Some of the articles this perilous evening have been of the bummeroidal nature but gosh, kids, science isn't Disneyland.
(Ed: I can't believe even a second-rate scribe like you would write that!)
Yah, me either but the muse sings and I listen (larfs).
The next is in the Holy Shit, I Didn't Know All That Was Happening category but the coolness is it's invisible to us and yet a fundamental part of nature with also a strong vibe of Gaia, the Earth Mother, as a living thing. That's a good 'un, right?
(Ed: if it's fookin' real!)
Take it easy, Moriarty. I've got the ticket for this bus and it rides to more than one planet. It's quite an impressive bus.
(Ed: just full of riddles, aren't you?)
It's not just my job, it's my calling.
In anticipation of the next, nope, I've actually surprised myself how little ganja I have smoked as there was a bowl yesterday and another somewhere in the night but that's about it. Meanwhile, the Buspirone is demented but more so physically than mentally although a lot of sleep is necessary but I don't mind all that much since usually it's the other way around. The wobbly wobbly bugs the hell out of me because standing is a perilous move so wtf, wtf.
I'm long-practiced with the ganja and this is seriously primo smoke so it takes almost nothing to launch because I know where I'm going. It doesn't take a foot-long Jamaican spliff to get there.
The IBM (i.e. Ideal Bowl Moment) likely approaches in this next article since it's biological ecstasy which doesn't require a shower after.
(Ed: one more riddle and I get the gun!)
Fair enough.
There is an observation on the Great American Retirement Myth, tho, as Mystery Lady and I hit sixty-five while correspondingly going to physical shit. She wasn't such a wastrel about taking care of herself and she quit smoking so long ago that I don't even know how many years. It's entropy and we don't last as long as in the commercials.
She smoked those skinny sissy cigarettes and they weren't Virginia Slims but Capris, I think. I would have to go to two or three or more gas stations to find them and always there's some high school puke throwing back the 'you poof' look. There's the temptation to fire at the kid, "You guessed it, you pimple-faced miscreant. I'm gay. I suck dicks but I don't suck little ones so you're out of luck. Do you have the fucking cigarettes or don't you?"
I think the Mystery Lady thought it was funny that I would do it as I would get so pissed because it was such a pragmatic thing to me. Your store says you sell cigarettes so where are the fucking cigarettes? I would be fuming but she laughs. Ha ha. (larfs)
Note: my bitch isn't that I did it but rather I wasn't better at it. Captain Fantastic would have been.
(Ed: don't you go cliff diving here)
No, no. It may be time for that IBM.
(Ed: I can't believe even a second-rate scribe like you would write that!)
Yah, me either but the muse sings and I listen (larfs).
The next is in the Holy Shit, I Didn't Know All That Was Happening category but the coolness is it's invisible to us and yet a fundamental part of nature with also a strong vibe of Gaia, the Earth Mother, as a living thing. That's a good 'un, right?
(Ed: if it's fookin' real!)
Take it easy, Moriarty. I've got the ticket for this bus and it rides to more than one planet. It's quite an impressive bus.
(Ed: just full of riddles, aren't you?)
It's not just my job, it's my calling.
In anticipation of the next, nope, I've actually surprised myself how little ganja I have smoked as there was a bowl yesterday and another somewhere in the night but that's about it. Meanwhile, the Buspirone is demented but more so physically than mentally although a lot of sleep is necessary but I don't mind all that much since usually it's the other way around. The wobbly wobbly bugs the hell out of me because standing is a perilous move so wtf, wtf.
I'm long-practiced with the ganja and this is seriously primo smoke so it takes almost nothing to launch because I know where I'm going. It doesn't take a foot-long Jamaican spliff to get there.
The IBM (i.e. Ideal Bowl Moment) likely approaches in this next article since it's biological ecstasy which doesn't require a shower after.
(Ed: one more riddle and I get the gun!)
Fair enough.
There is an observation on the Great American Retirement Myth, tho, as Mystery Lady and I hit sixty-five while correspondingly going to physical shit. She wasn't such a wastrel about taking care of herself and she quit smoking so long ago that I don't even know how many years. It's entropy and we don't last as long as in the commercials.
She smoked those skinny sissy cigarettes and they weren't Virginia Slims but Capris, I think. I would have to go to two or three or more gas stations to find them and always there's some high school puke throwing back the 'you poof' look. There's the temptation to fire at the kid, "You guessed it, you pimple-faced miscreant. I'm gay. I suck dicks but I don't suck little ones so you're out of luck. Do you have the fucking cigarettes or don't you?"
I think the Mystery Lady thought it was funny that I would do it as I would get so pissed because it was such a pragmatic thing to me. Your store says you sell cigarettes so where are the fucking cigarettes? I would be fuming but she laughs. Ha ha. (larfs)
Note: my bitch isn't that I did it but rather I wasn't better at it. Captain Fantastic would have been.
(Ed: don't you go cliff diving here)
No, no. It may be time for that IBM.
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