It’s 4/20 and you are so fucked up right now! It’s like the numbers of the month and day require you to get totally blazed! I’m surprised you are even trying to read this. No, you aren’t being paranoid; this newspaper/blog is talking to you. Crazy, right? Yes, that is really good shit, but I need you to focus for a minute. You’re right, it is a lovely shade of purple, and just $40 for an eighth at the club, huh? I did see that article about things to do when you get high. I know… hilarious.
Dammit, stop getting sidetracked! I need you to pay attention here. What I’m about to tell you may save your life, or at least prevent a harshing of your buzz. Sorry dude/bro/sis, not everything is better when you are high.
Grooming: Put down those tweezers, you maniac. You are about 10 minutes away from having no eyebrows! I know you want them to be perfectly symmetrical but that ain’t gonna happen right now. You keep plucking away and soon enough you are going look like every word out of your mouth is a rhetorical question. Every week your sideburns get shorter and shorter and you now have the pubic region of an 8-year-old.
Grocery shopping: Three family-sized bags of Funyuns seemed like a good idea at the time and what was all that chocolate sauce for? Where are you going to put all that chicken? The freezer is full of Marie Callender potpies from the last time you did this. Grocery shopping while high will only hurt you. Don’t expect the grocery stores to tell you this; they love it. Why do you think the Safeway on S and 19th installed a big silver horse in the parking lot? That piece of shiny is there to pull you in. Then they hit you immediately with the checkout candy, Bic lighters and boxes of Swisher Sweets. They got you and your whole paycheck.
Recording music: Let’s get high and make beats! It always sounds like a great idea. Ideas are exchanged, and you and your friend start jamming. Interesting concepts are born, but when it comes time to record, you got nothing. Your fingers won’t listen to your brain (or vice versa), your voice sounds like you have been swallowing cat litter, and you can’t keep time to save your life. Upon review the next day, what you thought was a platinum single ain’t even about to go wood in the hood.
Being a drug dealer: A good dealer doesn’t get high on his own product. You aren’t ever going to make enough money to put 22-inch rims on that whip if you keep smoking the whole bundle. And what about the dude that fronted you all of the product? He’s gonna want his money by the end of the week. Didn’t you learn anything from the movie Friday (of course I mean the first one, who watches the second one)? Do you want Big Worm to come fuck you up? Don’t play with his emotions, Smokey.
Discussing the future of your relationship with your significant other: You’ve been putting it off forever. Your girl keeps asking you what she should tell her friends is going on between you two. She wants to bring you home for the holidays to meet her parents and the crew from high school. Little does she know you just tried out your friend’s new gas mask bong for the first time. Oh how you wish you could pull that mask over your head again and hide from the imminent nuclear fallout. You want to reassure her, but everything you say sounds non-committal and selfish. Another one bites the dust. Keep dreaming about that 30-year-old stoner girl of your dreams. She is totally out there.
Writing articles for Submerge: We’ve all thought it at one point or another, “That Bocephus Chigger is an idiot. I could write that garbage in 10 minutes.” While this may be true for you sober Sams and Suzys out there, I can guarantee that you high-ass mufuckas will take forever. You had all of these great ideas 15 minutes ago, then you got blotto. As soon as your fingers touched the keys… poof… all gone. Go ahead and hit that J again… you missed the Tuesday deadline four days ago anyway.
Bocephus Chigger
bocephus@submergemag.com
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