@Pedro Cuatro Cinco: Definitely a +1 for execution, although there's no way the "legal requirements" they're talking about are constitutional. Probably a state anti-discrimination statute. The Equal Protection Clause of the Constitution does not protect the right of a man to participate in a private female poker tournament run by a private entity.
@Steve U: Yeah, it's gotta be Jersey law. To be fair, it's probably in place to discourage the practice of gender identification in Atlantic City, which has worse odds than the nickel slots.
Picture the scene: The other fuckin' week there, doin' the fuckin' Volley with Tommy, playing pool. I'm playing like Paul-Fuckin'-Newman by the way. Givin' the boy here the tannin' of a lifetime. So it comes to there, during the last shot, the deciding ball of the whole tournament. I'm on the black and he's sittin' in the corner looking all fuckin' biscuit-arsed. When this hard cunt comes in. Obviously fuckin' fancied himself, like. Starts staring at me. Lookin' at me, right fuckin' at me, as if to say, "Come ahead, square go." You know me, I'm not the type of cunt that goes looking for fuckin' bother, like, but at the end of the day I'm the cunt with a pool cue and he can get the fat end in his puss any time he fucking wanted like. So I squares up, casual like. What does the hard cunt do? Or the so-called hard cunt? Shites it. Puts down his drink, turns, and gets the fuck out of there. And after that, well, the game was mine.
The only way the title works is if they can convince Mr. T to reprise his Clubber Lang role to say "Painnnnn." Then this idea would only be halfway retarded.
10/27/09
10/27/09
10/27/09
10/27/09
10/27/09
09/18/09
09/17/09
I can't stop giggling at this, and it's pissing off my stitch n' bitch circle.
09/17/09
/dick joke?
09/17/09
09/17/09
...
What's that?
...
NO WAY
...
Oh shit."
09/17/09
02/09/09
02/09/09
Oh yeah, and you are that psycho.
02/09/09
You've obviously never seen attended the regional Philadelphia Punt, Pass, and Kick competition.
02/09/09
Proofread dumbass
02/09/09
02/09/09
Picture the scene: The other fuckin' week there, doin' the fuckin' Volley with Tommy, playing pool. I'm playing like Paul-Fuckin'-Newman by the way. Givin' the boy here the tannin' of a lifetime. So it comes to there, during the last shot, the deciding ball of the whole tournament. I'm on the black and he's sittin' in the corner looking all fuckin' biscuit-arsed. When this hard cunt comes in. Obviously fuckin' fancied himself, like. Starts staring at me. Lookin' at me, right fuckin' at me, as if to say, "Come ahead, square go." You know me, I'm not the type of cunt that goes looking for fuckin' bother, like, but at the end of the day I'm the cunt with a pool cue and he can get the fat end in his puss any time he fucking wanted like. So I squares up, casual like. What does the hard cunt do? Or the so-called hard cunt? Shites it. Puts down his drink, turns, and gets the fuck out of there. And after that, well, the game was mine.
02/09/09
/throws glass of beer into crowd of unsuspecting bar patrons.
02/09/09