How does one earn such a title? First, be Serenity Haze. Then sign up for porn. Then refuse to do porn stuff. Finally, accuse the producer of rape and get caught lying over and over.
Of all the story lines you could choose, expedited shipping would be last on my fucking list. Then again, so is paying autistic girls in gift cards to round out your threesome so maybe I don't see the vision. Perhaps decades of inbreeding and limiting toothbrush ownership to 1 per home has carved itself into a niche I can only describe as: Inflation-Friendly Walmart Porn.
I've actually seen [this girl] before, but never getting ragdolled like Jeff Bezo's disposable income. Maybe when she's done finding herself, she can sign up for a safer hobby. Like glassblowing. Or teaching mountain lions yoga, for example.
I bet you $3.50 and the remainder of my orange julius this loathsome creature is a thriving member of the furry community. Also: The one time a video on the Internet isn't fake and this is what you give me?
Her claim to fame is deplorable... but when the clothes come off her barbarian hips look like they can survive giving birth to Danny Devito and it's fuckin' beautiful. 5/5 Yelp stars, would eat again.
Today we're gonna look back into the history books. Our lesson includes everything from unadulterated violence, more than 5 flavors of that authentic shagged bush and even an appearance from an unlikely celebrity from day's past. A man that was taken way too soon.
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.
The 70's were a special time in history where no one gave a fuck. Smoking in hospitals, untamed pubes, sexually harassing midgets at the workplace, and faking a cum shot with a limp penis and shampoo? No problem. Nothing was sacred.
I think we all know what really happened to that Malaysian airplane, as we've all seen Donnie Darko and know about the government cover up. But hey, all I'm really trying to say is that at least the G-spot is easier to find than Flight 370.
If the 1980's taught me something, it's that ANYthing goes as long as there's a killer soundtrack behind you. Except this. Not even the renaissance of crack will be held liable for this shit.
Natalia Borodina died after her head was crushed in a topless holiday stunt gone wrong. The mom of one suffered serious injuries after smashing into a lamp post while leaning out of the passenger window of a car being driven by her friend Ivanna Boirachuk. As the car made its way down the street, it got too close to a curb and Borodina’s head hit a street sign. It’s unclear exactly how fast the car had been traveling at the time of impact.
