Anyone who doesn’t agree has serious issues of their own. This is more obvious than a stripper using cash at Nordstroms’ on a Sunday afternoon.
How can anyone not agree after reading the evidence?
Bret suckered Charlie Sheen into helping him make a movie he wrote called A Letter From Death Row.
Imagine for a moment if Michael J. Fox as his Teen Wolf character went around killing sexy housewives with IKEA couch pillows (that’s the experience here). This is also a testament to what you can get done in Hollywood with a significant amount of blow on hand.
Watching this broad get murdered is like biting into a chocolate chip cookie, only to discover that some A’Hole put raisins in them. In this metaphor the chocolate chip cookie is the hot chick in the nightgown in what seems like is going to be an aesthetically pleasing adult film classic, while the crappy raisin is Bret in a ridiculous werewolf costume ruining everything as a pillow murderer.
If you want, start this movie from the beginning and at the same time, stick your arm into a pot of boiling potatoes and see which one you pull out of first (hint, you’ll be shocked at how much the mind can overcome physical pain). I’ve stayed in questionable girls longer than I got through this movie.
Bret Michaels wrote a song for his douchey show, Rock Of Love, called Go That Far.
I am pretty confident that in the video, a girl in the video is giving oral to a carrot. I can’t prove it, but I really think that’s what is happening. You decide.
Listening to the song’s lyrics are basically the same experience as I imagine drinking deer urine at an Icy Hot Stuntaz convention to be.
Please let me introduce myself
I’m gonna get you off like there’s no one else
AND
You like my fancy crib
You dig that big black car
AND
Hey, I’ll show you things you’ve never seen
Touch my backstage pass, ride my limousine
This is like the quotes pulled from someone’s ghettofabulous Myspace page.
Bret Michaels autographs baby’s asses.
I’m pretty sure the baby is poo’ing on the pen. One day you are autographing boobs and catching panties in the air, the next you are autographing baby asses and having oral performed on the carrot that came with your wings at Chilis.
Bret Michaels pretty much invented the duckface.
And for that, he should never be forgiven.
Poison sucked.
Glam metal is fine, we all get the era, but Poison was a God awful band that somehow leaked through our car radio speakers like NoroVirus infecting a cruise ship filled up with all old folks. I’ve heard better sounds scratching the rash I get on my inner thighs when I get anxious.
Those silly bandanas.
Look, your a man. I mean kind of a man. You have money. Why on earth do you need to hide your baldness? Women hide love handles using big shirts or spanx. Why? Because they are girls. Men do NOT hide flaws. Why? Yeah, you know.
What the hell is this picture?
I feel like Bret Michaels is Fabio’s sister, Fabia. I hope he saved the princess by letting her climb from the burning castle using his bandana to hang on to and his abs as a stair case. Bret Michaels: this bro saves lives.
