Are you? Really? Dude, please . . . don't harsh my mellow.*
That dog wouldn't recognize your toasted ass if you were knocking on their door with the same fervor and desperation with which you send texts.
Lamest--and most transparent--excuse, ever.
Oh, and speaking of high school: smoking weed is fucking embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as talking and/or tweeting about it.
You're the same idiot today--probably a little worse for wear--that you were a million years ago taking up space at hardcore shows/gettin' railed on TV. Please disappear again. And quick. This shit's starting to lose it's entertainment value.
P.S. Quit yelling, you fucking grown up.
*You're joking, right? Tell me you're joking. (I'm using the word 'joke' loosely here, by the way; very loosely.) Those words actually came out of your bowl-sucking mouth? Who the fuck convinced you that saying shit like that is cool or even remotely acceptable in normal conversation. Like you said, brosef--or whatever weird pseudo-language you use to fit in with your latest group of friends--your five years are up. Get an adult vocabulary. And a fucking anonymous proxy. God.
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