I got this black eye, ironically, at a Black Eyed Peas concert. Apparently bow ties are frowned upon there. Still shook my booty. They’ll never take that away from me.
“I am only into cycling for the ointments.”
Sean-A-Day
Is he a yachtster? Or a hipster? Help us celebrate the awesomeness that is Sean by deciding which social genre he's ass raping each day.
Boats rule.
The guy in front of me is named Merle. Or as we called him that day, “Shitty Leader That Got Us Lost for 4 Hours.”
Here we re-enact the moment that Liza Minelli and Barbara Streisand ran out of cocaine back stage at the 1974 Oscars.
Infinite, digital Seans. When you’re ready, pick your blown mind up off the floor.
This barf of ridiculous colors brought to you by poor online shopping technique while wasted on whippits.
One chick is eating a plastic dolphin, another is giggling mindlessly with bunny ears on, the chick in front of me has unsubscribed from life, and there’s a girl to my left that’s trying to pour her gin and tonic into my ear. My cardigan is the new zombie apocalypse.
Nothing makes a picture like a shitty strip of beach in soupy weather. I emotionally heart this.
“Sean, we have to ride all the way back.”
“NOOO FUUUUUCKIN’ WAYYYYYYY.”
I enjoy the element of surprise. It’s about to get sexual up in this bitch.
