Nothing says "the pandemic is over" quite like the uptick in girls increasing their social skank rank by taking their 1-man-band act on the road. Nearly 13 displays of attention-whoring so unprecedented, you'll schedule an STD test just for watching it.
There's a lot to digest here. But nothing is as concerning as whatever rodeo clown, double-wide uncle sister bullshit is going on around the 3:11 mark. Axe body wash isn't going to clean this feeling off me tonight. Time to dip into the disaster emergency kit.
I gotta emphasis the "sOcIaL eXpEriMeNt" you're gonna see at the 2:00 mark. Normally this attempt at public depravity would be immediately thrown into the compost pile for wasting our time. But I'm told this lunatic is legit, and has a history of freebasing randoms along her journey. You and your Zappos membership can be the judge of that.
4 out of 5 physicians would advise against this kind of behavior, especially in public venues. But a life of chronic digestive and reproductive complications doesn't really seem to concern these prodigies. Big risks = more clout. And more clout = more fashionably retarded short form content.
Everything in life has a proper explanation if you open your mind. Except the homie trying to scrub daddy his dirty walnut on a Tuesday afternoon in broad daylight around the 1:45 mark. NORAD will hear about this.
If anything at all, you should be digging the distance some people will go just for the sake of being different. That's what porn is really missing: A relatable leading actress that's been kicked out of a WWE catering truck. Twice.
Go ahead and scroll to the 4:30 mark for the feral fitness mom in the thumbnail. And while you're there, stay until 5:56 for a magic trick even Penn & Teller can't fucking explain. I can picture Burger King going into a bidding war with Sonic to buy ad space between the two. More: [-1-] [-2-] [-3-] [-4-] [-5-] [-6-] [-7-] [-8-] [-9-] [-10-]
idk what exit strategy the mutant in the last clip is planning on, but this shit doesn't work for me brother. Seriously it's over for you and any unsuspecting Amish person you hire to tailor-make a pair of Fruit of The Looms wide enough to hide that monstrosity from the world.
