So this morning Acadia told me I was undependable and a bunch of other things, in an official Gallery email, so I thanked him for taking a giant crap on my chest. Which reminded me of the following two stories I was told by friends in college:
Local News Anchor Has Unusual Pasttime
A friend of a friend was out at a bar one night, I’m not sure I know exactly where so I’ll just lie – it was in central Pennsylvania. She was approached by a man who she recognized as a local news anchor, which piqued her interest. They flirted, etc., one thing led to another or what have you, and he invited her back to a hotel with him. She went, they got undressed, and he laid down on the bed on his back and said “now empty your colon [edited] on my chest.”
She took the Nope Train to Nopeville out of that room and away from there.
Unbelievably enough to us all, another friend in the group had a story about the same topic.
One of Many Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Get Blackout Drunk
Another 2nd degree friend had gone out drinking and gotten totally blackout drunk (not smart for many reasons). She woke up the next morning in some strange man’s bed, didn’t know who he was or have any memory of him. So she decided to leave him a warm package on his chest [edited] before leaving.
We were all so horrified by these stories that it became a super popular sentiment. If somebody was really, well, giving another person $#!t about something, we’d frequently say, “Why don’t you just go ahead and leave me a warm package [edited] on my chest, then, S. Go ahead.”
We even ruined the song Losing My Religion by REM by replacing “losing my religion” with “$#!tting on your chest”. In fact I think we ruined it forever for the aforementioned S. But that’s OK because turns out she’s kind of a jerk anyway. (We’re not friends anymore. LULZ.)
Try singing along with those new words, maybe it will ruin it for you too! You’re welcome, frens.