Brown, white, green, the other green, and blueberry pie

I don't know if I've disclosed this yet, but I live at home, with my family. Mumsy and Dadsy and me, nestled snugly in a nice house in the suburbs. In a nice neighborhood- not in Lake Worth, the town I hang out in simply because I'm stupid and don't know any better. But I'm not embarrassed of this, nor am I planning on moving out anytime soon. I like it here. DirecTV, internet, TiVo, Sirius satellite radio (that one I payed for, but I would have no place to hook it up if I wasn't at mama's!), my own computer, my own room, Blockbuster Online (I pay for that too, but all the movies are for me), free meals, I come and go as I please, they set up ashtrays for me outside and I got total privacy on top of everything else. Why would I ever want to move out? If I had to say something negative about living at home, something I really didn't like, I would say this:

There is never anything to eat at my parent's house.

Like, never. She goes to Publix maybe once a week, buys a couple items (usually exactly what she needs for 2 recipies, so that's lunch and dinner and we starve the rest of the week), and cooks a couple meals a week. When she makes a meal, she usually makes far too much on purpose so I will stop complaining about the lack of food because I'm happily munching on leftovers. But having leftovers is hard to do, because 2 members of the family (being: me and my dad) would snork down an entire cow and a side of potatoes in 30 minutes flat. She cooks enough to feed entire branches of the armed forces and my dad and I dive in, seconds, thirds, fourths, he's going for the world record! That looks like it's gonna be a Six- or maybe even a Seven-Rolaid Night. And (I know this is odd) I like leftovers more than I like the meal when it was prepared the first time. I like a little micro-wave in my meat, hah.

But, other than leftovers a couple nights a week, there's never food and if there is food, there is never EVER a dessert. My mom has been on a diet for the past few decades, so the house is a No-Dessert Zone. It frustrates the junky within me who wants to taste some chocolate or ice cream or cookies, anything sweet! Today I came home at 2 am and knew that they had eaten some sort of meat and rice stuff cause they forgot to do the dishes. I went poking around in the fridge looking for the leftovers when I found this big box full o' blueberry pie.

Fuck, yeah. I hope she wasn't saving it for anyone cause I ate half that bitch.

So-- between the brown I shot about 10 minutes ago, the white I smoked earlier, the green I rolled and smoked an hour ago, the green stacks in my pockets, and my blueberry pie-- I am having one hell of a great night. I don't have to be a friday night millionaire, I can be a saturday night stripper hahahahahaha!!!

[when I look in the mirror, I see dead people]