The dawn broke out of nowhere and it seemed as though the coming morning put a a bit of urgency and fear in the party. It always plays out like this. Plans of exit need to be put together, sides are chosen and excuses for the impending day need to be made. This is all just par for the course when you play a game of eightball. The dry mouth and nervous demeanor makes communication seem downright uncomfortable. All the best laid plans from the night before dissipate as the morning fog burns off. Unless the dope is really good these are not the good times. But what the fuck! What is life if you can’t get milky, do a project or two, take a night time swim, get naked and sweaty with your best friend and just enjoy your fucking buzz.
Should I stay or should I go? Is it 25 or six to 4? Should I try to do some more? These are all valid questions. For those who deal with guilt issues this sucks balls. But for a lucky few that don’t give a shit it’s just a little funk in the morning. But for the guilt ridden, “BALLS”
Relax people as long as you don’t make it a lifestyle it’s not a big fucking deal. Your world won’t end if you have an off day, and usually nobody cares enough to really figure out why you’re a little more gone than usual. For some, their co-workers even think that you’re performing better than normal it’s all a crap shoot. So, just chill the fuck out people. Ain’t no thing