Sean Combs aka the gay guy on the down low guy you know from church is not allowed to attend practices anymore at his son’s UCLA football game or visit the G8 summit on his private jet like the other attendees. Combs got into an altercation for no good reason with a strength and conditioning coach this Spring after one of the team practices where Combs helicopters like a dad without a day job. Combs’ son is a redshirt ninth year junior who is a four foot eleven tight end. You have to admire him for trying, but you also have kind of talk shit about him for trying. That movie Rudy is pretty good except I think his dad was Ned Beatty in a steel mill and not a truck stop nancy with a wave job. It’s a real lose lose situation for the kid. Until he graduates college and moves from that dorm into Rihanna’s pussy. Rent is crazy.
UCLA’s morally corrupt ex coach Rick Neuheisel, who offered Diddy’s son Justin Combs his football scholarship, says he mostly did it because of who his father is and not because he was a 2 star recruit and 5 foot 7 defensive back and paralyzation liability:
“When you’re weighing the assets of what a youngster can do for your program, there’s no question [being Diddy’s son] had something to do with it for me… Justin is a great kid. His problem was his size. He’s not big enough to be a dominant player. Could he be productive? Yes. The fact his father was an influential guy played into my decision to go ahead and offer him [a scholarship.]“
Neuheisel has the inside scoop on the Diddy kettle bell attack because he helped secure Bentleys for half the team and they owe him a few bones for his shitty show on the sinking ship of SiriusXM. Apparently Justin Combs was working out at the team facility with Diddy’s personal trainer instead of the UCLA staff and looked a little out of shape because celebrity personal trainers get paid to talk pseudo science and secure you party drugs not whip you into shape to do battle with illiterate swamp monsters with no future. The Justin Combs thing never passed the smell test. Being born rich is a curse until your remember the hot tub parties. Kudos for trying. Now back to the guesthouse. They’re looking for guys at Grambling. See you on the links.
Sean Combs was arrested at UCLA where his son plays football and doesn’t go to class for assaulting a member of the team’s coaching staff with a kettle bell in the weight room. Diddy apparently felt the coach wasn’t showing his son proper respect at Spring practice where Diddy routinely hovers because nothing helps a team out more than having parents helicoptering around practices. This poses a number of questions such as what was he doing in the weight room and how is he able to lift a kettle bell and was this a misprint and he was actually wielding a tea kettle of piping hot toddies. Combs spent several hours in jail before posting bail and no doubt posing for several photos with the arresting officers.
Hitting members of the coaching staff with kettle bells isn’t the best way to ingratiate your kid to the coaching staff. They might even remember it when sending him on a route up the middle. How is this 5’7, 160 lb kid a football player at a Division 1 college? Combs probably bought the gym let him do what he likes. This is the latest in a string of violent behavior on the part of Combs. When I was a kid we fought like men. Now it’s kettle bell assault after kettle bell assault. Wear a vest. These schools aren’t safe anymore. Go Bruins.
Diddy and Drake reportedly made fake amends over their fake beef at Mel’s Diner which serves only real cheese. Their feud drew minor attention because its subjects were a self-aggrandizing businessman and the star of Canadian Saved By The Bell overdubbed in French. Diddy had reportedly punched Drake at a nightclub in Miami a few months back over some rights to some shit ball song people get AIDS to. These reports were highly disputed since it was a publicity stunt and Diddy’s fists are the size of Corn Nuts. The two are now reportedly in talks to collaborate on an as of yet undecided product which you’ll be able to pick up at Ross along with some lint rollers and a Bethenny Frankel autographed rib bone scratcher.
Rap feuds are the oldest trick in the book and it’s all fake. You’ll notice most of the time the two guys are on the same record label. It works. Of course Diddy did have Tupac murdered but he was literally asking for it and that was a long time ago when artists cared about their work. Nothing’s real anymore. How’s my ass taste?
Sean Combs has six children with three different women yet has never married, solidifying his status as a role model for deadbeat dads who don’t understand he’s paying for private school and there’s more to life than the Elephant Bar. Combs newest girlfriend is a model he met while casting his latest fragrance ad which worked out well because he didn’t have to leave the building. Just print your test results on the back of your head shot and make sure they’re two weeks current. Combs explains that he’s not yet ready for the commitment of marriage unlike having six children which requires cancelling a few orgies when the water breaks:
“I don’t want to be going to courts and having somebody be like interfere in my relationships… I will give a contract. I will commit to a contract. A love contract.”
That’s when you get slapped in the face if your body guards aren’t within earshot. Included in Combs’ Love Contract is a non-disclosure agreement and a DNA testing kit. You’re going to need it. Turns out the both of you will fuck anything with a foreign accent. There’s plenty of young chicks and straight dudes out there. Keep a copy in your clutch and a tablet under your tongue. Just say it’s yours.
Sean “Diddy” Combs made a commercial for his new cologne featuring his real life girlfriend’s exposed pierced tits and him hate fucking her in a chokehold. I’ve always found him annoying yet this is his best work to date. Considering it’s an ad for a fifty dollar bottle of worcetershire sauce that’s more of an indictment than a compliment. How much does Sting hate you and can you give his kids a PA job? The fragrance is called “3 am” which is roughly how late you’ll be up on Tinder before ordering some bad Chinese and falling asleep in a pool of your own saddened semen while marinating yourself in bad decisions. It’s called the NASDAQ look it up. Dudes who use cologne are hilarious tools. Your chick will pay you to throw it away. Pluck those eyebrows.