Essentially this is a public service announcement on the cons and cons of touring San Fransisco. Some will live to tell the tale. Others will merge with Skid Row through osmosis. But all will learn the defintion of of "Ordering the Portuguese Breakfast".
Nothing says reinventing a franchise quite like admitting to the world that you have a fetish even the truckers of America aren't paying for in Walmart parking lots. Now give this so many views, The Rock won't be able to turn down being in the sequel.
A rousing assembly of women that don't believe teh night is over until their clout levels have reached unmeasurable proportions. Reminiscent of a reoccurring dream I keep having involving Brock Lesnar and Long John Silver’s Cocktail Sauce.
I know what you're thinking... 'Wow, the live action Smurfs movie is looking better than ever.' No, this McPoyles lookalike from Always Sunny with the Spanish word for witch tatted on her stomach is a model... or some shit.
At this point I'm not even questioning human behavior. The only thing separating all of us from being narrated by David Attenborough, are complicated sneakers and semi-automatic weapons. Turns out the Internet may have been a mistake after all. Parts: [1] [2] [3]
The 70's were a special time in history where no one gave a fuck. Smoking in hospitals, untamed pubes, sexually harassing midgets at the workplace, and faking a cum shot with a limp penis and shampoo? No problem. Nothing was sacred.
Unlucky Spanish chick gets bashed in the butthole - full force, no lube! Prepare yourself. The level of agony herein is second only to Adele handcuffed to a stair-master.
Turns out there's literally no shortage in people that consider the piss-soaked alley underneath an active freeway a 5-star romantic experience. So, don't consider today's episode an attack. More like, a celebration of the open-minded. And AIDS.
