It's always the same thing: Your favorite e-piece succumbs to the competition and proceeds to push her stream to the next level... only to deteriorate her street cred faster than my rectal lining at a Bangladeshi farmer's market.
Another chapter closed in a book that Barnes & Noble insists on displaying in the Sci-Fi section. Normally read in the dimly lit corner of a trailer park that doesn't show up on Google maps, surrounded by Newports and half-eaten cans of Costco's finest meatball ravioli.
Well shit, the only other time I've seen someone this determined to self-harm was browsing the /terraluna subreddit. And much like her inability to pass a gonorrhea test, I think it might be time to pack it up and find a safer hobby. Like collecting Pokemon cards, or building hydrogen bombs for example.
Space station sized cock. Peanut of a butthole. Yeah, we've seen this story before but the language barrier almost turns this one into a homicide. Moral of the story: Always identify your opponent before agreeing to fight them. I'm talking to you, Jake Paul victims.
Every day, everywhere you look people are spamming fears of USD collapse and political discourse. While I'm over here waiting for things like this to start happening in Chipotle parking lots during daytime hours again. #boomer #oldfashioned
I imagine this is what happens when all of your knowledge of the English language comes from Pizza Hut commercials and TikTok. In fact, I may have just uncovered a form of communication so useless that California colleges might start offering 4-year degrees in it.
Is this still considered pornography? Or something that gets submitted to a performative art school as a final project? Because if you're waxin carrot to shit like this, it might be is definitely time for intervention.
Congratulations to the golden glove duo working that dude's bag like a 19th century gandy dancer (look it up). Homie may have survived all 9 rounds, but he'll never be able to eat applesauce without a war zone flashback ever again.
Who the fuck comes up with these hybrid fetish flicks? Next time you producers want to get creative, how about coating a machete in Zoloft and fucking Logan Paul up the cornholio until he's smiling like Matt Damon on the cover of Good Will Hunting? Google it.
