The Anabolic Halo Night

by Kevin Howell

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Before I start this, allow me to make this clear: when I drink, I become one of the most belligerent, unnecessary drunks on the face of this Earth. I have some of the most fucked up drunk stories of anyone I have met in my lifetime. If you do not believe anything that I write. Feel free to e-mail me at khowell51091@troy.edu. I will be more than happy to line you up with one of the people that were present at the time this occurred to clear up any doubts you may have.

No person should EVER do what I did in the following story, when it gets to the point involving Anabolic Halo…you’ll see.

It started out as a normal enough night. Myself and a buddy, Dan, were following our normal Friday night regime. Which mainly consisted of sitting at my place, pounding beers as we awaited the start of the party. This night, however, accompanying the beer was one of my worst enemies—Vodka. Any clear liquor in combination with myself, ultimately leads to me doing something completely absurd. After the beer was gone, we were both decently shitfaced. The obvious decision ahead of us was to immediately start in on the bottle of vodka, to ensure that we were both as drunk as possible upon our arrival to the party. We arrived at the party and immediately took turns chugging what remained of the vodka before making our entrance. My last clear memory for the next few hours would be walking into the party.

I come out of my blackout as I am yelling in the face of some GDI kid. Dan is yelling at his friend about fucking his mother, or something of the like. I stop momentarily to gather my now rehabilitated senses to assess the situation. I have lost my jacket, it is now pouring down rain, there is no one else at the party but myself, Dan, and the two losers we are now repeatedly ravaging with insults; we essentially were making them look like bitches. Then it escalated slightly:

Bitch-Boy 1″ You motherfuckers wanna go to the woods?”
Bitch-Boy 2″Yeah let’s take this outside.”
Kevin” You guys are fucking pussies, you won’t do SHIT!”
Dan”OUTSIDE? WE ARE RIGHT FUCKING HERE!! FUUUCK!!”

At this point I should note that Dan is about 6′3 200lbs, and on an average weekend is an entity of pure drunken vehemence. His voice does not drop below anything short of “ear-piercing.” Anytime we drink together a long, vile, argument always eventuates.

These guys decide it is in their best interest to not continue this altercation with us, apologize for whatever the fuck we were arguing about, and ask us for a ride, due to the fact that they walked to the party and it is now raining cats and dogs. We agree to this for some odd reason, and walk to Dan’s car. After I ponder for a moment, I decide I am the Mario Andretti of drunk driving. If I am not blacked out drunk, I’m more than good enough to drive. Seeing as Dan had recently gotten a DUI, he agreed with my logic and had no remonstrations to my request to drive.

We drove for about a total of 10 seconds before I slammed into the curb and the passenger-side front tire blew out. Note that mine and Dan’s drunken rationale totally eliminated this possibility. We realized this was the cause when we went back for the car the next day and the rim had about a four inch section of it pushed inwards towards the center of the rim. In belligerent drunk mode, hitting a curb and blowing out a tire can result in this:

Kevin”What the fuck just happened!”
Dan” MY TIRE! STOP THE FUCKING CAR!”
Kevin”NO! It’s good.”
Dan”SOMEBODY PUT BOTTLES UNDER MY TIRES! FUUUUUCKKKKKKK!”

I stop the car and Dan confirms the tire is, indeed, flat.

Kevin”Dude that had to be what happened. I couldn’t have fucking hit anything. I would have noticed.”
Dan”FUCK YOU!”
Kevin” FUCK YOU! YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT! YOUR MOTHER IS A WHORE!”
Dan”I TRIED TO FUCK YOUR MOTHER BUT IT’S HARD TO KEEP ASHES WET!”(Yes, my mother is dead and was cremated. Seriously.)
Kevin”FUCK YOU! I’m calling my roommates.
Bitch-Boy 1″Dude, you guys are fucked up. We’re walking from here.”
Dan”FUCK YOU!”

They got out of the car and took off walking.

I call one of my roommates, Adam, tell him our location, and ask him to come pick us up. He arrived shortly, and took us back to my house where there are people partying. We get there, go inside, and I discover my other roommate, Ben, who will be referred to as ‘James’ for the rest of this recounting for reasons not to be named; a few people I do know, and a a few people I do not. People I don’t know when I’m drunk equals someone for me to guilt-freely harass, degrade, and barrage with insults, as well ridiculous demands. This is how I announced my arrival:

Kevin”GET NAKED BITCHES!”
Dan”WHORES!”

