Wow, my roommates are a riot. The first night we were here in Miami, we ordered pizzas. Then, the second night, we ordered pizza from another room. Then, the third night, the guys ordered pizzas to our room. Then, on the very last night, I convinced them to get out and live a little. So we went to a grocery store and bought white bread and smoked turkey. The party never ends with these guys.
I have never seen that dead hooker before in my life.
(Andy, ‘fess up. We know about you and Cher.)
We got screwed on the hotel room. That sentence contains no typos. We just got a really small hotel room. That’s all. Nothing happened.
Thanks to Andy, I am now a “Potentiate of the Rose”. I really hope that doesn’t sound gay. Andy showed it to his hotel roommates and now they’re all potentiates.
Andy: Matador is scheduled to face a bot named “Plan B”.
John: What’s Plan B look like?
Tommy: It’s little yellow pill in an envelope…
*John, other John, Andy and Tommy share a hotel room*
Tommy: Just out of curiousity…has anyone coined the term “four-gy”?
Everyone else: (groans, scoots away from Tommy)
Andy: (suspicious) Why did you pack aluminum foil and a drinking straw?
Tommy: You’re looking at me like I’d do crack off the floor of a convention center bathroom!!
We just landed in Miami, FL and the only I have to say is…
Tommy: (in attempted middle east accent) Finally, we have landed. Praise Allah!
*The coach bus pulls up next to a Hummer with spinning rims. Everyone looks.*
Tommy: WOO-HOO!! FOREIGN OIL!!!!