Extreme Makeover: Garage Edition

Since they're currently between gigs while Paddy's Pub is closed for renovations/fumigation, MagBas has invited the gang to showcase some dream garages.

Dennis: OK, first thing's first, we gotta get rid of that piece of shit car you got in there.

Mac: Just park it outside from now on. Your kid will be old enough to drive soon anyway, right? He'll be bangin' chicks in no time!

Charlie: Could you fit a foldout couch in the back of that wagon?

Frank: What about bunk beds?

Dennis: Pipe down you two! We're here to show these fine folks how to turn their extra space into a dream cave! What do we have first?

Dennis: OK, here we have a classic hot rod heaven garage, complete with vintage gas pumps, glossy linoleum flooring and, what is that ... a pole?

Mac: Stripper pole! Score!

Dee: I really think that's there for support ... you know, so the ceiling doesn't come crashing down.

Frank: Shut up, Deandra.

Dennis: Thank you, Frank. It's clear that it should be brass and swivel at the bottom.

Mac: Don't forget the lotion towel!

Dennis: Right, Mac! There's gotta be a place to hold the towel to wipe off the pole between dancers. I think that's part of the building code.

Charlie: It's all very technical. What's next?

Dennis: What we've got here is a hockey masterpiece. It has a plasma TV scoreboard, pool table and slate flooring that looks like ice.

Frank: Nice digs!

Dennis: Don't get excited, Frank. It's obviously bullshit. The ceiling is like 900 feet tall. This is some one's big mansion, not Joe the Plumber's man cave. There's a bay window, for Christ's sake!

Mac: Yeah, and they don't even have any Eagles stuff in there. What an asshole. What do we have next?

Mac: Holy shit, dude!

Dennis: Pretty bad ass, right? This is a WWII weapon museum. It's like Patton's personal locker room in there! I think I see Rommel's dick and balls in a jar on the shelf!

Charlie: Dibs on the flame thrower!

Mac: There's two of them, dude. Oooh! We can have a duel!

OK, slackers! Get to work on my garage! After all, I've earned it. Sure, I may not have a sob story or personal journey that unfolds for America to shed a tear over, but I deserve it! Yesterday, the batteries in my remote died, and I had to watch a whole hour of Two and A Half Men! A WHOLE HOUR! I know, right?

Be sure to include all of the following:
a urinal
trash taken to curb by robot
concealed pen to hold midgets that cut my lawn (include air holes this time)
Don't forget the taco bed: