New Year's Eve
Posted: Fri Dec 23, 2011 2:24 am
Greetings, gang.
We've taken time out of our rampageous work schedule to announce our plans for the first and only T1B New Year's Eve Party hosted by none other than your pals, The Deciders. In short order our support staff will be sending out formal invitations to the lucky guests of our meticulous choosing. Suffice to say those in attendance will be... kind of a big deal. If you don't receive an invitation please DO consider it an insult. Unfortunately for many of you, little consideration will be given to idiots, morons, dumbshits, dumbfucks, cockslaps, dickweeds, fat fucks, retards, FAT fucking RETARDS, homosexuals and Toddowen.
Those selected will be flown to New York via private jet and promptly chauffeured to our exclusive privately-owned club in Manhattan. You'll be in good hands with our driver and credentialed body guard, Big McLargeHuge.
Of course at The Establishment our "spread" (ugh, that sounds soooo blue-collar) will be simply ridiculous. Hors d'oeuvres prepared by some of the finest chefs from...New York City? Pfffft, how tawdry. Try some of the finest Michelin French chefs, accompanied by some of the finest aged wine imported straight from Bordeaux. If that doesn't tickle your fancy we'll offer an assortment of spirits more expensive than KC Scott's timeshare in The Hamptons. Additionally, there will be copious amounts of barely legal vagina and some of the world's purest drugs imaginable.
Once the food and drink has settled we'll play games such as "beat the hooker" and "female tits or jtr's tits?" And before you judge too harshly just know the hooker as well as jtr will be compensated handsomely for their time. We'll import Papa Willie via Erickson Crane, let him work up a good sweat, then slip-n-slide down his mountainous exterior. We'll issue online quizzes to smackaholic and force him to share with us his genuine results. Hearty guffaws will ensue.
When the experience is over you will be swiftly flown back to your home to be with the comfy confines of your FUCKING FAMILY, and will speak to no one of what took place.
You will never see us again.
We've taken time out of our rampageous work schedule to announce our plans for the first and only T1B New Year's Eve Party hosted by none other than your pals, The Deciders. In short order our support staff will be sending out formal invitations to the lucky guests of our meticulous choosing. Suffice to say those in attendance will be... kind of a big deal. If you don't receive an invitation please DO consider it an insult. Unfortunately for many of you, little consideration will be given to idiots, morons, dumbshits, dumbfucks, cockslaps, dickweeds, fat fucks, retards, FAT fucking RETARDS, homosexuals and Toddowen.
Those selected will be flown to New York via private jet and promptly chauffeured to our exclusive privately-owned club in Manhattan. You'll be in good hands with our driver and credentialed body guard, Big McLargeHuge.
Of course at The Establishment our "spread" (ugh, that sounds soooo blue-collar) will be simply ridiculous. Hors d'oeuvres prepared by some of the finest chefs from...New York City? Pfffft, how tawdry. Try some of the finest Michelin French chefs, accompanied by some of the finest aged wine imported straight from Bordeaux. If that doesn't tickle your fancy we'll offer an assortment of spirits more expensive than KC Scott's timeshare in The Hamptons. Additionally, there will be copious amounts of barely legal vagina and some of the world's purest drugs imaginable.
Once the food and drink has settled we'll play games such as "beat the hooker" and "female tits or jtr's tits?" And before you judge too harshly just know the hooker as well as jtr will be compensated handsomely for their time. We'll import Papa Willie via Erickson Crane, let him work up a good sweat, then slip-n-slide down his mountainous exterior. We'll issue online quizzes to smackaholic and force him to share with us his genuine results. Hearty guffaws will ensue.
When the experience is over you will be swiftly flown back to your home to be with the comfy confines of your FUCKING FAMILY, and will speak to no one of what took place.
You will never see us again.
