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[MEDIA=youtube]6wjkE4BPeR8[/MEDIA]
Fat Lip Guy (FLG) -I’m not bothering to google his fatness- sends a fake recovering addict and admitted teetotaler into a bar because his show is as real as Sam Robert’s marriage.
Both cro-magnons meander in as serious as a cult duo intent on abducting new nubile members before impishly posting up to the bar.
The bartender, obviously addled by the sight of two shut in looking Neanderthals (Jeez, Bing searches are jarringly accurate) forgets his menu list. Having frightened an innocent service industry worker into confusion Sam attempts to mock him with the oldest joke in the book.
FLG criticizes the glass size his admitted rapist friend chooses (Jim admitted on air to fucking a black out drunk girl btw). Sex offender then complains that the straight hot sauce he’s drinking is apparently hotter than the tranny cum he’s used to guzzling.
Androgynous ethnic asshole then pretends like cleaning the side foam off a draft beer is a problem because he’s a yes-man who also says yes to being packed in a car with other similarly androgynous racial/sexual type looking men.
‘That’s the strategy! Slam a few!’ said the assfag who would know if his beer was flat. He’d also be just as likely to tell you if his frustrated big breasted wife was cucking him and he’d definitely be genuine with you about that.
‘Ummm...Medium?....’
FLG makes some weird Norton shit joke about the short order cooks doing their jobs while sitting in a car with a bunch of other faggots being a faggot. The androgynous retard in the passenger seat makes another stupid comment about a greasy spoon grill serving greasy food because see two paragraphs above. Cue weird FLG mug scrunched up gross fat face.
‘We’re at fifteen minutes and fifty one seconds, John!’ Well done, background guy! Now for your next task. Stick your head out as far as possible as we drive along the highway among numerous road signs.
As both assholes are drinking soft drinks, the true sign of a bar patron, Jim manly states that he doesn’t ‘love it.’ It obviously not meaning Swedish Thor cock but the exact kind of grease food dives like this are supposed to serve. ‘Look at my hand!’ Try looking into ways not to deform your child into a grotesque abomination like his father instead maybe, you backstabbing cunt.
FLG apparently thinks weird eye chick’s life is ‘going down the tubes’ despite a bar full of patrons. He then fatly barges out of his car Tomlinson style before behaving even fatter inside her establishment.
Sorry I have to take at least a one hour nap to sleep off my day drinking before the night shift. More faggotry ensues, I think.
The big eye lady gets drunk, Jim rapes a lamppost he thought was one of Anthony’s girlfriends, Sam gets his head caught in a door jam...I don’t know. Nigga, I’m tired.
Fat Lip Guy (FLG) -I’m not bothering to google his fatness- sends a fake recovering addict and admitted teetotaler into a bar because his show is as real as Sam Robert’s marriage.
Both cro-magnons meander in as serious as a cult duo intent on abducting new nubile members before impishly posting up to the bar.
The bartender, obviously addled by the sight of two shut in looking Neanderthals (Jeez, Bing searches are jarringly accurate) forgets his menu list. Having frightened an innocent service industry worker into confusion Sam attempts to mock him with the oldest joke in the book.
FLG criticizes the glass size his admitted rapist friend chooses (Jim admitted on air to fucking a black out drunk girl btw). Sex offender then complains that the straight hot sauce he’s drinking is apparently hotter than the tranny cum he’s used to guzzling.
Androgynous ethnic asshole then pretends like cleaning the side foam off a draft beer is a problem because he’s a yes-man who also says yes to being packed in a car with other similarly androgynous racial/sexual type looking men.
‘That’s the strategy! Slam a few!’ said the assfag who would know if his beer was flat. He’d also be just as likely to tell you if his frustrated big breasted wife was cucking him and he’d definitely be genuine with you about that.
‘Ummm...Medium?....’
FLG makes some weird Norton shit joke about the short order cooks doing their jobs while sitting in a car with a bunch of other faggots being a faggot. The androgynous retard in the passenger seat makes another stupid comment about a greasy spoon grill serving greasy food because see two paragraphs above. Cue weird FLG mug scrunched up gross fat face.
‘We’re at fifteen minutes and fifty one seconds, John!’ Well done, background guy! Now for your next task. Stick your head out as far as possible as we drive along the highway among numerous road signs.
As both assholes are drinking soft drinks, the true sign of a bar patron, Jim manly states that he doesn’t ‘love it.’ It obviously not meaning Swedish Thor cock but the exact kind of grease food dives like this are supposed to serve. ‘Look at my hand!’ Try looking into ways not to deform your child into a grotesque abomination like his father instead maybe, you backstabbing cunt.
FLG apparently thinks weird eye chick’s life is ‘going down the tubes’ despite a bar full of patrons. He then fatly barges out of his car Tomlinson style before behaving even fatter inside her establishment.
Sorry I have to take at least a one hour nap to sleep off my day drinking before the night shift. More faggotry ensues, I think.
The big eye lady gets drunk, Jim rapes a lamppost he thought was one of Anthony’s girlfriends, Sam gets his head caught in a door jam...I don’t know. Nigga, I’m tired.
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