Essentially this is a public service announcement on the cons and cons of touring San Fransisco. Some will live to tell the tale. Others will merge with Skid Row through osmosis. But all will learn the defintion of of "Ordering the Portuguese Breakfast".
This piece highlights some cases of shoulda locked the fucking door but I'm thinking with my genitals and other hilarious cases of people getting busted.
It seems Allie Addison's apprehension levels are at zero, giving her little trouble with broski's maximum depth potential. And by little trouble, I mean the kind of potential organ rearrangement Art The Clown would be proud of.
idk, seems pretty predictable to me. Once the enchantment of a $200 payday and living their monthly YOLO moments has worn off, anxiety and regret should be expected. But shoutouts to wish.com for making these precious memories possible.
It's not like Woodman sending 18 year old girls to the Depends section at Super Walmart is some sort of secret, so one has to question the motives at this point. Is it an act? Are they sadomasochists? And most importantly: If Ronda Rousey were to crowbar her vagina open, would it be comparable to the consistency of pulling apart a peanut butter sandwich?
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.
Today we go on a spirited journey to a time forgotten; Behind the scenes of your average 2004 porn shoot. Special shoutout to Julian for being a role model during my college years. That man's lust for turning fallopian tubes into tier-3 tuna casserole should have earned the Martha Stewart seal of approval.
One country's quest for sexual satisfaction reaches it's peak, courtesy of a build-a-bear workshop for egg-drop rice boxes. It's hard to turn a blind eye to this actually being possible in 2020, but make sure this technology never makes it's way to Florida and you got yourself an investor.
It may not be explicitly written in the rule book, but there's only one translation for the body language on the girl going Milli Vanilli on herself. And it exists somewhere in between "Car Batteries Are Not Sex Toys" and "Oops My Asshole Fell Out".
Door Dash driver allegedly gets bait and switched with the soul sucking knob job of the century. She says there will be no apologies. He can't be contacted for further statements. Uh huh, I know where this is going; Plan for tomorrow, buy Depends today.
