I used to have a killer rent control apartment in the very baked, slacker beach community of Venice, California. The hippy dwelling in which I occupied was shared by my best friend and this other dude that prided himself on the quality of his homemade pasta.
By other dude’s standards, he had a general knowledge of just about fucking everything on the planet. Color me “lucky” I guess for having the privilege of sharing a bathroom with this jack-o-lantern-faced genius.
No matter how thorough the pumpkin-pate know-it-all would condition his broom-esque, wiry, rusty hair or buff his pink, pale body with exfoliants and oh so fancy soaps, dude could never wash away the condescension. How sad.
FYI, this blog post has nothing to do with the human with whom I shared a shitter. This is just my pussy way of extracting revenge from a fucker that was shitty to me most of the time. #NoHardFeelings
My best friend and I would ditch other dude because of reasons listed above and amble around the beautiful neighborhoods of Venice stoned off our ass playing our favorite game, “SLUG BUG!” If you’ve never played slug-bug, check it out as defined by the Urban Dictionary. Some may refer to the violent Volkswagen Beetle spying game as punch-buggy but they are clearly posers.
The article in the New York Times about Volkswagen nearly merging with Fiat reminded me of the good ole slug bug days in Venice.
