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Ten real submissions, 20 photos, and three videos that didn’t seem quite right. Names were omitted to protect the guilty.
Letting your slam junk-punch you. TFM.
Some people derive pleasure from pain.
Ordering your steak well done to let her know you prefer the brown stuff over the pink stuff. TFM.
Not sure she’s going to pick up on that subtlety.
Finding out the girl you made out last night was a lesbian with raging red herpes. TFM.
That doesn’t sound like a TFM; it sounds like a fucking nightmare.
All the pledges knowing your favorite type of dip (Grizz wintergreen). TFM.
Well now we all know. Thanks!
Your only real life application of math being used to calculate the volume of your frock. TFM.
Using math for anything but measuring your own junk is for geeds.
Yelling, “Dubya!” before doing something “frat-tastic.” TFM.
Holy shit please fight me.
My mom was violated by George Michael in the ’80s. You could say I’m kind of a big deal. TFM.
Pretty weird thing to be proud of.
Was at the gym pumping up my maaaaad pythons when some hot sloot started staring at me. Hah, it was pretty sweet. I didn’t fuck her though, cuz I don’t do cardio. TFM.
Who are you people?
Wearing Chubbies and boat shoes in the snow. TFM.
I hope you get frostbite on your testicles.
Waiting for your girlfriend to fall asleep and then sneaking into her mom’s room and smelling her panties. TFM.
Yeah, that’s not creepy at all.