Rob Corddry Knows You Might Think He’s a Jerk
Rob Corddry arrives at Ye Rustic Inn wearing a Patriots cap, a piece of pink glitter glinting incongruously under his eye. “Oh, it’s from my daughter,” he explains, brushing at his cheek as he slides into the red leather booth. “She’s a prostitute.” A waitress saunters over with a menu that lists mostly wings. “Hey […]
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