Most days, I find that assholes are funnier than cunts...

On Thursday, Flippin Wench, and I went to go pick up Hancock from work (she owed us several hot fudge sundaes...passing up ice cream would be almost as sacreligious in the stoner community, as say, fucking yourself with a statue of the Virgin Mary).

We were on Niagara St., going the regular speed limit, and hadn't smoked since we had left the Beav. These giant Suzuki's were right next to us, popping up and making a scene in the opposite lane. Apparently, I was not the only person fixated on the spectacle, because the guy in front of us, slammed on the brakes in his BIG ASS Buick, faster than we could stop. We smashed head first into him, and for a brief moment, I thought my head had fallen off...

Like the total stoner that I am, I had terrible dreams about the situation the whole night. If we didn't have our seat belts on, things could and would have been a lot worse, and if we were stoned, it could have been fatal. I've been dodging bullets my whole life, and yet everytime I get that urge to start questioning my beliefs, I disprove all points once again, and just end up depressed...

A few minutes after everything happened, the guy tried to get away without exchanging information, he probably didn't have any insurance, and mentioned something about it being his brother's car. We were so shaken, we had grabbed his license plate number, and drove back to my house, waiting for my uncle to show up and figure out all the damages, and forgot to look around the car to see if anything important had fallen off. I ended up going with Reno to pick Hancock up from work, making a few 'listen to what happened to me' phone calls that I think are only allowable in circumstances like a car accident, or anything equally detrimental.

Once Oshawa got out of work, we all met up at the bar across from Starbucks, got stoned and played hunky touch match games in the corner. I was overly excited about the CD selection in the jukebox, playing at least three songs on Phantom Power, some classic Clapton, and Marley...

My new favorite song, is Bob Dylan's "Hurricane"...i haven't stopped listening to it since Flippin Wench burned it on her spiffy Sony Vaio...

Today unintentionally became our smoked out day of the month...we made some super special brownie snacks, and then bought a bucket of wings, that we devoured in less than ten minutes...

I've decided to amuse myself with more worthwile competition, because most days, I find that assholes are funnier than cunts...

I told myself that I wouldn't read anymore blogs, and start catching up on some worthwile literature, but this one rocked my senses...I've been there a million times, so I might consider myself more of a native, than an onlooker. I've never encountered such a brilliant tourist interpretation of the place...it's so surreal, to think that sort of atmosphere would attract people drawn to a natural wonder...

Brucio.com was finally updated just a tad bit, I'm really excited about seeing how it's going to turn out...after examining Craig's blog, and The Hip's page, it's no wonder Bruce wants a piece of the action. The Boo Quintet has decided we're going to start selling Fabio t-shirts, (oh and from now on in, any anal shots will get you removed from the bruce fan list, for, at least five seconds...before I laugh and throw you a chocolate graham cracker for your merits)...

I talked to this lovely lady tonight on the telephone, she sounded very "Hollywood". I learned that her dog was a moron, and she had never seen real falling snow...this tempts me to send her a cooler full one day, and throw her dog a bone too, for her K9 is triflin...

And before I go, for time only knows how long, I'll address a few final things...

Sometimes, I'll sit outside with a stolen cigarette, and a glass of diet iced tea, and wonder how beautiful people can feel so terrible about themselves. I know what it's like to go through the "ugly" stage, but now that i'm becoming more comfortable in most situations, I can't help but think about the sort of advice I might give to a kid that's going through a lot of what I did at their age. Telling someone to love themselves, is like giving advice on physical taste...it can't be done...

Last week we decided that we had grown out of a certain phase, and the next day, we were back to gossiping, like two little squirrels gathering nuts...Things are always going to be that way...if there wasn't fluctuation, there wouldn't be any conflict...

And you know how much I love conflict...apparently, someone loves it more than I, but as we say in the super secret group, sometimes, the jar needs to be open for some people to apply the vaseline...