Here’s the deal:
who even knows if the annual ‘flag day block party’ is going to happen after the past week, but I refuse to spend my 17th birthday alone and fighting with everyone. We’re all pissed, we’re all hurt, and honestly? I don’t give a fuck anymore. You all have nine days to get your shit together and next Sunday, we’re all going up to the lake. No one gets an ‘out’ of this one. We’ll grab a keg, we’ll grab some burgers and some tents and get the hell out of Ashbourne for 48 hours to hang out in the woods with just us, alcohol and whatever drugs Seth can provide us with. (He isn’t invited, obvs. Just us 8 7.) No arguments. The Roberts’ birthday has never been anything but a celebration and I’ll be damned if I let all this bullshit ruin it for me this year. Get ready fuckers. Skinny dipping is required, so don’t even bother packing suits.








