Irrationally sized flobberweavels, a urethra that's suffered more abuse than whoever the fuck bought Barstool for $500 mil and the recreation of a classic in glorious high(er) definition. Don't think of this as the balanced breakfast you need, think of it as the one you deserve.
This might eradicate any train-running fantasies you might have once had. But it will also peak your curiosity as to how Danny Glover spends a Saturday night with friends. It's what us Internet folk call a video that's perfectly balanced, as all things should be.
Monetizing your vagina only has a few rules: Minimal trips to Home Depot, and keep the clitoris away from all things with the name "Husqvarna" on them. Not a hard list, but this MFC alumni decides to test fate another way, resulting in a semi-rage quit. GGNORE.
What is the last bodily fluid you want to see halfway into a twin-sister green beaning? If your answer has anything to do with Teavana's seasonal flavors - you're only halfway there. But points are on the board. #gag
Essentially this is a public service announcement on the cons and cons of touring San Fransisco. Some will live to tell the tale. Others will merge with Skid Row through osmosis. But all will learn the defintion of of "Ordering the Portuguese Breakfast".
Some women require foreplay to get off. Others, Little Caesars 5 for $5.00. And then there's Jessica Carrboro aka The Crotch Vampire, who takes no less than a scoop of organic strawberry swirl to get moist. I say this with complete sincerity: You're not ready for her.
What happens when you try to clone Mike Tyson, but the machine takes the eggplant emoji seriously? Sorry, but that specimen needs to be noted here. Was it's purpose to inflict maximum damage, or an aerodynamic choice to reach a new velocity?
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?
You could throw a football in her asshole and hit nothing but net. She has the Mariana Trench of colons and today she's pushing the limits of pornography, breakfast, and ass sphincters all at the same time.
Not exactly the most unexpected chain of events from a class of people that come less prepared for war than whoevers handicap stall I invaded at Waffle House last week. Sorry Wheels, but the bucket in the janitor's closet simply doesn't meet my capacity standard.
