The upside to being treated like the exhaust pipe of a Chevrolet El Dorado? Literally nothing. All you have to do is breath and the alpha male fantasy fan fiction will magnetize to you like a herpes outbreak at a Playboi Carti concert.
Only 30% of these genetic anomalies come from Japan. The rest? Homegrown in the ole' U S of A. They could be your neighbors, your mailmen, even the friend you pay in Wendy's frosty coupons to perform the pittsburgh coal miner. Either way, they are among us.
See that rush of fear around the 3:00 mark? That's the kind of reaction second only to a man that has miscalculated his maximum capacity for P.F. Changs Orange Chicken in a public venue. And I think that's something we can all relate to. L, OH, fuckin L
Two things you should definitely abandon before agreeing to have sex with total strangers: Self-respect and Beef-a-roni. One of these is more important than the other, and I'm just gonna let you figure out what order they should be in.
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.
Desperate for attention and not afraid of having their pork chops on the Internet forever. If these aren't the quintessential for the independent woman of 2023, I don't wanna know what is. Now ladies, make sure to save that OF cash. The Valtrex isn't going to overnight itself.
What's life's greatest mystery? Aliens? why Lionsgate allows Tyler Perry to continue directing films? How about how the fuck this 46 year old poster boy for NAMBLA managed to pull a Russian model half his age, only to vow abstinence for half a fucking decade?
It's time to tackle a topic that has gone unanswered for far too long. And today we're doing it in such a way that'll leave you questioning both the average tolerance of the female sphincter and who should have really been the final boss of Monster Hunter Wilds. [my vote is cast]
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.
There's a lot to digest here. But nothing is as concerning as whatever rodeo clown, double-wide uncle sister bullshit is going on around the 3:11 mark. Axe body wash isn't going to clean this feeling off me tonight. Time to dip into the disaster emergency kit.
