11 Seconds: That's the average time it takes for one family-sized order of Chang's Orange Chicken to kick flip it's way out of my body and make it's way back to the manure farm. It's also the amount of time it takes the new poster girl for "LOLIDGAF" to get the official Efukt seal of approval. You're welcome.
A run of the mill twerking competition is won in an epic land slide when little miss hair extensions makes the guy jizz himself. For her legendary feat Shaquanda is awarded the illustrious title and like fitty bucks.
He came packing a mullet, social-awkwardness and the body type/skin tone of a marsh mellow with prescription glasses. But that day back in 1998, he was a hero for 10 minutes at a gentleman's club in Arkansas.
Round #2 in a series that showcases the authentic side of some of our most interesting citizens. I'm not exactly sure what life choices have to be made to end up here, but it probably has something to do with blue checkmarks and whatever they put in those Impossible burgers.
I'll admit that last clip might be enough to ruin your holiday feast later today. But it's Thanksgiving and you probably need something to talk to grandma about before the sweet potatoes hit the table. You should be thanking me, Mortimer. [PART I] [PART II]
It's pretty unbelievable what kind of deals still exist if you're willing to put in the work and find them. No need to negotiate on price either. Just lay down your $27USD and let the all you can eat vaginitis begin.
If you think that number is talking about hog dimensions, you will be sorely mistaken. It seems this attraction has stricter height limitations than Six Flag's El Toro. You gotta measure less than 4 feet tall, well-versed in THOTology and be next in line for a fight with Jake Paul. Brutal. Part 1 [HERE] Part 2 [HERE] Support [HERE]
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.
Some "feels" I am glad I will never experience in life. Driving the speed limit, menstrual cramps, bamboo fingernail torture, or when a unlubed and unwelcome penis randomly kicks open the door to the house of pain.
