Wacky Waffle House Showdown: Dine-n-Dash Drama Meets Headlock Heroics!
Editors Note: You are about to be subjected to the razor sharp wit and sense of humor of Delta Force’s Geo Hand. He does not pull punches. If you are easily offended, turn back now. If you want to have a good laugh, jump on in and join the party. –GDM
Waffle House employee gets one of the assailants in a headlock.
Geez… when did the Waffle House get so ghetto? I guess it depends, as anything does, on location, location, location. If this Waffle House were here in Albuquerque it would be located somewhere on East Central — the Strumpet Strip, Prostitute Promenade, Whore’s Haunt, Working Girl’s Galleria, Tramp Track, Harlot Haven.
The executive summary for you all is that three “patrons” planned a dine-n-dash operation that fell apart immediately due to one detail — one of the three candidates for an honorary Albrecht Einstein Award for Mental Excellence left their phone at their table as they skipped out.
They went back in after the phone but an employee had already secured it and was holding it hostage until they paid their bill. That didn’t settle well with the welchers and a brawl ensued behind the counter. The brouhaha delivered plenty as one beauty queen lost her wig immediately, her disgusting breasts flying out of her tank top as she hefted hooks and haymakers.
Another frame of the horrifying event the moment of the udder disaster!
Ponytail boy finally was put in a sleeper headlock while wigged udder girl concluded they all should depart most ricky-tick, as they were in possession of cocaine. The naturally red-headed chick contributed nothing to the brawl but got in everyone’s way and port big mama’s vile rat-like wig. As brawls go, I give it high marks for presentation for all its conducive features: punches, insults, kicks, detached wigs, loose boobs, chokeholds, and red-haired girls getting in the way.
Editors Note: You are about to be subjected to the razor sharp wit and sense of humor of Delta Force’s Geo Hand. He does not pull punches. If you are easily offended, turn back now. If you want to have a good laugh, jump on in and join the party. –GDM
Waffle House employee gets one of the assailants in a headlock.
Geez… when did the Waffle House get so ghetto? I guess it depends, as anything does, on location, location, location. If this Waffle House were here in Albuquerque it would be located somewhere on East Central — the Strumpet Strip, Prostitute Promenade, Whore’s Haunt, Working Girl’s Galleria, Tramp Track, Harlot Haven.
The executive summary for you all is that three “patrons” planned a dine-n-dash operation that fell apart immediately due to one detail — one of the three candidates for an honorary Albrecht Einstein Award for Mental Excellence left their phone at their table as they skipped out.
They went back in after the phone but an employee had already secured it and was holding it hostage until they paid their bill. That didn’t settle well with the welchers and a brawl ensued behind the counter. The brouhaha delivered plenty as one beauty queen lost her wig immediately, her disgusting breasts flying out of her tank top as she hefted hooks and haymakers.
Another frame of the horrifying event the moment of the udder disaster!
Ponytail boy finally was put in a sleeper headlock while wigged udder girl concluded they all should depart most ricky-tick, as they were in possession of cocaine. The naturally red-headed chick contributed nothing to the brawl but got in everyone’s way and port big mama’s vile rat-like wig. As brawls go, I give it high marks for presentation for all its conducive features: punches, insults, kicks, detached wigs, loose boobs, chokeholds, and red-haired girls getting in the way.
The above puts me in mind of a set of YouTube videos I saw a few years back when I was surfing for a Christian Sermon video. They were named something like: “When Hos be Th’owin’ Down” and were vids of prostitutes getting into some… fist to cuffs… over some whore stuff; you know, pimps and johns and coke and money. If you watch hos fight, expect to witness near-immediate nudity.
With the mechanics of whoring fully considered, most professionals don apparel that comes off very quickly; it doesn’t stand a chance in a fist flinging tiff. It was a symphony of bare butts and boobs, with “bitch” this and “bitch” that heard repeatedly. It was good for about 10 minutes or less of entertainment, not at all deserving of the four hours I graced it with.
You know the kind of embarrassing filth that gets on your jeans prompting you to throw them in the washer? Good news: Gucci will blindly rip you off with a pair of jeans at an exorbitant price with that same filth permanently embedded into them. Check out these jeans with grass stains on the knees and IDK what on the seat of the pants. I didn’t know what was going on… I bought a pair of them and washed them 19 times before I found out it was permanent.
Italian genius
I really want to walk around looking like I have been kneeling down in the grass for a really long time.
