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You know what i hate?

As much as I hate thrip, I hate more watching thrip hump on my weed! The ol' in-and-out, in-and-out. I'm going to wind up smoking the wet-spot because bug fuckers do not clean up after themselves.
But I love squishing them in mid thrust. Or whatever action they take. Never seen thrip do it on the Discovery Channel.
 
Sean, neighbor. You are a dick. I have allowed you to leave on your own, without subtle cattle prodding from me. I appreciate that.
However! When you tell me the wax you are giving me for a recent history is the best in the shop, make sure the price is not on it and remember I know the difference between top and bottom shelf.
What is more is you drooling all over my floor while your hand is propping you up on the edge of my kitchen sink and asking where the sink is. Then leaving a few minutes later because you think the dab is giving you an aneurism, without thought of the trail-to-puddle of drool you have left on my floor.
And finally, if you decide to e-cig your nasty grape Swisher smelling shit in my house, I will install your little device inside your urethra. You'll really dig puffing on that.
 
Im super cereal..............soo confused.......or maybe just super high.......either way I.......we deserve clarity bromagnon.
 
Sean was having mommy issues and focused in on me as a safe haven. I introduced him to dabbing and listen to his mommy issues.
He popped up, today, with a gram of pretty good stuff. He came in and told me more about how his mom was getting on his case about his future. He's 21. Military won't accept someone on Xanax. Says he's going to start school next semester. He won't. Instead, he's traveling around to find himself.
The gram is a decent gram. I gave him kudos. But he tried to sell me the idea the gram was top tier. Whatever. I finally set hip up with a dab, and the fun began. Bend over. Aneurism. Drool. See-ya.
 
Oh. He is also a dick for the way he treats and talks about his mom. Folks around here hear him scream at her. Not her at him.
He is bothered because they were told they can get rid of their dog, or they can move. Dick doesn't walk the dog because he doesn't want to pick up poop. He's kind of dainty like that. Mom can't take the dog for a walk because she won't let her. Dog gets to work on the patio. Sometimes the pee will go straight down the patio drain which is directly above another tenant's car. Otherwise, the nasty is washed down the drain. Patio washing is usually done in the morning when people are going to their cars for work. I have to say I would turn gelatinous with rage should someone wash me over with pee without permission.
My car is one thing. I would get upset. But not gelatinous.
 
You know what I hate............. hurricanes. Got the boats double tied and fingers crossed we don't get too much tide surge.
 
Had you headed towards San Diego when you said you would, you would not be in a hurricane, hhhmmmmmmm?
But seriously. Batten things down. You have weed and weed paraphernalia in your go-bag, hmm?
 
After turning 18, my folks only let me stay with them twice. Once was when I had had serum hepatitis and was recovering. My liver function was down around 40% and I had seriously yellow skin and eyes from the jaundice. That lasted about 2 months. The other time they let me stay with them was when my mom said if you attend the local community college full time, you can stay with us. Turned out I wasn't applying myself seriously enough and they turned their poor boy out again. Shit, I got an A, a B and a C in the academic classes as well as an A in Gymnastics. Fuck. I'm an HSDO (High School Drop Out). I got thrown out of the entire Los Angeles School District (122 high schools at the time) in my senior year, 1968. I've always wondered if perhaps my folks felt some slight shred of guilt or remorse about having taken me, their beamish boy (along with my 3 1/2 joints of very shitty weed), straight down to the cop shop (that would be the LAPD) and saying "He's fucking out of control. Do something with him."

In my perhaps not particularly humble opinion and all things being equal, I believe kids, really young adults, should have to at least participate in their own damn upkeep. For me, it was a good thing to be forced to meet reality. Where's my bong...
 
Sean, Sean, Sean. Looks like you will be spending some time in jail. Following your mom around the apartments, yelling at her and knocking on other peoples' doors who have door cameras is inappropriate and unacceptable. I don't know why you did it, but it is still inappropriate and unacceptable.
Maybe I should have stepped up and given you the drugs and alcohol talk. Xanax, alcohol, and weed are not good for someone who has recently been diagnosed with an unspecified mental illness. Listen to your mom and doctors about that.
We also need to talk about yelling at your mom. Don't.
If you return for solace and refuge, I am forced to deny you.
MI aside, get your poop in a group and man up.
And never yell at your mom unless it's to tell her to get out of the way of an oncoming train. A real train. Not Soul Train. Not Coltrane. A real train.
B' by, now...
 
Honestly, Gingerbeard, I fear for that young man. Can't really call him a boy. As my old friend Will Slayton used to say, education is only good when it takes, and that has to come from inside the person.

Good luck to the both of you.
 
I hate my last 5 vape/cart purchases:

1. disposable 1/2 g, early battery failure, lot of oil left
2. rechargeable disposable, one recharge and done, oil remaining, 1/2 g
3. same as #2, different strain
4. full gram. I have to practically give it a bj to make it work, credit due
5. Blue Dream, great cart. took it to bed, only used on day of purchase. Woke up to empty palm vape batt, still can't find beloved BD cart.
 
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