At this point, self-aware cousin fuckers really deserves their own sub-genre. Decades of inbreeding and limiting toothbrush ownership to 1-per-household has carved itself into a niche that I can only describe as recession proof Walmart porn.
For fuck sakes, these dorks could've thrown a dart at any billboard in Las Vegas and found better ideas to attach to their bodies permanently. I haven't seen people this far out of their comfort zones since the launch of Burger King's ultimate breakfast platter.
It's not like Woodman sending 18 year old girls to the Depends section at Super Walmart is some sort of secret, so one has to question the motives at this point. Is it an act? Are they sadomasochists? And most importantly: If Ronda Rousey were to crowbar her vagina open, would it be comparable to the consistency of pulling apart a peanut butter sandwich?
Someone somewhere thought it would be really great to make a 70 minute porn film set in the Victorian era about a guy with a dick for a nose. Today we honor men like that and the amazing master-pieces of shit they produce.
First impressions are important. Unless of course your name is Kandi Baby and have access to more pharmaceuticals than Liver King. Whoever thought it was a good idea to release this pornographic lobotomy probably saw The Marvels on opening day too.
This girl has 1 of the nicest racks I've ever seen. But bundle that with an extremely frigid personality & you then have the biggest disappointment since Macaulay Culkin's The Pagemaster. Seriously, this chick's so uptight she wont even do a facial. It's tragic.
Today we go on a spirited journey to a time forgotten; Behind the scenes of your average 2004 porn shoot. Special shoutout to Julian for being a role model during my college years. That man's lust for turning fallopian tubes into tier-3 tuna casserole should have earned the Martha Stewart seal of approval.
In Russia, a fake farm equipped with disco lights and some thot lip syncing catchy dance music while fucking for 20 minutes is quality porn. I'm not totally convinced, but the song does have a 'pavlov's dog' effect on my boner now.
Becky Bagels foolishly thinks her road trip to the swampland is going to be an uneventful one. That is, until her travel guide delivers the kind of backdoor beatdown that insurance companies are suddenly starting to add in-network coverage for. Many such cases.
I was gonna tag one girl as "Funky Town" to see how many newcomers Google themselves right off the Internet, but I choose a more honorably path. So what did we end up learning today? Sharp objects and SNES soundtracks work extremely well together. That's what. Support cyclo-boob [HERE]
