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.
Epic poker face @ .57 mark. I call this one the 'i totally just nutted in my own mouth but i dont even give a fuck cause i have a 6.7 inch penis and listen to Rage Against The Machine on vinyl' look. Dude's got that shit mastered.
A free tip for those watching: If you ever find yourself in this situation, scarf down one of those blooming onions beforehand. The person on the other side of your biological banana canon will be gifted a soundtrack AI could never replicate. Don't ask me how I know.
Epic poker face @ .57 mark. I call this one the 'i totally just nutted in my own mouth but i dont even give a fuck cause i have a 6.7 inch penis and listen to Rage Against The Machine on vinyl' look. Dude's got that shit mastered.
Honestly, I'm shocked. And by shocked I mean quietly contemplating how much longer it will take social media to completely remove all empathetic reasoning from the human genome. Direct all body fluids accordingly. More [here]
If the 1980's taught me something, it's that ANYthing goes as long as there's a killer soundtrack behind you. Except this. Not even the renaissance of crack will be held liable for this shit.
Classic case of overconfidence. If only he put as much effort into his hygiene as she did into Walmart bathrooms she choose to get tattooed in, then maybe this permanent mark on his resume could have been avoided. Live, learn and always wipe twice.
200 women, 500 men, an uncountable amount of dollar store tattoos and a dead ex-husband are just the tip of the cuntberg for this self-proclaimed 'human cockroach'. I do have to say though, that vagina is in remarkable condition for a lady that has more mileage than Al Bundy's Dodge Duster. [More Info = HERE]
Sorry to all competing rookies out there trying to cover the Vagisil bill: This is the type of content you need to be producing now. Those glory days of not acting like somebody hooked a lawn mower battery to your fallopian tubes to get attention are over. Devon... get the Flex Tape.
Today's episode isn't about the money. It's about sending a message. Specifically to the derelicts that have used the Riemann hypothesis and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture to justify paying for what you're about to see: Stop it. Get some help.
Go ahead and label this the blurring of lines between equality in the work place and PTSD, as illustrated by sex acts that have led more adult diaper sales than In n' Out's Animal Style. Never before has adult entertainment made me prouder of my cataclysmic cache of Walmart rewards points.
