Well shots of tequila and shots of Jack, on top of seven rum and cokes is a little much for anyone and I challenge the most steadfast alcoholic not be in some kind of trouble by the end of the night (on second thought NO I DON'T). So my brilliant buddies decide it's in my best interests to take me home and they dump me off at my front door, ring the bell and run like hell. in my arm to restore my fluids and stop me from puking.
She came home for Easter and everything seemed ok, I mean she and dad got into it over some philosophical debate about his politics and she hit him with some left wing liberal mumbo jumbo, the two just stormed away from each other leaving the rest of us to deal with what was left of supper.
I remember mom trying to mediate but it was like mixing oil with water.
She stomped off to her room and he went to his den and the rest of us, well, me and mom sat in silence for the remainder of the evening.
I turned eighteen on February second and so as with all great traditions I decided I would spend the following weekend with my buddies.
As I was saying having a built in scape goat is great but it doesn't save you from yourself and four of your dumbass buddies.I had already changed for bed a T-shirt and pyjama bottoms, might as well be comfortable when I blowing shit up. There are also slits that travel down her left hip that expose her flesh; it gives the illusion that she is not wearing any underwear.