Goood Morning Laziness

February 5th
10:16am

Ever have one of those days where you can't seem to find enough time through out the day to fit everything in?
You have so much to do that there is no way in hell twelve hours will be enough to get it all done?
Your day planner is just packed! Five minute time slots designated for shitting and checking facebook? Heck! Save some time and do them both at the same time?!
...I don't have those days.
My responsibilities consist of: waking up....
Thats it.

I wake up, scratch my ass and form my hair into something between "I don't give a shit" and "A grenade just went off next to my head"
Now that I have all my jobs done for the day I try and find pants without leaving the warmth and comfort of my bed. This task in its own can be difficult.
First I need to remember where I left them the night before; tossing empty or half eating bags of Cheetos and McDonald's boxes left, right and center. Finally! on the verge of giving up and seriously considering what it would be like to wander around in my boxers for the day; I spot my pants, in a pile of posters and video games, a mere three inches out of arms length.
At this point I need to decide if those particular pants are worth moving from my spot and possibly let cold morning air get into my bed. I lazily attempt to reach for my pants, this futile attempt lasts two seconds and I let my extended arm fall and hang limp over the edge of my mattress; my head slumping into my pillow with an exhausted sigh as if I had just tried to save someone from getting hit by a dump truck and failed.
I lift my head and look at the pants as if thinking in the time I wasn't looking at them, they had gotten closer; they had not and at this sight I slump back into my pillow, groaning loudly.

As if my frustrated groan was his cue to enter my room, my good friend and roommate Dave whips open the door and stands in the door frame in his boxers and a blanket wrapped around him. Apparently his pants had gotten the better of him.
Dave scratches his ass in the same fashion I did moments earlier and looks at me like I had been keeping him waiting for days. Within moments of entering my room he says the words I wait for every morning:

"Bong tokes?"

I turn my head without lifting it and look at my roommate and reply:

"Well shit, never thought you'd ask!"

Dave nods and turns around, still scratching his ass and saunters back to his room.
I whip my covers off with a new found excitement, Swing my legs out of bed, scoop up my pants and attempt to put them on. With great difficulty I cram one leg into it's proper side and then try and get my other leg in, missing the leg and getting my toes caught on the crotch area of the pants. This then results in my loss of balance and the start of a frantic hopping around my room like a retard. Dodging garbage and a chair before crashing back onto my bed; I say something along the lines of "Awe, Piss!", correct my foot and cram it into the right leg of my pants. I do up my belt, throw on a shirt, grab my jacket and march into Dave's room.

I assumed since my little ordeal with my pant legs that Dave would have had plenty of time to hunt down a pair of pants himself and be ready to head outside to start our day off.
I was wrong.
Dave was sitting in his computer chair, still in his boxers and still wrapped up in his blanket searching through his vast collection of music on his computer.
He mumbled the name of a song he was looking for at least two hundred times at rapid speed till with an triumphant  "Ahhh!" he cranks his new found track; doing a couple of head bobs before spinning in his computer chair to face me.
He scratches the side of his chin with a content smirk on his face, similar to the same expression a dog makes while being scratched. Once he deals with the itch on his face, Dave reaches behind his chair and pulls out the vessel that would carry us through the start of our day: A three foot, Green, red and yellow glass bong. It resembled a battle mace from the early Fourteenth Century.
Dave gently placed the bong on the carpet of his bedroom floor, treating it with utmost care. Standing up, he quickly readjusted his blanket around him and clasping it at the middle like a makeshift cape. Dave bent over, picked up the bong and promptly said:

"Les' go!"


I turn around and start marching down the short hallway towards the deck at the back of the house. I get to the glass sliding door, open it halfway and take my first step outside. The cold winter air hits every piece of exposed skin on me, waking me up like a kick to the nuts.
I walk towards my chair and sit down facing Dave who was still standing in the door frame. I look at his face and say exactly what we we're both thinking:

"It's cold as BALLS out here!"


Dave quickly nods and continues to walk onto the deck. He puts one barefoot onto the shitty excuse for carpet that covers the deck and stops. His face changes as if he only just found out it was winter and furrows his brow; I imagine this is what the first caveman looked like when the Ice Age hit. I look at Dave and again say what we we're both thinking

"Your gonna' need pants, Brotatoe!"


Dave laughs a little and quickly waddles back to his room, cape dragging behind him. I light up my first cigarette of the day, letting it hang out of my mouth as I shove my hands between my legs in an attempt to warm them up.

Within moments of leaving, Dave returns with jeans and a hoody on, grasping the bong in one hand and phone in the other. He walks onto the deck, closes the sliding door and slumps into his throne of  with an exhausted sigh of relief. I take a drag off my smoke and wait patiently as Dave carefully packs a bowl with the recently busted up weed from inside his buster. As I waited I couldn't help picturing Dave hoping around his room with one leg in his jeans and the other caught on his crotch; more then likely freaking the shit out one of the many animals in this house and causing it to shit somewhere in his room.
Finally after what seemed like forever, Dave takes out his red Bic lighter and sparks the first hoot, dragging for a good 30 seconds before pulling the bowl and sucking in all the smoke; The familiar bubbling noise forming inside the bong.
After inhaling all of the smoke from the bong, he holds his breath for another ten seconds before letting out a massive plume of smoke that floats over my head like a heavy smog.
Dave extends his arm and hands me the bong, which I place in my lap and let rest on my shoulder.

Now I've been smoking up with Dave for the past six months on a regular day to day basis so I knew what happens after Dave takes a massive toke, and ladies and gentlemen, violent is an understatement.
It begins with a heavy cough, the ones that sound like your hacking up your gallblatter. After this the heavy cough gets heavier and Dave's face goes dark red, his hands form into fists as they rest on his knees. A few seconds of this leads to thee heaviest, loudest and most harsh sounding coughing fit you will ever hear! In fact you may have heard it if your within a four block radius of our house. At the peak of this epic battle between smoke and lungs Dave stands up, clears his throat and hucks a MASSIVE loogie! I'm talking a loogie that was all kinda shades of green, I'm talking a loogie that if it was given the chance it would probably get up and walk itself off the deck and to the local Seven Eleven for a pepperoni stick. This thing was way past just your usual lung butter. Once Dave had disposed of this Hazardous waste, he sat back down and looked at me as if nothing had happened. I took another drag off my smoke and placed it between my ring finger and pinky finger.

 Tightly gripping the bong in one hand I took the lighter in the other and sparked the bowl, dragging the fire through the bowl, igniting the weed and filling the chamber of the bong with smoke. I palm the lighter and pull the bowl, breathing in heavily as I do, pulling all the smoke into my lungs. I rest the bong on my shoulder and hold my breath until I feel the cough building in my lungs; exhaling all the smoke before I need to cough, creating a smog above Dave's head.
I lean back, gently placing the bong on the deck, feeling my entire body get lighter and a smile begin to form on my face.

I look at Dave and say with a slightly wheezy voice:

"GOOD morning!"


Dave nods quickly and grabs the bong from off the ground and just before lighting his next hoot he says:

"not yet!"


We spend the next half an hour passing the bong back and forth, getting ripped out of our trees discussing if a robot petting zoo would bring in enough costumers to make it worth starting up.

Next on the to-do list?
Find some god damn Oreos