I beg to differ. The primary fear for parents of young boys is destruction of property. For girls, it's fornication. A clitorectomy demonstrates that you have no desire to engage in fornication, let alone enjoy it. The peace of mind is worth a hundred vases, easy.
Ever see that episode of Saved by the Bell where the same thing happened? Zack and the gang had a party at Screech's house, and they broke his mom's Elvis statue.
Here's what to do:
Hold ANOTHER party immediately. But you have to charge 10 bucks at the door.
Then buy a similar looking artwork.
Although your parents will come home unexpectedly early- during the second party. So you'll get in trouble twice!
In other words..... you're screwed. \
Pssh. Go to the original source.
That is, "Risky Business" with Tom Cruise.
So, you have to set up a brothel in your house and charge for the services. You will gross 50,000 dollars in human capital in one weekend, but then the whores will fool you and steal the stuff out of your house, but you can buy it back AND fix dad's porsche with the profits.
Plus, you'll also get into Princeton, so you end up OK after it's all over.
Sorry man, but it sounds like you're going to have to bit the bullet on this one... I was in your shoes once, and I made it *much* worse by trying to cover it up. Trust me, just surprise the hell out of your folks by being upfront, honest, and 100% truthful.
A few springs ago my parents were out of town and we had a small get together at my house. After the beer was gone we decided to go get rid of the empties, which consisted of throwing them in my neighbor's yard because I hated the guy for hitting my dog once. I'm not sure what idiot got in the car first but it was a horrible idea, but somehow we let it slide because it was just up and down the same road and we were going to go slow. We ended up going slow but not exactly a crawl, and when we got to his house my friend was in the front seat with his arm out the window ready to throw a bottle when the car hit a pothole, causing the car to shift to the right a little. He ended up smacking his arm real bad on the baseball bat sized solid steel mailbox pole that the guy had out there on his mailbox, when it broke it was the most disgusting noise I have ever heard. It broke in three spaces around his elbow and he lost 85% of his muscle in that arm, it took a year of physical therapy to get his arm back. After spending the night in the ER we decided to tell everybody that it broke on a mailbox because he had his arm out the window doing that up-down waving thing from that one Volkswagen commercial. Around the time of my graduation party my dad had put two and two together, it was all bad. Darrell ended up getting a huge settlement from his insurance company, that he didn't even want because he admitted it was his own stupidity, but they said if any future complications related to the initial surgery arose it was not their problem, he bought the guy a new mailbox too.
I guess what I'm trying to say is; you should probably tell them the truth. Even though the ridiculous stories can be fun to make up. I don't really know how you'd get out of this one, Murbot's idea is the best I could think of. Maybe tell them that you let a friend bring their dog over because they couldn't leave it home alone? Good luck either way.
I have dozens of stories of parties at my house when they went for two weeks down the shore...a friend turned a corner too fast in the living room and obliterated 5-6 mini porcelin fowerpots and shit. I picked up all the pieces and glued them back together that night. Mom noticed soon as she dusted them...
Another...favorite...day after a nasty party I went out the next morning to get the paper. I looked two houses down and saw the clothed body of a girl lying face down two houses down from me! I ran down and saw that she was passed out. I carried her back to my house and put her on the bed. This girl was hot and would never touch me in real life......no, I didn't do what you think. I let her sleep it off and she later woke up and got a cab home. She respected me after that.
Got a $350 fine one time. They mailed it certified letter. Guess who signed for it? My Dad. "Art? What's this?"
...uh...
Parties are a part of social life. You'll 'fess up and they'll understand. Just be careful and don't invite hardheads who tackle screwed down ceramic vases.
Take some (large) army boots & get the soles really dirty. Break through your back door with a baseball bat or something of that nature. Then tromp through your house wearing the boots. Then mess the house up really badly. After this take some of your more expensive possessions and bury them in the backyard. Then tell your parents you had a break in.
Once i broke a fine piece of Christal. I was watching a tennis match between Borg and an another tennis man. Borg loose an important point and i throw a coffin in the room, and i broked the Christal.
I said to my mother that it was an accident and at the time i seemed very concerned. Things where ok. Many many years later, we spoke about this accident, she thinks that she was suprised that i was so worry to have broke this christal jug
Comments
Throw another party and pimp out your friends (especially any that broke things) to recoup costs.
Originally posted by billybobsky
uh... edit that quick... not funny, nor appropriate...
Well said billybob.
(considers this statement for a moment)
Okay, let's try that again.
I want to have Murbot.
(well.....at least once)
Originally posted by Carol A
I want to have Murbot's child.
and they shall call 'em mini-Mur
(considers this statement for a moment)
Okay, let's try that again.
I want to have Murbot.
(well.....at least once)
he is known for frequent upgrades, too
Originally posted by ShawnJ
Ever see that episode of Saved by the Bell where the same thing happened? Zack and the gang had a party at Screech's house, and they broke his mom's Elvis statue.
Here's what to do:
Hold ANOTHER party immediately. But you have to charge 10 bucks at the door.
Then buy a similar looking artwork.
Although your parents will come home unexpectedly early- during the second party. So you'll get in trouble twice!
In other words..... you're screwed.
Pssh. Go to the original source.
That is, "Risky Business" with Tom Cruise.
So, you have to set up a brothel in your house and charge for the services. You will gross 50,000 dollars in human capital in one weekend, but then the whores will fool you and steal the stuff out of your house, but you can buy it back AND fix dad's porsche with the profits.
Plus, you'll also get into Princeton, so you end up OK after it's all over.
You better wise up... Clea Weiss.
Call the carpet cleaners, tell your parents that you learned your lesson. (And then learn your lesson.)
I guess what I'm trying to say is; you should probably tell them the truth. Even though the ridiculous stories can be fun to make up. I don't really know how you'd get out of this one, Murbot's idea is the best I could think of. Maybe tell them that you let a friend bring their dog over because they couldn't leave it home alone? Good luck either way.
I have dozens of stories of parties at my house when they went for two weeks down the shore...a friend turned a corner too fast in the living room and obliterated 5-6 mini porcelin fowerpots and shit. I picked up all the pieces and glued them back together that night. Mom noticed soon as she dusted them...
Another...favorite...day after a nasty party I went out the next morning to get the paper. I looked two houses down and saw the clothed body of a girl lying face down two houses down from me! I ran down and saw that she was passed out. I carried her back to my house and put her on the bed. This girl was hot and would never touch me in real life......no, I didn't do what you think. I let her sleep it off and she later woke up and got a cab home. She respected me after that.
Got a $350 fine one time. They mailed it certified letter. Guess who signed for it? My Dad. "Art? What's this?"
Parties are a part of social life. You'll 'fess up and they'll understand. Just be careful and don't invite hardheads who tackle screwed down ceramic vases.
Or you could just tell them you broke it.
I said to my mother that it was an accident and at the time i seemed very concerned. Things where ok. Many many years later, we spoke about this accident, she thinks that she was suprised that i was so worry to have broke this christal jug
Originally posted by billybobsky
uh... edit that quick... not funny, nor appropriate...
Bullshit. That was funny as hell and entirely apropros.