Want hard proof that humans are still all about charity? Look no further friendos. This scumcunt offers some locals the ultimate handout: A free reminder to get yourself STD tested next time you go reaching for those frozen Reese's Cups. You can find her new profile HERE.
[boo-kah-kee] [Noun] A sexual practice involving a large group of men masturbating on a single person. I sorted over 30 hours of beta's jacking off on gutter sluts to make this. Enjoy.
I'll leave you with some wisdom my acquaintance at Panda Express bestowed upon me: Never underestimate a woman's will to feed. She may have the phenotype of a New Jersey soccer mom... but when the adrenaline hits, watch the fuck out.
If it wasn't for the guy getting his hot dog caramelized I was going to say society has gotten too soft on sperg-like sex acts that belong behind closed doors or in a WNBA locker room. I expect nothing less from citizens that look like Buc-ee's is their favorite restaurant.
For fuck sakes, these dorks could've thrown a dart at any billboard in Las Vegas and found better ideas to attach to their bodies permanently. I haven't seen people this far out of their comfort zones since the launch of Burger King's ultimate breakfast platter.
A rousing assembly of women that don't believe teh night is over until their clout levels have reached unmeasurable proportions. Reminiscent of a reoccurring dream I keep having involving Brock Lesnar and Long John Silver’s Cocktail Sauce.
[she] claims her oldest body is somewhere in between "i trade crypto while working at Walmart" and "the first signs of adult onset diabetes" age range. But today that ceiling is getting mashed. Because our boy toothless wouldn't be able to eat them any other way.
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.
Bridge piercing, stomach tattoos and the occasional rush to the emergency room for soft tissue damage. May I be so bold to say I haven't seen this level of intensity since The Shining.
At this point I'm not even questioning human behavior. The only thing separating all of us from being narrated by David Attenborough, are complicated sneakers and semi-automatic weapons. Turns out the Internet may have been a mistake after all. Parts: [1] [2] [3]
Got a bunch of requests on the girl's name. And in early 2000's fashion, there's more of them than quarters in a football game. She's Michaelle aka Michelle aka Vanessa aka Victoria aka Viktoria and after [11 scenes] she hightailed it away from the BBC payroll.