This really offended this one whore, whom I will talk about later. She proceeds to start freaking out on Dan, in true trailer trash whore fashion. She runs at him and starts pounding on his chest and screaming about how much she fucking hates him already. This bores me so I look for something to do to entertain myself.

I see some guy I don’t know sitting on the couch in our den. I approach him and initiate this conversation:

Kevin”Quit nursing that beer. Chug it right now, pussy.
Pansy”No way dude, I’m not doing it.”
Kevin”Motherfucker if you do not chug that beer right fucking now I am going to put my dick in your face until you do.”
Pansy”Chill out man. No.”

I yank down my pants and pose in Captain Morgan style with one leg on the arm of the couch, and lean forward so my penis was directly in his face. He chugs his beer. I am currently satisfied with this environment. I pull my pants up, and turn around, surveying my surrounding. I see another guy I don’t know eating a Nutty Bar, which with my unparalleled drunken logic abilities, I immediately deduced was my roommate James’. I yell:

Kevin”YOU SNEAKY SON OF A WHORE! YOU BETTER SARAN WRAP THAT MOTHERFUCKER AND PUT IT BACK IN THE BOX—NOW!”
Pansy2″Dude, what is your problem? Just calm down.”
Kevin”NO! I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS! NOW!”
Pansy2″You’re not that hardcore man.”
Kevin”MOTHERFUCKER! I WILL SHOW YOU HARDCORE!”

I walk to the refrigerator, and snatch this big container of James’ post-workout supplement, Anabolic Halo, off of the top of it. If you are not familiar with what Anabolic Halo is, it is described by their website as having: “75 cutting edge ingredients, 6 critical elements, and 3 cryogenic technologies that will synergistically force your freakiest gains ever.” Again, nobody should EVER, do what I did next.

I walk past Pansy2 and dumped out a pretty decent pile of this horrible creation onto the table in our living room, where 5 people were playing some drinking game. Dan grabs a handful out of powder out of the container, and prepares to throw it at some bitch playing the drinking game. I do not no what compelled me to do this, but I immediately snort all of what is in Dan’s hand, then start snorting the pile I had just dumped out on the table. I then proceeded to begin sequentially chugging the beers of the people sitting at the table. I was halfway through beer number 4 when I realized my head was about to explode. I reeled for a second before I began projectile vomiting all on the center of the table, cards and everything.

From what I’m told, the expression on my face remained calm. Kind of irrelevant I know, but I thought it was funny.

I regain my composure momentarily. Long enough at least to yell: “THAT’S HARDCORE! FUCK YOU!”

I then literally ran to the bathroom and proceeded to hug the toilet and completely empty everything in my stomach, while dry heaving in between trying to expel the rest of the Anabolic Halo from my membrane with repetitive nose blowing, the whore who had previously attacked Dan earlier in the night walks into my bathroom. I stand up and say:

I turn around and she just stands there and watches me piss. I finish she locks the door, snatches her pants down, and immediately begins pissing after telling me not to leave. I take a knee and extend the toilet paper to her, as the true gentleman that I obviously am. She finishes, stands up, pushes me against the wall, and begins violently making out with me.

It may or may not have been the single most erotic experience of my life. More than likely, not. Sadly enough, I did not manage to fuck this whore. But oh well, I always make up for missed opportunities.

That’s the last story worthy memory for that night. If you want more, comment.

Spring Break 2010

by Kevin Howell

Spring Break 2010, a week during which one of myself and Dan’s most epic tales to date transpired. Due to not remembering a vast majority of events that went on throughout the week, I feel it necessary to only recount our most prodigious day that I remember most of, which happened to be Tuesday.

The day begins:

I awaken on a couch at Fat James’ beach house and survey my surroundings, seeing as I have no recollection of arriving there the night before. I consult with Wender, wake up David James, and demand we go to find Dan. I then eat a corndog and chug two beers before heading out, at this point it is approximately 9:00 a.m.

We arrive at the Days Inn to find Dan napping in the corner of the room a few buddies of ours had rented. He apparently had pissed himself in one of the beds and been shunned to the corner at some point in the night. After Dan had collected himself we struck out on a mission to get breakfast. Today, our salubrious choice of food couldn’t have possibly been worse—Mexican. In addition to the food, Dan’s breakfast consisted of two margaritas; I knew where this day was heading already.

