This might eradicate any train-running fantasies you might have once had. But it will also peak your curiosity as to how Danny Glover spends a Saturday night with friends. It's what us Internet folk call a video that's perfectly balanced, as all things should be.
♫ I got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine ♫ I got a love and I know that it's all mine, oh, oh-oh ♫ Do what you want but you're never gonna break me ♫ Sticks and stones are never gonna shake me, oh, oh-oh
Mercedes Carrera is hot and sucks a mean dick, but she's about to drop a big ass fuckin truth bomb on the problem with feminists, gamergate and all that shit.
You can brag about your male pattern baldness all you want homeboy. But if you're not turning all vaginas within a 3 mile distance into your own personal bowl of Hungry Jack Mashed Potatoes, are you even living the Costanza?
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.
What happens in Mexico Chile gets filmed with a potato by cartel members drunk off corona lights. For some guys that love beheading the locals and smuggling drugs in their butts, they sure have weak stomachs.
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".
Not the caliber of female I expected to see on the angry side of Simon Belmont, but I'll roll with the fantasy. Unfortunately there's no aftermath footage, but I would have to imagine by the time this was over it looked like she masturbated with a stick of dynamite.
Some women require foreplay to get off. Others, Little Caesars 5 for $5.00. And then there's Jessica Carrboro aka The Crotch Vampire, who takes no less than a scoop of organic strawberry swirl to get moist. I say this with complete sincerity: You're not ready for her.
If attempting to monetize your most private confessions is any sign of a recession, I'd say we're at the tip of an iceberg that would make the dotcom bubble look like like an afterthought. I'll be expecting a lot more of this until Jim Cramer capitulates.
Much like the Fast and Furious franchise, this series went from "what the fuck am I watching" to How do we get John Cena into one of these scenes? pretty damn quick. The tipping point involves Morgan Lee's last hurrah before someone convinced her to bootleg Lil Wayno songs. And no, you can't unsee that either.
