Spring break: where to go?

Try Tropez, Boom

 

Imagine being able to be magically whisked away to ... Delaware. "Hi, I'm in ... Delaware."

 

Spend it in Angola. Or maybe Angola! will spend it in you.

 

In Matt Foley's van, which just happens to be located on the banks of a lovely tiver.

 

Sorry I ran out so quick and left it on your floor this morning, sxy. I'll pick it up tonight.

 

Haiti

 

Oh...my....goodness. Have you not seen Pulp Fiction?

 

Is he in that? Meh ... I don't get Quintin Tarentino ...

 

And we can add another to the burgeoning list of masters of their crafts that Flash doesn't "get."

Rarely has anyone wallowed in such obviously shitty taste.

 

The stench from ADM is lovely this time of year. Still the second smelliest town in Amurika right behind Terre Haute, Ind.

 

Oh please ... just once may I sit at the cool table. Zeke, I relish the opportunity to bask in your awesomeness and learn so much about what it takes to be just like you.

Tool.

 

When you're dealing with a store like this, they're insured up the ass. They're not supposed to give you any resistance whatsoever. If you get a customer, or an employee, who thinks he's Charles Bronson, take the butt of your gun and smash their nose in. Everybody jumps. He falls down screaming, blood squirts out of his nose, nobody says fucking shit after that. You might get some bitch talk shit to you, but give her a look like you're gonna smash her in the face next, watch her shut the fuck up. Now if it's a manager, that's a different story. Managers know better than to fuck around, so if you get one that's giving you static, he probably thinks he's a real cowboy, so you gotta break that son of a bitch in two. If you wanna know something and he won't tell you, cut off one of his fingers. The little one. Then tell him his thumb's next. After that he'll tell you if he wears ladies underwear. I'm hungry. Let's get a taco.