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How Many Times Have You Been High?

you're not asking yourself the real question, that america needs to decide once and for call, and that question is...how old is 15 really?
 
PIT, WHAT UP?

Oh Pit, oh Pit, oh Pit....strength. Like Popeye.

You ever had one of those moments where you're like, "goddamn, it would be nice to be living out on a farm right now, way out in the country, just sitting out on my porch looking out over my land at the sunset and nature and hearing nature sounds"? I have that moment from time to time. Just had it. I also sometimes think about what it would be like to be in the space station right now. Way up in fucking space, just sitting in a metal tube with nothing but space around you, ready to suck your ass to Pluto. I don't even like airplanes, I can't even fathom being in space. I would seriously freak out. I wonder if an astronaut has ever had a freakout moment like that in space. I think someone might have. They wouldn't tell us though if someone did. What if an astronaut freaked out and killed all the other astronauts, then was just like by him or herself in space? It's not like they could send space police out to the space station. You could totally kill a bunch of people and get away with it. I guess it's sort of like the perfect jail though, but at the same time I feel like we as a society would want to go get him or her and bring them back to earth and put that person in an earth jail instead of a space jail. It's like, it was that person's CHOICE to be in the space jail, so it wouldn't be like you were getting any kind of retribution for the crime. It would feel like they were getting away with it. Is that irony? Fuuuuuuuck, I'm strong right now.
 
I'm moving tomorrow and I have a cop (friend of a friend) hanging out with us tonight, and pregaming at our place first. She says he's been around her getting strong in the past and doesn't care, but I'm still a bit iffy on the matter. Trap? Either way, think I'm gonna do all my packing of my workout stuff tonight before they come over.
 
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in 1988, there were 10,420 write-in votes for "eric b." in the presidential election. COINCIDENCE?!
 
PIT, WHAT UP?

Oh Pit, oh Pit, oh Pit....strength. Like Popeye.

You ever had one of those moments where you're like, "goddamn, it would be nice to be living out on a farm right now, way out in the country, just sitting out on my porch looking out over my land at the sunset and nature and hearing nature sounds"? I have that moment from time to time. Just had it. I also sometimes think about what it would be like to be in the space station right now. Way up in fucking space, just sitting in a metal tube with nothing but space around you, ready to suck your ass to Pluto. I don't even like airplanes, I can't even fathom being in space. I would seriously freak out. I wonder if an astronaut has ever had a freakout moment like that in space. I think someone might have. They wouldn't tell us though if someone did. What if an astronaut freaked out and killed all the other astronauts, then was just like by him or herself in space? It's not like they could send space police out to the space station. You could totally kill a bunch of people and get away with it. I guess it's sort of like the perfect jail though, but at the same time I feel like we as a society would want to go get him or her and bring them back to earth and put that person in an earth jail instead of a space jail. It's like, it was that person's CHOICE to be in the space jail, so it wouldn't be like you were getting any kind of retribution for the crime. It would feel like they were getting away with it. Is that irony? Fuuuuuuuck, I'm strong right now.

deacphan really wanted to be a farmer in college but then he remembered how early you gotta get up and how hard you gotta work and changed his mind.
 
So I'm wondering something about birds. I saw this dead bird face down in the grass today, and it sort of struck me that it had fallen out of a tree and just landed there and died. I know it's not the most likely cause of death, but it's how it happened in my mind. And I guess what I'm wondering is this. Do birds have that whole inner ear/Inception thing where they can tell when they're falling forward/backwards and it jars them awake and they start flapping their wings and fly instead of falling to their death? Do birds even sleep high up in trees? I assume they do, since that's where their nests are.

Also, do you guys ever play out weird scenarios in your head? I was walking to go pick up my farm share (CSA) of veggies down the block this morning, and I walked out of the house wearing my Stonewall Jackson hat without really thinking about the fact that I don't exactly live in a state that fought for the South. However, in my weird scenario, someone at the CSA was going to deny me my veggies because of my hat, and he was gonna call me racist and stuff. And then I would walk home sadly with the irony that the CSA farmshare denied me veggies because of my hat with the CSA general on it. However, I successfully acquired my veggies, so none of this happened. I did almost fall in a manhole, however, and had to do this awesome Matrix leap a millisecond before I took a step into it, and by awesome Matrix leap, I mean I lifted my foot up quickly and did an awkward twist to the side and fell on the curb.

