Europe was tha shizit Yo. Brad's back in town with his brand new invention. Europe was so dope it deserves a little mention. In London I drank a lot of good beer. Got drunk and kissed a dude- now I am queer. In Paris I ate a lot French food. It's only what they eat in Paris, dude. Ate a lot of cheese, drank a little wine. Met a girly by La Seinne and made her feel fine. Tha French ladies are sure real bad ass. Repesented the U.S. - the girlies loved my Brad ass. Went to Munich and drank at the Hoffbrau. Talked about Hilter and they gave me the lowdown. I 'm glad that muthafucka sure did pay. Cos he's not here, the world is a better place. Checked out the Buda or maybe it was Pest. Met two sistas and taught 'em 'bout incest. In Europe I became the true Ron Jeremy. In Wyoming, there's a town called Laramie. 'Cept I couldn't be a playa in the dubya why. Not a sheep fucka - I'm just that kind of guy. Losin' track, let's get back to the story. Went to Amsterdam in all her glory. Went to the cafes and got high as a muthafucka. Met dudes from Canada who tried to play me like a sucka. Bong hit after bong hit, those dudes tried to hang. They didn't know that I am the Bling Blang. After burnin' too much they passed out on the floor. But I'm Hippie Brad and so I smoked more. Burnin' the rasta all through the night. I decided it was time to check out the red light. Girlies with bananas from all over the globe. I cruised down the street and decided to probe. Met a sweet little vixen and her name was Sasha. Paid her 150 guilder and did the masha masha. Kind felt dirty, and kinda disgraced. But that's all part of the human race. In Amsterdam the girlies run a professional business. I am Hippie Brad and I am your fuckin' witness. Chilled in Amsterdam for a few killa weeks. I bought some acid and decided to peak. On a crazy night train bound for Nice. I was seein' holy visions of love and peace. Chilled at the beach when I got there. Checkin' out the hoo-hoos until I saw pit hair. Man that shit is whack I thought. The two extremes left me distraught. Drinkin wine on the French Riviera. Mackin' the beach like David Silvera. Time to cruise over to Florence says I. But before I leave I think I'll get high. Met a shady deala on the sandy beach. Bought some hash off that fuckin' leach. This digga wuz a fool n' really tried to play me. But I'm no sucka, don't worry you'll see. Cruisin' to Florence all baked n' shit. Eatin baguettes with cheese is IT. Got to town and cruised to the sites. Goin' to see David seemed so right. I was in shock when I got there. His dick's so big and I tried not to stare. Smoked a little herb, ate a little food. Hopped on a plane in a killer mood. Flyin' back home was a real total bummer. But it was a killer way to spend my summer. Take it from me if you're ever plannin' a visit. Hippie Brad will tell you Europe was tha shizit.
-bom bop baum chiggidy chiggidy bom bop chiggidy chiggidy weep weep. Woot. Baum.
  ¶ 8:07 AM 7 comments

  Amsterdam is tha shit, dawgs. Hey doodz-

I'm chuh-zillin' at an Internet cafe in Amsterdam right now. Sorry it's been so long, but I've been travelling through Europe for the past month. Sumthin' I've wanted to do all my life. I have made one decision about Europeans. They get higher than shit, man. I decided to chill in Amsterdam for a few weeks. Every dooder I met on the trains told me to only spend a few days in Amsterdam. Smoke some herb, check out Van Gogh, slurp some Heineken and even check out the red-light (hummerz are way cheap, man). I'm having so much fun, I'm ready to live in this place. I'm higha than a muthafucka right now. I ate at an Indonesian restaurant, I met a muslim who hooked me up with a Koran. This trip rules. I think I'm going over to the Odenkerk again today (that's the redlight bros). I won a shitload of wad in a dutch casion last weekend and I'm ready to reap the rewards. Lata diggaz.
  ¶ 3:49 AM 1 comments

