20 Ways to Have Fun (Without the Internet)

Okay all you 90’s kids, I know you have the capability of enjoying time with being hooked up to your computer montitor, iPhone, iPad, iDroid… right?
Here is a list of things you can do instead of going on the internet, whilst you read this on the internet.

1. Search through all your old CDs and play something on your stereo

If all the music you listen to is either on Spotify, Pandora, or YouTube, because you are too damn lazy to download it off the internet like me, this is a good way to find good music to listen to without using up all your 3G. I promise if you search hard enough through all your old CDs you may find your mother’s salvageable Beatles CD or some old Phish live in Camden CD from 2004 that may surprise you.

2. Find all the drugs.

If you are poor like me, you can’t afford drugs. Raid your brother’s cabinet for his ADD medicine. Look at the recommended dosage on the prescription and take twice that amount. For the illusion that you are having more fun that you are, take the drugs out of the pill, line it up with a debit card, and snort it out of a dollar bill while having your brother take a snap chat of you and send it to all your fellow druggie friends. Don’t have a dollar bill? Just lick it up. It will have the same effect.

3. Get naked.

Not only does being naked have health benefits, such as improving blood flow, increasing brain function, giving your skin a healthy glow, and reducing the risk of infection, but the freedom also feels pretty fucking good. Taking off your clothes improves blood flow and detoxifies your system, which in turn relaxes you. It can be therapeutic, almost as much as a nice massage, but that’s for later in this post. 😉 Just make sure you lock your door, unless you like your brother barging in and gazing a gawk at your goodies.

4. Find someone to fuck.

Preferably, make it someone hot, like your boyfriend, your ex-boyfriend, your brother’s fifteen year old friend who got hot over summer break, your eleventh grade english teacher who quit his job to write shitty poetry and lives with his parents, that guy you had a crush on in seventh grade who never grew past five feet tall but is a total stoner now and will totally give you weed if you fuck him, that pizza guy who doesn’t speak any english but you can tell from his unwavering eye contact of his hot-blooded passionate lust for you, your family mail man, your twenty-seven year old neighbor, your old bus driver, or any non-family male member in your phone contacts, unless you’re into that whole incest thing (we all have hot cousins guys). If all the above fails, find people to fuck the pre-craigslist way, drive around town and yell “WHO WANTS TO FUCK ME?!” as loud as you can with the windows down until you find a willing participant. Just make sure to avoid elementary schools, playgrounds, and other places that might get you arrested. If a cop does pull you over however, make sure you take full advantage of that opportunity.

5. Get drunk.

Anything is more fun when your drunk. Every college student knows what this feels like. It is Friday night — alright Thursday night — you have nothing to do. Your college is in the middle of nowheresville and you want alcohol fast. If you are underage, call anyone twenty-one or older, or anyone with hook ups and you should find something pretty fast. You can also just take the simpler route by wearing a revealing top and a push up bra, go to frat parties and get handed free beers by young men who will drunkenly gaze at your glorious tatas. If you are home for break and your friends don’t have hook ups, don’t fret! Just raid your parent’s pantries for alcohol, they totally won’t notice. Just make sure enough dust has collected on that 2011 bottle of Sangria from Christmas Eve last year, before you take it. If you do take something your parents might drink later, fill the rest up with water/grape juice when you’re done boozing it up (they totally won’t notice!) Know your limits before you drive, you should be somewhere between buzzed and tipsy, passed that, call a friend for a ride or roll around town on that bad ass bike – bicycle, that is.

6. Play with your cats. (and other household animals)

Cats are simple creatures, who honestly just want to cuddle up on your face and plot your eventual demise. Take a laser pointer and be entertained for hours and watch your cat tirelessly chases a tiny red dot. Cats are actually trained assassins, so they are trained to annihilate anything with a red target on it. If you don’t have cats, go outside and throw a ball with your dog. Pretend to throw the ball, but don’t actually throw it. Laugh as he falls for your imaginary ball trick again and again. Stupid dog. If you don’t have dogs or cats, play with your hamster, chinchilla, floppy eared rabbit, cockatoo, red panda, or fish. Fish love it when you tap on the glass or move your fingers up towards the top of the tank. Make a fishy face and try to communicate with the creature. If you’re really bored, take some of your stolen alcohol and pour into the tank to get them drunk. Fish like to party too!

**Don’t have a pet? No worries! Wrangle a squirrel from outside! They really like acorns, so throw them at your trees to let them your that you are their friend. If this doesn’t work, you can easily find a dead one on the side of road. Wrap it around your shoulders as a fashion accessory, cradle it like a baby, or place it on your neighbor’s doorstep as a friendly offering.**

7. Call a friend.

Yes, this can be fun. Friends are basically chocolate ice cream for the soul. They make you happy, are great listeners, and are awesome to make out with when you’re drunk! Texting people technically does not involve internet either, but come on calling people is so fun! You get to brag about how much of a 90s kid you are and can even pretend like you actually remember the 90s! It’s best to do this walking around the neighborhood, so that all the passing dog walkers can hear you reveal all the intimate details of your sex life to your best gal pal.

