Me= total weenie this weekend. Not even a weenie, more like a Tofurkey Dog or some other sort of lame meat-like substitute. Maybe even a saggy bag of South Beach Diet certified trail mix from the Wheatsville Co-Op. Not only would it cost you 97 dollars on the scale, but you would have to wade through the stench of pseudo-Hippie dreams that permeate that place. Stop acting so snooty Wheatsville Co-op, I'm an artist dammit! Yes, yes, I think the movie "Slacker" is great too.
Example: last night I was lulled to sleep by the mediocre comedy stylings of the new SNL cast. Tina Fey is preggers so she's not doing the weekend update anymore. Who gets pregnant nowadays? People who are intricately involved in black-market baby-snatching rings, that's who. Not to cast stones, but Ms. "Fey" has a googly eye and a mysterious scar. Obviously she's been through some shit. She was probably discovered cradling a Moroccan baby and a hooka full of hasheesh (which should be considered baby-trading currency as far as I'm concerned.)
Can't we all just get along? And by "just get along," I mean trade all babies for hasheesh. And by "trade all babies for Hasheesh," I mean get single and high. And by "single and high" I mean lose all romantic attachments and your sense of sanity. And by "lose all romantic attachments and sense of sanity" I mean be me.