Monday, May 18, 2009
The Meatwadian Bartender
Oh, Meatwadian Bartender.
Your simian hulking ways make you king of your workplace from 6pm until close.
Sure, Jenny’s forearm is the size of one of your meaty fingers. And your Armani Exchange douche-cloth is bursting at the seams. And your requisite tribal tatt flexes with pride, as you tilt your body with sloping gait.
For you are the alpha male.
And by alpha, I mean douchey. And by male, I mean get me another Rolling Rock.
