“Yo man, wazz da haps?”
“Nuttin, nuttin, str8 chillin’. U?”
“Kickin’ it, you know.”
“Fo’ real, daz wuzz up.”
“Wanna go to Japan?”
“And we out then.”
AND THAT’S HOW IT WENT DOWN.
That’s right playboys and girls, my man wid da plan Pierre and I bounced up outta there and headed for the coast. I only trust one slippery devil to protect me when my butt’s being tested (and you know my butt is ALWAYS being tested). And that man is Pierre the Silky Smooth Frenchy with the Testes.
GIMME DAT PHOTO SHOOT Y’ALLLL.
I’m just glad he could make it, what with him being one of Psy’s backup dancers, I didn’t know if he had the time. But e’rybody know Pierre love to smash and I love to smash, so we smashin’. We were both fully on board.
We got off the plane in Tokyo and we had Sumo on the brain, so you know we had to quench that chubby thirst. For those of you unfamiliar with the art form of sumo, it’s exactly like the African aerobic dance Zumba, except that it’s 300 lb. Asian men pushing each other around a ring because they’re upset that they wore the same outfit.
So we headed for Ryogoku Kokugikan, (say that 40 times fast you lil bitch) where the two foremost sumo wrestlers were just taking the stage. And these thunder thighs were ready to make each others booties clap with lightning.
We took our seats and Pierre being the social butterfly that he is, cozied up next to some Japanese businessmen. A couple rounds of sake later and it looked like we were in for the night of our lives.
YET ANOTHER PHOTO SHOOT Y’ALLLLL.
Things got so crazy with these guys that as I type this I am still out with them. So I’ll have to recap when the insanity finally dies down.
Hikari! Wait up! It’s my turn to slap the fish!
NO SLEEP TIL OSAKA.