Night At The Movies

Night..to the empty desolate theater, where the voice echoes and the revolving, metal, glass door rumbles as the audience exits, the quasi-critics whispering what they liked about the characters and what they would have changed about the dialogue; how the lighting of the theater could have been dimmer and the speakers could have rattled a little less. The lone janitor enters the silence, where moments before symphonic sounds of strings and brass reverberated through the now empty chairs, and aisles. Now, the only sound is the sweep, sweep of the bouncing popcorn kernels and the subtle, forced rolling of the Mike and Ikes into his dust bin then emptied into the rolling trashcan with wheels that squeak, squeak, all the way to the backdoor, where he opens it, lights his Marlboro with the click, click of the lighter; and the iron door slams shut like prison bars, locking hours of entertainment inside. And our janitor puffs, puffs a few hits of his cigarette, slings the garbage bag over his shoulder, spittle slowly forming around the ring of the cigarette in his mouth. He tosses the hefty bag into the metal, blue garbage bin, grabs his jingling keys from the carabiner hooked to his belt-loop; gets his car keys as he reaches for another Marlboro and lighter and with palms full of keys, lighter and cigarette, he lights another, puffs, puffs, starts his car and drives off to rent a movie from Redbox.

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Barbaric Confederate And The Political Grandma Part 3.

  • Flower Cum

The moment you start typing what you are thinking. I found some interesting mayonnaise to try on some new burgers. I need to get to getting on the burgers.

Condoms are currently dancing on the T.V.

Anyhow, back to the subject at hand, random shit and a few band names. If you need to be refreshed on the band names, start from the beginning then make your way back here.

Academic Stoner part 1.  <— Click Me!

Clam Whistle part 2. <— Click Me!

Now that you are caught up here are some more names –

  • Incomplete Subconscious
  • Fetal Pulp And The Mexican Dazzle
  •  Rump War
  •  Misled Demise

What kind of world do we live in where paper beats rock. What the fuck! Cool band name though.

  • Paper beats Rock
  • Cluster Fuck of Weed Jars
  • Dead Hookers
  • Parking Ticket
  • Dirty Bong

Just kidding about the last four I was just typing what I saw around my room.

  • Ugly Yesterday
  • Excessive Nuts
  • Rustic Prisoner And The Switch

Enough names for the night. Got to go add these names to the fake band t-shirts and bumper stickers.

In the next series I will add the band names friends suggested on Facebook.

You know you’re high when you start putting whipped cream on your ketchup.

Ha! Burgers tomorrow.

FIN!

Kotton!

 

Clam Whistle Part 2.

Read Academic Stoner Part 1 before you read this one.

  • Lumpy Space Princess
  • Snow Gravy
  • Armored Zipper
  • Slim Sight
  • Hooker Transfer
  • Mobile Itch
  • Flushing Domination
  • Innate Stalker
  • Ageless Abduction
  • Mildew Coconut
  • Raised Asshole
  • Bagel of Doom
  • Vulgar Sunshine
  • Muted Helmet
  • Indifferent Winner and the Glorified Buckle

FIN!

Kotton!

Barbaric Confederate And The Political Grandma Part 3.

Sometimes we get too fucked up.

Chicken pot pie – my three favorite things.

  • Take a pack of dessert fudge pop-tarts
  • Toast the pop-tarts in the toaster
  • Take out your choice of ice cream
  • Put ice cream in between pop-tarts
  • Proceed to let your taste buds make love with the gods

I was driving back to my house with my friend and this really Noir-like jazzy song comes on. I instantly set the stage with, “1925, New York City, raining at midnight.” My friend starts to narrate a man sitting at a table with a lady in a restaurant with all of these awesome details in an old style voice. it was the coolest thing I’ve heard in a while. felt like I was driving in a black and white movie.

…Why the hell do clothes get wet? Wouldn’t it be the shit if you just stuck your sock in a lake and pulled it out completely dry? Pardon the raging boner.

Dirty joke : A vagina is like the weather. Once its wet, it’s time to go inside.

