I haven't come across so much reason to develop erectile dysfunction on purpose since going down the lore on [this social media creature]. It truly is an unfortunate day to have eyes.
Based on a true story about a peanut butter sandwich, the dangers of masturbating, and how Aunt Opal made her nephew a man. A man with issues needing life long therapy, but a man none the less.
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.
Prozac-deficient e-girls are a welcomed sight here at eFukt... but this post isn't about the daddy issues. It's about intensity. These temper tantrums cut deeper than a Twitter feed, and while that might not be saying much, I'm confident you'll be impressed.
For a minute there I was starting to lose faith in degenerate white guy's ability to keep me entertained. Then I was introduced to a fetish with more questions than Sylvester Stallone's medicine cabinet.
The real hero of today's adventure should be whatever surgeon sews that bag of expired beef back together in the last clip. It seems learning how to be a boxer through YouTube videos with a language barrier has consequences. More [here]
For fuck sakes, these dorks could've thrown a dart at any billboard in Las Vegas and found better ideas to attach to their bodies permanently. I haven't seen people this far out of their comfort zones since the launch of Burger King's ultimate breakfast platter.
Another vigorous pairing of perverted miscreants that would be better suited opening at the Gathering of the Juggalos instead of having freedom of choice in a semi-coherent society.
