Work Is Kicking My Ass
I don’t have a lot of energy in the evenings, lately. Work is pretty crazy, with one crisis following hot on the heels of another. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I have a good job that pays well, and I’m paid fairly for what I do. But when you get home at night and send your dog a meeting invite to play fetch (complete with agenda), it’s time to rack up some couch time.
And what better way to spend time on the couch than to watch the late 70’s anti-PCP movie, Death Drug, starring Philip Michael Thomas. This movie teaches you everything you need to know about PCP: You buy it on a tennis court, it makes you hallucinate black cowboys, and grocery shopping is about a million times more interesting when you’re on it. The entire world owes Philip Michael Thomas a debt of gratitude. If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t know how hilarious angel dust can be.
There is no person in that video who has hair that doesn’t suck donkey balls.
Enjoy your couch time. You have earned it.
Yeah, personally, I think those hairstyles were only good for one thing: Shoplifting. I bet you could hide a couple of baked hams in PMT’s ‘do.
I dunno. I kind of support a drug that makes shopping less mundane.
I’m right there with you. One time I went to the store after freebasing Clorox and Zima, and it was fucking intense. I came home covered in feathers. I think I was at the grocery store.
That’s what I’m talking about. Feathers means you managed to eat either a chicken or a molting drag queen. Either way, you got home full and don’t need to shop again until tomorrow.
I’m trying to remember what show that dude was on, but I can’t be bothered looking it up. I’ve often felt like doing those things in a grocery store, mostly because of the prices, not because of angel dust.
When your dog answers your invite with an acceptance, including his own agenda, you will know you need more than couch time.
Yep, Philip Michael Thomas is known for having starred in Miami Vice (1984 – 1990), and asking for spare change outside the liquor store (1991 – present).
Was that first guy foaming at the mouth, or did he just rage out mid-shave?
I swear when that black dude was pulling his spiders off, I heard him say, “Lee Iacocca!”
I once had a guy slip some PCP into marijuana without me knowing. I could feel the fucking cells in my eyeballs chirping. I was three of myself, and kept saying, “It’s just like being on TV!” whatever the fuck that meant. After an hour, I had to walk back home and past my parents. I have no idea how I managed to not look fucking lit up as hell. I ate something that appeared to be pasta, then retired to my room, where my shut off radio talked to me for way longer than I would have preferred.
Yeah, a friend of mine got dusted and said that everything was so slo-mo that he couldn’t look at the other side of the room: It would have taken forever for his head to turn to that side. When his mom called downstairs to tell him that the phone was for him, he overcompensated and wound up sounding like a fucking chipmunk on speed. One the phone was the guy who sold him the weed.
“Byyyyyyyy the wayyyyyyyyyy, that shiiiiiiiiiit is duuuuuuuuuusted!”
Then he had to go upstairs to eat dinner with his family.
I was past me, present me, and future me. I think if I’d known I’d been given something more than just weed, I’d have freaked out completely and gotten caught. The next time I smoked weed, I was like, “uh … why can’t I hear birds?”