I'll go ahead and pass on the van life vibes half of these participants are exhibiting, but it's still better than what passes for the norm today: Cosplaying as a gAmEr guRL that rations bathwater for tier-3 subscribtions and "whoopsies" her way through milk toast sexual acts. Pay close attention to that last clip my ever growing OF creators: This is the content we want.
The more inbreeding in your bloodline, the further you'll go to seek sexual satisfaction. A simple concept, officially reinforced by whatever director's cut episode of Survivor Man is going on in that last clip. I'll put it this way; in comparison it makes Jeppson's Malort seem like a fucking delicacy. It's that abhorrent.
My gut instinct tells me the era of slasher movies is dead when the practical effects guys start taking on jobs like this. The Friday the 13th reboot was bad. Cult of Chucky sucked. The new Halloween might work... but nothing can prepare you for this alternate ending to Fire in the Sky.
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)
I've sat through 8 billion brother fucker storylines, the desecration of an icon and whatever the fuck this is. That being said, it's comforting to know I can still find astonishment in the super weeb fever dream you're about to witness. Good luck.
The man. The myth. The cease and desists from Keebler elves. This is the definitive collection of the 4 foot pitbull known as [El Pony DeBilbao]. Not really a warning, but his approach to sexual intercourse may produce a bag of mixed emotions.
Pretty much a public service announcement on the importance of knowing your limits before inking a deal. Some live to tell the tale. Others, are memed for life. But all have an abnormally intimate relationship with Newport cigarettes and Klonopin before the age of 25.
Today's episode isn't about the money. It's about sending a message. Specifically to the derelicts that have used the Riemann hypothesis and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture to justify paying for what you're about to see: Stop it. Get some help.
Flat-chested girls everywhere rejoice because there's worse things in life than having no tits. You could have weird tits and add implants, leaving you with gigantic weird sideshow tits. And back problems.
The best part of having less shame than the 2000 Spanish Paralympics Basketball team? Walking around half mast during lunch hours is no longer for the unsuspecting Chinese delivery man to enjoy alone. That last dude clearing two floors and sprinting half naked though? The girl cheating must've had grip harder than Gollum at Mount Doom.
