March 1, 2014

  • Randoms

    We're gonna name our son Broncolton and our daughter Chugatha. Yes.

    I have a gram of weed of the "Jack Herer" strain in the blue thing in the DB ... An eighth of a "Jack Frost" strain in the green thing, also in the DB ... 11 Focalin caps left, 4 of which are in the DB; including a line or two of powder in the crusher ... half a box of Sunset Blush ... 4 cups of coffee still in the pot ... precisely one billion Hydroxyzine 50-meggers, give or take a few; some of which are in the DB ... a night or two worth of Benny ... one half-full Amyl bottle ... a little baggie of black-level Salvia (not for the faint of heart) ...

    Text Convo with Jen:
    Me: It's been a decade since American Idiot came out.
    Jen: Holy shit, we should have a party. No but really, that's terrible, I feel ancient. Even crazier, your Green Day tenth anniversary is next year...
    Me: Oh trust me, I know... I'm not gonna be all cliche and say it feels like that was yesterday, because that would be a lie. But it does feel like it was no more than five years ago. I can't believe it's double that. That's two and a half generations of high school since then! Do you know what that computes to in Degrassi-years?? Probably like 4 deaths, 8 abortions, 5 pervert teachers, 20 bi-curious experiences, and 10 bi-curious experiments resulting in a new gay character or two. It's ridic.
    Jen: This is why you're the best person in the whole world.
    Me: I feel like there are some other reasons too.

    Facebook Convo with Kevin:
    Me: Quick! There's no time to explain at all, so instead I'll just fill you in completely: The mail-man is missing. In an unrelated matter, there is currently a stolen mail-truck speeding down a highway in Mesa, heading your way. I am in it. It will be a few more minutes before I get there though, because I stopped to help an old lady cross the street while passing through that alien town in New Mexico, but it turned out just being a huge waste of time because the bitch stroked-out on me when we got to the other side. And then all because of that one little thing, I had to spend a ridiculous amount of time explaining to her family that her last words weren't anything more than barely audible curses at her cat who apparently "just isn't the same Snowball these days." Turns out, he isn't. The real Snowball died 6 years ago and the new Snowball is a loofa. Upon recieving that sad little information from her family, I instantly became relieved by the realization that this lady is no doubt "in a better place now" because, well, there's not really anywhere to go but up when you're living a life made of cat-sponges and strange-ass complaints about cat-sponges ... So make sure you're home. Don't bother with directions, my scary japanese friend happens to have something like 1 or 2 or 234 connections in the NSA, and he was able to track your address for me, right down to the exact room you sleep in, so no need to worry about that anymore. I had to hit the gas and bail from Texas today because of.. a reason.. So now I'm gonna need you to start digging a hole asap, about 6 feet deep, or 7 to be safe, and make arrangements for a wood-chipper to be brought in immediately. Pay in cash. Next, find a brick that we can tie to the wood-chipper when the time comes to dispose of it in the nearest ocean. Make sure the brick is a heavy one, otherwise it won't sink. And then we'd be stuck with a worthless brick on our hands, on top of a 2-ton wood-chipper that may or may not be splattered with blood at that point. Since you know the area, I'm putting you in charge of deciding which beach in Mesa we'll dump it at, because for some reason Google Maps isn't working right and I haven't been able to find any directions to a single beach in all of Arizona! I knew I should have gotten an iPhone... Anywho; preferably pick the beach with the least amount of Disney cruises departing tonight. This is not crucial to the plan, it's just due to the fact that I happen to owe Mickey Mouse some money from a while back, and I know he remembers it. I'm not saying that this has anything to do with my mail man who just went missing, but I'm also not saying it doesn't.. Picking up what I'm laying down, Abuela?? Also. How do you feel about bath salts?