I'm a man and I'm a pretty big fan of underwear, but not really to the point of these guys. They're all into it. In that way.
The only thing missing now is a high-five in front of a sunset.
As if folks needed another reason to not go to Cincinatti.
I don't know about you guys but if I came home to some guy playing around with my unattended underwears I'd get all up in his face. Without actually touching him though, because gross.
If you dream... does that not, in a way, make it true?
On a road trip once I saw a guy wearing a black trash bag as (what I assume to be) some kind of makeshift diaper. I don't know what that has to do with this.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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