Tori Spelling's Guatemalan tit job, the hole in a Walmart bathroom stall and discounted Hamburger Helper on Craigslist: Three things I'd touch before signing up for story time from Rebel "my brain is bigger than my butthole" Lynn ever fucking again.
Undoubtedly the most erotic thing I've seen since responding to an OKCupid message from a girl named The Violator. Results were similar if you replace 'cumshot' with 'Hellmans Tartar Sauce'. And 'private affair' with 'Burger King during rush hour'.
Perhaps 'audible' is the wrong word to use here, as it suggests this misfit anticipated the scene going any other possible way. She didn't. Trust me. I've been inside a Walmart parking lot on a Friday night - I know what I'm talking about.
Aim for dry ground and let 'er rip. That's been the formula for centuries... until Krystal "i have standards" Steal showed up. You see, she has more apathy for body fluids than Paula Deen has for low fat potato chippies. Ever wonder what it would be like if KFC had an all-you-can-eat buffet? That's the kind of 'sounds fun but always ends bad' disappointment I'm talking about here.
There's a thin line between trailer park erotica, and soul-deep emotional trauma. Where that line exists I don't know... but judging by the amount of dollar store tattoos I'm seeing on that body, I'd say this human Hindenburg sure as fuck does.
To my ever growing .08% female viewership: put on your bifocals and pay the fuck attention. This is what you DON'T do if you want that e-hooker money to keep coming in. Always keep calm, and save the estrogen-fueled temper tantrums for Buzzfeed articles.
AKA "how to ruin your reputation on a global scale." Usually it's a good thing if everyone gets laid at a party... but not when they all fucked the same chubby std collector.
You know you had fun when the next day you wake up with a concussion and realize you not only left your phone, but you also forgot your clothes, underwear, sunglasses and self-respect at the club.
