"And if you get hooked, baby, it's nobody else's fault, so don't do it!"

So every so often I am reminded that I don't really like hanging out with blowtarded people. They talk too much, and I am one of those people who are too mortified to either gracefully or awkwardly disentangle myself from bad conversation. So I have to stand there and agree with the points they have been making over and over again for the last ten minutes. About, like, colors, and like, their place in life. Also, people with collapsed noses are scary, and one took my pen at the food stamp office. (Okay, she offered a dollar. I should have taken it. But it's hard to do that when all you can do is stare at her face. And it's not like you ever really take the dollar that guy is offering for that cigarette. Though in NYC that's how much each cigarette comes out to.) I guess I feel about it the way I feel about certain types of, say, clothing-- it's a bit of conspicuous consumption that I find disagreeable, but it's not like I won't let you in my house if you're wearing it. And last, I've been listening to the first song a lot on my commute-- oh wait, I was until my fuckyouPod decided to start fuckyouFREEZING. Eh, it's like 4 years old. What can you expect, except that it was supposed to wait to die when I had gobs of cash in the bank for a new one.

Cocaine-related songs after the jump. Have fun, and don't miss the Johnny Cash tune-- love it.

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