Pothead Poltergeists
Weigh Down
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Oh, as I am on my way climbing down the wall here and the flower rack, let me just say a word on alcohol. I’m still wondering about whether or not a ghost can get drunk. But on normal drinking…key being you’re alive; its fun. It really is, but be good with it.
Man, that sounded horrible! Shit, I am such a bad influence. But I would be lying, like all the preaching teachers at school it I said anything otherwise.
Seriously. I know it's "killing yourself" when you drink, but I know that I am not going to live forever anyway. I’d been doing a lot of drinking over the summer while feeling lonely, and one time I did way too much. I felt sick all the next day. It really was like the Worst Hangover Ever song – the one by The Offspring. Although it was fun and I don’t regret it. Don’t underestimate drinks. And like Gerard said, and out of experience I can confirm that this is very true, never drink alone and never drink when you are depressed. It can make things worse.
I have a pretty low tolerance, which can be nice because I don’t need much. And also, I’m a girl and higher water content in women’s bodies absorbs alcohol faster than guys. I may be a girl form of Holden Caulfield sometimes, which is not really a good thing mind you, but I don’t think I would get away with looking legal in a bar, and plus the drinking age is now 21 and not 18 like in Holden’s time. Sometimes I envy that guy for it, but I guess it keeps me out of trouble; not that it matters now.
Wow, I am horrible at giving advice. Ok little children, the point is: drink if you want, know you are “poisoning yourself” (like you do everyday with most things because just about everything in the world today will give you cancer), you’re subject to hangover and it’s your own damn fault, don’t get caught, and have fun. That goes for all drugs. Now, as for me, I don’t drink anymore. Just a beer every once in awhile – as in maybe once a month – unlike what used to be everyday.
But right now, well, fuck this, I need a drink. And I know I am a bit of a hypocrite, but this will be ok. I’m not depressed and I’m gonna be out with everyone outside; even though they can’t see me. And I’ll maybe talk to Billie Joe in a little while.
I don’t want to take anything out of Billie Joe’s liquor cabinet without asking so I walk down the road and around a couple of blocks to the liquor store to buy a beer and maybe a little bit more. Well, not buy. I would buy it, but that is sort of hard to do when I’m invisible.
So, I stroll in, go to the back of the store where it’s empty. The whole store is pretty much empty except for a two older looking guys walking around. One is sort of ratty looking. He’s just getting a cheep beer from the looks of it. Oh, and he is also asking for a pack of cigarettes at the counter. The other guy, also middle aged, all decked out in an expensive business suit, is picking out a bottle of high grade vodka. He looks like he needs it too. It’s the same exact thing if you ask me.
When they both leave, I look back to the refrigerator. I’m about to take a few beers out a six pack sitting on a shelf not in the refrigerator, but then I think about it. I want a cold beer dammit, so I decide to give the cashier a little scare. I open the fridge door, grab two tallboys, and stuff them behind the cover of my jacket.
I see the guy look up curiously from behind the counter. Look at him, with his stupid pug nose face. He meanders over and peers cautiously about and behind into the isle. I was in a tiptoe over to the magazine rack. I grab a Playboy which he doesn’t notice as I walk out. That was easy. The guy was left looking pretty damn silly wondering what the fuck happened. “The wind?” he scratched his chin, and then I was out of hearing distance. I should have taken this break earlier.
I walk towards the park. It’s a few streets behind Billie’s house so I start to walk back that direction. I shove one tall boy in my pocket; it sticks out. But it’s cold! I wipe off the sweat around the can and wrap the backside of the Playboy around it and hold it in my jacket while I pop open the other can.
“Why a Playboy when I am a girl?” you ask. Well, let me tell you this. Playgirl is a bad, bad magazine. It’s filled with guys who are hot to thirty-year-old women, and I personally find it disgusting. Sorry. If the guys were younger and dressed as punk as the girls are on Suicide Girls.com then maybe, but in general, I don’t really want to see a guy’s dick unless I am in love with the face. Billie Joe counts in the category.
But wait, oh yeah, I’ve seen him pull his pants down, stick his hand down his pants during Hitch’n a Ride and wear a leopard print thong when playing his little game of king for a day; all of which at concerts and on more than one occasion. And this was in front of thousands of people. Oh, and we saw all of Billie on an old video of the first tour or so when he was nineteen. I’m good with that, and I don’t need to see Brad Pitt’s thank you very much.
Plus, I find it much hotter to look at girls. They are a hell of a lot prettier, especially on Suicide Girls (I don’t even have a membership to that site). So, I will enjoy this Playboy and this beer thank you very much (even though these girls are all a little plastic, I can deal with it though).
