I agreed to do this Holidailies thing after Kitty started asking people to do it, because saying "no" to a blogger who you-don't-know-very-well-but-really-do-like-a-lot-even-though-not-really-that-way is like the blogging equivalent of trying to stagger home after some hyped up paparazzi party and meeting some dude at a gas station and letting him drive you home while he got himself stoned with a pretty glass pipe. Then, after much protesting and frustration on his part, you bolt out of the car, yell, "Hell no, I'm not gonna give it to you. You can't come inside, suckah!" throw him the horns and drunkenly head into your apartment.
And then you strut through your front door all cool and confident, because you're coy as fuck, and you have an innate ability to work it.
You wake up the next day with an awful hangover, like someone went Sarah Connor on your head with a hydraulic press. You walk out of your room and think, "how the hell did I get home last night? Oooohhh, that's right, working ass and breaking hearts," and then think, "Man, what a dbag" and get ready to high five yourself for a ride well earned, when you look on your coffee table and realize you stole his half-packed bowl.
And it hits you: that's what he wanted you to give him.
...
11 comments:
LOL. I was just looking at your tag "bitchcrazy."
Damn you're funny.
To be fair, he can buy the pipe again, but you're one of a kind. Which is probably a good thing for dudes giving rides home.
here are some thoughts from en vogue that i thought were appropriate:
Maybe next time you'll give your woman a little respect
So you won't be hearing her say, "No Way"
(and now it's time for a breakdown...)
Never gonna get it, never gonna get it
Never gonna get it, never gonna get it
Never gonna get it, never gonna get it
Never gonna get it
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
It scares me. Rassles, the whole thing just scares me.
Yes. Even the Holly Go Lightlies..or Holy Craps...or Hollidaze or whateverthefuck that shit is called.
Kitty: I think you mean, "Damn, that bitch crazy."
Pistols: Or a bad thing, because all they get out of it is drunken conversation about Lone Wolf and Cub or something, and then they go home unfulfilled.
MoLinder: When I get home today, I expect to have you serenading me and wagging your finger.
Mongo: What's scary is that he knew who I was and where I lived. He was like, "Hey, Ross, you need a ride?" And I thought, "Well, yes I do, Man Who I Don't Remember."
Oh boy. THAT ranks up there with the level of scary I get from that Holly Go Lightly Bloggerific shit. Man Rassles. You better be careful. Don't make me send Hellbilly up there to protect you with a chainsaw.
I don't know you, but after reading this post I think I'll be obsessively following your blog. Good luck with holidailies!
I can't believe you're actually doing Holidailies. And I could weep with joy, because I get to read new "you" every day! I don't know if I'm prouder of you for committing to this thing, or for obtaining a pretty glass pipe.
Probably the pipe thing.
Rassles you did the worst thing you could possibly do to a stoner. Buzzkillllllllllll.
Mongo: I'll do my best.
Meagan: Perfect, because everything I do is obsessive. And good luck to your Holidailies as well.
Ginny: I can't believe it either, but like I said, I like Kitty. So I will do what she tells me.
Blues: Oh, one of the first things I did was give the pipe to a broke-ass stoner (um, nearly everyone I know?) just to make up for it. They all cancel each other out.
If you stole my half-packed bowl I'd have to hunt you down.
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