Only 1 thing compliments the relaxed feel of a holiday weekend - And that's getting more rash on your crotch from a guy you salad-tossed than the toilet in a Portuguese farmhouse. And to those inbreds in the last clip: End the bloodline here. This never needs to happen again.
Bridge piercing, stomach tattoos and the occasional rush to the emergency room for soft tissue damage. May I be so bold to say I haven't seen this level of intensity since The Shining.
I know what you're thinking... 'Wow, Ozzy Osbourne's daughter is looking better than ever.' No, this McPoyles lookalike from Always Sunny with the Spanish word for witch tatted on her stomach is a model... or some shit.
I've seen a lot of desperate girls do a lot of desperate shit just to keep their ManyVids account submerged in dollarinos... but risking life and death and a clean record just to keep cOrNhOlEsniFFer69 entertained? That's a level of slut I hope to never meet.
A teenager confesses his first sexual experience. Based on a true story about a peanut butter sandwich, the dangers of masturbating, and how Aunt Opal made her nephew a man. A man with issues needing life long therapy, but a man none the less.
I think her first mistake was swiping right inside a Walmart. That kind of risk taking can only translate into one thing: "your 17 inches of combo wieners doesn't phase me, please man up and turn my kidneys into a box of Idaho spud's classic mashed potatoes". Invitation accepted.
Our boy is having domicile problems of the synthetic drug variety, and it's fucking up his after-work Roblox clan war. The charges? Breaking and entering, aggravated harassment, disorderly conduct and skidmarking Target's finest bedroom linen. Tensions rise, police are called, I laugh. Pretty funny shit.
Prozac-deficient Internet hookers are a welcomed sight here at eFukt... but this post isn't about the daddy issues. It's about intensity. These temper tantrums cut deeper than Donald Trump's Twitter feed, and while that might not be saying much, I'm confident you'll be impressed.
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.
Meet the Helen Keller of casual sex. At first I was like cool, another fake video I'm exposing my White Snake loincloth too... and then I realized this is 100% legit and should be in the first chapter of every sign language program in the country. Hit me up Rosetta Stone.
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?
