When I was 12 I sold Christian aka Jasper aka Rodney an eighth of oregano.
Sorry blud.
When I was 15, I mixed a little bit of weed with Newport tobacco, rolled it into joints, and sold them to a 14-year-old acquaintance. He never knew the difference until I told him years later.
I regret nothing.
Yeah, I figure with the super strong skunk that's around these days kids must be doing this kind of thing all the time, passing it off as some homegrown or 'bushweed' or whatever.
When I was 12, green was very hard to come by and almost everybody had solids. If Rodney had been up on his ish, he would have been sus that I had any to sell at all, let alone that it smelt like pizza.
These days, I bet you could mix a little super skunk with oregano, grated parmesan, and sundried tomato, and sell it to teh youths as artisanal farm-to-table sustainable free-range weed.
I confess that I find this funny, despite the fact that we're not supposed to be talking about hipsters and hipsterism any more:
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When I was 12 I sold Christian aka Jasper aka Rodney an eighth of oregano.
Sorry blud.
When I was 15, I mixed a little bit of weed with Newport tobacco, rolled it into joints, and sold them to a 14-year-old acquaintance. He never knew the difference until I told him years later.
I regret nothing.
Yeah, I figure with the super strong skunk that's around these days kids must be doing this kind of thing all the time, passing it off as some homegrown or 'bushweed' or whatever.
When I was 12, green was very hard to come by and almost everybody had solids. If Rodney had been up on his ish, he would have been sus that I had any to sell at all, let alone that it smelt like pizza.
Definitely bought some fake hash when we were younger. But if yer dude goes off for 3 hours to score and then comes back with something suspect that 6 of you managed to scrape together a tenner for, then of course you are smoking it.
That's all part of growing up. Otherwise shit like this happens: 2 years ago somebody asked me to get them a dime bag. Guess how much they were expecting to pay.
Hipster lorem ipsum
Need some "artisanal text filler" for your latest project? Hipster Ipsum provides dummy text in two great flavors: "Hipster w/ a shot of Latin" and "Hipster, neat."
Organic sustainable lomo, +1 irony McSweeney's skateboard Portland PBR tattooed farm-to-table Terry Richardson Williamsburg. Organic farm-to-table wolf, next level shit put a bird on it freegan American Apparel Williamsburg chambray gentrify viral you probably haven't heard of them keffiyeh Cosby sweater. Pitchfork photo booth fuck, DIY cardigan messenger bag butcher Thundercats tofu you probably haven't heard of them whatever squid VHS put a bird on it. Thundercats fixie Williamsburg, photo booth synth vinyl dreamcatcher Wes Anderson cliche. You probably haven't heard of them DIY mlkshk biodiesel McSweeney's raw denim. Skateboard Pitchfork Etsy, photo booth messenger bag artisan raw denim beard Tumblr retro Austin. Wes Anderson sustainable keffiyeh, blog lomo craft beer cliche brunch homo skateboard biodiesel fanny pack Pitchfork you probably haven't heard of them Stumptown.
copied and pasted from a facebook 'about me' section?
OK, a confessional that reads less like wasn't I a bad arse, and more like wasn't I a dumb arse;
Me and friends who dropped out of school used to go to ID Parades for the ??20.
One day we line up, and the scrote that's led in is our mate Wiley (cue sniggers from the whole line-up as we all try and hide the fact that we know him from the rozzers).
Luckily for Wiley, one of us looked just like him, and Wiley's accuser picked the wrong guy.
Paid, we left the cop shop and wandered into town, and not content with enough cash to pick up some weed, fags and a pint, got caught shoplifting.
Isn't "terial" an actual piece of West-coast slang, though? Somebody on here (Jonny, maybe? Jinx?) used to use it on occasion.
But yeah, I always thought "Deep Cover" was "Tonight's the night like Betty White / and I'm chillin'", and I'm still incapable of hearing "Move On Up" as anything other than "Take nothing less / than the second-best" (which makes no fucking sense) or hearing the first line of "September" as anything other than "Do you remember / when it was like September?" (which I like a lot better than the real line, actually--it's more evocative).
Back when I was younger and hungrier and spent all my time On the Run Eatin', I stopped up two antique-store toilets in one day. The first time, I just paid a buck or whatever for my VG- Rattlesnake and coolly exited; the second time, I grabbed my lady and left like I was being chased, on some "Foggy Mountain Breakdown" shit.
At this very moment, the two records at the front of my visible stacks are Funkadelic's first jernt and some Chiburban library's de-accessioned copy of the Moonlighting soundtrack.
Until I was like seven, I thought sex involved some kind of adhesive.
