You didn't say we had to say any thing about inflammatory remarks.
While I don't care how much you've smoked, as long as you are feeling stoned and are happy about it, good. I hope most of us feel like that. Good.
I ain't climbing stoned right now because I ain't climbing. Besides, it's thirty-five degrees outside. Who wants to climb in thirty-five degree weather in California? I might make it into the top bunk of a bunk bed. Not much else.
I ain't climbing stoned right now because I ain't climbing. Besides, it's thirty-five degrees outside. Who wants to climb in thirty-five degree weather in California? I might make it into the top bunk of a bunk bed. Not much else.
"Total control now. Tooling along the main drag on a Saturday night in Vegas. Two good old boys in a fire-apple red convertible. Stoned. Ripped. Twisted. Good people."
Even though it has been many, many, many moons since old Fletcher has partaken of the pipes of peace, I love you peeps! Shiny happy people only in the very best sense of the term.
In your honor, I snarfed half of a roll of Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough™ that I cooked up tonight. No burning was involved, just a naturally large appetite and zest for life in general.
Now, please contemplate the following and report back by next Tuesday (double-spaced, in triplicate):
I am not smart enough to understand this, but I told the powers that be that I have top people working on it. THIS MEANS YOU! Please, though, don't blow a gasket trying to solve all at once.
[Thanks to Plaidman in another thread for finding that gem].
Let us know!