Nope, not even giving you a participation trophy for this one. I've sat through episodes of The Golden Girls with more enthusiasm. FREE TIP: When geriatric sitcoms produce stiffer erections than ur performance, it might be time rethink the whole iNdEpeNdenT wOmAn thing.
Classic case of overconfidence. If only he put as much effort into his hygiene as she did into Walmart bathrooms she choose to get tattooed in, then maybe this permanent mark on his resume could have been avoided. Live, learn and always wipe twice.
Skig tag? Krang from TMNT? Fuck if I know, but whatever it is... it totally rubbed up against the other dudes thigh at the 1.38 mark, causing a half chewed Bagel Bite to be ejected from my mouth and on to my Where's Waldo themed keyboard.
Some men need oral stimulation to get off. Others, a $20 shopping spree at Buffalo Wild Wings. And then there's this Vlad the Impaler lookin' mother fucker who needs nothing more than basic silverware to send his himself over the big-O rainbow. Hint: May be better enjoyed while listening to this classic piece.
Today's episode isn't about the money. It's about sending a message. Specifically to the derelicts that have used the Riemann hypothesis and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture to justify paying for what you're about to see: Stop it. Get some help.
The downside to treating your asshole as a source of income? Every time you get done colonizing the dark planet, somebody comes along and insists on outdoing you. I'm talking the kind of miscreant that would mount a Brontosaurus if it meant doubling her OnlyFans subs (4:25 mark). [DISCUSS HERE]
The one and only JSC aka The O.G. Wzard of the Teflon Rectum. Her anal acrobatics set such a standard in the renaissance days of underground porn, you'd almost forget she used her vag recreationally. But in 1998... something magical happened...
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.
