It may not be 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 lives somewhere in between "i need to pay taxes" & "the cowboys choked". Three of life's guarantees.
Everyone else talking about USD collapse and unable to afford housing, while I'm just waiting for girls to start doin this in Chipotle parking lots again. #oldfashioned
Becky-lynn Dakota Monroe Savannah Taylor in the sure has an interesting way of servicing her community. While everyone reserves their public reamings for the Best Buy customer service line; she has decided to start her charity work at home.
Some people invest into their 401-K plans to insure a healthy retirement. Others, work until the grave. And then there's this marble garglin sonuvabitch who is going to burn every cent in the name of B tier semi-pornstar vaginal exploration.
Kind of embarrassing, but this level 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]
wtf is with this ❝i'm not stopping until medicare qualifies her for a wheelchair❞ approach to slamming married women nowadays? Call me old fashioned, but I preferred when it was more romantic and hidden in Taco Bell bathroom stalls.
Billy saved all of his birthday nickles for his favorite street performer... only to be left at half mast and dryer than an asshole full of sand paper. The dream is dead.
The Sasha Grey tag under this video made me think we were about to uncover something never seen before. Instead I was greeted with the kind of silicone tit job you can only get from a New Jersey deli butcher, and her merely spectating.
In a sea of Instagram fueled BBL copycat creatures slowly merging into some sort of SIMP-fueled Voltron monster, emerges something out of Brazil that won't eject your brain for looking at it the wrong way. Now all hail Theodora Moutinho.
Eye-rolling hotdog acrobat takes her show on the road. Sometimes it's on her uncles faux leather seats. Other times it's to channel her inner leather face. Whoever told you romance is dead was obviously lying to your fuckin face.
It may not be explicitly written, but there's only one translation for that body language. And it lives somewhere in between "I need to pay my taxes" and "$1 dollar pizza slices make me shit blood". Just three of life's little guarantees.
Getting blown out within shouting distance of your HOA'd neighbors is a pretty bold move. Honestly, it's one of superiority. Nancy and her 13 cats will most definitely think twice about filing a noise complaint at the next board meeting.
Some say it's a moment in history akin to the wild west, and boy did every liberal arts student under 200lbs take full advantage of it. You might get the smell of Drakkar Noir and Natty Ice out of those walls, but... the stories. Those are forever.
Everything about that statement is true, except the "oops" part. Something tells me 'ole carrot top here has sabotaged these sweatshop dick ponchos before...
Sometimes I think about the amount of guttural toxic waste this man has used his dipstick to measure without protective gear. There's no way he's still alive.
Pristine box proportions. Hooked up with Tiger Wood's Caddy, and is easily a 10/10 on the "dude i would literally crawl through barb wire just to hear her fart through a walkie talkie" scale. It's highly recommended you watch this one twice.
goblin mode; the behavior of someone who wants to feel comfortable doing whatever they want, not caring about trying to be clean, healthy, attractive or about impressing other people. [PART I]
Ginger crotch drops her socks and takes cock in her fart box? This freestyle is brought to you by the same clogged outhouse that squeezed out this atrocity.
