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Sick pizza reviews,” she wrote. “Thanks fly bitch,” Portnoy responded. She was a 20-year-old college student at the time, Portnoy a 43-year-old multimillionaire.
The conversation soon moved to Snapchat and text. But than the unthinkable happened…
I went to Miami this weekend to blow off steam with some friends. And by blow off steam, I mean blow the coke off the hairless, silicon-stuffed cheeks and bleached 2-holes of Cuban hookers.
The weather was disappointingly cool, but the streets shimmered with heat. Collins Avenue was jammed with bronzed, muscle-bound beefcakes sporting spaghetti tanks with low-cut sides that allowed this discerning, hungry voyager to see what sort of nipples were in play.
One could easily distinguish the weekend-warrior gym visitors from the dedicated, 5AM lifestylists. Everyone smelled, and looked, like coconuts and anticipated sex. It was a buffet for my nose, eyes, and shaft. There were a couple girls there too.
In a statement, a Barstool Sports rep said, “We are not in the business of managing our employees’ personal lives, but we have made sure to have specific processes in place that encourage our colleagues to confidentially share any concerns they might have about their work environment.
This recent news does not involve any workplace behavior. As a matter of policy, we do not comment on the private lives of our employees, but we take this matter seriously and are monitoring it closely.”
I went to Miami this weekend to blow off steam with some friends. And by blow off steam, I mean blow the coke off the hairless, silicon-stuffed cheeks and bleached 2-holes of Cuban hookers.
The weather was disappointingly cool, but the streets shimmered with heat. Collins Avenue was jammed with bronzed, muscle-bound beefcakes sporting spaghetti tanks with low-cut sides that allowed this discerning, hungry voyager to see what sort of nipples were in play.
One could easily distinguish the weekend-warrior gym visitors from the dedicated, 5AM lifestylists. Everyone smelled, and looked, like coconuts and anticipated sex. It was a buffet for my nose, eyes, and shaft. There were a couple girls there too.
I’d planned my trip to South Beach a few months ago. My friends and I typically head to Miami for MLK weekend because we like to celebrate the life and work of the great civil rights leader by reading his speeches on the beach before thumbing the back-pages of local papers for in-home sushi chefs that serve California rolls on the backs of naked humans (no chopsticks allowed!.
I was excited to see how long I could go without sleeping–a challenge that made me think, on the flight home, that we were experiencing horrific turbulence. I was shaking like a leaf under Glenny’s chair after Chipotle.