“Life is a stage. Smoke weed until you die.”

Celebrate 4/20 with Workaholics’ best weed moments.



Workaholics - 20 Hits for 4/20


franerys asked:

I'm in the dreaded 'waiting for the cast list' stage of rehearsals :( what do you do to keep your mind off it? (it goes up Friday)

I’m a workaholic so I distract myself by working on other things. I’ll go practice for a lesson or for another show, or edit a video, or update the blog.

madamepika asked:

Lubricantshipping and 12, please

things you said when you thought i was asleep

“Hey Sycamore the lights should be-” Meyer stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw the professor sleeping on his desk. He chuckled a little, throwing a nearby blanket around him, and walking over to the window. 

It bothered him to be in this lab. He bit his lip, not knowing what to do now. He wanted to escape the old place, but something else held him there.

“You remind me of my wife… when she worked.” He chuckled softly, talking to Sycamore as if he were fully awake. “She used to work in all hours of the night, dozing off once or twice. She was more of a workaholic. I guess that’s where Clemont got his persistence.” He muttered, still staring out the window. 

Lumiose’s lights flickered in his pupils, as he slowly drifted into his own world. He would’ve stayed there too if it wasn’t for a the sound of shifting objects to pull him back into reality.

He looked back to see Sycamore with his head still down, but now in a different position. Meyer breathed a quick sigh of relief and looked back out.

“After the accident I thought I was helpless; raising two children on my own. But it was Blaziken who convinced me that I had a duty to do, to prevent an accident from happening again. That’s why I became Blaziken Mask, to protect my own family…. and everyone else’s.” He clenched his jaw a bit, sorting through his thoughts.

“But it wasn’t a right away thing. Me? a Crime fighter? How? With two children, was it even possible? It wasn’t until autopsy revealed that…” He took a deep breath. “She was pregnant with my unborn child. Right there and then I knew that I had to be the helper to the helpless and the innocent.” He turned back to the professor.

“I’m sorry I know it’s stupid to be talking…” He chuckles flinging a few tears that managed to escape. “But it feels good to talk to someone again.” He sighed, grabbing his coat. 

“I’ll see you later professor.” With that, Meyer left.

Little did he know, the professor was never asleep in the first place. Sycamore lifted his head, staring at the closed door.

I’m glad i can do something for you to repay the favour

The scariest art shit is the shit you can't teach

and can’t be taught.

For example, don’t romanticize workaholics, or workaholic tendencies. It’s not going to help you. It’s going to stress you out, and possibly make you less productive. You can’t just acquire someone’s work addiction. You think you want it, but consider about all the negativity and damage that addiction is built on. You think you’re the one person who can rock that shit.

Pro tip: no.

Quit romanticizing perfectionism; it’s not a tool you can turn on and off to make yourself a more skilled artist. It’s an extraordinarily negative habit of mind that makes you precious about your work. Preciousness means less productivity, and it means less growth. It means pointless stress. It means stagnation. “But my work isn’t good enough to stop picking over every detail-” it’s never gonna get good enough if you don’t move on. Move on.

For the love of god, just move forward.

I’ve lived that, in myself and in people I’ve loved. It’s shit. It just is. But it’s so appealing. It’s rose-colored shit, and it is impossible to convey the depths of its insidiousness. It must be experienced to be understood. That’s hard to watch. It’s even harder to watch, if you’ve been there.

Watching, unfortunately, is about all there is to be done. Watching and yelling at clouds.