Looks Like I’m Not Going To The Super Bowl With My Dad, Robby “Clubber” Lange

 

Bad news guys. Looks like I’m not going to The Super Bowl. Not sure what happened. Miscommunication? Too many gay bashers to keep track of? Clubber knew that New Orleans isn’t big enough for the both of us? Just not sure. But that doesn’t mean I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like. So I emailed Robby, Super Bowl or Bust. Its Whoa Time (just made that up, pretty sweet right?)

Link to Handshake (1:01)

 

We went Boating

You wouldn’t let me drive, because you said my hands are too small

We caught an alligator, and when I say that I mean you caught an alligator by yourself while I sat in the boat peeing my pants

Went out on bourbon street. #Tittays #WHOA

Found a monkey

Monkey had one too many hurricanes

Did some cooking with Emeril. Whoa is the new Bam, WHOA.

Had dinner with Riles. I called him a cocksucker while you gave him a wedgie.

Told Chris Culliver to stop being mean to gay people

And then won the Super Bowl.

 

All in a days work of the best one two punch this world has ever seen. Can’t wait for Sunday!

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