8. Play your old computer games.

Remember the hours of your childhood you spent playing in the fresh outdoors? Me neither! Bust out all of those good oldies you forgot about; Spy Fox, Pajama Sam, Putt-Putt, Jumpstart and all that good shit. If you don’t still own a Gateway computer from 1995 that’s compatible with all these games, find some more recent classics. Continue that Sims 2 game you started in 2008 and play out your teen fantasies. Start a family with that hottie from your freshman lit class! Install a bowling alley in your living room and a hot tub in your den! Murder innocent victims by removing ladders from pools and watch those fuckers drown. You can be whoever you want to be! Lose track of time as you have all the racy teen rated sex with vampires, ghosts, werewolves, and aliens you like, free of undesired consequences and HPV! Fuck yes!

9. Take out all your old DVDs and VHSs.

Yes, those silver disks and black boxes deemed obsolete from Netflix, pirating websites, and torrents. Pop Sixteen Candles in your family’s VCR/DVD player from 2003 and finger yourself to Jake Ryan lusting over a young girl with a chest even flatter than yours. Or travel Back to 1980s and cringe as Michael J. Fox’s mother tries to get in her son’s pants in a high school parking lot behind a school function. If you feeling extra daring, bring out that boxed set of Titanic, and get your Kate and Leo fix. You night will probably end in tears. Don’t make me say I told you so.

10. Read a book.

Yes, actually reading. Not the skimming-and-giving-up-and-looking-up-the-chapter-summaries-on-spark-notes reading you did for the shitty books in high school. It can be anything. Pick an author and read all their books. Judy Blume, Sarah Dessen, and Jodi Picoult are good places to start. Avoid anything Stephanie Meyer or E.L. James, please, for everyone. Actually if you see any books of with these’s writer’s names on them, burn them, please, for all of us. You will be doing a public service. Read all those Clique books that are sitting on your shelf that you borrowed from your friends in seventh grade and never gave back! Browse the erotic section at Barnes and Noble and buy a novel with a subtle and discreet title, like Sliding For Home, When Beauty Tamed the Beast, or How to Flirt with a Naked Werewolf. If you want save the trip to B&N, you can probably aid your mother’s drawer for these titles as well. If you want to know what the fuck tumblr is talking about all the time, look through all the read something like Harry Potter, John Green, or Hunger Games. Find out things such as why MockingJay has the worst ending you will ever read in any book series ever. (No seriously I still don’t know why, can someone please tell me?!)

11. Take a Bath.

Take a bath, because showers are too mainstream. To make a bath super relaxing and sensual, light a bunch of little candles and place them around the bathtub and litter the floor with rose petals. Oh you don’t have a bunch of little candles and rose petals? (Is something wrong with you?!) Instead, burn only a few medium sized candles, preferably scented something nice, like lavender, vanilla, or blissful blossom on a lily pad after a late afternoon rain shower on spring day in the french countryside smell. Your nose will thank you. Put some some bubbles in your bubble bath, but be classy. You are a lady now. No more Mr. Bubbles for you. Buy something at a natural foods place that doesn’t test on animals and is organic. If you don’t have bubble bath soap, put some scented bath salts in your bath instead. Please do not sniff them however, your family will thank you when you refrain from eating their faces off. Always scrub with a loofa, not only will it remove dead skin cells from your body and leaving your skin glowing, but it will also feel like equivalent to having someone brush your arm at a concert on 3 grams of molly, yes that fucking orgasmic.

**This is the only time it is appropriate to read an E.L. James book. Imagining some steamy BDSM sex with Christian Grey will make that water that much hotter. Just be careful not to drop your precious paperback masterpiece in the water! We wouldn’t want that would we? Well, actually… **

12. Get stoned.

Of course, I’m talking for all you folks in Colorado and Washington, and those with licenses for it in the 20 states which it can be legalized for medical purposes. All you need is some lighter, a device to smoke with, and some bud. The first two things are easy to acquire, but the ladder is more tricky. For those who wish to find it through means other than a dispensary, which I do not advise, look around for the dude wearing the drug rug and most unkept hair. He will most likely be sexy as hell, but DO NOT SLEEP WITH HIM. Restrain yourself! It will only cause you trouble later down the road when he finds someone hotter than you and stops responding your text messages and you are left alone, out of options, and out of weed. Once you pay the dude and/or dudette, go light up. For all you oldies out there, roll a J, just like your parents. Chill out and listen to some Grateful Dead you goddam hippie stoners. For all those lazy stoners out there, pack a bowl or a bong. A bong rips better than a bowl, remember that the longer the tube is, the closer the smoke will take you to heaven.
Listen to some trippy music, watch good movie, go for a walk in nature, do some high yoga, or get fucked. Enjoy.

