For a minute there I was starting to lose faith in degenerate white guy's ability to keep me entertained. Then I was introduced to a fetish with more questions than Sylvester Stallone's medicine cabinet.
It seems Allie Addison's apprehension levels are at zero, giving her little trouble with broski's maximum depth potential. And by little trouble, I mean the kind of potential organ rearrangement Art The Clown would be proud of.
You clicked the original one so many damn times, I had to dive deeper into her discography. Unfortunately it turns out all her roads lead to this evolutionary cul-de-sac using her as the only form of exercise he's seen since Jock Jams was a thing. Don't look that up. [-PART I-]
idk what exit strategy the mutant in the last clip is planning on, but this shit doesn't work for me brother. Seriously it's over for you and any unsuspecting Amish person you hire to tailor-make a pair of Fruit of The Looms wide enough to hide that monstrosity from the world.
I guess this is what happens when your Netflix and Chill night turns into a solo adventure and you start organizing the "Foreign Girls That Like WuTang" sub-folder in your NUT directory. I don't know, I see more reasons you shouldn't cornhole wild life thanks to her constant deer-in-headlights reaction than I do sitcom legends. Thoughts?
I gotta emphasis the "sOcIaL eXpEriMeNt" you're gonna see at the 2:00 mark. Normally this attempt at public depravity would be immediately thrown into the compost pile for wasting our time. But I'm told this lunatic is legit, and has a history of freebasing randoms along her journey. You and your Zappos membership can be the judge of that.
Everything in life has a proper explanation if you open your mind. Except the homie trying to scrub daddy his dirty walnut on a Tuesday afternoon in broad daylight around the 1:45 mark. NORAD will hear about this.
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]
Desperate for attention and not afraid of having their pork chops on the Internet forever. If these aren't the quintessential for the independent woman of 2023, I don't wanna know what is. Now ladies, make sure to save that OF cash. The Valtrex isn't going to overnight itself.
Every so often I come across an individual that makes me ask: How much tarantula fucking middle aged misguided trailer park moonshine did they drink before this became a good idea? It's like someone took Rosie O'Donnell and made it harder to see her naked.
