As such, The Baron would like to share 3 items, rather universal truths he was able to deduce concerning the resort, and its alcohol drenched occupants.
1. Eurotrash, eurotrash and more eurotrash: Have you ever wanted to watch as the son of an Italian shipping magnate chugs Becks, while shirtless and fisting a pig of a woman in the middle of a public beach? If you answered yes to this question, send your 5000$ to Club Med, 23 douchebag lane, Fucktardolis, FU 06969.
The Baron was worked up to the point of frenzy on many an occasion while peering into the shit-drenched underbelly of CM. The sea of Gucci sunglasses and impudent fops seemed unending yet endlessly infuriating.The only thing that could have further cemented the worthlessness of these continental assmasters was if they had driven their Maybach's onto the beach and were blasting french techno over the Italian techno oozing from the club's own loudspeakers.
2. Dicktards, dicktardettes, alcohol and fucktards: If you've ever seen MTV spring break, you'd be disgusted at the level of douchiness present at CM. The Baron was nearly blinded by the number of truckers caps on women and ankle long board shorts with barbed wire tattoos on men. It was nearly unbearable. The Baron could actually hear how stupid these people were while they desperately tried to freebase coronas and date rape a beach chair.
3. Lots of tats, but not the good kind, the saggy leather bag kind: The Baron finds few things as tragic as a woman who decides to let her milk bar get some fresh air, seemingly without realizing that her cartons are well past expiration. There was a ton of that at CM. The Baron takes this as proof that there is no god, or that god is an asshole.
No comments:
Post a Comment