Episode 2304 – Kid AG and Wally get on the mics and yap about the resurgence of wild, untamed pubes spilling out of bikinis—old-school nasty is back, and they're equal parts horrified and "whatever, I'll deal if I'm down there." Wally drops a voicemail bomb from weeks ago where he was raging "don't trust these lying sacks of shit women," setting the stage for him to unleash the main event: he's balls-deep into his ex's bestie—a 110-pound soaking-wet blonde smoke show with killer tits, blue eyes, and three years of dick drought until he wrecked her so hard she limped funny at Thanksgiving dinner. The saga starts with drunken late-night 4-8 hour phone marathons, guilt-fueled confessions to the ex (who melts down screaming about getting back together in 6-12 months—bitch, you cheated and went bonkers!), epic first fucks including finger-banging, manhandling her tiny frame, and Christmas day-drunk whipped-cream corn-out-of-the-asshole fuckfests. Now she's pumping brakes hard because he's still technically ball and chained untill March, ghosting texts after he sends her a Sydney Sweeney doggy-costume cunty-rubbing clip ("you're driving me crazy"), and he's refusing the friend zone Kid shares parallel post-breakup wisdom—go 1-2 years single, fuck around, no ties. Wally explains his summer with Hat Trick (wanting more than he could give with kid schedules and rust-bucket truck life). They pivot to ex-drama concerns (mental illness, pre-menopause family curse, hiding shit from the show because "don't ever talk about me"), then rag on brainwashed politics, skyrocketing prices, currency collapse doom, ICE raids in Minnesota, Somalis/Mexicans and billionaire pedos. Surprise! They call G-Dub (now with fiber internet). Kid does his usual round of roasting trannies, retards making a comeback, face shootings, ICE puns, Trump stroke rumors, Virgin Islands oil jokes, 90 inches of snow, and Yogurt Yeti-inspired butthole toppings. They wrap up with blow-up doll regrets (no holes!), Eiffel tower pics, and promises to link up more. Classic Goin' Deep: sloppy hookups, ex meltdowns, racist riffs, and degenerate crew vibes. It's the usual nonsense. What the fuck else do you expect from these cards.
