If you weigh less than a garbage bag full of Charles In Charge VHS reprints, and have less use than a $5 V-Bux card, chances are you're going to end up in one of these videos. It may not sound like a useful tool to navigate life with... but then you make it to the 7:50 mark.
Looks like someone crossbred Rosario Dawson with a howler monkey and gave it rabies. But this isn't for the lulz... more about awareness. You honestly don't even need video for this. The soundtrack alone is enough to keep my Bugle Boy cut-offs on the rinse cycle.
If you weigh less than a garbage bag full of Charles In Charge VHS reprints, and have less use than a $5 V-Bux card, chances are you're going to end up in one of these videos. It may not sound like a useful tool to navigate life with... but then you make it to the 7:50 mark.
Our boy is having domicile problems of the synthetic drug variety, and it's fucking up his after-work Roblox clan war. The charges? Breaking and entering, aggravated harassment, disorderly conduct and skidmarking Target's finest bedroom linen. Tensions rise, police are called, I laugh. Pretty funny shit.
Listen: If you delinquents keep spamming your entire loadouts before the first checkpoint is captured, I'm gonna have to turn this into an official series. That kind of uncontrollable pressure reminds me of a romantic moment involving myself, a $20.00 bill and the McRib. Let's just say mom's Plymouth Vista got a new interior paint job that night. [PART I] [PART II]
Bridge piercing, stomach tattoos and the occasional rush to the emergency room for soft tissue damage. May I be so bold to say I haven't seen this level of intensity since The Shining.
Special shout out to clip #12. For those of you that have never had the luxury of riding a San Fransisco BART train between the hours of 12:00AM and 11:59PM, you just got second hand experienced special delivered by Aunt Jemima herself.
A special service bulletin for the female viewer(s). Next time you feel like exposing your rotten tator tot to the general public, read a couple chapters of Everything I Know About Women I Learned From My Tractor by Roger Welsch first. Maybe you'll find what's missing in your life.
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.
Some will say this is in awful taste or porn of dead girls is weird and maybe they're right but this is like any other athlete or artist memorial montage. A cautionary tribute to the dead rockstars of porn. RIP. 24/7 support for all industry performers.
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)
