Not the team, but the school and the collection of greasy, STD-riddled, sluttastic “students” that attend the school.
Saturday night, I enjoyed a trip to what would be best described as a breeding ground for any and all communicable diseases. If Herpes ever mutates and becomes airborne, Fourth Street Live would be the scene of such a medical miracle.
The night started out well enough, with a pretty damn good dinner and damn good bourbon down the street at Maker’s Mark Bourbon House. Unfortunately, our next choice was a CDC laboratory disguised as a bar: Parrot Beach. To give you an idea of this hole, it was a combination of Bent Willey’s, Banana Joe’s, the Jersey Shore, Hell, and Kentucky. Unfortunately, Kentucky turns out to be the worst of these 5 ingredients.
Look, I like girls dancing on tables as much as the next guy, but I would prefer if those girls rated more than a negative 3 out of 10 on any man’s scale. And last time I checked, C-Section scars aren’t sexy. Louisville girls should keep that in mind next time they decide to wear a Kids-medium sized shirt.
And the guys, even worse. Unfortunately, the bathroom had an attendant, which meant everyone had a chance to put on cologne from his collection. That poor guy must have to restock that cologne every 20 minutes. I walked in and nearly passed out as one chach-ball dumped a whole bottle of Drakkar Noir on his chest. I’m sure his cousin Geno did the same thing.
And lastly, I heard a rumor that they’re taking the gold out of Fort Knox…apparently replacing it with a week’s supply of penicillin for the U of L student body. Trust me, they’ll need every drop. We should drop condoms on that school like we drop food on Afghanistan, just to make sure they don’t procreate.
Filed under: whores and horses