When I was a mid-teen and buying a rayon shirt in my semi-rural town's "urban" clothier, Fashions Of New York (or it may have been New York Fashions, the second store two doors down that was owned and operated by the exact same family, and existed only to create the illusion of competition), the sales associate who was tailing me through the store asked what I planned to wear it with. I was too embarassed to admit that, like everything else I owned, I was gonna wear it with hobo-style jeans and combat boots, so I spent an endless-seeming two minutes stammering and fabricating an outfit that seemed like something somebody cool might wear: "Oh, you know, probably with, like, um, some, uh...olive pants? With, like pleats? And, like, a, um...a belt? A black one? With, you know, like a metal tip on it? And, and, and maybe like a hat?" (Note: It occurs to me in retrosepct that I may have been describing dude from Rap City and/or Ecstasy from Whodini.)
I wore a pith helmet socially on a couple occasions in the eighties. The late eighties.
I believe in my heart of hearts that no one east of the Rockies needs any Zapp album past II (with a possible dispensation made for Roger's Bridging The Gap).
A few years ago during a visit, my mom presented me with a pair of sandals. Now, I would bite my grandmother before I'd ever wear a pair of fucking sandals (no offense to my man JRoot, who I know gets down like that--it's a lifestyle choice, I understand), but at the same time, I was afraid that my mom might ask to see them during some later visit (she's like that sometimes), so I didn't feel that I could just get rid of them. I stashed them unworn in our basement storage unit and forgot about them up until the day before we moved, at which point I was seized by a fear that the moving guys would be clowning me in secret, so I made a special trip down to the basement to seal the shoebox with packing tape and write on it "PAPERS, ETC."
One time in middle school I surreptitiously riffled through my female cousin's things because a friend of mine needed to front like he had a girlfriend, and in desperation he'd asked me to steal for him the school picture of one of my cousin's friends. "It doesn't matter who, as long as she's cute and doesn't have braces!"
You know that RUN-DMC live move where Run is on one side of the stage in a b-boy stance and D's on the other in his stance, and they both strut toward the middle and high-five midstage? In elementary school, my man Brett and I used to do that in the lunchroom to absolutely no response. Tougher Than (Fruit) Leather.
Fashions Of New York (or it may have been New York Fashions, the second store two doors down that was owned and operated by the exact same family, and existed only to create the illusion of competition)
On some Cinco de Mayo/Putumayo shit. "Numero uno...de Mayo!"
I was seized by a fear that the moving guys would be clowning me in secret, so I made a special trip down to the basement to seal the shoebox with packing tape and write on it "PAPERS, ETC.".
You know that RUN-DMC live move where Run is on one side of the stage in a b-boy stance and D's on the other in his stance, and they both strut toward the middle and high-five midstage? In elementary school, my man Brett and I used to do that in the lunchroom to absolutely no response.
Me and a friend used to have some Bambaata greeting along the same lines. I know the line "Peace to the World" was involved somewhere.
I am told he had a nervous breakdown and all his mullet fell out and he became some, like, hunt saboteur.
Just because I beat him to the only copy of Tania Maria's "Lady from Brasil" in 1986 or whatever.
I wore a pith helmet socially on a couple occasions in the eighties. The late eighties.
This is painful.
Nothing to be worried about, this guy got you covered
I mean, game recognize game and everything, but for the record, my steez was less Moebius cosplay (or whatever that dude in the picture is putting down) and more suburbanized post-Native-Tongue trickle-down. Beads may have been involved. And perhaps a staff. I really can't say any more.
I wore a pith helmet socially on a couple occasions in the eighties. The late eighties.
This is painful.
Nothing to be worried about, this guy got you covered
Just realised you might think that's ME that got you covered. Joke out of the window.
Allright, confession of my own.
For some time in my teens, i believed Parker to be the bass player, and Mingus the saxophonist.
Still telling friends about how great they were.
/confession
Comments
These days, I bet you could mix a little super skunk with oregano, grated parmesan, and sundried tomato, and sell it to teh youths as artisanal farm-to-table sustainable free-range weed.
Hipster lorem ipsum
Need some "artisanal text filler" for your latest project? Hipster Ipsum provides dummy text in two great flavors: "Hipster w/ a shot of Latin" and "Hipster, neat."
Organic sustainable lomo, +1 irony McSweeney's skateboard Portland PBR tattooed farm-to-table Terry Richardson Williamsburg. Organic farm-to-table wolf, next level shit put a bird on it freegan American Apparel Williamsburg chambray gentrify viral you probably haven't heard of them keffiyeh Cosby sweater. Pitchfork photo booth fuck, DIY cardigan messenger bag butcher Thundercats tofu you probably haven't heard of them whatever squid VHS put a bird on it. Thundercats fixie Williamsburg, photo booth synth vinyl dreamcatcher Wes Anderson cliche. You probably haven't heard of them DIY mlkshk biodiesel McSweeney's raw denim. Skateboard Pitchfork Etsy, photo booth messenger bag artisan raw denim beard Tumblr retro Austin. Wes Anderson sustainable keffiyeh, blog lomo craft beer cliche brunch homo skateboard biodiesel fanny pack Pitchfork you probably haven't heard of them Stumptown.
Sorry, Tom.
Definitely bought some fake hash when we were younger. But if yer dude goes off for 3 hours to score and then comes back with something suspect that 6 of you managed to scrape together a tenner for, then of course you are smoking it.