After ‘breakfast,’ our next stop was indubitable: the liquor store. Dan comes out of the liquor store with a pint of the cheapest vodka available, a 30-pack of Natural Light, and yet another margarita, this one being about twice the size of the previous two. We then return to the Days Inn to rejoin our other buddies, who will remain unnamed due to the fact that they are actually respectable members of society. As we wait on them to get back from eating Dan decides I should chug the entire pint of vodka.

It is now 10:00 a.m.

I have absolutely no reluctance and immediately tip the bottle up. After about a shot, I realize this was not a good idea. I lower the bottle of vodka and say:

“Dude, I think that was a bad move.”
Dan “Pussy! Finish that shit!”
Kevin “No man, I think I’m about to lose it.”

I should note I have only thrown up a handful of times in all of my experiences with alcohol. I don’t know if it was the amount I had drank the night before, the Mexican food, the vodka before noon or a combination of all three that caused it, but I immediately started hurling over the railing of the second floor.

After about the third heave of the orange colored phenomenon that had previously been residing in my stomach, I noticed a girl on the first floor laughing at my misfortune.

Kevin “DON’T LOOK AT ME!”
Heave number 4.

The rude bitch goes to her room and gathers her other strumpet comrades.

Heave number 5.
Kevin “THIS NEVER HAPPENED!”
Heave number 6.

My stomach, now empty, decides to stop humiliating me and allows me to recompose myself. Fully disgraced that I have already had an audience of 5 women watching me vomit up something the likes of which I’ve never seen before noon on a Tuesday, I decide we should meet up with our friends and continue what we started. We arrive at their room and I demolish the remaining pint of vodka within the next 5 minutes while Dan annihilates the rest of his massive margarita.

Our next several hours consisted of screaming obscenities at people from the second floor balcony of the Days Inn while working on the 30-pack. I can’t really discern any specific conversations because I was nearly blacked out drunk, but we were screaming things along the lines of:

“GUIDOS! LOOK UP HERE YOU PUSSIES! GET BACK TO THE SHORE!”

“HEY! WHERE ARE YOU FROM? NO ONE CARES! SHOW YOUR BOOBS!”

“BLONDE HAIR! STOP HANGING OUT WITH FATTIES SO YOU GET ALL THE ATTENTION! YOU SELFISH BITCH! BIG GIRLS NEED LOVE TOO!”

To a guy dragging a cross down the beach telling people they were condemned to hell:

“JESUS DIDN’T HAVE WHEELS YOU FUCKING HYPOCRITE! HOW DARE YOU DENIGRATE THE GOOD LORD LIKE THIS!”

We then decide to strike out for the beach after meeting back up with Fat James and KO at Hooter’s. As we are walking toward the beach access, Dan starts projectile vomiting half-way through his beer. This is basically how it went down:

Heave number 1.

Dan “WHORES!” To all the people on the outside deck of Hooter’s.

Heave number 2. Resumes chugging his beer.

Heave number 3.

Dan “FUCK EVERYONE! AAHHHH!” Resumes chugging beer.

Heave number 4.

Dan “WHEN WILL IT END! FUUUUCK!” Finishes beer.

While this was happening I was practically awestruck and could do nothing but laugh and try to finish my beer, as I felt it was only just if Dan was finishing his beer AS he was throwing up.

Rather than continuing onto the beach with Fat James and KO, Dan and I strike off across the street to the Chevron to buy cigarettes. While Dan is in the store, I accost a homeless man.

Kevin “Homeless man! Do you have some DRUGS!”
HomelessMan “Man, I got these dime sacks, man.
Kevin “Let me see that shit NOW!” I then look at what this homeless man is trying to sell me.
Kevin “Homeless man, do NOT insult my motherfucking intelligence because I am drunk. These are obviously only worth $5.”
HomelessMan “It ain’t like that man, not at all. I could do $8.
Kevin “Drugs aren’t my thing, I was just curious if you were holding. Let me hit that fucking beer bro.”

I then proceeded, after thoroughly wiping the mouth of the bottle and trying not to touch it to my lips for fear of AIDS, Herpes, etc; to down this homeless man’s entire 32 oz King Cobra Malt Liquor despite his protests.

Dan approaches me and my homeless compatriot with three 32oz Natural Lights, giving us each one. I let the homeless man know the respect he has gained by doing nothing as I chugged his beer:

Kevin “Homeless man, you are essentially now my best fucking friend. You are our BOY! You’re partying with us tonight.”
HomelessMan “Hell yeah man, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Times are tough.”

