Hands Up
Which of you filthy miscreants are dirty marijuana smokers? There will be a fair proportion I'm sure. Marijuana is like a steroid for the muscle of procrastination. The anchor on the good ship Lazy Town. I'm not for one moment inferring that procrastination is confined to the habitual herbal healer, but it certainly doesn't help the situation.

My friends tend to be a similar flavour. A lovely well intentioned, but at heart, gleefully lazy bunch of cretins. In the spirit of this QOTW it seems pertinent to put off the more damning accusation of a lifetime of treading water, treating ambition like one might treat a leprosy infected Ian Huntley, wallowing in the cess of the maudlin mundane, a life that seems to practically bend you over and demand you spend an inordinately larger amount of your time intoxicated than sober...we shall save it for another time! Let us favour a more anecdotal approach!

On one night, I and some brethren found ourselves stoned and hungry. I know, what are the chances! It's like a MILLION TO ONE or something. We order some pizzas. They will be Italiany and great! After what was either 7 years or 12 minutes the door goes. I don't mean like it got bored and went, someone knocked on the it. The pizza man. A mild ripple of murmur goes round the room:

 "shotgunnotme"
        "shotgunnotme"
   "shotgunnotme"

It was a tough call. A second round commenced, similar in fashion to the first. No new information came to light. Two of us were secretly relying on the third, who, while probably the laziest, was constantly the hungriest. We hoped these fundamental urges would overcome what is essentially a state of mind. In doing so, we drastically underestimated how deep our friend's...erm...beliefs... ran. It was a stoic moment. None of us moved, now giggling a little at the faintly ludicrous situation. When someone (not I /proud) went to check the door, it had been so long that it was more to confirm that the pizza man had indeed pissed off.

In my youth, it was the fashion at the time for the schools to be setting homeworks. One such art assignment was the drawing of ones own face, a self portrait. I set about the task - in the obligatory fashion, the night before it was due - and decided that my best starting point would be to draw round my actual face, just as a template. I could then just fill in the detail after. You can rightfully surmise here, that I was stoned.

So I put my face down on my drawing pad. And fell asleep.

In a different house to the one what I do currently find myself situated in right now, there lived a bin which was emptied on what I may gently refer to as a sporadic timescale. I once witnessed my housemate approach it armed with an empty fish-finger box. There was perhaps a foot clear of rubbish, pyramid like above the bin. He places it gently aboard. It hangs perilously for a moment and slides off to the floor. Humourously, it lands right in front of a roll of binbags we have strategically placed next to the bin, in an effort to stop us being so lazy. My friend's frankly lovely buffoon like face becomes momentarily aghast. He attempts the procedure once more. I say once. He was at it for ten minutes.

I say this as one of two people who watched him for that entire time.
(bacontrout got ska, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 3:26, 1 reply)

damn
stoners bigger than my mates and I you will never meet, but to be so lazy that the pizza man fucks off?

there is something severly wrong with you and your friends!
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 8:55, closed)