence. If only these creatures put as much effort into velcroing their crotches shut in public, as they did into experimenting with pain medications: Then maybe these permanent marks on their resumes could have been avoided. Yikes and gadzooks.
