SNOOP GOT OLD

notes:

* we ALL want this coupling to happen.................EVERYONE, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

* what came first, Martha Stewart's oregano or Snoop's oregano?

* father: this place isn't for me.
son: COME ON, POPS!!! make my life easier than it is now.
father: look at all these old fogies doing yoga for seniors. this is clearly a sex-free senior zone. look, dude's using the pool noodle as his balance beam! you said Martha Stewart would be here.
son: she's clearly too sexy to be lumped into this group of little old ladies with blue hair and blue cats who need to be helped across the road cos they forgot their balancing rods.
father: you said Bruce Lee would be instructing this class!
son: come on, pops! you see what happened to us there? the one dude from our tribe got strung up...
father: ...the other went on to score the most air lay-up dunks in the League!
son: they ARE doing Bruce's technique, it's just only HE can do the HI-YAH! without it sounding like a death rattle.

* father: why does your phone go off when we're having a serious, life-altering/threatening conversation?
son: my CarFox came in, i'm selling this old jalopy.
father: you're referring to me?
son: i just don't want to be ripped off.
father: you'd sell me, too. up the farm. for glue.
son: never. you're a thoroughbred. i'd never take you out back for a shot. you ain't no Old Yeller, you're Snopp Doggy Dog!
the son turns up the volume knob and that Sarah McLachlan song about ASPCA animals comes on.
father and son: *both crying together and holding hands, the father yelling to the music*

* son: that last place was pretty nice.
father: you didn't have to drive this old jalopy into the pool to make your point. fine the pool's nice i don't need to dunk my head! i don't like this whole thing.
son: why?
father: i can't swim. look at our skin, son, we tan easily!

* son: dad, what the fuck! why do we live in a run-down shack of second stories and treat it like we live in a brand-new mansion?
father: cos it's Halloween or something. i don't do all that Wiccan shit you millennials indulge in like there's no tomorrow.
son: what happened to Rosie?
father: i let her go.
son: what the fuck, dad, i paid her good money to tend to your ass.
father: i can wipe my own ass.
son: she said you called her a ho.
father: from me that's a compliment. the worst you can call a woman is a bro. i let her go.
son: why?
father: she was holding out on me, samplin' the goods. never peck at the product. she had a whole stash of bag-weed under her shirt so i checked. she was my dealer and my friend. never mix business and pleasure. i asked her where the weed was and she suddenly couldn't speak English no mo, said her name was Mary Juana.
son: dad, she's a robot! she came from the Jetsons. she was programmed to help.
father: too fancy for my blood and crip. not for the crib. she always wore that dress with the lace. called me Mr. J in that creepy Harley Quinn voice you white folk are so fond of.

* son: dad, i found your weed! it was in the trash.
father: damn, i put it in the wrong bin, i was trying to recycle it. it's a plant so it should be easily integrated back into nature, cycle of life and all that. i'm the greatest environmentalist since Smokey the Bear, who smokes while he sutras---so deep is Smokey in meditation his butt is not fully stomped out and it causes a massive raging wind-swept forest fire in the Valley. sometimes when i don't get enough weed in my belly i lie down on the grass of my front yard and let the trash pandas lick said belly of mine.
son: that sounds like what happens when you DO get weed in your belly.

* the boy jumps out of the front porch onto the lawn-grass, pushing the banging screen-door the heck back, and trips over the red wagon

* son: when you swing that hammer around, it scares me, dad.
director Chip Lynne: it's clear that this is the exact same set, there's no effort to make it look like it's from the '50s or anything, we just hired different-looking actors. that sun is so modern, it looks so 2018...

* son: A TREEHOUSE! every boy's dream!
father: yep. you know why fathers build their sons treehouses? to keep them out there eventually when they turn into teenagers. and after they turn 18.

* son as a man: i think we can do better.
female Principal agent: please get out of my chair, sir, this is my office, just cos you're grown don't mean you can boss me around, i'm my own boss.

* son: change is hard, try to keep in this jeep an open mind.
father: says the boy who never finished his supper.
son: there's only so many boiled potatoes with jelly a boy or a man can eat.
father: i wanted to have an abortion but your mother wanted to keep you.
son: *smiling* looks like we BOTH fooled mom!
they both laugh and hug in the car, narrowly missing swerving into a tree.

* father: so let's see here let me get this straight you get to keep the new stockly-refurbished Jetsons-looking modern mansion built on the futurists' dream and I get this little white WHITE shanty out in the back?!
son: no shots allowed. you're gonna have to pay for the little house. and my big house. it's cool tho we'll use your money that you get coming to you every month.
father: that's my fixed income!
son: Principal will figure it out for us. it keeps coming to me.
father: whoa, son! stop swinging around that hammer! you've never held a hammer in your life, huh? you really want your old man on the same property as you, living next to you, bothering you for sugar, in your hair when you're having relations?
son: i have a fade. sure, i want to experience the millennial lifestyle from all sides like a 360-degree lifecast. millennialism is for EVERYONE.

* father: i warn you, i throw disco parties every Saturday night. with Stu.
son: disco is just sped-up yoga for seniors. since when you have any friends???

* son: gonna need a fresh coat of white paint. *sings the jingle* Ace is the place...
father: STOP SINGING!!! you're a disgrace to the family name. we rappers.

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies, i need to dunk in a cold jacuzzi like an E.L. Fudge cookie. my Dodgers are playing as i type................that's all i'm gonna say, beer 'n brat bring out the wurst-sounding loud stadium-shouting...............remember, the black in your Burger King frozen-coke isn't coke this time..............limited-time cherry sold but NOT on Halloween Day, it looks dark and disturbing but it tastes great!