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.
A solid plot line can make up for just about anything: Bad acting, low budgets, the marionette scene in Terrifier 2. But this assortment of genetic defects? They've got digital footprints like Tom Cruise has regressive Aspergers, and I don't know when this fucking ride is gonna end.
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?
Any female that signs up for a Woodman scene more than likely has an undiagnosed neurodevelopmental disorder. And she is no different. A handful of WWE finishing moves has her pastrami butterfly goopafied and no other man will satisfy her again. #gg
The Spider-man of rope slinging is back and setting records Guinness refuses to recognize for some reason. Something about prosthetic nutsacs and bannable material. Well... he's legit and I have the research to prove it. [PART I]
I've actually seen [this girl] before, but never getting ragdolled like Jeff Bezo's disposable income. Maybe when she's done finding herself, she can sign up for a safer hobby. Like glassblowing. Or teaching mountain lions yoga, for example.
This is all but guaranteed to eradicate any story you may have been led to believe about how hard it is to interact with an established pornstar. Now the countdown begins until the protein-maxing gym bros discover this one simple trick.
It's almost like as time passes, society has less than a fuck to give about where they burn the midnight salami. Reminds me of the time I was almost caught defecating in a Blockbuster return box in protest to late fees accumulated on Surf Ninjas. [my balance remains due]
Natalia Borodina died after her head was crushed in a topless holiday stunt gone wrong. The mom of one suffered serious injuries after smashing into a lamp post while leaning out of the passenger window of a car being driven by her friend Ivanna Boirachuk. As the car made its way down the street, it got too close to a curb and Borodina’s head hit a street sign. It’s unclear exactly how fast the car had been traveling at the time of impact.
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.
The first 60 seconds of this contains a cluster of words that have absolutely no business being chained together in that order. In fact, in my native language just about every single thing out of her talking hole would be considered a grievance offense. (i speak english)
