please come to brazil

harlemshakemp3:

harlemshakemp3:

harlemshakemp3:

antikate:

derinthescarletpescatarian:

idontevenhaveone:

virtualgirladvance:

… the worst bit is I know several people this could be, especially given the ‘in Australia’ clarification

If you know them then there’s a chance I might know some of them and that thought will keep me up at night.

This wasn’t the guy who we all know who used to spray his jeans with Mortein and then light himself on fire, was it?

He used to sit at the back of the bus, cup his hand, spray deodorant into it, then open it and light it on fire with a lighter in one fell swoop to try and impress girls.

He had to stop because the bus company begged our school to tell him to stop bc of legal liability. His hands never actually got damaged after doing it for about a year.

I reached out to my old friend in question here, because I’ve been thinking about him all day.

I do not know what “the amulet” is. I have no idea what “the amulet” is referring to.

I instantly remembered when he said that.

While we were all at the local park doing legal things that teenagers would do back in the late 2000s, my friend here found a rock at our old smoke spot that was unusually smooth and flat. He liked it so much that he took it to the woodwork classrooms at school, drilled a hole in it, and hung it on a necklace.

When we asked why he weanwearing this dinky-ass pebble on his neck, he claimed it prevented him from ever getting food-related illnesses: wouldn’t get food poisoning, couldn’t over-eat, was able to ingest anything (prior to him finding The Amulet, a few of us used to play a game called “Devil’s Piss” where we would take turns shoving random food bits into a bottle of coke, and the first person to take a sip would get two dollars from the other players).

When we all asked him for the proof that this rock is magical—because nobody believed him, obviously—he said to meet him behind the History block at lunch, where he said he would drink two litres (or half a gallon) of milk in one go and not puke.

We met him there, and about ten of us all watched him down a whole bottle of strawberry milk in two or three breaths.

He didn’t puke.

He jumped up and down and punched his stomach to prove it.

He still didn’t puke.

I’m so glad I’m alive.