I hand Dan my 32 oz Natty and we set off across the road to get back to the beach. Before we even make it half-way across the street, we are stopped by two policemen who had been hanging out in the parking lot next to the store.

Cop1 “What the hell do you guys think you’re doing? You can’t have those beers open out here, at least put them in a bag.”

HomelessMan makes a mad dash for the beach. The cops just blow it off.

Dan “Sorry man, I didn’t know.” Dumps out both beers and throws them in the trashcan next to the port-a-potties.

The cops decide that is sufficient enough punishment and let us carry on our way. We finally get to the beach and see HomelessMan lurking at the bottom of the dune-walkover, conversing with one of his equally home-lacking affiliates. I immediately decide he has royally fucked up.

Kevin “HOMELESS MAN! WHAT THE FUCK BRO? We take you under our wing and you desert us like this? Nah, fuck that, give me that fucking beer.”
HomelessMan “Man don’t do me like that, it’s all I got.”
Dan “FUCK YOU! I bought you that beer you fucking bum, and then you just leave us like that.
Kevin “You could have had a great night, but you ruined it. I thought you were our fucking boy.”

I take his beer and chug the entire thing except for about a mouthful.

Kevin “Have fun with that, asshole.”

We walk away.

Note: My only story-worthy memory in between our encounter with HomelessMan and later in the night is exposing myself to some cheerleader from Indiana.

Kevin “Show me your boobs. I am hung like a moose.”
CheerWhore “Show me your dick.”

I whip out my penis and start shaking it at her.

She shows me her breasticles.

Kevin “Now you want to fuck me.”
CheerWhore “It’s not that big.”
Kevin “It’s a grower, not a show-er, BITCH!”

Swing and a miss.

Skipping ahead a couple of hours, this is where the real fun begins.

We arrive at our first bar of the night, Latitudes. Things are going good; I’m content with talking to random sluts and fucking with the plethora of losers milling around the place for the moment. I decide that I’m a tad drunker than I realized after I got out onto the back deck of the place.

I smoothly attempt to kick back on a bench that was located by the back rail, the main problem here being that this particular bench was non-existent.

As I fall flat on my ass amidst a massive crowd of people, I see the bouncer immediately begin heading in my direction. Next thing I know, he has me by the collar and is taking me towards the door. Dan appears, seemingly out of nowhere, to propose my vindication to this burly son of a bitch. In all our nights of drunken debauchery I have NEVER saw Dan do what he did next—compose himself.

Dan “Hang on man, it’s cool. He’s with me. I’ll keep an eye on him from now on.”
Bouncer “Alright man. But I swear one more outburst or anything from this guy and he’s gone.”
Dan “I got you man, you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

All I could do was stare in amazement. DAN had just convinced a bouncer not to kick me out of a bar while equally, if not more, drunk than myself.  Dan held true to his promise, momentarily at least. The next thing I knew, Dan was already gone and I was being asked to leave by the same cumbersome individual who had previously attempted to eject me.

In my drunken stupor, I staggered toward the Days Inn. As I crossed the Hooter’s parking lot I saw one of my buddies, Wender, sitting at a table by the window with some girls. I immediately write the Days Inn off and stumble inside. I have virtually no memory after I entered Hooter’s other than the locked door when I was leaving, but Wender recounted to me what went down. He told it to me something like this:

“You walked up to the table and started yelling. Then, the waitress asked you to sit down, so you called her a whore and let out a yell consisting of a string of unintelligible curse words. Kind of like a five year old that didn’t get their way, but drunk and cursing. She then told me to get you out of there before they had to, so you proceeded to try and exit through a locked door. Upon discovering the door was locked, you started screaming again and attacking it until I grabbed you by the shirt, dragged you out of there, and took you back to the bar; where shortly afterward I lost you again.”

After the alcohol in my system had diffused enough for me to make coherent thoughts, I reunite with Dan and we set out in search of more places to fuel our drunken adventure. I can’t remember at all what the name of the second bar we went to was, but I know we were only in there long enough to scream and belittle people for roughly five minutes before we were removed from there as well.

Then came the Red Door Saloon.

We walk in, and I immediately snatch someone’s mixed drink off of the counter and chug it. We then have this conversation with the bartender.