13. Hoop Your Heart Out.

This trend is totally catching on among those hippie chicks out there. All you need is a exercise hoop, that you can purchase at any Target or Walmart. If you a broke college student, buy a shitty children’s hoop and fill it with water. Cover the whole hoop with duct tape. Try make people believe you actually spend money on this thing, by disguising it in patterned duct tape or pretty fabric. Though you can look up how to do cool moves online, this article is called “Fun Things To Do Without The Internet”, so just find a friend that hoops to teach you. A great place to learn is a music festival, especially the more hippie ones, like Electric Forest. The more psychedelics present at the concert, the better. Some great hooping music is Spongle or Bonobo, but you can literally hoop to anything. Be careful that your hoop is not too big or too heavy or it will beat you harder than a steel dildo rainstorm.

14. Bake Anything.

Have you ever wanted to bake a mean creme brûlée or a airy puff pastry?Yeah, me neither. I don’t really give a shit about baking, but some people really do. Search around the house for recipe books and try to find something that interests you. Preferably a book that is easy to follow, like anything with title that ends in “For Kids” or is published by American Girl. Don’t try to bake a soufle on the first day. Try something that you definitely can’t fuck up, like snickerdoodles. From there, graduate to funfetti cupcakes and Pillsbury chocolate cossaints. The best part of baking is decorating. When you ice a cupcake, make sure you give it your a diabetic friend to test. If she can eat it without ending up in the hospital, you know you need to slab more icing on that fucker. Play it safe and use the cookie cutters or live the fast life and freehand it. Sculpt your masterpieces with care and detail. Kill two birds in one stone and study for your anatomy exam as you bake! Your mom will appreciate your sugar cookie shaped like a vuvla. Make sure you put a shit ton of edible glitter on them! Sprinkles are overrated. If it doesn’t look like Ke$ha puked on your cupcakes, you’re doing it wrong.

15. Decorate Your Room.

This is usually done 2am on a school night, a few hours before your term long paper is due that you haven’t started. If you still have any posters that you ripped out of a Tiger Beat, M, Popstar, or J-14 magazine posted on you walls, take them down immediately. No guest will be impressed by your life-size poster of Zac Efron or how you set it so you can’t look anywhere in your room without at least of one the members of One Direction staring directly into your soul. No guy is going want to go to bed with you if Justin Bieber is relentlessly watching you guys going at it -without blinking. Some great places to get inspiration for rooms are Pottery Barn, Crate & Barrel, Restoration Hardware, and Antropologie. The best place to find things is at Target. They have everything you need, from patterned silk curtains to oversized oak finished crafting letters. Be sure to buy a Dream Catcher. Why? Don’t ask, just get one. Pick a theme. Do you want Hippie? Travel? Girly? Sporty? 70s Bachelors Pad? You pick. Your options are endless. Dry clean those vintage shag rugs before you use them though. You don’t know where those stains came from.

16. Be Creative.

Write that Sherlock/Hobbit/DoctorWho fan fiction you’ve always wanted to write, play Titanic and sketch a naked picture of your busty friend, draw a comic strip amount schizophrenic child with a imaginary tiger, or type a pointless post on tumblr about 20 things to do without the internet, whilst on the internet. You can really do whatever the hell you want, no one can call you crazy, because it’s “art.” I mean, if Andy Warhol can paint soup cans and have it be worth $9,000,000, your picture you drew of Iron Man tonguing Black Widow on Microsoft Paint must be priceless.

17. Dance.

Dancing is about letting go, living in the now, and expressing yourself. Play the music as loud as it needs to be to drown out the noise of any parent, RA, neighbor, or police officer knocking on your door. If you don’t have speakers, take your best headphones, and turn the music up to “defining roar.” The decibel range should be somewhere between power drill and jet airplane take off. If you ears are ringing once you are done listening to the music, you know you are doing it right. Dancing can be simple as lying on the floor and swaying your arms back and forth like sea anemone or complicated as a tripled handed back hand spring pirouette. Pump your arms, do the Charleston, drop that birthday cake, and get all up on that wall. Any expression of the body to music, no matter how subtle, is dance. Moving your head back and forth is dancing – so is dry humping on the floor of your middle school formal. Relax and Let the music take you.

18. Go Stalk People in Real Life.

Who needs Facebook when you have an Phonebook? Take a look in the Yellow Pages or your High School Directory. Instead of stalking photos of the lustful object of your romantic desires, break into your man’s home and watch him in real life! You can do this the old fashioned way, by climbing in a tree and watching him through binoculars as he slowly unveils his packaged goodies. (You can always say that you are bird watching) Or you can get innovative and sneak into his house and install hidden cameras in every corner! If you are feeling extra bold, stay in his house and never leave. Hide in his closet, crawl underneath his bed, lie underneath his couch cushions. This will give you time to read his diary, peruse through his baby pictures, and smell his clothes. If he suspects anything, pretend that you are a piece of furniture. Nothing to see there, you are just a futon. Remember, the more time you guys spend together, the sooner he will fall madly in love with you, even if he does not know you are there, you always are. Always.

