So, who's really to blame here? The horse farm that secured their perimeter to keep her away from the livestock, or the guy with 4 Q's in his name that's keeping her on a 1-token drip for the past 4 hours?
The Oakland Doorknob. German Knuckle Cake. Mongolian Taco Punching. Not buying Bitcoin when it was 73 cents. It goes by a lotta different names. But the shame... thats always the same.
She seems like a nice girl. The type that would throw herself off a post office rooftop if you missed her text, or fuck the mailman's chihuahua if your Instagram pic got 0 likes. But her taste in recreational activities? Shit, I've seen happier faces cleaning toilets at the Renaissance Fair.
I dunno man... this seems like a pretty predictable outcome to me. Shes got the tolerance of silicon carbide and the prick practicing Macho Man's entire moveset is more annoying than a checkmarked Twitter account. Permanent damage should be expected.
Today's menu? Uninsurable throat damage, the strongest rectum in Texas, more chain mail than Scott Steiner's closet, a recipe banned from 78% of Gordon Ramsay's restaurants and an erection even Penn and Teller can't explain to you. Good luck have fun.
Turns out 67,000 incestuous storyline porn videos lied to us after all. Dare to make contact with your bloodline after the sun goes down in rural Alabama, and one of these clips just might be the Tales From the Crypt Halloween Special you walk in on.
Kinda off topic, but 8 hrs ago it seemed like a good idea to eat 64 slices of American Cheese and wash it down with a bottle of gin. Then someone had the gall to say Have a good morning to me. Listen mom, unless you have a sewing kit and extensive knowledge of battle wounds, your request is permanently denied.
First time squirters, prolapse-induced climaxes and bittersweet hategasms... today's vid has more variety than a fuckin Sizzler salad bar. Best comes last, so I recommend you see this one all the way through.
What happens in Mexico Chile gets filmed with a potato by cartel members drunk off corona lights. For some guys that love beheading the locals and smuggling drugs in their butts, they sure have weak stomachs.
Consider this an open letter to the content creators out there: I will donate the $13.75 I made trading Krypto Kittys with down syndrome to a charity of your choosing, in exchange for promising to never use condiments on your wiener ever again. The balls are in your courts.
She seems like a nice girl. The type that would throw herself off a post office rooftop if you missed her text, or fuck the mailman's chihuahua if your Instagram pic got 0 likes. But her taste in recreational activities? Shit, I've seen happier faces cleaning toilets at the Renaissance Fair.
