Making the DJ immediately regret taking requests. TFM.

Hahaha DJ’s! That reminds me of the time I was at a water park with my BOYS. We had just finished our last final [intro to geography WATTUP] and synchronized the handing-in of our tests because we are so damn fraternal. We jetted to my pap’s Frathoe in our 4 inch inseam trunks and starting ripping shots like they were hymens. My fat bud Chester, who we call chubs, took the wheel because of his exceptionally high alcohol tolerance. His tolerance:excellence::porch monkeys:failure. Started blasting some 90′s rock and off we went, living the dream. We arrived at Six Flags Hurricane Harbor a few short days later, ready to slip n’ slide! Get wet n’ wild! So we all go wait in line for the biggest slide, I think it was called anaconda, like I call my dong!!! [Just kidding, I call it excalibur because I DON’T PULL OUT!] Anyway, after about 30 minutes of waiting we reach the summit. All that stood between us and 10 seconds of exhilaration were four shithead latino kids whose alcoholic parents were about to orphan them. Once they finally shot down the chute, which was kind of symbolic as the crap was being flushed out of society, chubs flew down in record-breaking time. I was up next, but received a phone call from on my new iPhone 4s fitted in a waterproof “Ziploc bag” case. The call ended up being from the hospital, turns out my dad was a tad upset that his Frathoe was gone and sent my mom there again.