There is a new threat out there to hookers worldwide. It isn't HIV or the police, it's a dirty old man named Douglas who has made an art form out of verbally degrading prostitutes lol.
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.
Undoubtedly the most erotic thing I've seen since responding to an OKCupid message from a girl named The Violator. Results were similar if you replace 'cumshot' with 'Hellmans Tartar Sauce'. And 'private affair' with 'Burger King during rush hour'.
This girl is ridiculously cute. I want to hold her hand. I want to smell her hair. I want a 3x5 inch cut-out of the computer chair fabric that was blessed with her vaginal discharge. Until then, this gem will have to do.
Meet the man whose penis looks more like a belly button with testicles. The man who gives credence to the old adage of "it's just cold outside", in response to why ones cock would be smaller than a vienna sausage.
The farther below the equator you go, the crazier behavior you'll find. A novel concept, and one that's officially reinforced by the pair of donut glazers walking the streets like it's fucking fashion week. Just being an observer might give you Hep-C.
Only 1 thing compliments the relaxed feel of a holiday weekend - And that's getting more rash on your crotch from a guy you salad-tossed than the toilet in a Portuguese farmhouse. And to those inbreds in the last clip: End the bloodline here. This never needs to happen again.
Nothing here but people willing to be treated like the bed liner of Ford F-150 with 8 digits on the clock. Some even goes as far as to request moar dick. Complimentary forewarning: Any further into those monkey biscuits & this will technically be classified as a medical procedure.
hmm, strange. Here I am thinking the whole "i'm training to turn my uterus into a parking garage for hellcats" was no longer a lucrative financial path worth pursuing. And then the last girl went ahead proved me wrong.
A special service bulletin for the female viewer(s). Next time you feel like exposing your rotten tator tot to the general public, read a couple chapters of Everything I Know About Women I Learned From My Tractor by Roger Welsch first. Maybe you'll find what's missing in your life.
Many, many years ago, in the days of old known as 1997, an instructional VHS was forged. Watch and learn how to master the art of one handed typing with post-aspergers Winnie Cooper from the "Wonder Years".
