That Guy Over There Definitely Has Bud

That Guy Over There Definitely Has Bud

February 7, 2019

So here’s the setup: It’ Friday night, you call me over to smake before the show, I come over with a half-O Gorilla Glue, you’ve got straight up 8-month flowered Haze for the occasion, and we roll a thick couple of Philly B’s, just killer stogies like mobsters, so we can put up with this crazy charade, and what do we do? We leave them in the freakin’ Uber! The driver’s gonna think it was her tip! I’ll never ride in a Yugo again. Man, now it’s go-time.

See that guy over there, with the huge hair and dark glasses? That guy totally has some bud. I mean, look at him. Hasn’t groomed his thin beard in weeks, obviously wearing the same pants he did yesterday. And his eyes--did you see his eyes? Guy’s grinning way too hard at his hand of Skittles. Huzzah. You see that? Look, look -- but don’t be obvious. He just ate all of ‘em, that whole bag. See that? He just ate that whole bag of Skittles in one bite. Huh. That’s what I’m sayin!

So should I ask? I mean, what the hell are we doing out here man? Who forgets to at least bring a satchel backup? We deserve this! We deserve to suffer through an hour and half of the world’s shittiest rock band with just a drink or two. What? Ten bucks! Ok, one drink. Highway robbery, man!

Now is our chance! That guy is lookin’ at us. He can tell we’re sniffin’ out satchels. He knows we’re sweatin’ over here, pondering a world without the dankety dank. Woah, woah. He just pulled out purp, I saw it. He knows Purp, he must! You think he got it at Purp’s Purp? Should I ask?

Ok, I’m going over there. You can stay here and mope about your neighbor’s stupid band, or drink prices, or that weirdo that keeps spilling on you. But I’m turning dude over there into my best friend, and we’ll be smakin’ a doober outside before you can say “wallahallaboozle.” What? Yea, I just made that up. Look at my arm brother, I got goosebumps.

Watch for my signal. Thumbs up, join us. Thumbs down means no dice, I’m outta here. Tell your neighbor sorry, but her tuba-accordion death metal band is just, it’s just--terrible.