lurked over to the parliament buildings to check out what the stoners were up to. no stoners. just these jolly folks.

420! what a crowd. at least a few hundred people who love to get high.

ian.

mandie and blunt.

diego.

tomos the tank engine.

stebbings.

crunch-nuts mcgillicuddy! why the blue on your shoe? 'splain to me now.

dude's wife demanded to know wether or not i smoked menthols. she was delighted to see that i had american spirits to offer.

this gentleman (whos name escapes me) and i had a lengthy discussion about american cigs. hed never sampled american spirits. marlboros were his brand. since moving
to canada he has started smoking export a. what a shame.

bongos and hippies go hand in hand.

hempology 101. how do you expect to run a respectable organization and get govenment officials to listen to you when you look like this?

the messiah is back now! hes actually been back for a while. but he's totally just checking out the scene. he says hes kinda over
having all of the responsibility of being the son of god.

donny, youre out of your element.

secret shred spot.

the boys and i used our new found fame as west-coast correspondants for vice magazine to gain us free access
to a trendy fashion show. hideous pampas grass motif.

(miles vernon's inebriated editorial is presented henceforth in bold.)

This dismally lit culture shock motif show, put on by a local art enthusiast and painter, Camile Rush, demonstrates
the reasoning for the nationwide grabt cuts, recently imposed on local "Talent", by the federal government.

we showed up a bit early, but we had to get set up. we had interviews to do and photos to shoot. unfortunatley, cami rush
wasn't going to be in attendace. she fell off a chair while decorating. we'll have to interview her family. mr. mcinnes will not be happy.

he's probably thinking about something bright eyes said.

Being the international pot smoking day, i quickly assumed the organizer for this banquet smoked too much out of
his $8 bong to put any real thought into the decor.

no open bar?! fuck this place.

we bought si some wine to shut him up.

who told you that you could wear my rug tonight?

this is my free catered meal? are you fucking kidding me? we didnt even get any hors d'oeuvres. this place is the dumps.

"like oh my god! its silaaaaaas!"

The place was kind of a mess. I'd never seen picnic blankets setup on the dance floor before. Where was i supposed to
cut a rug? Sure they laid them out there, and i wish i brought my katana to take out at least some of my frustration on these
imbeciles who put picnics on the dance floor. I really wanted to cut a rug, pun intended.

we had to watch some insanely bad powerpoint style video about "art, fashion and culture."

My friends were being assholes that night, mostly because they raved about the acoustic performer
before the show. I couldnt believe they were satisfied after he didnt play "Virginia Avenue", like he said he might
I lost all respect for him after that. I'll call him Mike. Mike played up to par for this sort of thing. I mild insult. Mike claimed he
was going to play all original songs, but was later heard playing "Crabs in the Bucket".

the show was for shoes that cami rush painted. and jewellery from violette veldor. just fabulous.

The models for the show following all wore two toned leotards. They were all pretty hot except for maybe 2

dressing room privileges.

we met up with stack and his friends after for a beach fire.

joe is way too badass.

miles tossed his chongo-esque cowboy hat in the fire.

this is so purple rain.

miles took his shirt off, so we all followed suit:

this is basically the part where you fan out about how fucking sexy we all look.

smokestack is basically a cadaver.

holy shit.

finished off with a nightcap at wendy's. good lucky with surgery, slice.