“The van for the venue left without me, and I’m stuck in the hotel room.”
This is not really a problem, Bob.
“I’ve only got three ounces of pot, four grams of cocaine, eight guitars, and an undisclosed number of stone-cold teen foxes. I’m gonna have to rock star the shit out of this.”
Just call the front desk.
“I have begun to grow potatoes.”
In the hotel room?
“Yup. I have colonized my hotel room.”
You’re not allowed to watch movies anymore.