It's Tuesday afternoon, and all you're thinking about is laying a stunner on your boss, kicking open that front door, and cracking an ice cold Steveweiser in the parking lot. You'd love to show your own personal McMahon that you don't give a damn and break the neck of the goddamn orange phony in power. But you're also kind of lazy, and wouldn't mind playing Halo for the next five hours. Maybe cracking into that sour cream n' onion dip and those ridged chips. You know what I'm saying, dogg. Austin 4:20 celebrates both of those dynamics in a person.