Meet the man whose penis looks more like a belly button with testicles. The man who gives credence to the old adage of "it's just cold outside", in response to why ones cock would be smaller than a vienna sausage.
Ya know for a girl that's spent this much time in tattoo parlors, you'd think a forehead big enough for UBER to charge $17 to go from nose to scalp would get a little bit more attention. Then again, something tells me rational thinking isn't one of the tenants of someone who writes "when I fuck i dont give a fuck" 6 inches away from their shitter.
Today's menu? Uninsurable throat damage, the strongest rectum in Texas, more chain mail than Scott Steiner's closet, a recipe banned from 78% of Gordon Ramsay's restaurants and an erection even Penn and Teller can't explain to you. Good luck have fun.
Today's lessons: Little Dicky is a literal name (4:21), Tourism is still alive and well (0:11) and statistically speaking, this is the least likely way to acquire an STD in public. Trust me, I've seen 3 full episodes of House M.D.
free tip: Don't be fooled by the "i collect exotic toothpastes and I'm saving my g-spot for Sonic the Hedgehog" appearance. She may appear to be innocent, but this is no sex noob. Despite leaking more soft serve than a birthday party at Carvel, she actually did finish the scene.
Scene's over and it's time to go home... but first this starlet has a complete mental unraveling. Her tears and plight do little more than generate awkward lulz and kill the mood for the next girl.
It's always the same thing: Your favorite e-piece succumbs to the competition and proceeds to push her stream to the next level... only to deteriorate her street cred faster than my rectal lining at a Bangladeshi farmer's market.
One of those rare moments where I can overlook the obvious health code violations because the performance is legendary. Be sure to leave them a ★★★★★ Yelp review. Something along the lines of: Service was fast. Getting pubic lice was faster.
If the 1980's taught me something, it's that ANYthing goes as long as there's a killer soundtrack behind you. Except this. Not even the renaissance of crack will be held liable for this shit.
Special shout out to clip #12. For those of you that have never had the luxury of riding a San Fransisco BART train between the hours of 12:00AM and 11:59PM, you just got second hand experienced special delivered by Aunt Jemima herself.