I live my life acting out scenarios in my head like that, so much so that it starts to color my actual conversations with people -- it has probably cost me a couple of relationships with the ladies. Not only do I play the role of myself and the other person in my brain, I also play the role of an invisible 3rd party observer, offering commentary on both people's (in my head) thoughts. So I come to the end of this interaction already knowing all the possible outcomes and the thoughts of a neutral party on these arguments, so I don't need to actually have these interactions, convinced of the rationality and cogency of my position. This is often mistaken as apathy or aloofness, but, hey, if I can see into the future why waste other people's time on the minor details.
 
El Chupe, have you ever experienced and/or imagined a scenario wherein you were dirty-talking a chick at a NYC bar? If so, please describe.
 
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Many years ago I was in New York City with some friends for a little college friends lost weekend action. One evening we were at this bar near my buddy's place in Chelsea partying, and there was this group of undergrads down from University of Rochester or someplace. A group of dudes was watching soccer on the bar television so naturally I engaged in a conversation about the new "Makelele" role everyone had been talking about, which wasn't new at all and had been done for years before much better and more diversely and with more range by a number of other players in the history of soccer. This girl comes up and tries to interject, but we all ignore her because we are having this dope ass convo about soccer tactics and philosophy.

Later, I'm standing at the bar buying a drink and this girl comes up next to me and asks me to buy her a drink or buys me a drink, or something like that -- it's a little hazy. I don't know how we got from this point to the next, but I find myself, back to the bar, making out with her, grinding against her, and talking really dirty things to her that she is initiating and upon which she is insisting. We move to a booth and it just escalates: she's grabbing my piece, I have my hands down her pants, I'm pulling her hair, spanking her -- she's telling me how much she likes anal, how she likes girls and eating pussy, shit like that. This is going on for a really long time and all my friends have left, thinking that I have a good thing going here.

So this is going on and she leans in and asks me if I want to treat her like a little whore. We have definitely been engaging in more explicit descriptions than this, so I'm like "um, yeah, sure, I'll treat you like my little whore." She then says "Nobody treats me like a whore. Nice try though. Bye." And walks away.
 
El Chupe, have you ever had an epiphany involving deer, possibly whilst riding a bicycle?
 
I might go to a cookout this evening hosted by this professional hula hooper (leave out the hula or they will fuck you up, but for the sake of clarity...) who I met a couple of weeks ago. She's 43 and her brother is Greg Humphreys of Dillon Fence and Hobex (fame? notoriety? I don't know) that Rubbins loves. She has a tight ass body, but is a lot older and really fucking out there. We have a mutual friend and he called me and was all, Ann Humphreys, professional hooper, just called me and invited me to this cookout. She said I could bring anyone, like that guy I met a couple of weeks ago but whose name I forget. That would be me, I am he, El Chupe. I'm considering it.

But seriously, she travels around and makes her living hooping. Spinning a hoop around her body. Worshiping at the church of one inside her hoop. I think that's the direction you should go in, Townie.
 
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Last fall as I was biking home from the Carrboro Music Festival, I approached an intersection and slowed for the stop sign. All of a sudden I felt this sensation of incredible balance come over me. My butt cheeks were both resting firmly on my seat, feet on the pedals, weight evenly distributed. I had been coming to this realization all year that I had been carrying myself with a lot of tension for so long that it had become slowly over time my new normal that I couldn't recognize it as being bad. I never pieced together that it wasn't right that when I stood on the ground I didn't feel as if I could stand still and have both feet evenly in contact with the ground. Lately it had been feeling as if my body was self-correcting itself, slowly falling into place -- it was acting more in concert with itself, I was breathing easier, my jaw didn't feel as tense.

I was still slowing for the intersection (these thoughts were happening in a three second period in real time, but slowed down in my head), and I thought: you know what, something has always been a little off with me, I've always felt as if there is this invisible barrier preventing me from reaching optimization. I was able to live a normal life, but there was something hidden holding me back just. that. little. bit. and if I overcame that one little thing, I would unlock something in me that I didn't know about. Physically, emotionally, mentally. Perhaps this new found physical balance and self awareness was the start of something new altogether, not only allowing me to reach the plateau of the new normal I had only just become aware I had either never reached or hadn't reached since childhood, but going BEYOND that -- a new step in evolution. Naturally, in my stoned logic I was thinking, like, would I then be able to control nature and the thoughts of people and actions of other sentient beings? Could I rule the world? That would be pretty cool.

