I don’t think I can ever show my face at a Woodbridge party ever again. If you meet a guy who’s treating his whiskey bottle like a water tap, don’t take consecutive shots of it. Bad things will swiftly follow, even if you’re not in the right mind to remember it all. So now I’m in the process of strapping a ball and chain to my ankle to prevent me from ever leaving city limits.
Ever have a texting match with your friend that no-one else will find funny? Of course you have. Here is the most recent text exchange between me and my roommate
Gonad Ben. You see, at the moment of writing this post, my cheek is dry, itchy and red. Gonad Ben let me use his special ointment that he had to use when he got a tattoo.
Me: Hey ben, may i use your ointment again?
Ben: Yeah, did it help any?
Me: Seemed to, not ridiculously itchy anymore.
Ben: That’s good. Apply gereously.
Me:…Why can’t you use small words? pretentious ass.
Me: Well now you’re not pretentious anymore, you just FUCKING SUCK AT TYPING!
Ben: I’m driving. FUCK YOU ASS
Ben: NO CREAM FOR YOU!
Me: NOW YOU’RE BEING A TERRIBLE DRIVER WHO DOESN’T KEEP HIS EYES ON THE ROAD!
Ben: Dying now.
Me: And i will use your cream, and probably shit on your bed too.
So much love.