19. Groom Yourself.

Ah, the old poverb. If no one posted it online, did anyone really see it? Oh young grasshopper. You have much to learn. Shockingly enough, people actually notice that family of robins nested in your hair and that haven’t shaved in the past three weeks. The process of primping may not seem fun – at first. But, as they say, beauty is pain, and as soon as the endorphins start kicking in, pain starts to feel good. Huzzah! This may be partly why so many of us women are beauty junkies. We’re hooked on that John Frieda shampoo, get high off those hair dye fumes, and have fifteen shades of lip gloss (come on ladies, how many shades of red are there?). Dudes don’t need too much, maybe some nice clothes, a little Old Spice, an electric razor, and a comb for their hair. But no need, since they are already naturally beautiful. For us hideous ladies, we can spend quite literally an eternity getting ready. We all know that a woman’s beauty determines her value, and since the media depicts beauty as perfection, there is always room for improvement. Your eyebrows can be plucked, your hair can be straighted, your eyelashes can be curled, your nails can be done, and your legs can always be shaved. All of these grooming routines put together take incalculable amounts of time. Einstein once calculated it and it turned out to be the largest number in the world, so large in fact, he figured it would just be easier to round to infinity. That bitch Time works against us ladies. Our eyebrows marry into unibrows, our hair frizzes up every morning, our eyelashes flatten, our nail polish chips, and our legs grow resemble George of the Jungle’s in a matter of hours. Yet every day, Robert Downey Jr and George Clooney more closely resemble the looks of Greek Gods. No way we can ever reach perfection, though we can try. We could just decide that this is all stupid and just accept ourselves the way that we are, but society won’t let us do that, so keeping waxing your upper lip, ladies.

20. Study.

Lol, no.


The Phoenix (A Ten Minute Play by Emma Harris)


SETTING: OFFICE, Wednesday 2pm, Psychologist appointment in a prison

CHRISTOPHER: Intelligent, Analytical, Criminal, Mid-20s

DOCTOR: Book Smart, No-Nonsense, Stiff, Middle Age


Do you ever feel as though you can go back in time?


How do you mean?


Have you ever thought that life doesn’t go in chronological order? Like you are living the part of the life that you want to live most in that moment? It just seems it goes that way.


Well, I don’t know…


Time is really just this human illusion, you know. There’s only the present. I mean, it’s the only thing that actually exists. So, therefore the past does not exist and the future does not exist either.


But the past existed, and the future will exist.


No, but they don’t exist you see?


But we have facts, evidence, that things happened?


But we never know for sure do we? We look at things through the lens of the present. We see an old clay structure and we automatically think it’s a house. But we don’t know what that actually is. It could be a giant oven, a storage place, a place to bury the dead… something we haven’t even heard of. We know nothing about humans really. 99% of our existence on this planet was as hunter and gatherers. We hardly know anything about what went on during that time period. We only know a little about that 1%. I want to go back in time and see how they lived. Because I think that it how it was to really be human.


Well you’re here now.


I guess so.


So what is your point to all this?


Well, I want to re-write my history.


You can’t rewrite history. Things happened. You can’t change that.


Well no. I don’t think so. All memories are really just someone’s perspective on what they thought had happened. Memories become diluted over time. You probably don’t remember what you ate for lunch last Wednesday.


That may be true, but about important events in history. What about those documents, journals, or letters?


Those don’t matter either. The people who write the past color what had happened; it doesn’t mean it actually did.


What about the Holocaust? We can’t just pretend that never happened.


Well yes, if everyone on this planet chose to forget the Holocaust and replace it with something else, another memory, then it wouldn’t be there anymore. But today I think it serves people a value, some sort of a purpose. It teaches us a lesson. It’s something that should be remembered. Shows us what evil people can be capable of.


An interesting theory, but what is it that you are getting at?


Oh yes, going back in time. Well, I am going to reinvent myself. Completely reinvent myself. I am going to make myself a completely different person. Usually people just change the future and not the past. But I want to do both.


That’s impossible. You can’t change the past.


I doubt that Mr. Delery.


Doctor, please.


(ignoring him)

The future is filled with infinite possibilities, right? In physics, every law that works in one way, must work the other way around too, correct? So, I am going to back in time and change my past.  This isn’t science fiction. I will be changing my memories, so drastically, that I will begin to believe them.


So you are lying to yourself essentially.


No, I am not.

Let me finish please.


Then go on. Please, I’m interested.


Many people don’t have the ability to do this, because they need something to hold onto. They grasp onto their ego like it is their very life itself. But I think that we can rise above our old memories. They are not who we really are. They can cripple us. They make guys like me end up locked up in a place in this.


Well who is it you wish to be? Or have been?


