Can "Peyton Manning Grimmaces at Things" be the 'shop contest?
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Totally. Players need to feel comfortable hurling racial slurs at other players and telling them they are going to cum in their family member's cunts.
This man and his father have left one of the most incriminating electronic trails in recent memory. Somewhere Brett Favre's dick is shaking his head.
Just tried to into Incognito mode in Google Chrome and it started searching for steroids, KKK meet ups, and pooping in peoples mouths videos.
Nice piece. It's not just football, or even sports teams. It's theater, choir, school newspaper, chess club, running club, cocaine club, whatever. It's all a morass of people trying to fit in and not feel so goddamn lonely.
As a bench-warming defensive back/punter-kicker, I went into a blowout in high school and was hit so hard I did an involuntary back flip. My nickname from then on was 360.
Don't worry no one will get it here.
Dr. J: Oh yeah, I liked her, she gave good head. Whenever I needed a blowjob, all I had to do was show up at her house. One day though, she had all this metal shit on her busted teeth and I couldn't fit my dick in there. So I stuck it in the other place.
"The only thing we have to fear is horse crackers mustard underpants Chevrolet where am I who are you?" - every NFL player after retirement
"Tear their fuckin' dicks off and use them for party whistles you fuckin' faggots!"
I've been a fan of Stafford's since he played Corky on Life Goes On. Glad to see he's playing quarterback now. That guy has, what we call in the industry, 'range.'
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In January, the NFL announced that, starting with the 2013 season, all games would be played with an independent…
As for Schiano's coaching tenure, the only thing in Florida that was on life-support any longer was Terry Schiavo.
When my grandfather died, my mom (his only child) couldn't emotionally handle the final arrangements, so she asked me to do it. From five hundred miles away. Luckily I did my research and found a funeral home that wasn't corporate-owned in the area where he had died, and they cremated him without embalming him first…
They bought their ticket, they got on the plane. I say, let 'em crash.
"Kevin! Kevin! Can you hear me?"
When they drafted Bradford I thought it was a Make A Wish deal. He's retarded, right?
Two in the pink, helmet in the stink.
Aaron Hernandez, living out his Henry Hill fantasies.. looking upward at his stalker, instructing his nephew to watch the sauce while he goes for a drive.