I love British comedy. And sex.

Innuendo. Double entendres. Sarcasm with an accent that makes you want to thank them for the insult. Trying to decide what to do tonight. Call up some of the crew? Probably. But what to do? Go out? Watch some Monty Python at my place? Austin hates that humor, but the chicks can bs in the kitchen all night anyway.

Come on Internet, be my magic 8-ball and tell me if Austin and I are gonna have some make-up sex tonight. Too much damn tension at work is rubbing me wrong, I think that’s why we’re scratching at each other. I just want to get that woman between the sheets and…wait, wtf am I telling you for? Just a bunch of creeps and “L”-osers like me online now instead of out partying. No chicks in sight, but game console nearby. Have another Red Bull for me, willya chief?

Alright, maybe you’re reading this after the weekend and you’re not a creep. How did you make out? Tell me what’s hot and happening in your corner of the globe.