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| Have you ever played Drunk Guy Jenga? You keep putting stuff on a drunk piece of shit and whoever wakes him up loses. This particular session shot off to a ballsy start when Leigh did the unprecedented move of putting a human being on the guy. After that it was on. We got a pear in his mouth, then a lit cigarette, then balanced a big pile of junk on his ear and even graced his face with a pair of balls. Previous games have involved slightly more illegal moves like putting out a cigarette on the guy or putting cocaine up his nose, but we hereby challenge our readers to get out there and do what no Drunk Guy Jenga player has ever done before: publicly jizz on his face. (Send submissions to vice@viceland.com). |
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| Holy "sheet" am I ever scared of Parisian police. I hope the music isn't too loud at my bachelorette party and they get so many noise complaints they have to come over and start dancing to "Word Up." No wonder the towel heads from La Cité laugh in their face, look at them. They're from fucking Chippendale's. |
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"I have a strong opinion / I have learned from my mistakes / I have been published / I have ridden a motorcycle across Route 66 / I have always kept my word." I have laughed my ass off. What is he, applying for a job at How's Your News? |
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| I know the Fonz said owning a motorbike makes you cool but Google it dude, that was 1975 and he was pretending to be from the 50s! Today it doesn't erase the fact that you're a little Moby nerd in women's shorts and adult sneakers Googling Happy Days. It actually makes things several thousand times worse. |
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"C'mon kids, it's right here. All you have to do is grab it. Then we can talk and get to know each other and, eventually go to Puerto Vallarta together and swim in the nude."
Dad, you're going to get castrated and then ripped to shreds in prison. Is it really worth it just to see a tiny dink? |
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Ah ha ha. Look how constipated these Jersey Guidos are in the first shot. They're like, "Why did I wax my Adam West, fake tan, barrel chest if I can't show it off?" Then we let them pose shirtless and it was an emotional explosive diarrhea for them ("Aaaah, fuckin' finally").
Dear Italian Americans (and French Canadians) of the world, read my lips, taking your shirt off in clubs is for f-a-g-s. It's part of their mating ritual. Not yours. Jersey Shore shirtlessness is the Village People phenomenon of our generation. In 20 years people are going to be looking back on VH1 saying, "How did those people not know it was a fag thing?" |
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| Hey Ironsides, we know you're a gimp and everything and you're not exactly beating off the pussy with a stick but turning yourself into a human ad for Verizon? Jesus Christ. Suicide would be more glamorous. Get a real job you lazy fucking sellout. |
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It might look okay if she was riding a horse in the nude but can you imagine her drain?
If you slept in her bed that shit would be all wrapped around your legs and caught under your armpits and everything. Sometimes you'd even feel one between your ass cheeks that, when you pulled it, would start coming unraveled from deep inside your ass. (How do those get there by the way? Did we eat them?) |
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How can someone know enough to get a tribal tattoo removed from their leg, yet still trust the idea to wear sport sandals and glittery toe nail polish? You're worse than that crazy gay dude my ex-girlfriend used to live with who had multiple personalities and would read notes to himself he didn't remember writing that said, "If you keep going to a therapist about us we are going to kill you."
Stop listening to yourself, Vito.
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And then there's this guy. He felt like his confining sport sandals were preventing him from really enjoying the comedy show (from the stage no less) so he took them off and STARTED MASSAGING HIS FEET!
The worst part was, whenever there was a really funny part you'd see his toes move up and down in ecstasy. It was a fucking horror movie. Can someone buy this bastard the DOs & DON'Ts book please!?
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