These porn producers, always so preoccupied with if they could, but never stopping to wonder if they should. I can't even imagine how awkward this scene must of been to film for everyone involved.
Pairing a guy that looks like he spends the weekend trading anti-lesbian meatloaf recipes over AOL chatrooms, with a girl that gets so purple she should be asking "where's Ronald?" doesn't seem like a contender for documentary of the year. But then you hear who's narrating it.
Only so many things could explain such a bizarre video. I assume the lead male or the director was on drugs, but most likely everyone on set had to be on something.
I'm not even phased by empty-calorie diet plan Okinawa constantly subjects me to anymore. What really twists my biscuits is the lack of followup to these videos. idk what monster this T-Virus will turn them into, but we probably don't have enough ammo to kill them.
Three years later and it seems [-our boy-] has ditched the mashed potatoes recipe and moved on to crafting a signature carne asada. ¿Felicidades mi amigo?
To truly appreciate this one you have to understand it's completely legit. This isn't just any old deviant pretending to get crotch lice at the carnival. And it may very well be the first documented swinger cuckolding. In other words: The only way Pavol is getting pussy juice on his face today is if he starts crying.
Classic cases of unbridled overconfidence. If only these creatures put as much effort into velcroing their crotches shut in public, as they did into experimenting with pain medications: Then maybe these permanent marks on their resumes could have been avoided. Yikes and gadzooks.
Anybody have the technical name for this phenomenon? or a real explanation? Specifically one that doesn't involve voodoo dolls, Penn & Teller or Planet Wing's suicide sauce. I want answers.
An all-minority female cast ultimately leading to me losing faith in life itself? You can go ahead and file this under The 2016 Ghostbusters Reboot of Porn. And Bill Murray can't save you this time.
Food Reviewers: Some do it because they found a way to monetize gluttony. Others, just want that sweet mcnugget sponsorship. And then there's Bruce. A man with enough F-tier hate fuck material to earn the Gordon Ramsey seal of approval. Feel free to tweet this video out @WENDY'S. I'd like their input on this.
Flattery was never my strong point... and it still isn't. Half the decisions here look like they were made by a person that smokes wet Newports, and yet everyone is chowin down like it's grandma's old fashion applesauce. Your fellow Walmartians will be hearing about this.
An aryan goddess sexually trolls the hotel bell hop in order to win a "contest" that may or may not even exist. Regardless, Michael Cera is here to help. Although I'm not entirely convinced he's ever done this before.
