♫ I got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine
♫ I got a love and I know that it's all mine, oh, oh-oh
♫ Do what you want but you're never gonna break me
♫ Sticks and stones are never gonna shake me, oh, oh-oh
What is the last bodily fluid you want to see halfway into a twin-sister green beaning? If your answer has anything to do with Teavana's seasonal flavors - you're only halfway there. But points are on the board. #gag
Compliments aren't my strong point, but I must say... chick in the yellow dress is fucking stunning. I'd readily eat Honey Nut Cherrios out of Philip Seymour Hoffman's crusty asshole just for a chance to hold her hand. Someone Russian please hook it up.
Willing humiliation and receiving more hits than one of those bullshit primitive building channels. No, it's not Connor's return to the octagon. But it's still gonna cost you $79.99 if her 1st name has a hyphen in it.
Discounted Rice-a-Roni, a Dwayne Johnson body massage and joining a Chick-fil-A protest: All things I'd willingly commit to before slapping a ring on Jasmine Bryne. Pay attention boys and remember: One day it could be half of YOUR Amiibo collection.
I'm not sure a woman with more parking space between her gooch than New York City is on my list of "boner material". But it's 2026 and trying new things was one of the resolutions. Right between losing 19lbs and using toilet paper.
An assembly of miscreants that may remind you of old Internet when people did everything imaginable for nothing more than access to a bottomless keg. Twitter didn't exist, OnlyFans wasn't a thought. It was just degens on the hunt for their next case of rabid vaginitis. [more]
AKA "The Ted Bundy Sex Doll Treatment". She was carefully sculpted by the loving hands of a master craftsmen. Made to be life like, made to look real, made for your loser uncle to fornicate with. Made to be destroyed. SAUCE.
Skanky country girl and dopey get real nasty. Either she's on her period or she just can't handle it. Either way she's not bothered at all and licks the bloody snickers bar clean.
Not really surprising from a girl that calls herself Wisconsin Tiff, but the alternative medicine excuse for this behavior immediately goes out the window. Can't even blame the moon lettuce and it's sibling psychedelics for this digital footprint.
Essentially this is a public service announcement on the cons and cons of touring San Fransisco. Some will live to tell the tale. Others will merge with Skid Row through osmosis. But all will learn the defintion of of "Ordering the Portuguese Breakfast".
Some women require foreplay to get off. Others, Little Caesars 5 for $5.00. And then there's Jessica Carrboro aka The Crotch Vampire, who takes no less than a scoop of organic strawberry swirl to get moist. I say this with complete sincerity: You're not ready for her.