Well, Doctor, my name would be Jack Carrigan. I would have grown up in a small cottage in the Netherlands. I would have lived somewhere where no one speaks. No body ever said a word. My mother would hike all the way up the hill every morning to retrieve water from the well and my father would go out to hunt. My mother would have trouble sometimes, because the rocks would have a tendency to crumble at her feet, and sometimes the water to tumble down the hill and she would have to start over again, but she would grasp her hands tightly on the pine tree branches all the way down, and her hands would be sticky with sap and my hair would become ratty when she would run her hands through them and give me a kiss on the forehead. She would smile at me like she really loved me. By noon, my dad would have already have caught a fat load of squirrels. If he ever traded any of them, he would be sure to always keep the fattest ones hidden away so he could come home and put them on the table. And I would have darling little sister Elsa. And I would love her dearly. Her hair would be blonde and wispy and she would always pick the grass with her fingers and throw it everywhere. Her hands were always as dirty as her mothers. But she would become very ill and die at young age, about 3. It would be a happy death. There would be tears, but no grief. Because forever in our memories, would be a perfect little girl, untainted by an adult things like suffering or hardship and misery. And I would go out to the little village near town, and see a beautiful woman names Giselle. And we would look and one another at once we knew that we would be together. People fall in love instantly here. They can see their future in the others eyes. And they don’t get married. Because their love never dies, like it does marriage.  And we move to another cottage, not too far a way. On we built together, one log at a time. Less than a few hours travel from my parents. And there would be a brook running down the hill in the forest. The water would be so clean you drink right from it. Maybe we’d have a few kids as well.  Everyone loves everyone, but not in the way you expect.


That sounds like a nice life Christopher, but you can’t escape your past.


I am not escaping my life. I am changing it.

This life I have now, but this isn’t who I am. Something went wrong.


We all make mistakes in life Christopher. We just have to live with the choices that we make.


That’s where you are wrong. I can’t live with them. Maybe you can live with your mistakes. Here you are, making a decent living, talking to cold-hearted criminals like their human. Telling them what they could have done differently. But no. There is no turning back. Their lives are over. They go back in the world and everyone knows what they have done. The worst part is, they remember what they had done. Prison does more than put you behind bars. It makes you a prisoner of your own mind. And there’s no escaping that. I’m sick of it. I can’t handle it anymore. I’m done with living that way.


Christopher, if you are going to attempt to take your own life again, I am going to have to let them know.


I don’t find interest in killing myself that anymore. I would rather know where exactly where I am going, rather than just delve into the unknown. To be honest, I don’t want to face this God guy everyone’s so hot and bothered about either. I don’t think he’d be too pleased with me.


Everyone does bad things in their life Christopher.


No, but they live normal lives you see and they act as though everything is okay. But I knew everything wasn’t okay. I knew from the very start something was wrong. And I didn’t want to fake it like everyone else. I didn’t want to pretend I was okay, that my mother wasn’t a drunk, that my father didn’t have honeys on the side, that my brother wasn’t a good-for-nothing son of a bitch. But that my life, how I remember it.


We can’t choose our circumstances Christopher. You were just unfortunate.


Was I? Was I really? Because I think every family is like this. There’s always something dark and fucked up going on underneath everyone’s nose.


Christopher, your life wasn’t normal. You mother neglected you. She was ill. She couldn’t take care of herself. Your father should have been there for you and your family, but he wasn’t.


I don’t think more normal life would have solved anything, Doctor. My family was doomed from the start. And so was I.  I had to find a way of coping with things. I was just like everyone else in my family really. My mom on the bottle, my dad with the women, my brother with the dead-end deals and the money… My vice was fire.


Well, it would make sense for a destructive boy to come from a destructive home.


I wasn’t a pyromaniac. I was a boy burning ants with a magnifying glass. I was pouring gasoline on cars at the age of 10. I was burning away everything I could be.

That’s why I liked burning down those family owned businesses. Those little mom and pop shops. Those folks living out the American dream. They had everything I never had. Everything I never was. See, I thought by destroying something I could get a hold on it. I thought you could control things. But they usually get started up again somehow. People would take sympathy. The town would raise money to open up that creamery, or shoe shop, or bowling alley or whatever. Maybe the car insurance company would give them break and fork them another car. It was always the same old car they had before. Maybe a brand new license plate number. Still the same fucking car. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. It’s all over now. You know, houses were the biggest challenge.


I never wanted to kill anyone you see. I really just wanted their possessions to burn, but not them. I was giving them a chance they never would have had. A chance to start a new life. I never did kill anyone when I burned those houses down. Never with the houses…


Say, what did you want to be when you got older?


A train conductor.


See that’s a perfectly fine dream for a young boy. See I always liked the idea of being a fireman. Not the ones who pull cats out of trees and babies out of burning buildings, but the real ones, the ones in the forest. You see, they found that a forest needs fires to survive. To help it grow. They began to allowing natural forest fires to happen. Now they have firemen lighting fires periodically. If you suppress a forest fire, it will come back with greater fervor.

  I wanted to be like that… I wanted to be… the bird out of the flames…


The Phoenix?


Yes, the phoenix! It wanted to make everything better. Help people arise as a new person.


Well, yes. It still doesn’t justify what you did. It wasn’t your place.


I didn’t mean to. How could I have predicted something like that?

Yes, it was a school, but it was night. I thought everyone had left by then.


I think you very well might have known what was going in that theatre, Christopher.


