If you we're an emotionally messed up prostitute, I'm sure you would fucking hate talking about your life too. But would you hate it more then sucking the dick of a self-titled "crack whore connoisseur"? More crazy in the source link.
Perhaps this can be classified as "small wiener compensation". It happens when homebois packing less meat than a vegetarian BBQ get discouraged by their girl's complete lack of excitement. Building a device that scalps your crotch is optional. Oh... you'll see.
Another edition featuring triflin' ass hoes, hood rats of all kinds and a singing crack head with erectile problems. They call him Uncle Jim and he can do any unskilled miscellaneous task for the low-low.
Watch as emo Helga Pataki dirty talks Jimmy Noodle Legs during a hot coitus session. Turns out Jenny from Forest Gump isn't the only suicidal girl down for banging immobilized mental midgets.
I bet you $3.50 and the remainder of my orange julius this loathsome creature is a thriving member of the furry community. Also: The one time a video on the Internet isn't fake and this is what you give me?
There's really nothing more emasculating than getting taunted over your sexual inadequacies, save for maybe your mom walking in on you as you spank it to Robin Williams in Jumanji. The point is... Jumanji is a great movie and unfairly disregarded.
What happens when you let your BBC-obsessed husband talk you into the kind of Smackdown WWE would be jealous of? Here's a hint: You end up booking a legendary Iron Man match, but there's no winner.
Nothing says alphachad like asserting dominance over affordable footwear. Special shoutout to Elon's protege's in the 2nd to last clip. Some go electric to save the planet. Others, to tell oil to fuck off. And then there's Winona Wonderpuss: Who needs to be one faulty sensor away from getting a steering wheel colonoscopy to reach her maximum cum-face. #respect
That feeling when you realize a backdoor studio in Japan with a $300 makeup budget is closer to the source material of the Resident Evil games than any official movie and whatever the fuck crawled out of Netflix headquarters put together. 2 thumbs up, would Jill off into my sandwich again.
My first pay-to-play happened in a Burger King toilet stall. She was more Kurt Perry than Katy Perry, Kinda foul. Not even a triple replay of Heather Graham's bush in Boogie Nights changed the mood that night. But... if I had this guy's attitude? Life... life would be different.
