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
Another vigorous pairing of perverted miscreants that would be better suited opening at the Gathering of the Juggalos instead of having freedom of choice in a semi-coherent society.
Today's menu? Uninsurable throat damage, the strongest rectum in Texas, more chain mail than Scott Steiner's closet, a recipe banned from 78% of Gordon Ramsay's restaurants and an erection even Penn and Teller can't explain to you. Good luck have fun.
Honestly, after making it to the end of this $27.00 budgeted shit show I'm inclined to believe the historical artifact should have stayed forgotten. The full version is over an hour long and makes The Blair Witch Project look like it's part of the Scorsese catalog. I do not recommend.
Layin' pipe only has a few rules: 1) Look as little like Harvey Weinstein as possible 2) develop stamina and 3) maintain an erection harder than a bowl of Campbell's tomato soup. Not exactly a difficult list... but this Khokhol is determined to challenge at least 2 key items today. GG NO RE
The time has come for the followup of a story that will be told in the Internet history books. So strap in and prepare to have your yamaka blown the fuck off, cause we're going on a trip that involves domestic abuse, race rage white supremacy and about 937 reasons not to get married. [Part 1]
Dude at the 2:00 mark must have went as Apocolypto for Halloween in 2006 and forgot to take the costume off, and I have no doubt our Scottish socialite's rectal contractions look like they just graduated a course in sign language. Go ahead and tell me nice guys actually do win again?
First impressions are important. Unless of course your name is Kandi Baby and have access to more pharmaceuticals than Liver King. Whoever thought it was a good idea to release this pornographic lobotomy probably saw The Marvels on opening day too.
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.
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.
