Ticketmaster, is that you?

The RIAA would love for you to use their formula but also, fuck them and their creative accounting.

This is not a real thing. Gaslighting, ghosting, cuffing, and amateur diagnoses of “narcissism” are trite pseudo-phenomena that used to exist only on the gaudy, shaming covers of COSMOPOLITAN magazine. Thanks to the interwebs, such tropes are ubiquitous and given longer tails than they deserve. Cosmo has a long…

I thought “snow globing” was going to be more along the lines of “gerbiling”. 

The thing is, there are plenty of other ways to get stoned besides smoking the flower. Vape pens don’t have a lingering smells, edibles, THC drinks etc. I primarily take edibles, you’d have no idea I was stoned unless I acted like it, or told you. There’s no trace of weed on me.

Planes Trains and Automobiles is the only Thanksgiving movie you need.

How do you comment without reading the article”

I’ve used a LifeSpan walking treadmill for a number of years for computer work.

Showers won’t be noticeably colder, but depending on tank size, they will be noticeably shorter.

You forgot vats of acid & dead hookers. 

I gently pull the lower lid away from the eye to form a little pocket that I drop the eye-drop into. Works well since I cannot stand anything touching my eye. I even do this with glasses on.

“Paint the pacman ghosts on your walls... It’ll look awesome”

Reminds me of Mario World.

Remember those old Bugs Bunny or Road Runner cartoons where they would paint a train tunnel or whatever against a cliff face that they could run though and then Elmer Fudd or Wile. E. Coyote would slam in to a wall?

About shopping at the wrong time of day: if you live in a place with a 24-hour grocery and you have a schedule that permits it (like shift work), try shopping in the middle of the night. It is the absolute bar-none best time to be in the store.

There are seventeen different things a guy can do when he lies to give himself away. A guys got seventeen pantomimes. A woman’s got twenty, but a guy’s got seventeen... but, if you know them, like you know your own face, they beat lie detectors all to hell

Sir, go back to Wendy’s.

Sure hope there aren’t any cops reading this bullshit.

a cokehead’s lighthearted romp, maybe