♫ I got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine ♫ I got a love and I know that it's all mine, oh, oh-oh ♫ Do what you want but you're never gonna break me ♫ Sticks and stones are never gonna shake me, oh, oh-oh
Is it even possible to bring an oriental female to orgasm without the help of Bob Vila's signature series at this point? I don't know what evolutionary timeline they're living in over there, I can promise you this road only leads to an addiction to Newport cigarettes and a whole lot of apologies.
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.
Tori Spelling's Guatemalan tit job, the hole in a Walmart bathroom stall and discounted Hamburger Helper on Craigslist: Three things I'd touch before signing up for story time from Rebel "my brain is bigger than my butthole" Lynn ever fucking again.
The downside of crossbreeding compassion with an industry that considers rectal depth as a measuring stick for paycheck tiers? Every dude within the city boundaries will be socializing your cornhole like it's Chinese healthcare. edit: I decided to see what Sativa was up to nowadays... and... well... I was not disappointed
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.
Straight out of a Discord moderator's direct messages, these fractured creatures have found themselves between cringe and cold hard cash. I'm talking a cool $0 payout to do this shit. Not even enough get drugs strong enough to hallucinate back to 2008 when Dashboard Confessional's asshole was relevant.
Not really surprising from a girl that calls herself Wisconsin Tiff, but the alternative medicine excuse for this behavior immediately goes out the window. Can't even blame the moon lettuce and it's sibling psychedelics for this digital footprint.
You can brag about your male pattern baldness all you want homeboy. But if you're not turning all vaginas within a 3 mile distance into your own personal bowl of Hungry Jack Mashed Potatoes, are you even living the Costanza?
Speculation time: Virginal? Medical condition? The mating ritual of the Monarch Middle-aged Edokko? We may never know the real answer, but one thing is certain: His speed-running ability would earn front page access on Twitch. No questions asked.
