This one taught me two things: A) Breaking points are negotiable and B) Any case studies of being on the spectrum and in porn can now be cancelled. Dorkalina's got us covered.
Another conga line of partially community college educated females being doused in homemade nut chutney: a.k.a. business as usual in the replies of every single thing on Twitter now. If they're looking for a new spokesgirl, I think we just found about 8 of them.
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.
True Blood's Sukki has a ratchet doppelganger that attempted porn and totally hated it. Her debut goes about as smoothly as a psoriasis break out... But unlike psoriasis she never came back and wasn't seen again.
Introducing yet another gaggle of Jerkmate's B-squad. Fresh off the bench and filled to the brim with asparagus and dollar store beer. Judging by some of these reactions one has to think the aroma they perspire is akin to the cellar of a Pakistani bath house.
Never before have I seen men do something so disrespectful with such finesse. Where there's shame, they show confidence. Where there's shock, they bring warmth. And where there's romance, well... they really don't give a flying fuck.
Imagine going public with all kinds of major mainstream media intelligence, only to get exposed for pipping down room fulls of midwife MILFS dressed as Smokey the fuckin bear. Just lose 40lbs and blame it on Woody Harrelson, you'll be aite.
It truly never ends. Let's just label this one the Shawshank Redemption of "wtf, your load tastes like Alan Greenspan's deceased asshole" Alan probably isn't actually dead, but I trust that the implied mental image is still effective. Game on.
There's just no forgetting you did something like this. Their throats will be forever agaped. The chronic oral queefing has already set in. They're essentially walking, talking whoopie cushions and yet... they remain in good spirits. I like dat in a partner.
Dude looks like he walked into a tattoo parlor and said "yes". Luckily he's hung like a brontosaurus to round out these constructive life decisions. Not sure I was expecting that twist at the end though. Kinda reinforcing the whole don't judge a book by it's cover thing, aren't we?
Not since the 2005 release of 1 Night In Chyna have I seen a woman with such a fucked up misunderstanding of eroticism. She grunts like pirate with stage 4 throat cancer, pisses all over the place, and has a finishing act that'll assfuck your brain cells.
