It's almost like as time passes, society has less than a fuck to give about where they burn the midnight salami. Reminds me of the time I was almost caught defecating in a Blockbuster return box in protest to late fees accumulated on Surf Ninjas. [my balance remains due]
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?
I'll admit that last clip might be enough to ruin your holiday feast later today. But it's Thanksgiving and you probably need something to talk to grandma about before the sweet potatoes hit the table. You should be thanking me, Mortimer. [PART I] [PART II]
That feeling when you realize a backdoor studio in Japan with a $300 makeup budget is closer to the source material of the Resident Evil games than any official movie and whatever the fuck crawled out of Netflix headquarters put together. 2 thumbs up, would Jill off into my sandwich again.
She goes by Cocoa, China, or some shit down at the Snake Charmer Gentlemen's Club. She's a nice girl working her way through college and in her off time she enjoys bath salts and Waffle House.
Tori Spelling's Guatemalan tit job, the hole in a Walmart bathroom stall and discounted Hamburger Helper on Craigslist: Three things I'd touch before signing up for story time from Rebel "my brain is bigger than my butthole" Lynn ever fucking again.
No, seriously don't. Every once in a while pornography life overlaps into real life lessons. Let's just be glad this learning experience was made possible without the assistance of Czechoslovakian accents, and a petting zoo. You don't want to see the things I've seen man.
Here it is. The Citizen Kane of ewww your semen tastes like Gene Wilder's deceased asshole. Actually, I'm not entirely sure whether or not Gene is deceased, but I trust that the implied mental image is effective all the same.
Blue-balled midgets, schizophrenic autists, Miley Cyrus' fan base... this woman's sexual clientele is more well-rounded than IHOP's farmhouse breakfast. Unfortunately there's no visuals of penetration. But what it lacks in nightmares... it makes up for in California's voting pool.
Commit to a blind date in the state of Florida, and I'd say you got about a 98% chance of matching up with a person that dispenses more threatening fluids than a Mountain Dew vending machine. And today my friends, you're gonna learn that the hard way.
