Moving Out

Helping a friend move sucks... really bad. You hate every minute of lifting every pound and usually end up sitting down pretending you rolled your ankle and drink some kinda new belgium while watching him work.

Moving this blonde McFag out of our house on the other hand, was one of the greater joys of my life. Lifting every pound was like weight off my shoulders, by the end of the move I had to change my boxers, we literally threw a going away party once he left.

This fucking McFag would sit in his room listening to his tears pitter patter on his carpet on beat to Coldplay over his ex-girlfriend, that was a stripper at the most dilapidated strip club I've ever had the displeasure of walking into, it was called the Bus Stop. The strippers all had meth scars and kids with meth scars. So to say the least his ex-girlfriend was an atrocious looking bitch with meth scars.  They were both addicted to oxycontin and being emo, the kid let his fish die cuz he spent money on OC's instead of a new heater for his tank.
This Aaron Carter looking, Ultimate Frisbee playing faggot just had to go, and we have never been happier.  It was worth him moving in and sucking for a month just to have the satisfaction of him leaving.