Author: ihopandpingpong

-Hello? *cough* -This is Dr. Stephens; I'm looking to speak with Jason Snyder, please. -Oh, uh, this is he and he is me, sir. -Jason, I'm calling to personally commend you on the composition you wrote in my class. It was easily some of the most dynamic and innovative music I've heard in a long time. Where do you get your inspiration? -Uh (13 second pause)Pink Floyd, I guess. They're like...my north star of music, you know? -...are fucking you high right now? *click*

I was going twice the speed limit, tried to pull a left turn, and careened into an 18-wheeler. Then, I put down my controller and grabbed some Cheetos.

Really? Cause I buy it in ounces...

To all the little nugs in my carpet and all the weed I've lost while high. I'm sorry. I miss you. Come home.

Weed. Sincerely, Everybody

I used to wonder why Shaggy was so paranoid, lazy, and hungry. I think I know now.

Fortunately, I chewed it over with Twix. The cop was not amused.

Your dog waits for hours for you to come home. When he needs to go to the bathroom, he has to wait for you to tie his neck up and walk him. His diet consists of dry carbs and water. You chopped his balls off when he was young and every 6 months since, you take him to that same stressful environment. He sleeps on the ground, or else, on a small circle of foam. And he loves you more than you could know. Boys and girls, your homework assignment is to dedicate at least one session to your dog. Get high and spend time with him. Hug him. Feed him cheese sticks. Give him a piggy back ride. Tell him he's beautiful and that he means the world to you. Because, when your dog dies like mine did yesterday, you want to be filled with joyous memories and love. Not regret. Believe me, it hurts.

Weed, a massage chair, some slightly stoopid CDs, Ihop. -Fucking everybody