  My stupid theory is way cooler than your stupid theory. . . What's up jazzy-funk-freshies. Tha Hippie Brad is back after a long strange trip. . . Mee hee hee. I went camping this weekend with this girl I met down at Gallivan Center last Thursday. It was totally killer! We drank beer, smoked doobage, shrazoomed, made some way rad camp chili. Dude, we full on drank hot tea every night, it was dope as hell. . . I love the mountains and being up there with fun, cute girleez is even better dooders.
Usually, I like to go to coffee shops, to just chill and hang out or maybe read. Especially if I just came from the bookstore and have a couple of hours to kill. I usually don't like to be bothered either. I don't think that's too much to ask. I'm chuzillin', slammin' some joe and going about my business. I'm especially not there to listen to everyone's stupid theories and justifications for everything that's rad and lame in the world.
So why is it everytime I go to slurp some robust roast, some band-nerdy chess strategizing dork ass excuse for a wannabe Jack Kerouac beat poet singles me out to fuckin' crowd my vibe? It's not like I'm an elitist, far from it, but these dudes have started to grate down on my soul somethin' fierce dudes. It's almost as bad as trying to sit through a staunch republican's speech about fundamentalist christianity.
Just because I'm alone doesn't mean that I want to talk to you. I certainly don't want to hear your poetry, see that pretty picture you're drawing, meet that girl in the corner you've been trying to impress for the last hour who got rid of you by telling you that she was "into" me, or hear your stupid theory - because my stupid theory is way cooler.
Yeppers. Sorry brotha, but you can quote all the philosophy you learned in intro and how it relates to the way you feel about life but it ain't going to change the fact that I think you're a pretentious cheeseball. . . so fuck off and let me read my shizzle.  ¶ 3:39 PM 3 comments

  Haiku Ting ting lamma ling
Hamma lama long ding dong
Bee bee bop a wee wop  ¶ 8:12 PM 3 comments

  Stoned. . . Stoned.
Clear pyrex glass,
Three foot extention so that your buddy has to light it,
Ice cubes in the bottom to cool your throat,
Stoned.
So very stoned.  ¶ 7:43 PM 0 comments

  Don't you worry, we'll all float on, all right. . . What's up Dooderz, Hippie Brad shizzolatin' this shiznit on a killer Thursday morning. Dudes, I had the most killer morning. I got up and fried up some fatty eggs, fried up some thick slices of hickory smoked pepper bacon, whipped up some Yukon golds with some pepper jack, green onions and peppers out of my garden and drank a robust coffee muthafukaz. It's so rad to get up in the morning and totally feast it up. It was necessary to do up some killer Alaskan Thunderfuck out of the three foot brizzle, so now I'm cleaned, fed and country fried. Beheee ting, mana lana ling.
I'm just fuhzucking around this morning thinking about how killer it is to live in Salt Lake City. For real, dude, Salt Lake's a bad ass little spot of land. We're close to the mountains, we get dope ass live music here all the time, and even the uptight conservative crew, in my experience, is way down with the shahiznit neat and clean. I used to live in Boulder, which was totally bitchin', but people out there are way crazy. I dig the mellow vibes here, for sure dude. Yeah, the Brigham Young liberation army gets a little crazy, and those people can get mean hard-ons about being all lame on people who don't share their point of view. But fuck it, man. I don't bother them, they don't bother me.
I have a pretty fucking sweet method of income. I'm a fuckin' straight-up 2 legit 2 quit gardner, dudes. Yeeahaa. Rich people pay me to come and izzle their brizzle. I'm totally out in the sun all day, I get to interact with genuinely interesting people and I totally get botanamatize. Sure, it's hard work sometimes, but it's so rewarding to work with vegetables, flowers, grasses and other shizzle like that. Plus, it's even better when you can take a sorry excuse for a backyard and turn it into something profoundly beautiful. I've said it before it's way zen. I full on channel the holy izzle while chanting my mantra out in the field, man. I think that's why I don't get all bent and stressed about stuff. . . I think plant life has an interesting effect on people. Mah haaa, plant life dude, ha ha.
Yeah, so I just bought the Modest Mouse the other day. It's fuckin' good. Last night whilst I played NBA Playaz on the Xbox, I totally jammed out to Modest Mouse. I was off tha hook muthaizzzles. I took Iverson to the rack over Deeter's pathetic excuse of a T-Mac playa every time. Yeah, Deeter, there's no shakin' the Bradley monster when he's Iverson.
All right, I'm going to walk over to Salt Lake Coffee Break and score one of those killer pastries. . . mid morning munchies muthafukaz. Late.   ¶ 9:09 AM 4 comments

  Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3 . . . I love my new bizzzong. It's so fizzzuckin' rad. I don't have to work tomorrow, so I decided to rock the ganj and hang out in my apartment. Dudez, I made some fatty-bom-batty black bean burritos with red onions and cheese and homemade salsa. It wuz the illa. Tonight was a good night for hangin' out and listening to Guided by Voices, especially in a rockin' bud daze. Meee hee hee. I have been playing Grand Theft Auto Vice City all night. Nothing like a little unadulterated crime to keep life interesting.
So my apartment is pretty weird. There's this real fucked up Chester the Molester guy who lives above me. We don't have air conditioning here so that crazy dude just chills out in his underwear with his door wide open. The other night I was rockin' a jay out in the parking lot with this Tyler dude. We'll just call Tyler "that's cool," because that's all that he ever says and it's his universal response to everything anyone tells him. Everything's fuckin' cool to That's Cool. Yeah, so anyway That's Cool and I are cruising down the stairs and we hear Chester McMolester fall over in his appartment and start scrambling around. We walked by his door and we full on busted Chester flogging his bishop. Well, I guess we didn't totally bust him, but he was scrambling to put his robe on and it was a little obvious that his flag was flying at half mast. Sick, huh? He's totally the type of dude who goes to Rainbow Gatherings to take advantage of the free love. Except he probably goes for little kids, and passed out chicks, and probably passed out dudes too. I live in fear. Plus I think he narced on me to the landlord.
That was the only time I heard That's Cool say something other than "that's cool." Yeah, he said "That's Lame." He's just like that fuzzuckin' rad Bit thing that helped Flynn dude fly the Recognizer in that Tron movie.
The landlord left this message on my machine the other day that was all like "Uuuh, Bradley, uuuh I've had reports from several tennants that your apartment smells like dope. . . I'm uuuh gonna have to come out there if this continues to be a problem." Yeah, I enjoy a frequent binger, but Chester de lo Molestera looks at kiddie porn all day and that's cool. He probably murders little old ladies, too. Mwah hah hah, he called it dope. That's like referring to shit as poopy. Could you imagine how fucking wierd it would be if we started saying "I have to take a poopy" instead of "I have to take a shit"?
My new bzong is the cheech to the chong, muthafukaz outlawed ma hong, but that's cool cuz here's the end of this song. . .bam.  ¶ 3:12 AM 2 comments

  The obligatory initial posting What's up miznuthafukaz! I'm Bradley, but most of my friends know me as "Hippie Brad." I'm way into getting baked, making snacks, playing video games, reading confucious, getting laid, chillin, drinking beers with my buddy Benny-yamma-yamma, umm going to Salt Lake City library for the free films, checking out rad live music, getting laid, bong hitz off my zong and ripping George War Bush a new asshole. Maw ha ha.
I draw blog inspiration from my home-boyee the aforementioned Ben-mwaha-ha-dingy-lingy. He has conviced me to herbamatize and bloggamatize. The rules: Fuck you if you make fun of me. The internet is full of critical loozerz and if you're one of them, fuck off and go watch Star Trek you lame-ass. Fuck you if you criticize what I write. . . umm, it's you who chose to read this cheesdick. And finally, I'm only into the diggaz with a postive vibe. I'm a gardner and I have all day to channel zen. Now, burn, munch,fuck and be merry. Pizz-eace out.  ¶ 9:55 PM 11 comments