I continued biking and took the right turn that led me down a hill that goes back through my neighborhood. It's a quick little steep hill that is great to take fast at night because there are only these two dimly lit street lamps, and the temperature seems to drop 10 degrees as you roll down, and it flattens out and ends with this relatively sharp left turn that makes it the exhilarating, tiny little treasure it has become to me. As I am going down it time seems to slow again and I think to myself, man, it would be pretty cool if I were busting down this hill and a herd of deer was running with me and all around me, as if my bike was just one of the deer stampeding down this hill.

I get to the sharp left hand turn and suddenly my little bike light illuminates these three or four deer clicking across the pavement from one yard to another. Wild, right? Kind of dreamy, anyway. So I might be able to control shit with my brain now.
 
Last fall as I was biking home from the Carrboro Music Festival, I approached an intersection and slowed for the stop sign. All of a sudden I felt this sensation of incredible balance come over me. My butt cheeks were both resting firmly on my seat, feet on the pedals, weight evenly distributed. I had been coming to this realization all year that I had been carrying myself with a lot of tension for so long that it had become slowly over time my new normal that I couldn't recognize it as being bad. I never pieced together that it wasn't right that when I stood on the ground I didn't feel as if I could stand still and have both feet evenly in contact with the ground. Lately it had been feeling as if my body was self-correcting itself, slowly falling into place -- it was acting more in concert with itself, I was breathing easier, my jaw didn't feel as tense.

I was still slowing for the intersection (these thoughts were happening in a three second period in real time, but slowed down in my head), and I thought: you know what, something has always been a little off with me, I've always felt as if there is this invisible barrier preventing me from reaching optimization. I was able to live a normal life, but there was something hidden holding me back just. that. little. bit. and if I overcame that one little thing, I would unlock something in me that I didn't know about. Physically, emotionally, mentally. Perhaps this new found physical balance and self awareness was the start of something new altogether, not only allowing me to reach the plateau of the new normal I had only just become aware I had either never reached or hadn't reached since childhood, but going BEYOND that -- a new step in evolution. Naturally, in my stoned logic I was thinking, like, would I then be able to control nature and the thoughts of people and actions of other sentient beings? Could I rule the world? That would be pretty cool.

I continued biking and took the right turn that led me down a hill that goes back through my neighborhood. It's a quick little steep hill that is great to take fast at night because there are only these two dimly lit street lamps, and the temperature seems to drop 10 degrees as you roll down, and it flattens out and ends with this relatively sharp left turn that makes it the exhilarating, tiny little treasure it has become to me. As I am going down it time seems to slow again and I think to myself, man, it would be pretty cool if I were busting down this hill and a herd of deer was running with me and all around me, as if my bike was just one of the deer stampeding down this hill.

I get to the sharp left hand turn and suddenly my little bike light illuminates these three or four deer clicking across the pavement from one yard to another. Wild, right? Kind of dreamy, anyway. So I might be able to control shit with my brain now.

Fuckin' A, El Chupe. This post is beautiful.
 
Townie, along the lines of your post about the bird, which was thought-provoking, it is storming like an absolute motherfucker at my house right now. Rain, thunder, lightning, wind -- like God has unleashed the power of Thor of this beyotch. What are the squirrels doing right now about this situation? Are they in their tree nests or whatever just like, "HOLY SHIT" and clutching each other with their tiny squirrel paws? Or all those raccoons living in Rubbins' backyard tree -- are they okay? Rubbins, you should go out there and check on them. I mean, I know you guys have had your differences, but, shit man, have a heart. In the battle against nature, man and beast must come together for the common good.
 
WHAT ABOUT EL CHUPE'S DEER? Where does a deer live, anyway? They don't have nests. Burrows? Hollowed out tree trunks? Caves? I feel like there are a lot of deer around here and I should really know the answer to this, but I don't. Seriously, in a big storm, where do the deer go? Is there a family of deer hiding out in my crawlspace right now?
 
I caught all four of those motherfuckin raccoons and took them out to the forest. they are safe now. safe in the forest.
 
You people and all your land animals but I'm out here on the lake. Sometimes you gotta think about the fish. They never have to worry about rain or storms, but what do they think about us.

We're huge awkward creatures that just stay by the surface. They really only see us from underneath which means our fat asses and legs awkwardly kicking. If they could communicate and tell stories, I bet they have some crazy mythical stories about us. Like the time that one fish saw one of us breathing underwater through pipes and a tank. Scuba diving must freak the shit out of them.
 
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