The pharyngeal reflex AKA laryngeal spasm AKA gag reflex exists to prevent us from dying, but it also makes it much harder to shove dicks down our throats.
Ratchet is what you get if a "ghetto hood rat" and a "chicken head" have a fatherless child that becomes a stripper or aspiring rapper with Tupac quotes for tattoo's and eight ratchet kids of their own.
There's just no going back after making a video like this. She'll be forever known as the degenerate that got famous for rawdogging a South Park character. She's essentially a walking, talking Twitter activist for borderless sexuality... and yet stays in semi-boner material territory. An enigma, if you will.
LIFE LESSON #186: If your poker face is weaker than the walls of Alec Baldwin's rectum - stay the fuck out of the side-chick game. Last time I saw this level of angst in a female, I had to translate "yes, nickles are so a currency" into English for a Sudanese hooker. (thx Alexa)
Another edition featuring triflin' ass hoes, hood rats of all kinds and a singing crack head with erectile problems. They call him Uncle Jim and he can do any unskilled miscellaneous task for the low-low.
We all have a calling. It may not be skeet shooting Reddi Wip's finest, or hitting a PB in Super Mario 64. But for homeboy at the 6:25 mark replicating what he saw on Discovery Channel's Rise of Warrior Chimps, life finally has a purpose. More: [-1-] [-2-] [-3-] [-4-] [-5-] [-6-] [-7-] [-8-]
You could throw a football in her asshole and hit nothing but net. She has the Mariana Trench of colons and today she's pushing the limits of pornography, breakfast, and ass sphincters all at the same time.
On a dark night in some soviet shithole, crazy old man Vlad drank on his medication, put his birthday suit on and now he ain't taking no shit from no stupid Volvos giving him any crap.
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.
Bittersweet painal, obscenity-filled ogasms, and a boob job pre-dating the birth of jesus. This ones got it all, and Ms. Big Ole Leathery Funbags earns some serious bonus points at the 2:35 mark.. Not even a fuckin rectal injury can dull her desire for ATM.
If you think that number is talking about hog dimensions, you will be sorely mistaken. It seems this attraction has stricter height limitations than Six Flag's El Toro. You gotta measure less than 4 feet tall, well-versed in THOTology and be next in line for a fight with Jake Paul. Brutal. Part 1 [HERE] Part 2 [HERE] Support [HERE]
