Guys, I don’t like to brag, but I just booked a vacation at the beautiful Four Seasons, which I presume is a hotel, in Philadelphia, next to what I can only assume is some sort of day spa by the lovely name Fantasy Island.
Relaxation, here I come!
The Yelp reviews say you can smell the popular local barbecue ovens next door...mouth watering! Supposedly they use a method called the ‘Delaware Valley fry rub’ that makes the meat just fall off the bone.
This is going to rock, you guys!
Holy crap, I just checked google Earth and a walking corpse keeps tucking in his shirt outside the spa...he’s tucked it in like six times already.
Dude! A little decorum, please!
Holy crap, I wish I loved anything as much as tantrum Skeletor here loves tucking in his shirt...
Speaking of ‘meat falling off the bone,’ Skeletor is tucking in his shirt again. He really needs to learn to moderate.
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What if Picard isn’t just gay but SUPER gay and when he says ‘Earl Grey, hot,’ he doesn’t mean tea, he’s ordering up his favorite member of the British gentry in assless chaps?
Here’s the actual Earl Grey of Thiddlewich-On-The-Thames, Viscount of Piddlesworth Abbey.
Remember how in his greatest fantasy, he’s a private dick?
I don’t know how it’s relevant but it’s fun to say. ‘Dick.’