That's all part of growing up. Otherwise shit like this happens: 2 years ago somebody asked me to get them a dime bag. Guess how much they were expecting to pay.
copied and pasted from a facebook 'about me' section?
Me and friends who dropped out of school used to go to ID Parades for the ??20.
One day we line up, and the scrote that's led in is our mate Wiley (cue sniggers from the whole line-up as we all try and hide the fact that we know him from the rozzers).
Luckily for Wiley, one of us looked just like him, and Wiley's accuser picked the wrong guy.
Paid, we left the cop shop and wandered into town, and not content with enough cash to pick up some weed, fags and a pint, got caught shoplifting.
Proper bell-ends, the lot of us.
Four-letter feeling
b/w
I see barbarian walking away
I thought LL was talking about Shakespeare or some shit.
"Hush hush...keep it down now. This is scary."
Never even connected the dots on the actual name of the song. *~confession~*
I thought Madonna was singing "I'm a terial girl" in "Material Girl," which left me wondering what the fuck "terial" meant.
But yeah, I always thought "Deep Cover" was "Tonight's the night like Betty White / and I'm chillin'", and I'm still incapable of hearing "Move On Up" as anything other than "Take nothing less / than the second-best" (which makes no fucking sense) or hearing the first line of "September" as anything other than "Do you remember / when it was like September?" (which I like a lot better than the real line, actually--it's more evocative).
Back when I was younger and hungrier and spent all my time On the Run Eatin', I stopped up two antique-store toilets in one day. The first time, I just paid a buck or whatever for my VG- Rattlesnake and coolly exited; the second time, I grabbed my lady and left like I was being chased, on some "Foggy Mountain Breakdown" shit.
At this very moment, the two records at the front of my visible stacks are Funkadelic's first jernt and some Chiburban library's de-accessioned copy of the Moonlighting soundtrack.
Until I was like seven, I thought sex involved some kind of adhesive.
When I was a mid-teen and buying a rayon shirt in my semi-rural town's "urban" clothier, Fashions Of New York (or it may have been New York Fashions, the second store two doors down that was owned and operated by the exact same family, and existed only to create the illusion of competition), the sales associate who was tailing me through the store asked what I planned to wear it with. I was too embarassed to admit that, like everything else I owned, I was gonna wear it with hobo-style jeans and combat boots, so I spent an endless-seeming two minutes stammering and fabricating an outfit that seemed like something somebody cool might wear: "Oh, you know, probably with, like, um, some, uh...olive pants? With, like pleats? And, like, a, um...a belt? A black one? With, you know, like a metal tip on it? And, and, and maybe like a hat?" (Note: It occurs to me in retrosepct that I may have been describing dude from Rap City and/or Ecstasy from Whodini.)
I wore a pith helmet socially on a couple occasions in the eighties. The late eighties.
I believe in my heart of hearts that no one east of the Rockies needs any Zapp album past II (with a possible dispensation made for Roger's Bridging The Gap).
A few years ago during a visit, my mom presented me with a pair of sandals. Now, I would bite my grandmother before I'd ever wear a pair of fucking sandals (no offense to my man JRoot, who I know gets down like that--it's a lifestyle choice, I understand), but at the same time, I was afraid that my mom might ask to see them during some later visit (she's like that sometimes), so I didn't feel that I could just get rid of them. I stashed them unworn in our basement storage unit and forgot about them up until the day before we moved, at which point I was seized by a fear that the moving guys would be clowning me in secret, so I made a special trip down to the basement to seal the shoebox with packing tape and write on it "PAPERS, ETC."
One time in middle school I surreptitiously riffled through my female cousin's things because a friend of mine needed to front like he had a girlfriend, and in desperation he'd asked me to steal for him the school picture of one of my cousin's friends. "It doesn't matter who, as long as she's cute and doesn't have braces!"
You know that RUN-DMC live move where Run is on one side of the stage in a b-boy stance and D's on the other in his stance, and they both strut toward the middle and high-five midstage? In elementary school, my man Brett and I used to do that in the lunchroom to absolutely no response. Tougher Than (Fruit) Leather.
This is painful.
On some Cinco de Mayo/Putumayo shit. "Numero uno...de Mayo!"
Funny
Me and a friend used to have some Bambaata greeting along the same lines. I know the line "Peace to the World" was involved somewhere.
I am told he had a nervous breakdown and all his mullet fell out and he became some, like, hunt saboteur.
Just because I beat him to the only copy of Tania Maria's "Lady from Brasil" in 1986 or whatever.
I sleep like a LOG.
Nothing to be worried about, this guy got you covered
I don't like Johnny Cash.
But you don't like anything...
Just realised you might think that's ME that got you covered. Joke out of the window.
Allright, confession of my own.
For some time in my teens, i believed Parker to be the bass player, and Mingus the saxophonist.
Still telling friends about how great they were.
/confession
I don't like anything.