never would want to be the one who starts a war between the
drunks and the stoners. I mean, I chose my path and I know it's
the better of the two. Alcohol is like nectar of the gods, and
it lets you feel high and low, sometimes at the same time. Sometimes
you want it to lift your spirits, but instead it brings you
down. Sometimes you want to mellow out with a pint of cough
syrup, but you end up so amped you jump into the creek and break
your leg on a submerged rock. Whatever, alcohol has the magical
ability to know exactly what you need better than you do. Pot,
on the other hand, is like a deep and sad fog you have to fight
through. I'm proud to be a drunk, but I'm not ashamed to slum
it with the dope every now and then. Like when I have to see
a big ol' pile of shit like Harold and Kumar 2. It's
got some longer title, but I got a lot of shit to say, so I'm
not wasting words on it.
the experience complete, I got totally stoned before I watched
Harold and Kumar 2. I bought some weed off Shifty, a
fifty-year-old man who lives with his mom down the street. In
addition to his entrepreneurial spirit, he's also a busybody
and a peeping tom, so he and I know each other pretty well.
Most nights when I'm stumbling back from the Tavern, he's out
prowling through the neighbor's gardens and checking for unlocked
doors. I bought the pot off him, I got some newspaper and I
rolled myself as big a joint as $4 worth of pot allows (Hint,
it looks bigger if you wad up some extra newspaper). I lit up,
kicked back in one of Mrs. Minstrel's adirondack chair and got
toasted. I mean, my head was a hazy cloud of happiness with
my brain buzzing around in it. I threw up, then I went to the
Olde Town Cinema and got in line behind others buying tickets
for Harold and Kumar.
I bet they
were stoned, too. Man, you should have seen them, they were
so damn funny, all fat and skinny and some of them wearing different
colors, like this big patchouli oil rainbow. We were all there
to enhance our drug with cheap jokes and lazy hijinks. I felt,
for once, like a part of a community. These were my brothers
and sisters. I knew they were siblings because looking at the
girls didn't even make me horny. It just made me feel warm.
stand was hilarious. There was like people standing in line
and then the people working behind the counter were all "Derrr,
you want some butter?" I don't know. It's hard to explain but
it was so fucking funny. plus, the sodas were all different
colors, even yellow, like pee! Awesome!
me start thinking about taking a piss, so I went into the men's
room and stood there. I didn't need to pee, though. Man, when
I realized that, I nearly fell over laughing. When I did, this
other guy starts busting up. It was so freakin' hilarious. I'm
looking at him and he's looking at me and we're both saying
"What the fuck, dude?" I laughed so damn hard that now I really
did need to pee. The actual urination wasn't that funny. Pretty
in in the last row of the lower section, which is pretty much
reserved for loners who go to the movies by themselves. This
time, though, still warm from the dope, I didn't think the other
guys hunkered down in their jackets were losers and assholes.
I felt they were my brothers in pot-dom. They weren't freaks
with no lives; they were dudes who liked a good smoke and a
bad movie. I felt that way about everyone in the theater, man.
I loved those fuckers in the upper seats, the stupid obnoxious
teens with their lit-up cell phones, and the guys in the long
heavy jackets who play grabass and catcall at the girls. We
all liked smoking dope!
wait for that movie to start. I was excited for the communal
experience, of sharing a laugh and giggling knowingly at the
pot humor. Through the haze in my mind, and over the urge to
go get the biggest damn tub of popcorn the Olde Town has, I
settled in and waited anxiously.
fucking slayed me. Have you seen the one about the monkey? Oh,
fuck, that one's awesome. That little primate farts and everything.
I also liked the one about the girl who falls in love with the
wrong guy, only to realize too late (or maybe not) that Mr.
Right was beside her all along. I thought I was gonna cry. I
hope that fucker gets boned by the right dude.
after all that waiting and all that anticipation, and my dope
high fading into a buzz with a hint of headache, Harold and
Kumar 2 began. I don't remember a god damn thing about it.
I'm pretty sure it sucked, though.
high anymore. And I'm back to hating those fucking pot-smoking
losers. Get a God damn life, assholes. If you think smoking
dope is one of your more interesting traits, you're a fucking
loser. If you want alife, drink booze.
to tell Filthy Something?