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Which brings me onto Amsterdam!
..wow...
If Amsterdam doesn't affect the core of your very being then you are in serious need of prescription drugs my friend. And thats kinda how it works too... Everyone outside Amsterdam is on prescription drugs, and everyone inside Amsterdam has no time for bloody prescriptions so they go straight for the good stuff. I would now begin to delve deep into the mind of a crack addict, but since I've never taken hard drugs and don't intend to, I'll leave that to my more educated pet dog. (Later...)
Patient: "I'm depressed! I think my life is falling apart. Please doctor, help me!"
Doctor: "I can prescribe you some prosac..."
Patient: "Prosac? Fuck prosac!!" [Rolls up a spliff on the table.]
Doctor: "Sir, you can't do that here I'm afraid."
Patient: "Aw fuck! I can't do anything right!" [Get's up and walks out.]
Addict: "Yo, Charlie? Hey Big C!"
Patient: "This'll help my depression and get me my life back! Oh ok then..."
Do you listen to street preachers? There's a lot to learn from them, but not much of it is derived from what they actually say. It's more like, "Hey see that weird guy shouting in elfish? That's why you shouldn't shave sideways."
So, I'm a hamster. Amsterdam is my cage. Amsterdam is the coolest fucking cage I've ever been in. Yeah, I know it's filled up with a lot of other fucked up (possibly 3-legged) hamsters but when you go into the plastic house thingy and then come out, you see patterns in the bars of the cage and that ball of fluff is extra comfortable!
Seriously. Any bar which serves us with happy hour prices all day (2e30 pints) has got to be credited.
These are the selected tales of Amsterdam. For the complete collection, which holds the truth, you'll have to ask my mates.
written @ 1:54 p.m. on 06 July, 2003