I hate it when people call me on the phone when I’m high.
I can’t really understand what they say, and usually agree to anything.
Want to paint your hair blue? Sure, I’d be delighted.
Also, telemarketers are fun while high. I tell them yes I’ll buy, and give them a bogus credit card number. When it doesn’t go through I feel insulted, just like when Capt. Picard went to that planet with the aliens and shit, and they called him The Picard. No, I’m not a trekkie, trekker, or any other shitty lame term.
Anyhow, don’t call me while I’m high. My phone hates me and is recording everything I say to use it in court against me. I swear, I did not know my phone was a convict running from Busch Gardens.