If you’re stuck attending a dry wedding, a boring meeting or some other lame event, sneaking your flask in always helps keep things interesting. But don’t risk getting caught with that snazzy monogrammed flask that could get linked to you. Sneak-It Disposable Flask let you get your drink on and then ditch the evidence so no one will know how Irish your coffee is. They’re portable, freezable and fit nicely in a pocket.
So last night me and my Bro’s go to fucking ROOM SERVICE in NYC
And I park my fucking benz In the garage across the street from the place, throw the fucking loser a 20 to leave my car right out fucking front, meanwhile all the bitches are staring at my fucking car and my boys and especially me cause were all looking fucking jacked, we all went tanning you know the deal already.
So I fucking walk up to the line and I know every promoter there because im in the scene, the line is huge, but everyone makes way for me because im the biggest guy there BY FAR and best looking. Needless to say I get my doorman Rich to fucking come out and im like bro open the fucking ropes right now its me + 3 and get me the best fucking table you got. Everyone was shocked at my entrance, I was the fucking KING. Benz across the street bottles of fucking GREY GOOSE all over the motherfucking place, some dumb celebrities trying to fucking sit at my table, I was like are you serious bro? get the fuck out…I sat on TOP of the fucking couch not on it so every girl could fucking see me. Man I swear every fucking bitch was gawking at me and a few at my boys because they knew they couldnt get me (they were worse looking). Man the fucking bottle girl was bringing me so much goose I was like bitch, heres a fucking 100, go find me some motherfucking Coke…bitch came back with a nice jar of white on white and I fucking snorted that shit with my boys right there at the table, what the fucks anyone going to do? Look at me, look at my blazer (Its Armani), look at my car outside, look at my fucking tan. Lets be serious here. Nobodys doing shit.
Because when we walk into a club we want to take it over, it’s like a business and we are Donald Trump, Bill Gates, and Steve Wynn of the fitness/club nightlife world and we just take over. I bust a front double bicep as soon as i get in, then after 2 Red Bull and vodkas I rip my shirt off and usually just sport a tank because “I have a buzz”, which i really don’t but its an excuse to take my shirt off and if anyone asks, “I’m hot from the alcohol”. Then I hit up the bathroom and look for the handicap stall to get a good pump with the dip bars for the gimps, and we just do our thing you know, all ripped shredded bros just macking on pussy making everyone else feel like shit, we’re tanner, were more shredded, and we make it rain with the cash flow, goose bottles left and right bro.
And how fast will it go? Put it this way, if you fired what used to be the most powerful handgun in the world, Dirty Harry’s .44 Magnum, at the tail of the rocket/jet car as it passed and Green toggled the 20,500lb thrust hybrid rocket as the revolver went off, the bullet would never hit the car.
EVEN MORE MAN POINTS!
If you think this is all a bit boggling, then check out the fuel pump: an 800bhp, 4.5-litre V12 racing engine from Menard Competition Technologies. If you think this is all a bit boggling, then check out the fuel pump: an 800bhp, 4.5-litre V12 racing engine from Menard Competition Technologies. It will operate at 12,000rpm, delivering 111lb of HTP per second at 1,100psi to the combustion chamber, which requires at least 620 shaft horsepower.
fuck i wish this were actually you… i’d ask to hang out with you just to study you in action… like not out of envy, but just to retell the story to normal people.