How was I supposed to know there was a fucking rehearsal going on? I didn’t hear anything.


Those kids had their whole lives ahead of them. You took away their futures.


I was trying to help the kids. I was trying to free them from school, from being told what to think. From being just another piece in the puzzle. From the Big Man. From the ”Yes, sir.” From the “No, sir.” From the drinking every weekend and than on Sundays, dragging their families to church to go pray, to forgive their sins. I don’t care what the Big Man says. I don’t care what he thinks, because I can’t prove he’s real. All I know is that he judges us, and watches us from above. But he watches us like a drunk father with his eyes glued to the TV.  He sees everything happening. He doesn’t care. He’s passive. He just lets things happen.


Those kids were innocent. Fifteeen young lives taken.


Those kids were not innocent. They see a lot more than you think. That town may seem perfect on the outside but you know there’s some serious shit going on behind the doors.

Why did you choose theatre to light the fuse then? The only place in the entire building where people were? Don’t you think you would know?


I know what the jury said, I sat through those trails.


When you kill someone, you take away their opportunity for a life. Just think, if your child was in there. If you did have children. You might not know or care what it would like to be a father. But I know that if my eleven year old was plucking the strings of a violin and wave of fire came upon her, I would pluck in her place. I would not think about it for a second.


I didn’t mean to kill anyone! I chose that spot because I knew flammable those curtains were! I could light the flame from behind the door back stage and I didn’t have to go inside. As much as I would have loved to see the curtains dance in the flames… I couldn’t risk getting caught another time. That door was so heavy, I couldn’t hear a thing behind it…


You don’t think you think I understand that? You don’t think I ever regret what I did? You think I am just a heartless killer? It takes anyone to pull the trigger, but not anyone can live a life after they do it. I am one of those. I can’t live anymore. There was not way I could have. As soon as I lit the fuse, I knew it was all over. I was killing Christopher. He had no chance to live anymore. That’s why I turned myself in. I saw what was going on the TV. I saw the scared kids and the crying mothers and fathers and little siblings and I couldn’t bear it anymore. I knew it was over. I knew I needed to do what was right.


That’s what set you over the edge?


I had to turn myself in after that. I am human after all. I am not the monster the media thinks I am. They still talk about me, you know … well, I am done with that life. You won’t see anymore Christopher after this.


Christopher, I cannot have you try to kill yourself again. I am going to have to report this.


Report it then.


You want to be locked up in the mental ward again Christopher? Strapped to a table with needles in your skin?


No, I don’t want that.


Well, don’t kill yourself then.


I told you, I am not killing myself. I am starting over.


Well, whatever you call it. I’m keeping an eye on you. This meeting is over, but I will have you put in solitary tonight. Just to keep you safe. It’s basic protocol… I’m sorry Christopher…

(DOCTOR gets up and follows CHRISTOPHER to the door)


It’s alright Doc. I’ll be fine.


Good. Good. I’ll see you next Wednesday then.

(DOCTOR shuts the door behind him. Walks over to his chair and sits down and sighs. He looks at CHRISTOPHER’s file that has been sitting on his desk. He shuffles through the pages. They are all blank. He shuffles through them a second time, disillusioned. Dials a few numbers on the phone. )


Hello? Yes, this is Doctor Delery. I feel as though I might have misplaced Christopher’s file.


Christopher Bennett? His name is on it, but the pages are blank. It might have got mixed up with someone else’s. I could have sworn I looked it over just before our meeting.


(voice raised)

What do you mean there’s no Christopher at this prison?

I’ve been seeing him every Wednesday at 2 for the past 3 and half years.


If this is some sort of office prank, it’s really not funny, miss.


 Well if you could please have someone check his cell for me please.


Please. I don’t care. Just tell me if he’s in there.


Cell 301.


No, I’ve never heard of a Carlos.


It’s fine, thank you, Miss. Goodbye.

(DOCTOR bangs the phone down. He flips through the pages of the file a last time. Something falls of out it. DOCTOR picks it up. It’s a postcard.)



Doctor, I wanted to thank you. You are the one who lit the fuse. You ignited the fire within me that lied dormant for years. As of now I have arisen from those flames and I have flown far away. Keep in touch, Jack.

(DOCTOR flips the card over and looks at the other side)


(laughing to himself)

It had to be the fucking Netherlands


(DOCTOR shakes his head and tucks the card in his coat pocket. Lights fade)

14 Ways To Know You Are A Stoner

Alright lovelies… pack your bowl, let’s shed some light on this subject. (pun intended)

1. You smoke alone.

Of course you have heard this one before. As a good friend of mine once said, “Smoking is really depressing. That’s why we smoke with friends, so at least we’re depressed together.” Smoking is kind of depressing. Blowing smoke out the window of your dorm room will make you feel like a grade-A druggie. It’s okay. It will get better. You will be stoned soon.

