Once upon a time, I used to be that guy that would check the internet for random holidays and annoy the shit out of people celebrating them.
National Cupcake Day? Sounds good to me.
National Piss Off Your Co-Worker Day? Why limit that to one day? I did this by breathing every single day. I once got poked in the eye by a female co-worker for the simple reason of me doing my job. Got a nifty pair of goggles by that is another tale.
National Prostitutes Day- I used to celebrate this but not anymore. I don’t think I’m still for sale but I sure as hell am not crusty enough to be buying yet.
So this week I am going to proclaim National Crack Cocaine Week. I am not really sure why it should be this week. I mean Bobby Brown was born in February and Whitney Houston was born in August. The crack mayor from the 1990s Marion Barry was born in March.
So why Crack Week? Why should it be right now? All of my actions this week have led me to crack. I have not personally smoked crack in more than a decade, nor do I have any burning desire to do so. Yet if I were pulled over earlier this week by a cop I would have quite a bit of difficulty explaining myself. My truth is their fiction.
It all started so innocently. Boy meets boy. Boys get weed. Boys smoke a bong hit. Boy gets a bit too high. Boy asks what is in this. Boy gets told freebase. Boy is older than the internet so he has no clue. Innocence gone.
Boy hits a car going 2 miles per hour. Lady in other car has a hissy fit. Cops come. Boy bats his eyes and pleads innocence. Cop tells boy (me) to go fuck my friend. I say no he’s not into me. Cop says your friend wants it real bad. Friend doesn’t believe me. Cop then flicks his tongue in and out at us in a manner that reminded me of Gene Simmons. Friend believes me.
So that is my history. That is my first time. I know some of you will say freebase is not crack to which I say YOU ARE A CRACKHEAD.
Back to the present……
I had a rather unfortunate event with my glass bong last weekend. I yanked it from underneath my kitchen cabinet directly upward and destruction was upon me.
Then at the same time I somehow threw out the only screen I had for it into the garbage. I checked my two faucets. They were barren of screens. So now logic would dictate I just buy a screen with the bong but no. I just bought a bong by itself.
Then I was just down to some shake left in my bag o’ weed. So instead of going back to where I bought the bong I thought oh I should just buy some Chore Boy. In my head I remember it as not having so many holes in it. So I threw my shake in there with the Chore. It utterly failed. I did have a flashback to smoking crack, not an urge per-say, just well Chore Boy does have a unique taste on its own.
So now I’m stuck with this.
At least if a random crackhead comes out of the woods and somehow gets into my apartment they will have something useful to steal. I’m seriously considering sticking it in a bowl with 1000 pennies so they’d have another amusement. Copper for the win BABY!!!
So then this new bong had a stem I did not like. (I did not break the old stem). It was too long and thin. So I decided to execute it in my sink. I thought it would break into a million pieces but instead I ended up with this. The STEMASAURUS!!!
By SpaceDog