I heard that pot can...

[THeMaCHinE]

Ummm I had a friend of a friend, who had this room mate and he smoked an entire oz. by himself one time. Yeah, and right before everyone's eyes he started growing long hair and then it permed itself!! YES! and then he started singing in this god-awful raspy voice.......

YES HE TURNED INTO MICHAEL BOLTON. This all happened in a small school just outside of Niagra Falls and the guy hasn't been seen since.

Sir, this is a serious scientific endeavor. I appreciate your urge to help, but "friend-of-a-friend" stories are hardly credible.

Now, have you ever seen this phenomena first-hand?

 

[WODIN]

Havoc is here early in the A.M.

 

[THeMaCHinE]

Havoc is here early in the A.M.

Hmmm... that would fit with a bit of a torn-off note that somebody sent me.

"Like the sun, he rises in the morning"

 

[havoc]

Machine, you remind me of God, that is if God wore high heels and listened to showtunes. Stick to finding new ways to extract milk from your gyno infested moose nipples and having more traffic in your colon than the New Jersey Turnpike, peace nigga.

 

[bstone]

Sir, this is a serious scientific endeavor. I appreciate your urge to help, but "friend-of-a-friend" stories are hardly credible.

Now, have you ever seen this phenomena first-hand?

OK OK OK!!! It was me! I turned into Michael Bolton! are you happy now! Now everyone in here knows that I smoked so much weed that I turned into Michael Bolton!

If anyone would like one of my anniversary CDs personally autographed, please PM me.

 

[THeMaCHinE]

Machine, you remind me of God, that is if God wore high heels and listened to showtunes. Stick to finding new ways to extract milk from your gyno infested moose nipples and having more traffic in your colon than the New Jersey Turnpike, peace nigga.

Look, you velour-sweater and van's wearin cum-gargler. Your words are akin to a mighty atom-bomb explosion of puss from May's genital herpes. After he made you suck his dick in the parking lot and left without a thank-you. Stick to your AK-47 strain, teen-dream magazine and mastubation with a lubed up smallmouth bass, you wanna be backstreet boy twink. Peace out skillet.

 

[McBainXVII]

damn hippies

 

[havoc]

Machine, wipe that goofy grin off your scrotum scarred face, you transgendered goink. If I want an arguement out of you, I'll rip it out through your moose crossing marked shithole, along with a lawn chair and 4 and a half feet of ass beads. Your sexual preferences changes positions faster than Pamela Anderson during foreplay and your "flames" have less intensity than a corporate afternoon coffee break. Showing up at my doorstep with a box of girlscout cookie flavored condoms and a brownie sash draped across your peach fuzz sprouting chest isnt going to get you anything but a severe case of shock induced delusion when I smack the glued on yellow sideburns off the side of your freckled face with a wooden croquet mallet I found in the bedroom of your fathers garage next to a box of rubber gloves, a half used bottle of Bikini Line magic and a roll of pube covered fly paper. Stick to guessing peoples weight at the carnival and thinking of next slogan you are going to inscript on your cardboard sign that may get you some change at the corner so you can purchase your next gerbil that will succumb to your sodimization techniques you puny fuck hat.