I can't imagine what life decisions lead to your obituary being littered with the words "twerking" and "public nuisance" and "30,000 volts". But I'm betting it involves the neighbor's parakeet, and all 16 delicious flavors of Rice-a-Roni. (fuck you Rice Pilaf)
I've never liked golf... or any sports for that matter. I don't see the point of putting balls in holes for points 'n shit, but when the goals have been replaced with holes, you have earned my attention.
For a minute there I was starting to lose faith in degenerate white guy's ability to keep me entertained. Then I was introduced to a fetish with more questions than Sylvester Stallone's medicine cabinet.
Some women that happen to look like rejected "Lord of the Rings" characters find themselves in a cheap hotel room, making a porn movie so atrocious that even the producer wouldn't show up to film it.
This is all but guaranteed to exterminate any story you've been led to believe that everyone in the webcam community is living life on easy mode. Snap back to reality with 5 disasters even FEMA won't pick up your phone calls for.
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.
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.
Yeah uh... so is this what studio porn has evolved into? Because if I've lived to the point where people are actually spending money on producing cleverly disguised Cialis commercials we may have finally reached the bottom...
