One country's quest for sexual satisfaction reaches it's peak, courtesy of a build-a-bear workshop for egg-drop rice boxes. It's hard to turn a blind eye to this actually being possible in 2020, but make sure this technology never makes it's way to Florida and you got yourself an investor.
An aryan idol sexually trolls the hotel bell hop in order to win a "contest" that may or may not even exist. Regardless, Michael Cera is here to help. Although I'm not entirely convinced he's ever done this before.
There's only two people on Earth that should never be caught fishing for brown trouts: Lindsay Lohan in her 'i'll snort Tide Pods' phase, and this chick. She's 19, anti-semen and dumber than a mailbox on Sunday. In other words: she was BORN for eFukt.
Left side of thumbnail = Her first scene. Right side = Higher production than current marvel movies. She's Ander Ways and as we wrap up another year of questionable erections, I give you reason #28971 to never judge a book by it's cover. Unless it's whatever the fuck this is. Then feel free to judge judy until your foreskin grows back. I'm on drugs until New Years. bye.
Want hard proof that humans are still all about charity? Look no further friendos. This scumcunt offers some locals the ultimate handout: A free reminder to get yourself STD tested next time you go reaching for those frozen Reese's Cups. You can find her new profile HERE.
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.
Turns out the 1987 original was supposed to be even more violent. With the new remake getting a PG-13 rating, with it comes the almost certainty to destroy the ultra-violent badass awesomeness of RoboCop and change him into a SFW metal pussy. Source: Ourrobocopremake.com
The insane story of an emotionally disabled prostitute/pornstar/sugar baby/urinal-for-hire with HPV and herpes that literally wrote the book - 9 times. She claims her dead sugar daddy made her a millionaire and now haunts her... wow.
Not since the 2005 release of 1 Night In Chyna have I seen a woman with such a fucked up misunderstanding of eroticism. She grunts like pirate, pisses all over the place, and has a finishing act that'll assfuck your brain cells.
Today's episode isn't about the money. It's about sending a message. Specifically to the derelicts that have used the Riemann hypothesis and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture to justify paying for what you're about to see: Stop it. Get some help.
