What's hung like a Clydesdale and knows less words than a Pokemon? He's known simply as Vlad, and 37 states require a permit to walk around with that fucking thing in public.
All he's got in life is his balls, his bike, a GoPro and a dream. So ride along with our anonymous protagonist as he cruises through the city visually tea bagging unsuspecting females.
The 70's were a special time in history where no one gave a fuck. Smoking in hospitals, untamed pubes, sexually harassing midgets at the workplace, and faking a cum shot with a limp penis and shampoo? No problem. Nothing was sacred.
Human Toilets & The Non Fungible Assholes. No, that's not the name of the next great Portland garage band, however the post-view flea bath is still required. The smell of Drakkar Noir and Astro Glide may come out of those walls, but... the stories. The stories are forever.
Sonuva bitch... dude's packing the kind of penis that can only be described as "an emergency every time I have to take a piss". Time to call up AARP and find out what size wheelbarrow they're willing to cover for this kind of disability. Something in a dual-wheel polycarbon should do it.
Ron and Jon, still cooling down after an intense night of Minecraft & diet Mountain Dew, stumble upon on a sorority skank mid-coitus and decide to wreak havoc. 10/10 for the sombrero alone.
Dude at the 2:00 mark must have went as Apocolypto for Halloween in 2006 and forgot to take the costume off, and I have no doubt our Scottish socialite's rectal contractions look like they just graduated a course in sign language. Go ahead and tell me nice guys actually do win again?
He came packing a mullet, social-awkwardness and the bodytype/skintone of a marsh mellow with prescription glasses. But that day back in 1998, he was a God for 10 minutes at a gentleman's club in Arkansas.
It seems Allie Addison's apprehension levels are at zero, giving her little trouble with broski's maximum depth potential. And by little trouble, I mean the kind of potential organ rearrangement Art The Clown would be proud of.
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.
New year, same loathing for frost faced Bavarian cream. Gonna go ahead and give this episode my mushroom stamped seal of approval, if anything at all for giga gag at the 2:25 mark. Haven't seen eyes roll that hard since reading the employees must wash their hands sign in a Texas Roadhouse bathroom.
