May the IRS lose your data, forgetting you even exist.
May the Department of Homeland Security give you back all of the civil rights you lost to the terrorists.
May Jessica Biel break into your house and molest you in your bed.
May all your clothes be made in America, with high quality and no funky smell straight off the rack.
May your underwear never again ride up your ass.
May you never again have to stand in a mile long line for the cashier because the store is too cheap to hire enough employees.
May love grab your ass and may happiness cop a feel.
May you win the lottery on the same day that Ed McMahon shows up at your door to tell you that you've won the Publisher's Clearinghouse grand prize.
May your sheets smell of sex and may success ravage your bank account.
May your tears be that of orgasmic release.
May your farts smell like flowers.
May the problems you had disappear in downtown Memphis in a bad neighborhood, never to be seen again.
And may your favorite team win the championship!
All stolen fromMemphis Steve because this is what I wish for you and all your friends. Except the fart thing. It wouldn't be quite as funny if it didn't smell bad.