2. You know the lingo.

It’s like Starbucks for stoners. But instead of a “Triple Grande Skinny Iced Carmel Macchiato with Soy Milk.” it’s more like “Yo man, I’ll have a G of that BubbleGum Kush.” (If you don’t know what a G is, GTFO. kidding. not really.) See, dealers are mostly guys who like to think that they’re super ghetto. It doesn’t matter if his parents collect French art, his family has a house in Aspen or if his brother went to Yale, if he sells drugs he’s gonna think he’s fucking Tupac Shakur. So, learn the dialect. It’s not that hard. Go on urbandictionary.com and educate yourself.

3. You know how to smoke.

Maybe you were fortunate to have a stoner buddy there for you who told you exactly what to do, but chances are when you smoked weed for the first time you had no idea what the what fuck you were doing. The best way to smoke is inhale for about 4 or 5 seconds (or as long as you can without passing out) and blow out. If you can, try to ghost inhale, where you exhale the smoke for a moment and inhale again. Do not smoke it like you would a cigarette, by inhaling and blowing out immediately. This is usually what happens when kids say they don’t get high the first time they smoke. The smoke needs to sit in your lungs so the THC can get into your bloodstream.

4.  You don’t cough – ever.

Don’t a be pussy.

5. You smoke everyday.

It really doesn’t matter what day of the week. This is one of the factors that distinguishes stoners from your average College Joe.  For College Joe, smoking is reserved for the weekends, along with other recreational activities: drinking, dancing*, hooking up. Drinking makes sense to reserve of the weekends. It’s exhausting and sometimes after too much shotgunning you end up throwing up into an empty PBR box at the end of the night. Or you’ll spend the next morning hugging a toilet with only your friend’s cat as your sole companion. Maybe you’ll end up tied in sheets on a floor emptier than your heart. But weed will never to that to you. It’s kind to your liver… and your heart. It won’t get you sick and you don’t usually end up hooking up with randoms. And if you do, they’re usually cuter. Weed goggles are to Steve Jobs as beer goggles are to Bill Gates. Who would you rather fuck? Weed helps you unwind at the end of a good day. Weed is good for everyday of week. You’ve got Superblunt Sundays, Mary-Jane Mondays, Toasted Tuesdays, Wine and Weed Wednesdays**, Twisted Thursdays, Fried Fridays, and your good ole classic Stoned Saturdays. As long as you get work done and wake up in time for that 9am class, it shouldn’t even interfere with school, lol.

* dry humping on the dancefloor 

**wine optional

6.  You hate waiting for weed.

In college,  it’s usually a quick trip in your penguin pajamas down the elevator to get your weed. But back home, you could be waiting up to three days for your weed, because people think that smoking weed is only for the weekends, as described above, hah. Mortals. Now, if you’re not a stoner, this shouldn’t bother you, but this will annoy the shit out of you if you are a stoner. If you had your way,  you would crawl three and half miles to your friends house to the freeway to pick up the green. You really don’t care. Is this an indicator of desperate and addictive tendencies? Probably. Do you care? No, no shame. You can’t find dignity at the bottom of a bong.

7. You basically mix it with everything.

If you are a stoner, you are going to feel inclined to have weed on you for every occasion. Going to a rave this weekend and candy flipping. Better bring that green. What about Electric Forest festival? What’s weed untop of three, (possibly four?), other hallucinogens? Oh you’re doing Shrooms this friday? Gotta have that brownie handy. Drinking this weekend? You can’t leave the room unless your sexy underwear is on and you’ve taken at least one grav. Studying for finals? Everyone knows that weed and aderall is the perfect combination. As you have seen on many motivational posters in classrooms and corporate work spaces: Creativity + Work Ethic = Success. And the best thing to mix with weed you ask… some more bud.

8. You own your own piece.

No more apple bongs, carved balsa wood bongs from shop class,  or shitty joints out of Bible paper for you. Now you have your hands around an actual real glass piece. Maybe you have one in the shape of an elephant,  a dragon, or your recently deceased cat. Your first piece is usually a bowl or a bubbler. But if you’re lucky enough to own a bong as your first piece, I envy you. Piece brings power. You have freedom to smoke alone without having to share a dime of precious green. Make sure to Christen your new piece properly. Hold a little ceremony. Baptize it in cold water – preferably in a river and leave it out to soak up the sun. Wave your hands above it and sing a Gregorian chant to exorcise any evil spirits, pack it to the brim, sprinkle a some keef on top and blaze up.

