Never sell a cart load of TP to 30 year olds...

I sent this in as a comment @ Rance's site, and thought it'd also be good for a post here...You never know when you'll get picked by his adminstrative staff, so here goes:

Toliet paper? I'll give you a good toliet paper story...

I was relaxing with a bunch of friends one weekend. R, T, J, H, Ke, B, Ki, J, Captain Morgan, Jack Daniels, and Jim Beam. We spent several hours consoling T.

Poor T had been passed over for a promotion at work. To make matters worse, he had been passed over for the bosses nephew. The nephew wasn't the best worker in the world, and T pretty much had to do the nephew's work in addition to his own.Normal people would suggest sending out resume's, talking to the boss, or just quitting and waiting for them to beg you to come back. We, as you will soon know, are not normal people.

I don't know who came up with the idea. Sometimes it's as though we are nine people working with the same brain. This happens when people are friends for 25+ years I suppose...

Everything was happening at lightening speed. One moment we were sitting around talking, the next we were at the grocery store with carts full of toliet paper. I blame sober sister H, who caves into peer pressure just as easily as she did in Kindygarden, when we talked her into eating a spider...

So there we were, a bunch of just slightly out of their 20's adults running down a street towards the Evil bosses house with a ton of toliet paper. It was a great bonding experience, and a hell of a lot of fun. We had practically covered the guys front yard when we saw the cop car...I would have got away if it wasn't for that damn mail box that came out of nowhere.

The guys, who haven't stayed in as good of shape as us ladies, were just nailed from the start. Most of them didn't even try to run, as they had hurt various parts of their body from running TO the house. It was a sad, sad sight.

I feel sorry for kids today. We soon learned that towns now have what is called a "zero tolerance" policy. Yes we were about to be arrested, and to make matters worse, by a man we had known most of our lives-A man that didn't particulary like us. Ok, he was the little snitch in school, and obviously he chose to make a career out of it. Damn can he run though...

Oh how officer friendly was enjoying this. My brother (B) cracked, "What are you going to do, call our parents?" The thought just horified my altered mind, and I blurted out, "Dude, please don't call my Mom." Nevermind the fact that I am 33 years old and that my parents live 600 miles away. At that precise moment I was catapulted back 17 years.

Off to the local jail we went, and to made a sad story sadder, I had to call my 16 year old nephew to bring bail money. He had just enough to get me out, and I bailed everyone else out.T and R got the worst of it. They still live in this small town in Indiana, and their local paper reports everything. Imagine being splashed on the front page of a paper read by everyone in your town as a 30 something T.P.'er.

We got off light with community service. T's boss was so amused that he got a raise. Whoever said that crime doesn't pay never hung out with us.