rICEDoUTyUGO ~ harrison ford put some lsd on my tounge

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harrison ford put some lsd on my tounge
the other day, i was exiting the neighborhood russian market. i had a pair of baltika 4's and little expectation of finding anything other than my car in the parking lot (even this wasn't certain, in fact). however, not only was my car there, but so was harrison ford. he was leaning against the whitewashed concrete back of the market, smoking a cigarette. he was actually right next to my car. like, if he'd decided to sit on a car instead of lean against the wall, he'd have probably picked my car. and maybe even dented it. that's how close he was to my car. so i figured, you know, this is enough license to hassle him with some awkward/weird fan interaction. i walked up and plonked my beers down on the roof of my car, then looked him in the ~~chin scar~~ eye and proclaimed, "HARRISON FORD." this was because i had to be sure it was harrison ford, as i'm not the best with names and faces. in retrospect, it was sort of a weird way to start a conversation. thankfully, harrison ford was not phased. "man in the parking lot!" he replied. we shook hands. i leaned up against the wall next to him. "so how're fings" i ask. "oh, you know." he says. i nod, and a moment passes. "so what'd you buy?" he asks. "two liters of baltika 4. want one?" "is that a beer? nah." i suppose it was 11am. "it's a spaceship," i mumble. harrison ford boggled at me. "...in my mind." i hastily amended. i realized that harrison ford was now listed amongst the victims of my strange sense of humor. as i processed this, harrison ford spoke again: "i am many things, inside my mind." now it was MY turn to boggle. "i, er, didn't bjork say that in an animated gif?" i ask. "probably." i figured the ice had melted a bit by this point, so i busted out an actual question: "so, yeah, what was up with that conan o'brien appearance?" "Acid. Want some?" I did. He produced a baggie of sugar cubes from his pocket, and instructed me to stick out my tounge. he made some mystical noises and motions before gingerly placing a pair of cubes on my tounge. "best run along home now, lad" he says. "you're indiana jones and the boulder has just started rolling down at ya." i nodded. "a pleasure, mr. ford. good day to you." "good day, man in the parking lot." i remember driving home, but after that it gets much harder to explain... so we'll stop here.
Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2010-11-20 10:44:00
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