BFF with K-Fed
At Lucky Strike on Monday night, he found himself bowling side-by-side with everyone’s favorite Britney-banging, white trash “celebrity”, whose posse (“two big black bodyguards”) took up the lane next to my friend.
My friend, who I’m calling KFF for K-Fed Forever, said they bowled for several hours and ended up talking to K-Fed, who was in town for some WWE event at the Verizon Center I couldn’t care enough about to research for you. Look it up yourself if you care.
K-Fed, who apparently is actually called that by his friends, was a “a scrawny, skinny dude,” KFF said. Throughout the night, several young women gushed over him and took pictures with him. K-Fed even bought KFF and his friends some Patron tequila shots.
Ever the opportunist, KFF went up to the Lucky Strike bar, ordered a round of beers, and told the bartender, “Put it on K-Fed’s tab!” The bartender complied.
At one point, KFF found himself pissing in the urinal next to K-Fed (he wouldn’t say who violated MAN COMMANDMENT NUMBER ONE and sidled up next to who), but that, while urinating, he violated MAN COMMANDMENT NUMBER TWO and asked him, “So, do the paparazzi try to take pictures of your package when you’re taking a leak?”
“Yeah,” K-Fed replied. “Happens all the time.”
“Well,” KFF said, “you don’t have to worry about me.”
On his way out of the john, KFF turned back to K-Fed and said, “Thanks for the beers!” and took off.