New year, same loathing for frost faced Bavarian cream. Gonna go ahead and give this episode my mushroom stamped seal of approval, if anything at all for giga gag at the 2:25 mark. Haven't seen eyes roll that hard since reading the employees must wash their hands sign in a Texas Roadhouse bathroom.
A public service announcement on the cons and cons of searching for costars in Craigslist's general section. If their intimate relationship with $5 scratch off tickets doesn't erect your cock, the aroma of Newport Menthols probably will.
One determined woman's mission to have her guts turned into a holiday display at Home Goods is actually thwarted by a director that specializes in mawmaw's chicken casserole. She wants to continue, he makes her hit the showers... and a new dynamic in butthole malfeasance porn is born.
Today we witness the consequences of a pair of unprepared siblings literally biting off more than they can chew. Let's just say, getting caught in the crossfire of 4 dozen men that consider cabbage and beer a major food group, wasn't the one-way ticket to fame they originally thought it was haha.
So, what exactly are we witnessing here? First attempts at delivering the beat down in meat town? Nervousness? I don't know for sure... but think of all the value meals this skill could unlock if practiced with the right discipline. 5 seasons of Cobra Kai taught me that. [PART I]
We got a pretty diverse group of fatherless degeneration this time around. Whether it's Discovery Channel's new poster girl at the 0:35 second mark, or the champ going for his 17th title at 4:20, you're guaranteed at least one reason to start day drinking again.
Interracial doll play, stickam webcam bitrates and public humiliation at a Pepboys garage. No, it's not the secret combination to unlock 2022. It's round #5 in the OF saga, because... there's no fucking lack of women baiting the socially inept into monthly subscriptions. PARTS: [1] [2] [3] [4]
What's that old saying? The smaller the girl, the tighter the anal? Yeah, well after seeing this desecration of a corpse I'm not so sure anymore. I'll put it this way; you know the Lex Luther Drop of Doom ride at 6 Flags? She doesn't have to pay a cover charge to experience it. It's that bad.
Willing humiliation, being choked unconscious and receiving more hits than one of those bullshit primitive building channels. No, it's not Connor's return to the octagon. But it's still gonna cost you $79.99 if her 1st name has a hyphen in it.
Leaking classified information? Mumbling incoherent rants about setting third world countries on fire? Shit, even International Dick Cricket Infestation would have appeared on my list sooner than 1 Tinder gremlin subjecting herself to 31 separate 8-man gangbangs in the fucking barracks. Yet... here we are.
37 seconds in and two things will become apparent: 1: You have been grossly mislead about the average depth of the female rectum. And 2: The webcam community may want to look into insurance policies before accepting challenges from viewers named "RustyTurntable69"
At this point I'm just respecting the hustle of being able to sell sex without ever being penetrated in front of a camera. Truly a spectacle in it's own right that leaves you trapped between vigorous masturbation or making a donation to the Shia LaBeouf Community College for the Gifted. [PART I] [PART II] [PART III]
What happens when you let your BBC-obsessed husband talk you into the kind of Smackdown WWE would be jealous of? Here's a hint: You end up booking a legendary Iron Man match, but there's no winner.
The upside to being treated like the exhaust pipe of a Chevrolet El Dorado? Literally nothing. All you have to do is breath and the alpha male fantasy fan fiction will magnetize to you like a herpes outbreak at a Playboi Carti concert.
Perhaps this can be classified as "small wiener compensation". It happens when homebois packing less meat than a vegetarian BBQ get discouraged by their girl's complete lack of excitement. Building a device that scalps your crotch is optional. Oh... you'll see.
Kinda want to emphasize those gravity bags reaching maximum velocity around the 5:00 minute mark. Jell-o has spent over 100 years trying to market physics like this and have failed miserably in comparison. Turns out all you need is a 1-bedroom apartment in Latvia and a c-section scar to make math fun again.
Turns out fertilizing your own family tree isn't the only extra curricular activity people practice in Frogballs, Arkansas. Just don't be misled by The Rat King's lack of hygiene; Your respect for the modern day alpha male begins here and now.
See that rush of fear around the 3:00 mark? That's the kind of reaction second only to a man that has miscalculated his maximum capacity for P.F. Changs Orange Chicken in a public venue. And I think that's something we can all relate to. L, OH, fuckin L
If this year has taught me anything at all; it's that cabin fever has driven desperate people to the edge. Especially the ones that are no stranger to Walmart gift cards and live on streets that are named after presidents. 2022 is gonna be lit ya'll.
You don't have to be a tier-3 to experience this kind of homemade hysteria. Just zero in on the girls that are sexually attracted to Amibos and the yoinked "donations" will flow in faster than you can complain about them on Twitter. [Part I]
