Cartman said it best. Holy fuck, hippies suck ass. To be more specific, stoners suck hairy taint. I don't mind the common users of marijuana because they take it in moderation, but these walking potato heads I've had to work with the past few years are making me wonder why fags got blamed for the whole AIDS thing twenty years ago yet stoners aren't denunciated for the stupidity in this country since Truman was in office.
I don't know of another institution besides a strip club where employees have to persistently smoke weed in order to function at their jobs. It's almost like my coworkers (over the years and right now) whether they be security, bartenders, waitresses or strppers can't work without being high. And I probably shouldn't be talking shit due to how much Corona and Yukon Jack I suck down, but holy fuck, even I go dry a few days out of the week. Try to throw a roadblock in way of a habitual weed smoker and they get all tense like they won't be able to push a cash register key or shake their flaccid asses without at least putting a stank roach in a pipe.
Then, of course, once you mother fuckers get high, here come the theories on no particular shit in life. I've had broads who were talking to me about some bitch who pissed them off at work, then abruptly the conversation somehow transformed into her advocating God without me saying a word. I blame it on the blunts they smoke. Seriously. I've gotten served a full glass of alcohol by a bartender, went back up to the deejay booth and nursed it for twenty minutes, came back down, and now that same bartender is trying to get me to eat a brownie he made at home presumably so I know what the fuck he is talking about while I wait for the refill to finish.
Habituated cloud 9'ers pushing God on me, narcissism, politics, how the 'man' of whatever club I'm in is keeping them from achieving the fullest of financial gain, and broads telling me they only smoked the weed so they could come down from their cocaine high. Then when someone who doesn't smoke weed tells the doper it's bad for them and not really doing them any good in life, they always come with that bulletproof comeback, "God put it here for us all to enjoy." Yea. Awesome retort. Well, I don't know God personally, however, his son sends out a postcard every holiday season that only a select few of us get and I dug one up for you guys . . . and after looking at it, maybe you're right, but it seems he's not too happy with fence-jumpers.
But c'mon, people! Stop using the 'God' thing as a copout for your dumbness. Just the other week some chick came up to the deejay booth and I innocently learned that rather than baking brownies with weed, one should fry pot plants in butter on the stove because the THC comes off the plant into the juice, then use the buttery goodness to make chocolate chip cookies because the high is way better . . . What the fuck! Why do I have to know this crap?!?!
One stripper whore I dated used to pull a scissors out from her glove compartment and cut the weed atop a Cosmopolitan magazine she had under the driver's seat because smoking it calmed her down for the ride home. One time, another dumb rape-victim cunt I was jabbing my rod into used a toilet paper roll, aluminum foil and Scotch tape to make a pipe so she could get high before I fucked her . . . Even now as they're both long gone from my life, I find myself wanting to slap their parents for raising such morons, yet at the same time commiserate with their folks because their offspring might have been mildly retarded since the cutting of the umbilical cord; no one really knows for sure.
Some of my friends get high daily, and I know every stripper I work with gets stoned, but Jesus fucking Christ, the strong bet is if you can't handle your alcohol, then you definitely should moderate your intake of marijuana as if it were fed to you via a Pez dispenser in front of Nancy Reagan while at Sunday mass, because after you get high, you are as slow as a koala bear running the Boston Marathon in my mind and I likely could have better conversations with caves due to the reverberation. And stop talking to alcoholics if you're solely high on weed, for Christ's sake. Play mime, kill yourself, or stay the fuck out of my life whether I'm on the clock or not because your stupefied demeanors make my head ache. Seriously, fuck you chronic stoners because you're stupid and make my time in public places a horrible experience. It's like, I could talk to you or go bang my head into a brick wall repeatedly until I see coma white . . . Lately, the coma is looking the saner of those two options because I just can't handle stupid, high people talking anymore.
Twelve seconds into their mindless drivel, I interrupt and ask them if they've had their tonsils taken out yet, and if they say no, then I smile because I rest comfortably in my head knowing that I have at least six days of peace ahead of me while they're sucking on sherbert (of course, the next week at work starts and I'm back seated in the retarded section of Hell, so really there is no winner in that scenario.)
"I'm high, I'm baked, I'm cooked, I'm faded. I'm stoned, man."
No. You're a slob of dick snot who should have never entered a cervix. That or an abortion your father couldn't talk your mother into.
Same assholes who go to a contemporary rock concert and still shout out from the crowd, "Free Bird!"
Same assholes who think tie-dye shirts are appropriate attire for wedding receptions.
Same assholes who have "Legalize It" bumper stickers but wonder why they got pulled over.
