SORRY MOM & DAD: Unpaid parking tickets are like herpes

SORRY MOM & DAD: Unpaid parking tickets are like herpes

Not long ago, an acquaintance had a cold sore the size of Saturn festering on her lip for at least two weeks. For more details about how we use your information, see our Privacy Policy. If you are located outside of the U.S., your information may be transferred to, processed and used in the U.S. we finished just in time. Ari: Josh fucking Weinstein!!! In a study released last week—the “first ever global assessment of the prevalence of the herpes virus that causes cold sores”—the World Health Organization has found that two in three people under the age of 50 are infected with herpes. Maybe the fact that the police used to come to my frat parties and allow girls to drive their cop car up and down the hill in exchange for oral satisfaction caused me to underestimate their seriousness.
SORRY MOM & DAD: Unpaid parking tickets are like herpes

Nevertheless, I was screwed worse than a submissive twink who dropped the bar of soap in a county jail shower. I now owed 250-some-odd dollars to remove the boot and avoid my car from getting impounded. -Take Tylenol for pain relief. Not only would he flip out, but he would probably get so mad that he would back out of wiring me the money to pay for the limo I rented to celebrate my birthday in Pittsburgh. It just so happened that my fraternity was the host of the infamous Thirsty Thursday on campus where everyone who was anyone went to live the nights they’ll never remember with the people they’ll never forget. And luckily it was a Thursday. I was wearing sunglasses, a sombrero, a fake moustache and a belly shirt with dancing maracas that read “SOUTH OF THE BORDER.” My strategy was to physically stand out so people would approach me and buy a Jell-O shot.

Instead, I was lying on a basement floor resembling a Mexican bobble-head at a pajama party, wondering how I could raise enough money to get the boot off my car. All of a sudden, one of my coworkers that I waited tables with arrived to see if anyone was still partying. Most likely you are shit head 15 year old because you have a Pantech cell phone and I think you either have to buy those from 711 or be on meth. I mean, what kind of self respecting agency has fake plants in their lobbies? To this day, I often leave work scared to find a boot on my car. Unpaid parking tickets might always be my herpes. They’re something I have and don’t tell people about unless I have sex with them often.

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