I woke up today, got out of bed, and just stood there looking at my bed. You might think I’m crazy after reading that, but I was thinking about what I would do if I happened to wake up in my bed right then after seemingly having woken up once already. That would be a first for me. I wouldn’t know what to do.

My Mind:

A wanderer.
It comes and goes.
A ponderer.
I’d like to think it knows.
Like keys.
Easily lost.
Like disease.
Great cost.
Like true love.
Hard to find.
All of the above.
My mind.

Talking to Strangers – A T.V. show I want to make. More about it later.

I was worried about putting that as the title but when I did, related articles had a similar title, well just the word fuck so I thought if they can do it so can I.

World’s First Stoners:

  • Caveman #1: Mmm, green plant smell good.
  • Caveman #2. Grunt grunt, mm maybe it burn well.
  • 20 minutes later.
  • Caveman #1: Grunt, me feel funny.
  • Caveman #2: We should make book about magical man who fall from sky and get nailed to cross. Just to fuck with people.

Note: My interpretation of a caveman is a lil’ rusty…

Enough with the random shit!

FIN!

Kotton!

Discombobulated Thoughts

I am the faceless co-blogger. I was born in July 1988. Ever wonder what that day was like when you were born? What bills were signed into law? Who died? Who else was born? Who was imprisoned and why? Who was let out of prison? What was the first item of clothing they bought when they got out prison? I don’t know.

This is a glimpse of freedom. From the near rooftop balconies overlooking the barbed wire and raw, grey brick structures came the echo of laughter, shouting, clinging of the baton batting against the iron bars, and the sharing of a bouquet of flowers to one man surrounded by family walking the long outdoor corridor to the sidewalks. Dirty streets littered with McDonalds styrofoam tea cups, half-empty Bud Light beer cans–two divergent examples of childhood and adulthood rolling toward the gutter to be entangled in the sewage treatment plants farther down river. August 1990 city blocks from Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, where a year earlier, Yusuf Hawkins never bought his first car. Pronounced dead on the scene, paramedics started the clean-up process that would never be bleached clean, never be swept tidily outside, that one spot on the street never sanitized. Sanitation workers picked up trashcans and emptied them into the truck, while early morning risers walked their dogs, fuming that violence came to their streets.

Ian didn’t hear any of it except from inside the walls of barren brick. Bensonhurst called its son back home. The storm arose from the angry depths of a populace tired from hot muggy Brooklyn summers, violence for no reason, and a city shifting. In January, Al Sharpton would be stabbed; but now, Ian walked with his mother and two cousins to the parking lot. Two years for stealing a tv from an family down the street when they weren’t home. Perhaps it was  a blessing he’d left his knife at home. Locked up for stealing a television. He just wanted to give his brother a good gift for his birthday. Oddly, the family said keep the television but still go to prison.

The ride home, stoplight, go, stoplight, go, stoplight go. He thought of the upper bay and how he wished to have a sailboat. Sailing toward the water, away from Bensonhurst, sailing from the storm he was riding into. No one knew the riots that migrated to the West Coast a two years from now. When Ian was little he wanted to teach, to teach math. School didn’t taught him nothing, except the basic laws of supply and demand, until his best friend, Ryan, was shot and killed outside the 7/11 on the corner while he waited for the bus back to Bensonhurst. That Monday back at school felt empty and silent for him. He just wanted to get home, lock his bedroom door and read more of Adam Smith.  Who knew much about this fat, white man from years ago? Ian liked what he had to say, but every once in a while, something hit close to home.

“The interest of the dealers, however, in any particular branch of trade or manufactures, is always in some respects different from, and even opposite to, that of the public. To widen the market and to narrow the competition, is always the interest of the dealers.”

All he could think about was the paramedics and the white sheet on the corner just past the 7/11. From then on, he visited Ryan’s grave every year on his birthday to bring him some cokes and oatmeal cookies, they’re favorite snack as they waved to the girls walking by their stoop.

