He came packing a mullet, social-awkwardness and the body type/skin tone of a marsh mellow with prescription glasses. But that day back in 1998, he was a hero for 10 minutes at a gentleman's club in Arkansas.
Another edition featuring triflin' ass hoes, hood rats of all kinds and a singing crack head with erectile problems. They call him Uncle Jim and he can do any unskilled miscellaneous task for the low-low.
Not since accidentally walking into an unlocked Vietnamese restaurant bathroom at 2:00AM have I seen such disrespect for the lower half of an oriental female. And just like the rest of the Internet watching this - I am disgusted now. And 30 minutes from now.
This one starts out as your typical day in Okinawa, but it looks like there's a tinge of legitimate concern before the credits roll. Guess it's just another one of those unfortunate side effects from engaging with a part of the world that considers mixed martial arts a form of roleplay.
There's something truly endearing about a girl that takes the Secret of the Ooze Super Shredder of BBCs, then double downs on being a stable human being. Her talents scream "3 more months of practice and my asshole will out-perform any South American footlocker".
Lulz tier verbal diarrhea from the worlds top experts. It's a good thing emotional scars aren't visible on the outside or some these girls would look like Freddy Kruger.
Pug-faced Hispanic drinks herself so numb she doesn't even notice when last night's chimichanga is hanging halfway out her asshole. Her laugh is as bad as her hygiene. Sounds like something Steven Urkel would emit while making love to the dude from Wonder Years. Watch this one all the way through.
Scene's over and it's time to go home... but first this starlet has a complete mental unraveling. Her tears and plight do little more than generate awkward lulz and kill the mood for the next girl.
The "South Floridian's Guide To Dating Your Cousin" or Kylie Island dropping that new fetish DLC? You're probably waiting out the future aftermath videos from her now. The kind that can also be achieved by renting a John Deer tractor and filling her with Oxycontin. But where's the chivalry in that?
Another chapter closed in a book that Barnes & Noble insists on displaying in the Sci-Fi section. Normally read in the dimly lit corner of a trailer park that doesn't show up on Google maps, surrounded by Newports and half-eaten cans of Costco's finest meatball ravioli.
Some "feels" I am glad I will never experience in life. Driving the speed limit, menstrual cramps, bamboo fingernail torture, or when a unlubed and unwelcome penis randomly kicks open the door to the house of pain.
