You know you had fun when the next day you wake up with a concussion and realize you not only left your phone, but you also forgot your clothes, underwear, sunglasses and self-respect at the club.
Do their porno dreams come true? Fuck no. Instead, four average-ass mother fuckers attempt to make sex with the prestigious Christy Mack, and each and every one of them brutally embarrasses themselves.
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.
This one taught me two things: A) Breaking points are negotiable and B) Any case studies of being on the spectrum and in porn can now be cancelled. Dorkalina's got us covered.
Tori Spelling's Guatemalan tit job, the hole in a Walmart bathroom stall and discounted Hamburger Helper on Craigslist: Three things I'd touch before signing up for story time from Rebel "my brain is bigger than my butthole" Lynn ever fucking again.
Without looking up their robust discography, I'm going to say there's at least a 275% chance Insane Clown Posse wrote a song about this. Over/under anyone?
Everybody has a gift. For some, it's convincing solid 4's to double up on their bald headed field mice while simultaneously solving a sudoku. For others, it's knitting. But that last girl? Whoever is writing the next Final Destination movie better start taking some fucking notes.