Dan “WHORE! SHOTS!”
Bartender “I need to see you guys’ IDs.”
Kevin “I lost my fucking wallet.”
Dan “SHOTS!”
Bartender “OK…Wait, you have X’s on your hands.
Kevin “Because I lost my fucking wallet you idiot! I lost EVERYTHING! MY ID, DEBIT CARD, EVERYTHING! SHOTS! PLEASE!”
Bartender “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Dan “WHORE! Give me two shots, and I will give him one.”
Bartender “I would guys, but I can’t do that.”
Dan “OK! FUCK! Give me two shots, and I will take them BOTH!”
Kevin “Yeah do that, quit being an uppity bitch.”
Bartender “Hang on just a second, OK?”

We assume this is good news, myself and Dan celebrate with a much called for fist bump

Bartender returns:

“Yeah, you guys better get the fuck out of here. Like, now.”

We strike out in search of somewhere that provides alcohol that can handle our boisterous hilarity. Along the way, we try to yank open the locked doors of a bar because we see people inside. We both snatch the doors and yell a couple times before moving on.

We found out the next day that this “bar” was some type of Christian missionary place.

Oops.

After winding up in several shady places, none of which proved to be successful, we find ourselves at an all-night Pizza Hut/Taco Bell amongst a formidable crowd of fellow Spring-Breakers. While Dan is screaming at everyone I tap a fat girl with what could only be described as “pubic-hair” hair on the shoulder.

Kevin “Excuse me. You are fat.”
PubeHead “Fuck you!” Turns back around.
Kevin “I’m kidding, where are you from?”
PubeHead “Michigan.”
Kevin “Correction, you are a fat guido. Nobody loves you. Your parents don’t even love you. I doubt Jesus even loves you.”

She gives me a look of pure disgust before telling me to fuck myself and turning back around. I notice a decent crowd of people who are cracking up after observing this scenario; so I make the most deranged face I can before making a “gun” with my index, middle finger and thumb and pretending to blast PubeHead in the back of the cranium.

By this point, Dan has worked his way to the front of the line and is screaming:

“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PIZZA! WHERE THE FUCK IS IT YOU WHORE!”

I’m not even sure he had ordered. The woman behind the counter kindly tells us to get the fuck out before she calls the police. We happily oblige.

Yep, I’m going to hell.

New Year’s Eve 2009

by BulleitMike

So, I have been known to really enjoy bourbon.  Whiskey is my favorite poison but it gets me into trouble sometimes… I currently live in Raleigh, NC and last night I decided to do pre-bar-hopping-drinking with a bottle of Bulliet (the stuff is good!).  Because I didn’t want to risk drinking and driving and to avoid trying to hunt down a cab with all the other partiers, my girl and I got a sweet hotel room in the center of downtown.  We got to the hotel at around 9pm and we started taking shots of bourbon as we got ready to hit the streets… At around 10pm, we were already feeling quite buzzed so we decided to get some burgers at the lobby.  Man, those burgers were amazing!  After dinner we felt that we were ready to do some serious boozing and that we would probably not get too sick.  We headed back to the room where we nearly finished the bottle.  I got my drinking hat on and the adventure began.  We cruised around for a little bit until we finally set up shop in a bar a few blocks from the hotel.  We took more shots and rang in the new year being trashed.  In all the craziness, I ran into one of my oldest friends who apparently has thing for Jager.  We took shots of that poison and talked for a few minutes.  That’s all I remember…  I woke up the next morning in my niece’s bunk bed.

“What happened???”, “Where am I??”, “Why do I have scrapes on both my knees?”, “Why does my elbow look like someone took a power sander to it??” and of course “Where is Isha??”  I reach for my phone and see dozens of missed calls mostly from Isha who waited for me to return from the bathroom, which I never did.  When I called her, she answered crying asking where the **** I was.

I put on my soaking wet jeans, covered in mud and asked my brother-in-law to give me a ride to the hotel.  I had my girl’s ID and bank card with me because she didn’t want to carry a purse so I was pleassantly surprised to see she had made it back to the room.  She was so drunk that she forgot where the hotel was and a nice couple helped her find her way back to the room.  When I got there, she was in the process of calling hospitals to see if I had been in an accident.

