We headed off for a friend’s bachelor-party weekend of booze, beads, and Bourbon Street, culminating in an early-morning trot through the streets of New Orleans for the fourth annual Running of the NOLA Bulls, convinced that getting pummeled by a barrage of plastic-bat-wielding roller-derby girls (the “bulls”) would somehow be a vacation.
Let’s channel our inner Carlin and deliver 67 brand (spanking?) new euphemisms for choking the chicken, beating the bishop, strangling the snail, and what have you. For when it comes to whacking off, the possibilities never end.
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