So, who's really to blame here? The horse farm that secured their perimeter to keep her away from the livestock, or the guy with 4 Q's in his name that's keeping her on a 1-token drip for the past 4 hours?
The Oakland Doorknob. German Knuckle Cake. Mongolian Taco Punching. Not buying Bitcoin when it was 73 cents. It goes by a lotta different names. But the shame... thats always the same.
Crash course on how to effectively turn your lady friend's choco taco into a permanently gaping meat cave, as illustrated by that sassy bitch from Seinfield. Invaluable information really.
Congratulations on managing to fit your entire fist up your wife's tuna casserole. It's quite the lifetime achievement. Now if only you would quiet the fuck down and learn to expand your vocabulary some!
