Me and Shoulders have been volleying NFL shit
talk like Nadal and Federer on clay(me being Nadal),
so I thought I'd lighten the mood with this douchebag
racking his nuts on a decorative pond. Can you share
with the Den what this poor bastard says after realizing
he can't jump as far as he originally thought? I can't, but
his murmured speech is so fucking hilarious.
While we're at odds with regard to who the true players are in the NFL,
be they Gmen or Dirty Birds, toe stepping sissies or unibrow-clad
harbingers of the deep ball, one thing is certain; bitch gotta go to court.
Enter Agent Double O Shoulders.
He's cunning. He craps $100 bills.
I tried to get his special lady friend in on the action, but she'll probably
go shopping or something. Anyone want to tag along? A little servage,
some NFL footy and then off to celebrate a birthday with Pontius,
because the flyer he made for himself told us to do so. I'm going to
spend the rest of the day trying to come up with a gayer band name
than Titus Andronicus, but don't count on me having success.