“Woah, Geo… what the hell have YOU been up to?”
“Well, you know, Bob… money is pretty tight these days what with the pandemic and all.”
What I’d really like to tie the whole Italian Gucci genius together is some huge dog $hit stain on the ass end so it looks like my knees got tired and I had to sit but wasn’t situationally aware enough to realize I was sitting on dog $hit. Gucci is going to hook a brother up! I gave my jeans the acid test and wore them to the mall where all the chicks hang out.
“Oooo… say, handsome… are those really expensive Gucci jeans that your wearing, hmmm?”
“No sweetheart, I was just giving blow jobs in the park and sat down in dog poo — can I get your number?”
“Ugh! Get lost, creep — SECURITY!”
Das jus how me ‘n Gucci roll, aightt? But seeing grass stains on an adult’s pants… that really isn’t a common combo anymore these days, right? Kids maybe, but adults just aren’t really all that grass connected anymore… unless maybe you are SOFREP’s Arizona Ellis T. living in nature every day. If I saw a grownup brother with grass stains on his knees I would think: “Oh, grow up already!” But tweech his own, I reckon.
The Karen receives honors this Halloween as the predicted top pick costume of the holiday.
Karen: A common stereotype is that of a white woman who uses her privilege to demand her own way at the expense of others.
I think it’s only a matter of time before black women will start bitching that the Karen is a white woman, a title that they can’t hold. There will be a conspiracy and there will be bitching and the burning of cities to “make an important point…” What my black sisters don’t realize is there IS indeed a version of the Karen for them. It is the Sha-Karen and she is every bit as shitty and perceptually-entitled as the white Karen.
We are all equal in God’s eyes — the Karens and the Sha-Karens — we should all join hands and sing Ebony and Ivory, We are the World, and then that Three Dog Night song about the “ink is black and the page is white… blah, blah, blah. Then we should burn down a city — TOGETHER, damn-it! I nominate Oakland, CA — let he who is without compunction flick the first match.
It’s been a rough year, brothers and sisters. I invite you all now to get on your knees with me and pray for strength. Gregory “Gravy” Coker does a lot of praying in his book you’ll see. A lot of the times he prays for the safety of his men, but then a whole lot of the time he is praying to Jesus (and Sha-Jesus) to give him strength, strength to not beat the ever-loving mucous and fecal matter out of a whole lotta people. Let’s be more like Greg; we can all pray together!
Chineez youth are listening to heavy metal music, hip-hop music, rock ‘n roll music — American music. The last I noticed no American youth are jamming to gong, flute, and chimes tunes like: Li Zhr Zha meets Xie Ping Gwei on the Road to Shr Cheng City and is Pleasantly Delighted. Being a kid in any country but America is just, like, totally a drag, maaan.
Chineez young-uns are just trying to get them some game, yo… they are tired of riding ox carts jammed with cordwood and working 19 hours a day. They just want to chill, smoke herb, and ride skateboards all day long like Merican young-uns… just have nothing to worry about but dope and their Nissan Cube.
Well, if they can’t be American they can at least look American in their Ice-G’s Gung Ho Garments — T-shirts with random often unintelligible or severely profane English phrases printed on them. The content matters not; all that matters to them is the facade they present — that facade that always hints at America and never crappy-ol’ Chiner. I give them hope; it’s what I do — be American, or just look like one!
Seriously, Wang Chung…
He’s in like Flynn with his peace sign and ambiguously gay pose. This is how it’s done in America with his devil-may-care attitude, pulling out all the stops, and just going for it! This guy truly gets my vote, though he has no idea for what category that is in. “Betty Boop — what a dish… Betty Grable — nice gams… I say can you seeee…”
Hokay…
This gumbah… is excessively pedantic over the finely-detailed protocol of any matter at hand. We salute her and wish her luck at parties.
I really want to include this because it shows the look on the face of an English comprehending westerner. It shows us what most of us look like when we are looking at such shirts.
What’s so fuck, then? I’ll tell you what’s so fuck, pal — your shirt is what’s so fuck!
geo’s Punny Dad Joke Meme of the Week
Bonus
I’m speechless… this bacon that depicts a really creepy clown face.
“Say what you mean and mean what you say.” General George S. Patton Jr.
Lt. Gen. George S. Patton, U.S. Third Army commander, pins the Silver Star on Private Ernest A. Jenkins of New York City.
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