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?)
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!