Hello sift. I need a vent, and you people are good to turn to.
So today I went to Georgia Tech to start my transfer ball rolling. After that, I came home and had a nice relaxing day with the gf.
A friend of mine was turning 21, so we went to Taco Mac in Decatur, a 25 minute drive from downtown. Luckily I was chosen to be DD for the night. Around 2, we get back to Atlanta. My gf decided it was time to go home, and Marta closes about 1, so I am charged to drive another 30minutes*2 to take her to her car. gdgdgd, i was already irritated. Everyone had gone back to my house to finish the night.
Back in downtown, I was about a mile from my house, getting off of the interstate, when I saw an unfortunate soul in the middle of the intersection of Moreland and Memorial with an old chrysler van bleeding oil on the road and with the airbags deployed. I pulled over to see if I could help.
Enter Mel:
Mel, a 42 year old, overweight, bearded, tattooed musician, riding about a 5 on the sketchy scale, had "hit a pothole." His car was crippled; he was piss ass fuck shit damn titty "drunk." I helped him push his car to the nearby gas station then offered him a ride home. As it turned out, he lived about 30 minutes north of Atlanta.
For clarity, I was in constant correspondence with my girlfriend, though in retrospect, bad idea.
Our ride North consisted of his constant thanks and pondering repayment (he only had a benjamin, and I only had a million dollar bill that the nice evangelists had given me in the park). I really wasn't concerned about it. He also could not half of what we spoke about, and about 3 miles from his house, decided he needed a Natty, which he pulled from his mysterious bag (which i am extremely suspect of).
I dropped him off at HIS MOTHER'S house, drew a map of where his car was, and returned home again.
On top of this, 75-S was blocked on all lanes. I don't know why, but I had to find my way home halfway on back roads.
I come home to my belligerent room mate on the couch watching SG-1, who then proceeds to tell me that Wes, the recently 21, had had quite the eventful night.
Wes' night consisted of getting drunk at Taco Mac, then coming back to my house. Once here, he drank more. Next, he found gasoline on the back porch (wtf, why?) and decided it would be fun to play with. He then found my shirt, drying on the porch, and decided to combine them. He also decided that my sandwich supplies (ham, turkey, cheese, lettuce, and where the hell is the mayo!?) did not have enough shit/crap/poop/literal feces in them; so he did what any decent American would do, and shat in the tupperware, then distributed the remains about my neighbor's and my back yard (my back yard belonging to the people downstairs).
Also, the mop was in too few pieces, so Wes made sure that was promptly fixed as well.

I am shrugging it off now, and will soon have help coping with the tremendous toll this night has had on me.
If you've gotten this far, I commend you, and apologize for wasting your time.