Oh, as I am on my way climbing down the wall here and the flower rack, let me just say a word on alcohol. I’m still wondering about whether or not a ghost can get drunk. But on normal drinking…key being you’re alive; its fun. It really is, but be good with it.
Man, that sounded horrible! Shit, I am such a bad influence. But I would be lying, like all the preaching teachers at school it I said anything otherwise.
Seriously. I know it's "killing yourself" when you drink, but I know that I am not going to live forever anyway. I’d been doing a lot of drinking over the summer while feeling lonely, and one time I did way too much. I felt sick all the next day. It really was like the Worst Hangover Ever song – the one by The Offspring. Although it was fun and I don’t regret it. Don’t underestimate drinks. And like Gerard said, and out of experience I can confirm that this is very true, never drink alone and never drink when you are depressed. It can make things worse.
I have a pretty low tolerance, which can be nice because I don’t need much. And also, I’m a girl and higher water content in women’s bodies absorbs alcohol faster than guys. I may be a girl form of Holden Caulfield sometimes, which is not really a good thing mind you, but I don’t think I would get away with looking legal in a bar, and plus the drinking age is now 21 and not 18 like in Holden’s time. Sometimes I envy that guy for it, but I guess it keeps me out of trouble; not that it matters now.
Wow, I am horrible at giving advice. Ok little children, the point is: drink if you want, know you are “poisoning yourself” (like you do everyday with most things because just about everything in the world today will give you cancer), you’re subject to hangover and it’s your own damn fault, don’t get caught, and have fun. That goes for all drugs. Now, as for me, I don’t drink anymore. Just a beer every once in awhile – as in maybe once a month – unlike what used to be everyday.
But right now, well, fuck this, I need a drink. And I know I am a bit of a hypocrite, but this will be ok. I’m not depressed and I’m gonna be out with everyone outside; even though they can’t see me. And I’ll maybe talk to Billie Joe in a little while.
I don’t want to take anything out of Billie Joe’s liquor cabinet without asking so I walk down the road and around a couple of blocks to the liquor store to buy a beer and maybe a little bit more. Well, not buy. I would buy it, but that is sort of hard to do when I’m invisible.
So, I stroll in, go to the back of the store where it’s empty. The whole store is pretty much empty except for a two older looking guys walking around. One is sort of ratty looking. He’s just getting a cheep beer from the looks of it. Oh, and he is also asking for a pack of cigarettes at the counter. The other guy, also middle aged, all decked out in an expensive business suit, is picking out a bottle of high grade vodka. He looks like he needs it too. It’s the same exact thing if you ask me.
When they both leave, I look back to the refrigerator. I’m about to take a few beers out a six pack sitting on a shelf not in the refrigerator, but then I think about it. I want a cold beer dammit, so I decide to give the cashier a little scare. I open the fridge door, grab two tallboys, and stuff them behind the cover of my jacket.
I see the guy look up curiously from behind the counter. Look at him, with his stupid pug nose face. He meanders over and peers cautiously about and behind into the isle. I was in a tiptoe over to the magazine rack. I grab a Playboy which he doesn’t notice as I walk out. That was easy. The guy was left looking pretty damn silly wondering what the fuck happened. “The wind?” he scratched his chin, and then I was out of hearing distance. I should have taken this break earlier.
I walk towards the park. It’s a few streets behind Billie’s house so I start to walk back that direction. I shove one tall boy in my pocket; it sticks out. But it’s cold! I wipe off the sweat around the can and wrap the backside of the Playboy around it and hold it in my jacket while I pop open the other can.
“Why a Playboy when I am a girl?” you ask. Well, let me tell you this. Playgirl is a bad, bad magazine. It’s filled with guys who are hot to thirty-year-old women, and I personally find it disgusting. Sorry. If the guys were younger and dressed as punk as the girls are on Suicide Girls.com then maybe, but in general, I don’t really want to see a guy’s dick unless I am in love with the face. Billie Joe counts in the category.
But wait, oh yeah, I’ve seen him pull his pants down, stick his hand down his pants during Hitch’n a Ride and wear a leopard print thong when playing his little game of king for a day; all of which at concerts and on more than one occasion. And this was in front of thousands of people. Oh, and we saw all of Billie on an old video of the first tour or so when he was nineteen. I’m good with that, and I don’t need to see Brad Pitt’s thank you very much.
Plus, I find it much hotter to look at girls. They are a hell of a lot prettier, especially on Suicide Girls (I don’t even have a membership to that site). So, I will enjoy this Playboy and this beer thank you very much (even though these girls are all a little plastic, I can deal with it though).