Happy Superstar Day

5 thoughts on “Happy Superstar Day

  1. Somebody tell me why:

    My car is in the front yard?

    I’m sleeping with my clothes on?

    Came in through the window last night…

    …and I have a $190 bar tab in my pocket from a place called DEADBEATS!? Evidently, the place is named for its patrons, for I am the proud owner of 112 JELLO SHOTS… and yet.. there doesn’t seem to be any here on the bathroom floor where I still lay, half awake, three-quarters alive, completely alone, and still recovering from that drunken, debaucherous birthday three days prior.

    ONE FUCKING HUNDRED AND FUCKING TWELVE FUCKING JELLO SHOTS!?! Somebody tell me WHO the fuck would allow (encourage?) a manic-depressive, sick-and-twisted simpleton like me, jilted on my birthday and having just recently had the emotional, physical, and automotive shit kicked out of me by an ex buy Jello shots for (what I can only guess would be) the ENTIRE HOUSE THREE TIMES?!

    Evidentally, it was my waitress, because I left her a $50 tip.

    The bitch better have been damned good.

  2. Through the window? Kick ass! B&E on YOUR OWN HOUSE really makes this a trophy birthday. Extra points if you threw a chair through it first, or if it was a transom [?] window. That would be art. It would also be a felony, if you were at the wrong house, but I really don’t want to talk about 1991. Not ANY part of it.

    Ex’s suck. That is WHY God invented jello shots.

    And nachos.

  3. Do you have any idea how many people say “I want you, mojito. I want you, my love” to me from comcast in Simsbury/Wallingford CT (IP: 67.172.0.23)? Counting you, zero, because I assume you’re directing this to Superstar.

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