The "South Floridian's Guide To Dating Your Cousin" or Kylie Island dropping that new fetish DLC? You're probably waiting out the future aftermath videos from her now. The kind that can also be achieved by renting a John Deer tractor and filling her with Oxycontin. But where's the chivalry in that?
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.
Skig tag? Tumor? 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.
Todays menu: a.) girl manipulates dad into oral sex while mom contemplates suicide b.) leper fucks ass, leper's winky gets decapitated, leper continues to fuck ass anyway and c.) vintage buttrape porn, never fuck with a man that's just lost a game of Old Maid.
The "South Floridian's Guide To Dating Your Cousin" or Kylie Island dropping that new fetish DLC? You're probably waiting out the future aftermath videos from her now. The kind that can also be achieved by renting a John Deer tractor and filling her with Oxycontin. But where's the chivalry in that?
Some will click this and see a beautiful human being. Others will acid bath their routers & set themselves on fire knowing they've achieved less vaginal supremacy than a guy commonly mistaken for memory foam. Choose your own destiny.
It may not be explicitly written in the rule book, but there's only one translation for the body language on the girl going Milli Vanilli on herself. And it lives somewhere in between "I need to pay taxes" and "The cowboys choked". Three of life's little guarantees.
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.
Poor prosti gets sandbagged by a local gentleman who's only sexual experience involves Walmart's checkout line & Colt 45. But apparently her dugout is built for the major leagues, cause despite his John McLane ingenuity... she still walks away with a smile. Fucking amazing.
Much like Cardi B's popularity, one has to question why this even exists in and how we got here in the first place. Emphasis on the Oscar-award winning method acting seen in the opening dialogue. Simply brilliant.
