Like I even have to tell you.
I know where I'll be friday night. Oh yeah! Just try to stop me.
I dare you. Just try to stop me.
Just try. Seriously. I dare you.
Try to stop me. Really. Try to stop me.
Okay, stop me. Try. I'm begging you.
It should be noted here, though relapse is no joke, that I'd have to be screaming on pot like a baked ham in a can, knee-walking drunk. And that would be just to buy the ticket. But I would. But it should also be noted here that if I were to go sober I'd have just as bad of a hangover the next day, and my soul would also have a little mold and mildew on it.