It looks like someone trying to parallel park a Baskin Robbins truck in New York City. Which is ironic cause squinting from this angle reveals some sort of inbred squidward ice cream bar. Think about that before tagging in your tube sock.
Basic maths tell me this situation is about as probable as Kanye West being properly medicated during business hours, but I do find her fake full body dry-heaving and dedication to the vibe kind of compelling. Thoughts? Requests?
At this point, I don't even question human behavior. The only thing separating us from being narrated by David Attenborough, are complicated sneakers and semi-automatic weapons. Turns out the Internet may have been a mistake after all.
Seems like a nice girl. The type that'd throw herself off a building if you missed a text, or cheat on you if your Instagram post got zero likes. But her enthusiasm? I've seen happier faces cleaning the handicap toilets at Renaissance Fairs. Pass.
Wait, could this be a genuine proposition? Maybe. But what you should really be asking is: If Jennifer Lawrence was to crowbar her whisker biscuit, would the walls be comparable to the consistency of pulling apart a peanut butter sandwich?
Oh it's her again. I'm not actually sure what category this library of hers belongs in, but somewhere in between "Hogwarts Erotica" and "Menopause" feels right.
Imagine hitching a ride on a South American city bus and being considered more of a biohazard than the two inches of piss you're currently standing in (barefoot).
Pretty fuckin bold move to do this in public to be honest. But while the Ebay bidding war rages on for that wet spot she left behind, consider this; women.
For fuck sakes, they could've thrown a dart at any WWE training facility and found better actors to film this drizzling shitfest. Yet, now I want them to #finishthestory
Take Sarah Palin, crossbreed her with a cum-phobic gerbil and this would be the result. Sweet mother of fucking cringe, I haven't seen someone this far out of their comfort zone since Burger King released their ultimate breakfast platter.
The left side of the thumbnail may be something you never experience for the rest of you life. The right side can't be avoided if you've ever taken a $20.00 bill to Shake Shack. This is a masterful piece of art I like to call: The Duality of Man.
She spittin facts? Probably. I've seen that couch destroy more lives than those asteroids in the original Dead Space. And much like making violent contact with an alien species, her journey into for-hire anal sex is one she'll remember forever.
In a society where your social status is measured by how many inches of BBC have ruptured your small intestine, you have to assume this Cathy is hovering somewhere in between girl-next-door and cashier at Super Walmart. Any takers?
Much like the Fast and Furious movie franchise, this went from mildly amusing to, "it's time to stop" pretty daggon quickly. The tipping point involves an ass-to-ass audible plan B teeth-biter after failing to fly his dick ship to the orbit of Heranus.
Saved up all of his Hanukkah 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.