Apparently, I forgot that I was out with my girl and left her at the bar.  I also forgot that we had a room at the hotel.  I found a taxi company card in my wallet and my phone showed a call made to them at around 3am which suggest that I took a cab home to my place.  When I got there, I had no keys.  I vaguely remember trying to break into my apartment, unsuccessfully, and running to my sister’s house in the rain wearing dress shoes.  I must have wiped out running which is the only way I can explain the scrapes and what I have come to self-diagnose as a dislocated shoulder…

It is now 1:15 AM and I have been in the comfort of my bed for almost sixteen hours… Last night was a crazy night.  Lost my camera, my hat and a little bit confidence.  Guess I lucked out because it could have been a lot worse. Happy New Year!!!

Girl: Apparently I beat up an Italian chick last night

by passout-princess

So, I am sure we have all had our fair share of waking up and not being able to connect those extremely blurry black dots. Well, I woke up and was told that I got into a fight with an Italian girl who very nicely complemented at the ladies and said I was beautiful, next thing i jumped her and said “why u being sarcastic?” and got into a brawl. So i walk out after being thrown around, and after throwing some Italian around (as you do, on a day2day basis), I walk out and accuse a man of looking like an ex and tried to burn a stick of Marlboro reds on his face. With his neck all clawed by me and face bruised after I threw him a punch, he leaves the club without even throwing a single insult at me.

I think I brought “drunk” to a whole new level for us ladies. Very unlady like and very unAustralian of me to do so. The best part is I dont remember a single thing, I dont remember being there, and neither do I remember seing anyone that I saw, let alone bashing up someone. Next week, was Haloween, and everyone I saw said, “hows the Italian girl?”

Happy New Year: The drunkard’s holiday

by peepants

Well, it’s everyone’s holiday but everyone almost is drinking and or drunk.

They join us, this day.

How did the NYE celebration go for you? Tell me about it here.

I have some beer I snagged from the party–I was tipsy. I grabbed chicken, empanadas and beer. I brought Heineken pony keg and left it there–it’s a guy’s beer. I liked the commercial of everyone’s home bar. It was nice. I too would like to have a boxcar on my vast property and turn it into a bar.

Anyways, have a good NY and post your stories of escapades! I think I laughed for four hours at my brother’s party.

I was grateful for that.

Always Sunny + Pickles + Magic Hat = Awesome

by murfylee

I am ashamed how long it took me to correctly type that title.

So, I love Always Sunny in Philly. It’s on, I’ve had 8(ish?) beers, and I feel prepared to rock your fucking faces off with this tale of disgusting rediculousness.

as told to me by a co-worker, and I just want to state, I am not Sarah, so quit asking:

Tim has been dating Sarah for a few weeks, nothing too serious and she won’t give it up, but he’s really into her, so he’s sticking with it. They’re at dinner one night, and she says, “I think tonight we should seal the deal” (probably phrased it differently, but that’s what I was told). Tim’s super excited, and on the ride home, Sarah says shit like, “I hope you’re into trying new things, I hope you like experimenting, etc.”. Tim’s thinking FUCKING SWEEEEEET!

They get back to her house, and they’re making out when she pauses, and reaches under her bed, and pulls out a blue tarp. He thinks, “fuck yes this is awesome, I got a freak!”. He thinks nothing of it, clothes come off, and when they’re both naked, she reaches over to her bedside table and pulls out a loooooong string of anal beads.

Tim looks at her in amazement, and says, “Sarah, I cannot believe you’re into anal! That’s awesome!”, to which she replys, “ummmmmm these are for you.”

Whoa. Tim’s head explodes. She SOMEHOW calms him down, and convinces him to put these anal beads  up his ass. Whatevs, they’re up there, he just starts smashing that shit like an Idaho potato.

At the height of passion, Sarah reaches around and rips that shit out like she’s starting a weedwacker. PPPPPFFFFFTTTTTT! He shits evvvvvvverywhere (which is where the blue tarp comes in). He is in pure shock, and Sarah leans over and says, “I want you to fuck me in your shit.”

Tim does, and leaves, and hasn’t seen her since.

I feel like a horrible person for a couple reasons:

1) I always tell this story to people I don’t know, and I think it’s funny, but I’m sure it just alienates them.

2) Who the fuck does that?

3) My best friend gave me a blue tarp for my birthday, and it somehow wound up under my bed, and I still can’t convince people I’m not Sarah.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed the story. I love to tell it. If you ever hear it, I probably told that person the Blue Tarp story. Sorry. It’s gross. Always Sunny is the best show ever.

Hoooooraaaaaay Magic Hat!

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