I'll leave you with some wisdom my acquaintance at Panda Express bestowed upon me: Never underestimate a woman's will to feed. She may have the phenotype of a New Jersey soccer mom... but when the adrenaline hits, watch the fuck out.
There's 3 things that simply no longer exist in my world: 1) pornography induced erections 2) positive feedback on my 'this is what a feminist looks like' tee and 3) dinners at P.F. Changs that do NOT result in 1st degree burns to my anus. This vid solved 2 outta 3.
Of all the ways to "tELL mE uR fRoM nEw jErSeY wiThOuT tELLinG mE uR fRoM nEw jErsEy" this actually ranks #2 on the list. Our duo is still 1 deep fried oreo enema away from the gold medal. Shoot for the stars.
The rules of engagement have changed. If you want attention in 2024, it's going to take a lot more than hangin brain in the checkout line at Hot Topic. So sit back and take notes ladies: It's this kind of work ethic that springboards you from "girlfriend" to "girlwife".
If you weigh less than a garbage bag full of Charles In Charge VHS reprints, and have less use than a $5 V-Bux card, chances are you're going to end up in one of these videos. It may not sound like a useful tool to navigate life with... but then you make it to the 7:50 mark.
The legend returns in full pussy punishing force. Watch part one HERE and come back to learn his secret on how he tricked over 100+ women into letting him plank-fuck them on film without paying.
A socially inept goober gets a job getting jerked off by a hottie and manages to fuck it up, dashing his dreams of porn stardom in the process. It's like the movie Rudy, if Rudy was thrown out the game before ever playing and never scored.
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.
Another chapter closed in a book that Barnes & Noble insists on displaying in the Sci-Fi section. Normally read in the dimly lit corner of a trailer park that doesn't show up on Google maps, surrounded by Newports and half-eaten cans of Costco's finest meatball ravioli.
