These porn producers, always so preoccupied with if they could, but never stopping to wonder if they should. I can't even imagine how awkward this scene must of been to film for everyone involved.
Today we're gonna look back into the history books. Our lesson includes everything from unadulterated violence, more than 5 flavors of that authentic shagged bush and even an appearance from an unlikely celebrity from day's past. A man that was taken way too soon.
Did flashing interns at the local 7-11 becoming a challenge or something? Apparently this miscreant prefers the orifices less traveled. Specifically the ones small enough to give Tiger Woods anxiety attacks. C-L-A-S-S-Y.
After popping a molly (or 5) and getting fucked with a lawn chair, this girl realizes her dreams of being on worldstar are within grasp and totally goes for it. IMHO not worth the lifetime of shame without curly fries and roast beef.
Easily the most try-hard bogus bullshit performances I've seen since YouTube's 'social experiment' revolution went off the rails. I have to point out though: nobody was injured, student loans were paid and girl #1's convulsions can double as a permanent case study for epilepsy. #win
To call this girl a boring bang would be the understatement of the damn millennium. I'll put it this way: If you combined a gender studies course with the PGA, you'd still need a 3 hour Al Gore audio book and jumper cables to match pulses with this fucking corpse. You've been warned.
Nevermind the fact that she talks like a slightly upgraded version of Stan's sister. What I really want to know is where this current trend of bodily fluids being used as a sole protein source started from. And I want to know now.
There's a very thin [blood]line between what's acceptable and what isn't in the world of semi-professionally produced porn. I'm not telling you I know where that line is. But I do know Fujisan Ned Flanders just fucking diddly doodly crossed it.
I'm no expert, but we may be reaching ultra critical levels of unforgivable shamelessness here. Or as the Italians used to call it; "Exterminus Adversus Slutterdominous". Now call your parents and tell them what you learned today.
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.
Listen: If you delinquents keep spamming your entire loadouts before the first checkpoint is captured, I'm gonna have to turn this into an official series. That kind of uncontrollable pressure reminds me of a romantic moment involving myself, a $20.00 bill and the McRib. Let's just say mom's Plymouth Vista got a new interior paint job that night. [PART I] [PART II]
