Hot + Tube = PARTY!
Pay special attention to the level of alcohol in each picture and note how it gradually depleted over time, thus explaining the scale of last night's debauchery.
The dog that nobody liked. It jumped onto Tim's crotch this morning. It was hilarious.
Bringing the hot and ameretto to the hot tub.
Dave's bedroom decor. This was the bedroom he grew up in and developed his acerbic wit. Really.
Dave's family.
After taking photos of Dave's Pooh poster, somebody told me to take a photo of the carpet. I don't know why.
Mike told me to get him some ice. I was too drunk to do it properly.
There was still Screech in that bottle at the point.
Somehow, somebody saw fit to take multiple pictures of Dan's crotch. I deleted all but one.
posted by Tonka Time @ 2:48 PM
5 Comments:
Yep, that's me rubbing cheeks with Ashy. Don't laugh at it until you try it. It feels nice.
And, indeed, by the end of the night, there was no screech in that bottle.
My face was raw the next day, jerk. However, the love I felt from that experience soothed my wounds.
See? See how it works itself out? That's the magic of cheek rubbing. That's the shit that's emblematic of a life bubble.
I would like to point out that, while I do claim the Winnie the Pooh poster, those bean-bag things were a recent addition.
Furthermore, really, ask yourself: could someone like me really grow up in anything but a bubble with little connection to reality?
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