On the ride home, they stopped by the Gas Mart to get cokes, and Ian grabbed a stuffed oatmeal cookie. He asked them to drop him off at the library, claiming he needed some time to himself before he saw the rest of the family;  and he would walk home when it closed. Reluctantly, they did so. He walked through the aisles of books till he found Smith. “Nothing but the most exemplary morals can give dignity to a man of small fortune.” He had to give something back.

On November 24th, 1992…

I found two snowflakes that were exaxtily alike.

  • And I will not let it go!

Exaxtily retarded!

Exaxtily?

I was mixed on what to call this post. I had this idea and then had an idea about Awkwardness. Specifically while being high. If you are still reading this beware below it gets kinda raunchy and offensive. It’s me so fuck it.

I’ve been thinking back about hilariously weird awkward moments I’ve spent in my life I was extremely high. Why is this?

Some examples:

  • Seeing someone you knew from middle school, a teacher, church, friends parents etc.
  • You for whatever reason cannot understand a single word the clerk says at the register when you are trying to buy your munchies.
  • Your get asked for some change by a bum and he shakes your hand and it’s wet and weird.
  • You end up seeing your gf/bf when you “couldn’t” hang out
  • You fart an it wasn’t silent.
  • You fart and it was silent, but the smell is putrid, and your with only one other person.
  • You laughed at something very inappropriate.
  • You ate all the nachos.

I don’t know why it is! But fuck I’ve had some hilarious moments.. Too bad I can’t remember even half.

Then my couch friend chimes in:

  • My neighbor’s dog came after me when I was skating baked once. The neighbor was a real old lady and told me that her son used to skateboard and the dog used to love it until he passed away. I responded with “haha cool” and skated away.
  • Or when mom walks in on you jacking off in your mouth. Fucking embarrassing. Most awkward time at the diner table that night.
  • Or when you’re jacking into moms mouth and she wakes up.

That’s kinda fucked up.

You can never go too far when you’re talking on the internet.

Mayonnaise.

Is  mayonnaise an instrument?

Bong Hit!

Hmm, that’s a good question. Let’s find the definition for the word “instrument”

*puts on glasses and picks up book*

*flips page*

Ah “instrument”
Main Entry: 1in·stru·ment
Pronunciation: \ˈin(t)-strə-mənt\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Latin instrumentum, from instruere to arrange, instruct
Date: 14th century
1 : a device used to produce music; also : a singing voice
2 a : a means whereby something is achieved, performed, or furthered b : one used by another as a means or aid : dupe, tool
3 : implement; especially : one designed for precision work
4 : a formal legal document (as a deed, bond, or agreement)
5 a : a measuring device for determining the present value of a quantity under observation b : an electrical or mechanical device used in navigating an airplane; especially : such a device used as the sole means of navigating

*closes book*

So to answer your question it can be depending how it’s being used.

Fuckin high.

Man, I hate those commercials. “What would you do for a Klondike bar?”
… Walk to the fuckin freezer.

FIN!

Kotton!

Academic Stoner! Part 1.

No I’m not going to sit here and bore you with my academic accolades as a stoner, you don’t want to read all of that, it’s a long list. Sorry if I forgot to tell you I’m a genius.

Anywho, Academic Stoner is a band name I came up with. I have a slew I jot down every now and then and thought I would share some with you. Part 1 means I have a shit ton of names. Enjoy and feel free to share yours with me bitches. I’ll give you 15 in each part.

  • Crisp Worm
  • Coalition Of The Digestive Goggle
  • Pyramid Yogurt
  • Sexual South
  • Long Aftermath And The Apologetic Fusion
  • Entertainment Of The Uprising Gnat
  • Broiled Priest
  • Motivated Mediocrity
  • Moldy Glimpse And The Horned Tragedy
  •  Right-wing Of The Incoming
  • Typical Ordinance And The Deaf Path
  • Snatch N’ Sniff
  • Adult-oriented Kneecap
  • Lubricated Patriot
  • Angst’n’Ankhs – Egyptian Emo Band – ha!

I’m high and River Monsters makes me want to fish the world.

FIN!

Kotton!

You get what you got! Shit! Ha!

Next one in this series is Clam Whistle Part 2.