For these ground breaking philanthropists, it's about destroying societal norms. Climb that mountain and nothing shall come between your communal oral cavity and legendary status. Save for a viral outbreak or four.
Consider this an open letter to the content creators out there: I will donate the $13.75 I made trading Krypto Kittys with down syndrome to a charity of your choosing, in exchange for promising to never use condiments on your wiener ever again. The balls are in your courts.
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.
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.
There's a lot to digest here. But nothing is as concerning as whatever rodeo clown, double-wide uncle sister bullshit is going on around the 3:11 mark. Axe body wash isn't going to clean this feeling off me tonight. Time to dip into the disaster emergency kit.
Today's Menu: 1) Conor McGregor post-retirement 2) Ballin on a Budget 3) Hard Times Daddeh 4) The Mastadon Challenge 5) Contents Under Pressure 6) Always Get Your Moneys Worth
One half of MTV's greatest creation hits the fucking SIMP jackpot. She's Cameron Canela and before her IMDB sported titles like Don't Break Me Volume 6 and Republican Candidate Wife Swap she was handing out freebies to genetics most unfortunate specimens.
Symptom #67 that you've graduated from pornstar to full blown drama queen: 3 pumps from Manuel Ferrara's ham hog makes her tap out faster than the Frank Shamrock/Kevin Jackson fight (look it up). Like my reaction after hearing Oprah Winfrey wants to run for president, you can literally see fear in her eyes.
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.
The lore actually goes deeper than you could have ever imagined. It's not about the volume of anonymous vagabond cocks. It's not about the money. It's about sending a [fucking] message.
What's hung like a Clydesdale and knows less words than a Pokemon? He's known simply as Vlad, and 37 states require a permit to walk around with that fucking thing in public.
