Today we learn three crucial things, so grab your colored pencils and pay attention: #1: Voyeurism is alive and well #2: Sexual misconduct is always negotiable. And #3: Lifetime bans from Macy's aren't a big deal. Lets get it.
Maybe you've already seen the clip at 2:00. It seems to have spread across the Internet faster than gonorrhea during Burning Man weekend. But the rest is definitely worth a spot amongst your 36 hour doom scroll. More public shame[ing] [here]
Someone somewhere thought it would be really great to make a 70 minute porn film set in the Victorian era about a guy with a dick for a nose. Today we honor men like that and the amazing master-pieces of shit they produce.
"If you're caught, DON'T STOP!" That's not a direct quote, and it probably shouldn't be. Especially for that broken fire hydrant seasoning the corner table at Smash Burger around the 5:00 mark. Just what in the fuck...
All I ask is to watch and promise to never replicate. Especially that indoor power washing in the last video. One wrong push and you run the risk of turning the thunderstorm into a full blown shit shower. I call it "the heat seeking carmel farmer" and it's the #3 reason for divorce. Right behind finances and sending an application to Lily Philips.
And by experience, I mean one man blowing up his beer money on the kind of sexual endeavor that would shell shock a Vietnam war veteran. Speaking of blowing up: The only thing missing from that slaughter house between her legs is someone in the background screaming wUrLstAr and Floyd Mayweather coming out of retirement to fight it.
Our newest philanthropist has officially crossed the line into perverse territory. Not even his predecessors can claim they've pushed their love of charity this far before. Take 2 showers tonight. Just in case. [ PART I ]
A happily married couple is currently pushing the boundaries of amateur porn. They're both jizz fanatics that mix their love of semen with public escapades. I wish I had a friend with a wife like this.
See? Not every post here has to be about unsuitable bodily penetrations and the Montana residents that love them. Sometimes you gotta slow down and appreciate women that would charge $99.99 to drop ship you their fart jars. Ask me how I know.
You know you had fun when the next day you wake up with a concussion and realize you not only left your phone, but you also forgot your clothes, underwear, sunglasses and self-respect at the club.
Not exactly the most unexpected chain of events from a class of people that come less prepared for war than whoevers handicap stall I invaded at Waffle House last week. Sorry Wheels, but the bucket in the janitor's closet simply doesn't meet my capacity standard.
Our boy is having domicile problems of the synthetic drug variety, and it's fucking up his after-work Roblox clan war. The charges? Breaking and entering, aggravated harassment, disorderly conduct and skidmarking Target's finest bedroom linen. Tensions rise, police are called, I laugh. Pretty funny shit.
