Why yes, I do have an extra thirty seconds of my life to waste on nothing. Thanks for asking.
If there's any possible universe where this old fucker right here is under 18 years old, someone book me a one way trip on a steam-powered bicycle to space, because I'm on my way. Actually, fuck that. Can you imagine how depressing that world must be with recent high school graduates who look like wrinkled, gay, Amish linebackers who gun butts all day on the sidewalk outside Newbury Comics?
Back in this world, I don't know what kind of elaborate sting operations the feds are running to trap the Watertown, MA package stores into selling dukes to minors, but I have a feeling this thing goes a lot deeper than any of us expected. I feel a little nervous just talking about it. If you guys don't hear from me for the next few days it's probably safe to assume they got to me. Or that I'm sick of writing for this stupid joke blog. Maybe both!
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10 comments:
You still smoke? Jesus, dude.
Smoking. Not smoking. Smoking sometimes when you're drunk. Hating people who smoke. Dying of cancer.
Complaining about getting carded. Not carrying your ID.
Being a smoker and complaining about how corporations have too much power. Being a smoker and being disgusted by Church molestation. Pointing out hypocracies in everyday human activity as if an alternative is possible. Letting your finger slip through the toilet paper.
Dude behind counter asking you your age without checking your ID, thus making the whole inquisition moot.
haha. you still smoke? just stop it's easy! i just stopped. i also stopped looking at the hot asses at the girls in front of me on the treadmill at the gym. i also don't hotbox myself when i fart under the covers. yup, simple as pie. it's easy!!!
Second-hand dutch ovens are probably more fatal than second-hand smoke. My poor, unfortunate sweetheart.
There's a shithole chain liquor store here in Califuckingfornia that carded me - buying cigars you puritans - because I look younger than fifty; they told me this. I'm forty-four.
Oh yeah: buying cigars at a liquor store.
Sometimes going into the wallet and pulling the ID out seems like pushing a goddamn bolder up a mountain.
Not being able to spell boulder.
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