Journalists arriving in the Olympic city of Sochi, Russia have been encountering some serious inconveniences: unfinished hotels, inhospitable toilets, and strange signs posted on doors and walls. These suffering reporters have thankfully been tweeting their ordeal out to the world for our enjoyment.
1 and 11? That hotel isn't called The Washington Redskins is it?
The thought of pooping while another person is pooping close enough to bump legs is make me want to puke into both sinks at the same time.
I heard Al Roker make a joke about Sochi toilet fishing so you know this is funny. Is that Philip Seymour Hoffman in the last one? Too soon?
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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