erinspence:1:2:3:4:5:solaravada:
Jason Mewes: Jays Rap (OST Jay And Silent Bob Strike Back)
Smoking weed, smoking weed
Doing coke, drinking beers
Drinking beers, beers, beers
Rolling fatties, smoking blunts
Who smokes the blunts?
We smoke the blunts
Rolling blunts and smoking ‘em…
Uh, let me get a nickel bag
15 bucks, little man
Put that shit, in my hand
If that money, doesn’t show
Then you owe me, owe me, owe
Please reblog this to help strike a blow against pediatric cancer. I will post on Sunday exactly how much I’ve raised by doing this!
I’m sick. :|
I make myself sick by thinking all of these thoughts that I want nothing to do with.
I numb it out with drugs. Prescribed or not.
It’s a band aid for a moment but not the cure.
Stop giving me reason to worry, and I won’t.
Just reassure me that I’m alright. That I can be enough for you.
“Are you mine? Are you mine?
Cos I stay here all the time,
Watching telly, Drinking wine,
Who’d have known, Who’d have known?
When you flash up on my phone,
I no longer feel alone,
No longer feel alone.
Let’s just stay, Let’s just stay,
I wanna lie in bed all day,
We’ll be laughing all the way”
Pretty much my lamest post, ever.
But, I’m pretty lame today.
Tomorrow is going to be awful until 5:45pm.
I just want to fast-forward through all of this and see how it works out.
You have a beautiful, beautiful smile;
the way it curls and collapses on your lips.
When you touch me I shake like a child.
It’s late I’m afraid you might leave,
‘cause sometimes it seems like you still don’t believe me.
There’s nothing I can do to concentrate.
It’s so distracting always thinking of you.
So, I expose and explain, and I meant everything I said.
And it’s moments like this that repeat and replay in my head,
when I’m laying in bed.
Rings so true to my current situation. I love when a song can reflect what’s going on better than I can myself. Via Secret Lighthouse
I lol'd
“I was walking by a grade-school with a few minutes to kill, and so I played on the jungle gym. I was like an Andre the Giant visiting a land of David Spades. IMMD.”
http://itmademyday.com/
My MySpace account is a virtual wasteland of men I slept with and never bothered to call back.
Yeah.
[playaaaah]
- A place for us to live together.
- To come home to you.
- To make you happy.
That’s all I want.
