Not only did this happen live, but she nailed the mythic trifecta: Dry-docked a Russian without a gun to her head, hit the sour cream & onion griddy & did it all with her BF 20 feet away. It's not every day we find girls worthy of an all-expenses paid trip to Red Robin... but she's here.
Anybody have the technical name for this phenomenon? or a real explanation? Specifically one that doesn't involve voodoo dolls, Penn & Teller or Planet Wing's suicide sauce. I want answers.
Inflation is nearing 9% and you're burning through c-notes so you can Rube Goldberg machine your way into the Guinness Book of Degenerate Orgasms? Someone send this to Dave Ramsey, I want to see him shit his economically priced pants.
3.5 minutes worth of reasons to never take your pants off without agreeing to the terms first. Especially the Lily Phillips clip. Two years later and somehow this specimen keeps managing to produce videos that would put a Victorian citizen into a coma.
Of all the ways to absolutely starch what's left of your testosterone, scarfing down Milli Vanilli's splash damage was the last fucking thing I had my bingus card. Watching a stranger crack your s/o's purple turkey just doesn't make sense to me. Then again, anytime someone makes middle aged women squeal like a 2 for 1 HomeGoods sale, eyebrows are raised.
If there's one thing that never fails to get me questioning the future of this whole human race experiment; it's what the most unassuming person will consider a sexual accessory. So here's about 6 of them. That's right, six. As in the number of times I replayed the noise that Pringles can made when ricocheting off her head.
[MAKE SURE YOU WATCH PART 1 FIRST] Here it is. A live demonstration of what may be the very first evidence that sexually transmitted diseases are a conspiracy. Freddie Mercury: I'm going to get you the justice you deserve.
Many a question will arise while shuffling through this one, but none more important than whatever comes out of your mouth around the 3:30 mark. Don't worry, you're not alone. I don't fucking know either.
One determined woman's mission to have her guts turned into a holiday display at Home Goods is actually thwarted by a director that specializes in mawmaw's chicken casserole. She wants to continue, he makes her hit the showers... and a new dynamic in butthole malfeasance porn is born.
You don't have to be a full blown beta to experience this level of salami sloshing. Just find a girl that's sexually attracted to Amibos & the lifetime bans from all major entertainment venues will flow in faster than you can complain about them on Twitter. We may be at the point where the rise of this fetish needs clinical studying.
If you've ever powered through Fred Durst's 2019 classic "The Fanatic" then nothing will seem out of place. For the other 99.999% of the population: Prepare to be subjected to the kind of cringe Saturday Night Live has been filling their diaper with for the past 2 decades. And tits.
Darrell spent a year talking his wife Nikki into giving swinging a shot. She finally gives in and it does not go to plan. To add insult to injury, the whole humiliating ordeal is captured forever in some shitty pseudo-documentary.
