'Sup dude. Hope you don't mind that I let myself in, but when all of your windows are broken and one of your bedroom walls is in pieces on the side lawn, that's kind of an open invitation, am I right? Anyway, to make up for those two bottles of Jameson I drank last night I went ahead and picked you up a small coffee from McDonald's. Catch! Whoa. Damn. Sorry, dude. I coulda sworn that lid was on tighter. But I guess if I partied as hearty as you did last night I'd also remain completely motionless when something was thrown at my face.
Heh. I can tell from how red and scabby your ugly mug is getting that you probably don't remember a thing from last night after your old buddy Derek dared you to chug that bottle of benzene. Well I can't think of a better way to ring in 2009 than to sit back and--actually you probably shouldn't move because I don't think your leg's supposed to bend that way. Lemme just put out that laundry fire you've got going in the corner there and then I'll fill you in on why your New Year's Eve party will go down in history as the day when man finally ignored the wishes of his body and the police to get more fucked up than Chris Farley ever even dreamed of.
So it was about the time we all thought you went blind that your ex-girlfriend showed up. Yeah, I can tell by your pained, shallow breathing that you know which ex I'm talking about: Julie. It was about 8:15 and she was pissed off, but also pretty hot. You know that I always had a thing for her, right? I figured it'd be okay if we made out, and also Julie really wanted to piss you off so I went into the bathroom to see if it was cool with you.
I guess you were trying to make me laugh because you had ripped all of your clothes off and were wearing the shower curtain like a cape and you wouldn't stop screaming. I think you were trying to be a Dracula guy or something because you had fake blood streaming out of your mouth and it was funny as hell. Then me and Julie had sex on the toilet seat right in front of you as you tore up most of your fingernails pretty bad trying to rip plumbling fixtures off the wall. I didn't think the sink would give but then again I was pretty drunk.
So what the fuck, bro--I get laid and I don't even get a high five? Put 'em up! Yeah fine I guess I'll take a raincheck on that high five, dick. But lemme tell you that you got your share last night, too, hahahaha! Damn man, your eyes have been rolled back in your head so long it's like you don't even believe me. That party last night was like the HQ for large lady love if you get my drift. Me and Bryan--yeah he's a pretty big dickhead but he's cool so whatever--we thought it would be hilarious to throw you in a closet with the biggest hogs in the room and tell you it was that gay biology major you constantly have a big-ass boner for. Dude, we found two girls that were pushing 300 and after we yanked each one them out of there me and Bryan were like, "Oh man, you just felt up Lisa!" and you didn't even get it. And later on was worse because I don't know how much you gotta smoke before your dog's dick looks like Lisa Hartman's face but I don't ever want to get that fucked up. Bryan bet me 20 bucks that you wouldn't do it but he doesn't know I can talk you into anything, right man? If I were you I'd be brushing my teeth until February.
This libtard terminator keeps asking for guns that don't exist and I may have to close early out of frustration.
Editor's Note: Due to a freak power outage, this obituary of Barbara Bush was written without the benefit of research. In order to pay our respects to this great woman in a timely fashion, we have decided to post this piece as-is. We hope you forgive any errors on our part.
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