9. You drool over weed porn.

What is weed porn? Well, Bio majors, weed is a predominantly dioecious plant, so technically  Mr. and Mrs. Cannabis get down in that vascular plant way, the Mr. releases his load of pollen from his ample anther which flood into the Mrs.’ engorged pistol in the quest to feritilze her ovule. As much Natural Geographic specials on plant reproduction turn me on…. I’m talking about those photos. You know the photos. The ones on tumblr of the Holy Nugget with fluorescent orange and purple swirls with THC crystals so sticky it could pass as a dank Sour Patch Kid. Weed porn does not always have to be pictures of actual weed.  It could be a picture of a girl in nothing but lacy underwear and a black and white tank that says “Blaze It 420” holding up a fat spoon of Cannabutter that twirls magically back into a bowl. Sometimes, weed porn can be olfactory, one whiff of the sweet leaf can send intense spasms all the way down your body. . (You might even jizz your pants, but only if it’s that good California shit. )

10. You smoke weed before doing anything.

Going downtown? Better blaze up. Going to the A&P? Rip it. Going to pick up your contacts? Take a toke. Going out to a nice dinner with your grandparents? Time to get hazy. I mean, getting high makes everything better! Sleep, sex, music, class, yoga, food, laundry, running into your old high school teacher at Target, asking said teacher how he and his new wife are doing, finding out that the she left him six months ago, offering him condolences with an awkward touch on the shoulder, retracting your arm after he nods uncomfortably, mumbling something about how your uncle met someone great on match.com, and cringing as you speed-walk away to home goods section as quickly as your smoker lungs will allow.

11. Lighters, Everywhere.

Lighters will be spilling out of your ears. All of your jacket pockets, will have at least one lighter in it, if you’re lucky maybe half of them will have some lighter fluid left! Your lighter’s will spill out at the most convenient times: as you  babysit young children,  when your parents ask for their keys back, or in front of the nurse taking your drug test. Most of the lighters won’t be yours, but friend’s lighters that they lent to you that you “forgot” to give back. It’s nice to have an ample supply of lighters, but if you do this too often, expect lighter karma. Yes, lighters will jump out of your pocket the moment you decide to take a deep walk into the woods. Be careful you return the favor.

BONUS POINTS: If you know the curse of the white lighter, you are a most definitely a stoner. Rumor has it,  that Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Kurt Cobain all died at age 27, were left-handed, and all died with a white BIC lighter in their pocket. Some smokers believe that if they use a white lighter, bad things can happen.  Like this one time, my friend had a friend whose best friend’s cousin never used a white lighter and the first time they did broke their brand new bong. (e-ghad!) If you believe this myth, you are most definitely a NARP. Honestly, Jim Morrison was the only one to die with a white lighter in their pocket and it was a Zippo. The BIC Lighter didn’t come out until 1973, so the only of one these stars who could have died with a BIC white lighter in their pocket is Kurt Cobain. This is why I purposely peel the casing of my BIC lighters to make them white. I don’t do NARPS.

12.  You like to go out in nature.

Not all stoners are nature freaks before they started smoking. Some maybe went for walks in the woods with their parents as kids, took their dog out to the river to throw some balls, but never were wilderness masters. Weed brings you outside. Mostly because it’s illegal most places and it’s potent enough to piss of your neighbors if you’re not careful. Weed will have you walking into the deep corners of the forest to avoid any hikers, Park Rangers, or ex-highschool teachers that you might encounter. You’ll find yourself… quite literally… immersed in nature. If weed did no other good in the world but get people out in nature, that would be enough. Though not as intense as  mushrooms in promoting nature loving, weed can be a wonderful teaching tool if you let it in.  Warning: you may find yourself staring at the branches of the trees, walking barefoot in the mud, cleansing stones in the river, hugging trees, staring at the sky, petting moss, talking to animals, meditating on rocks, and contemplating the big questions in the universe.

13. You’ve been high in front of your parents.

If you’ve been high in front of your parents, depending on their religious values and political party, it can be almost as terrifying as staring a cop in the face with a bong in your hand. In the words of Douglas Adams, Don’t Panic. You have much to learn young padawan. Make sure you are prepare: eye drops, shower, breath mints, perfume/man-perfume, and an essence of sober. If you don’t have time to do all this, just pray that your parents don’t remember what the 70’s smelled like. If you find yourself as a loss of words, you probably just shouldn’t say anything. If you start telling the story of how your stone ran away from you today in the woods because the universe called her to find a new companion, your parents very well might think you’re stoned.

14. You don’t feel inclined to participate in stoner culture.

You know you are a stoner when you are your own unique stoner. You don’t need to see every episode of Breaking Bad, own a pair of Adventure Time pajamas, have a secret-not-so-secret crush on Seth Rogen, think Dazed and Confused is funny, or encounter a coked up Neil Patrick Harris on zany trips to White Castle at 2am. Yes, you can be your own stoner. You can create your own culture. You don’t need movies, tumblr, or cartoons. You take the best of what you like and create your own style. A stoner is really just someone who smokes a lot. Everything else is really up to you.

a shitty poem about eggs – by emma harris

i remember making eggs for you love

i made them just how you liked them

blackened with pepper

sprinkled with thyme and rosemary

sunny side up with crispy whites and a tender yolk 

so a golden river would drizzle down onto your toast

at the slightest poke of the fork

i buttered the pan with the stick

i’d lick my fingers and stare at you with a grin

the ocean breeze blew through

lifting my white dress slightly above my hips

you’d follow its direction with your warm hands

pressing them firmly against my ass

i would moan into your lips 

well i made them for you today 

but your seat was empty

so i ate them alone

and i forgot to tell you

i hate rosemary