CULTIVATED INFLUENCE

27 September, 2011

This blog is dedicated to lame, non-conversationalist, content-with-collecting-my-unemployment-check ass clowns who have nothing better to discuss with the world than their zonked-out experiences taken place on irrational plateaus.

I am by no means a D.A.R.E. instructor. We all have our vices. Feel free to do whatever narcotics that you desire, it isn’t a concern of mine. However, I do not at all wish to reexamine your “trips” with you or the inebriated fantasies that accompany them.

“Bad stories, bad stories, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they’re told to you?”

When some dingbat begins a lame story reminiscing upon some clouded memory of drunkenness or any sort of inebriation, I try my best to show my displeasure by swiftly switching my facial expression to one of confusion, anguish and utter bewilderness, somewhat like the expression I make when I find out a person has yet to see The Matrix.

Be forewarned, I wholeheartedly mean this when I say “get the entire fuck out of my face with your wood tips & broken dreams breath before I hurt you.”

Any girl who smokes Black & Mild’s after the age of 18 is a hoe, by the way.

I have no time to care about your tall tale that has been increasingly embellished the last 11 times it has been told.

Sidenote: One of the worst things in the world, next to terrorism and hidden cell phone fees is having to hear the same terrible story twice.

But yo. Fuck everyone starting their exaggerated tales with —

“Dude, I got so high last night and ate everything in sight.”

“I don’t even remember where I left my car, man.”

Cool story bro.

Story introductions like those are guaranteed nap catalysts for me. I’d probably fall asleep and wake up in time to tell you about my dream before you’re done yapping.

Son, do you know how fucking foolish and unintelligent you sound when you tell stories of your incoherent weekend?

And noooooo oneeeee of importance cares! Except maybe your boss.

You dummies are the type who get high and let robot Facebook accounts tag you in pictures of shoes. Shoes with color-ways that don’t even exist in real life yet…and while you dirtbags are smoking & ingesting things to temporarily alleviate your problems, there’s someone out there working their ass off to become one.

Word!

Oh, and if you have to be high to enjoy something, say music or any other form of entertainment (i.e. Wiz Khalifa – Rolling Papers album), it’s probably trash. Only people who disagree with that have parents who have to get high to enjoy their kids.

I’m out though. Don’t debate me about this blog if you’ve never gotten a girl naked on Skype during normal business hours.

Like always, be safe, stay great, and quit following your heart according to Zodiac signs.

-SG

P.S. Dudes whose last five tagged Facebook photos are of flamboyant sneakers will use condoms past their expiration date without a care in the world.

Follow me on Twitter @SpencerGlover

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