I’ve had a few drinks, and that’s when my alter-ego, Gnomechomsky shows his face.
So I’m closing out of the Firefox window that houses my regular Internet Presence and firing up the ol’ Google Chrome, where Gnomechomsky resides.
I look forward to a passionate evening of drunkblogging with all my followers.
Scott Friday, where are you? Your apprentice is drinking a six-pack of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and he needs your guidance.
I have been called a motherfucker.
and, I mean, it works some of the time.
I genuinely believe in their quality over every other kind of cigarette. Apart from the fact that they don’t draw as tightly, I have no complaints. They taste better, richer and cleaner than every other cigarette.
Ever seen that long list of chemicals in cigarettes? None of that shit in Spirits. Just tobacco. Delicious tobacco. I could wax poetic about how smoking American Spirits sometimes makes me feel like I’m in harmony with nature, and sadly none of it would be bullshit.
I think I might be in the minority here, but something about Kathryn Hahn in The Goods really, really, really does it for me.
She makes a fantastic fake-redhead.
BEHOLD. MY 3 AM MASTERPIECE.
lmfao this makes me cry with joy XD
lol this is one of the best
things i have seen
wow
what is my life
this is brilliant
oh dear god
oh
i see
XD
(Source: the-master-and-margarita, via grimaugury-deactivated20120113-)
“U missed grilled chickn and it missed u!” -Mom
“HORSESHIT. I HAD CHICK-FIL-A WITH A PIXIE-LOOKING BITCH. I AIN’T MISSED NOTHING.” -Myself
One time, Zach and I were watching The Hangover at his house.
His mother casually asked what we were watching.
Zach was quite insistent that what we were watching was actually porn, not The Hangover.
scotttfriday-deactivated2011021 asked: i've never had an apprentice before. neat.
HE SAID “YES!”
I HAVE BEEN APPRENTICED BY THE ONE AND ONLY SCOTT FRIDAY.
You should know that I listened to your “Songs in the Key of Whis” playlist the other night while drinking Canadian Harwood whiskey.
It was a magic moment.
(he addresses me from the living room on a cheerleader’s bullhorn, speaking in the deep, Southern drawl of a Delta bluesman)
Him: “Hey buddy… when was you thinkin’ bout goin’ ta have a smoke?”
Me: “Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose.”
Him: “I gotsta ponder a paper. Ain’t nuthin’ put me in a ponderin’ mood like a little cancer.”
