Honestly this one could have rolled credits right after Donatello got his tits greased with tomato sauce and you'd still have an unwanted memory to try eradicating for the foreseeable future. But where's the fun in that?
Started from the bottom, now we're here. And by here I mean vigorously being tested for sexually transmitted diseases because Dustin from the Target parking lot insisted on not using any form of protection during his big moment. More Blake Blossom here where she apparently streams on Twitch now?
If your social skank score is measured by the amount of times your bare ass has been caught on CCTV, I'd say these highway hoebags are sitting somewhere between "Code Orange" and "Threat to Society" Now, DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE YOU GO
My first pay-to-play happened in a Burger King toilet stall. She was more Kurt Perry than Katy Perry, Kinda foul. Not even a triple replay of Heather Graham's bush in Boogie Nights changed the mood that night. But... if I had this guy's attitude? Life... life would be different.
Watch these little engines that just fucking couldn't get a new hold on reality as S-tier pornstars turn their sexual fantasies into humiliating nightmares.
4+ minutes of public debauchery so misunderstood, you'll wonder how long it will be until Amber Heard drags them in front of a judge. Especially that duo clapping cheeks arm's length away from the bratwurst dujour around the 0:49 second mark. Just marvelous.
Turns out there's literally no shortage in people that consider the piss-soaked alley underneath an active freeway a 5-star romantic experience. So, don't consider today's episode an attack. More like, a celebration of the open-minded. And AIDS.
While padding your resume may not be something generally frowned upon when seeking an enhancement in your employment opportunities, safety should always be your first priority. And at least one change of your finest linens. Remember that, Greg.
It may not be explicitly written in the rule book, but there's only one translation for the body language on the girl going Milli Vanilli on herself. And it exists somewhere in between "Car Batteries Are Not Sex Toys" and "Oops My Asshole Fell Out".
Flipping the Minnow, Clubbing the Chimp, Procrastabating, Shaking Hands with Bruce Willis - Call it what you want. I refer to it as the only reason to leave the house other than to stock up on Mr. Pibb and fried dough. Shoutouts to feminism for empowering these women.
