A password will be e-mailed to you.

D.C. native Rob Cantrell has been a viral video sensation as well as a huge competitor on Last Comic Standing. Tonight he headlines Don’t Block The Box at The Wonderland Ballroom, which is also a video shoot for his song “Coffee and Weed”. Come be a famous extra!

10 a.m.: Vape up and go to Jimmy T’s for breakfast ; on the corner of East Capitol & 5th- Capitol Hill – price is right for coffee, grits and cheap eggs. This place has been there forever, even before wi-fi! Don’t act too stoned, cops like to kick it there a lot.

11 a.m.: (Sat.) Cruise around Eastern Market for no good reason, maybe buy a painting of a stranger on a unicycle or grab some fruit. I’m going thru a heavy Mango phase right now.

Noon: Hungry again so I grab a crab cake at Eastern Market, and when nobody is looking – sprinkle Old Bay on my palm and lick it

1 p.m.: Botanical Gardens. There’s mad plant life and trippy butterflies, and a great spot to experience extreme photosynthesis, I’m talkin’ good air dude.


2 p.m.: Air and Space Museum. Let’s check out spaceships while listening heavy funk in my headphones, shoplift some dried astronaut ice cream for the thrill.


3 p.m.: Mangos, crab cakes, space ice cream, and eggs have combined their forces and we need a panic button power dump – so I head to the Hotel Monaco lobby, fake that I am staying there and go right to the bathroom. There’s quality toilet paper that feels like wiping my ass with grandma’s quilt, maybe they got a bidet, poop like a 1% ‘er. Once the deed is done, I cop some complimentary wine and tell people I’m Jessie Eisenberg.

4 p.m.: A crucial nap on friends couch, followed by apologies for drooling on the pillow. Seize the day and crush 4:20 bong hits , but also do 18 push-ups to feel good about myself.

5 p.m.: Power shower with beaded body wash, steam it up & shave, only to miss a huge patch under my chin because I’m too stoned to notice , and then look like a regular nimrod.

6 p.m.: The Tune Inn – my favorite DC Dive bar – and I have a beer with old friends that I grew up with and pretend that I am watching a sports game to blend in, but really I’m thinking about turtles. Why don’t we talk about turtles more?

7 p.m.: Take the Metro to DuPont Circle. Go to Topaz Hotel comedy open mic and try out new material about turtles, it bombs, and I blame it on the Illuminati. Then read the Wikipedia page for Lonesome George.

8 p.m.: Sneak on to roof of the White House with my friend George who has a packed one hitter, we get by the security and we are on the roof, but his pipe is clogged, huge pain in the ass, and we leave roof to go to his apartment in Adams Morgan to get a coat hanger to un-clog the one-hitter. Google maps says we weren’t at the White House at all, just on top of a dumpster behind SoHo Tea and Coffee.

9 p.m.: Go to George’s apt to unclog his one hitter with a sketchy coat hanger, and his roommates are French. They make fun of our pants because we got no pleats. We gleesh tough and play the French roommates in a intense game of Jenga while listening to a bootleg of a ‘ Rare Essence’ show from YouTube on a iPhone speaker. We whip ass on the French roommates in Jenga, fuck your pleats, mon frere. Get H.R level high and go see Birdman for the third time this week.

3 a.m.: The Pancake House.