It has been months, hasn't it? Sorry it's taken so long, you've probably forgotten about me. No? You want to try again? I should tell you about my relationships then.
I have had a terrible time with my boyfriend, the only time he says "I love you" is when I slip him ecstasy. He would say it pretty regularly, but now his dick is soft and he's started doing heroin. While he's awful cuddly there's not a whole lot of "me" time. I'll be like "honey, let's go to the mall!" and he'll be like drooling with his eyes rolled back into his head. Boys are weird!
My favorite part of that story is that I am with a drug addict... better than a "rug addict", which is what I typed before I realized I forgot the 'd'. Have I ever told you about the time I was in love with a rug addict?
Michel was an arms dealer with a penchant for fine floor coverings. We met at a small patisserie in the West Nile when I gave up on Atkins (AGAIN!). There he was, in a chair uncomfortably close to a young family, hunched over a catalogue filled with- what else: breast implants. I saw my chance... I sauntered over, casually eating flakey croissant- I leaned over the family of three and whispered "I hear the Vatican is hiring a new Pope." As my intelligent, albeit ill-informed, words showered wet bread all over his grey, mustard stained sweatshirt I noticed his eyes fixate on my exposed chest. "Those are some AK-47 tit bags you have!" I loved him, right then. I knew he loved me too, because I slipped him ecstasy and I felt so pretty.
I am a bit of a health person, so having all these drug addict boyfriends really stumps me. I decided to take myself off the market for quite awhile, until I meet someone famous and trick them into loving me. I am sure I will love again, but he has to be famous, because I will not date another man who is unaccountable... or a rug addict.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Hells Wedding Bells
One of my best friends (if I am not too old to say that) is getting married to a lovely woman whom I approve of (you're welcome Rebecca). However, there are some "issues".
Vince says my attendance is mandatory at their May/ June 2011 nuptials, but Rebecca's super religious Grandparents- who Vince is dedicating "half" the wedding to- may not be able to handle anything I would say in a toast. Nevermind that I may not be able to handle their smell or the ominous reminder that death is inevitable. They believe in Jesus and Hell, so I should just keep my mouth shut about reality for 2 hours on a farm in Wisconsin... a state I can't even spell (making that the region's fault, as I am a spellaholic).
Vince says my voice is very important- and really wants me to talk about him (remember: toast NOT roast!(stupid Vince said that))):)) So I am going to work out some hypothetical scenarios before the big day. A year isn't much time to change who I am... oh sure, I don't HAVE to... Vince DID say I could talk after the Grandparents left, however, that is probably after cake and I don't know that I can wait that long before running my mouth. He also started giving me clauses, like he were a network or something.
Without further ado, a delving into the colorful speech I may (or may not) make next year:
HENCHMAN #1:
[clinking glass] The honorable and highly successful friend of Vince, a woman who needs no introduction- other than this one (by contractual agreement)- will speak a few hours about whatever she pleases.
ABBEY:
Friends, lovers, hypocrites, I stand before you today a toned size 4-6 and I am disgusted by the filth that surrounds me [farts loudly]... what is this a FARM?! I was talking to this one guy- I forgot his name because he was boring, but there he is in the stupid clothes [pointing at an "important" family member] and he was going on and on about this guy [drunkenly points to Vince] and I was like "big fucking deal- why are you so chubby?!"...
ABBEY:
[27 minutes later]... so when I put the jeans on, I was SHOCKED because I hadn't been doing as much cardio as I normally do, but I still lost weight. You might ask me "how?"- well, shut up dummy- you wouldn't know! I did it by having sex in public more and giving more blow jobs- which really curbed my desire to nosh...
ABBEY:
[43 minutes later]... and so it cleared up, but my dress was ruined. Anyway, I am going to get out of here because my buzz is wearing off, but before I go- I would like to say a few words about the groom: he cheated on Rebecca- with a black chick.
ABBEY:
[6 minutes later] Just kidding guys. Vince is a great guy and I am happy to see him with such a lovely lady- her Grandparents are a bit unreasonable, but she's got a good head on her shoulders. Let's eat!
END SCENE
I may write more of these, but it seems I barely have time to write at all anymore, so we'll see.
Vince says my attendance is mandatory at their May/ June 2011 nuptials, but Rebecca's super religious Grandparents- who Vince is dedicating "half" the wedding to- may not be able to handle anything I would say in a toast. Nevermind that I may not be able to handle their smell or the ominous reminder that death is inevitable. They believe in Jesus and Hell, so I should just keep my mouth shut about reality for 2 hours on a farm in Wisconsin... a state I can't even spell (making that the region's fault, as I am a spellaholic).
Vince says my voice is very important- and really wants me to talk about him (remember: toast NOT roast!(stupid Vince said that))):)) So I am going to work out some hypothetical scenarios before the big day. A year isn't much time to change who I am... oh sure, I don't HAVE to... Vince DID say I could talk after the Grandparents left, however, that is probably after cake and I don't know that I can wait that long before running my mouth. He also started giving me clauses, like he were a network or something.
Without further ado, a delving into the colorful speech I may (or may not) make next year:
HENCHMAN #1:
[clinking glass] The honorable and highly successful friend of Vince, a woman who needs no introduction- other than this one (by contractual agreement)- will speak a few hours about whatever she pleases.
ABBEY:
Friends, lovers, hypocrites, I stand before you today a toned size 4-6 and I am disgusted by the filth that surrounds me [farts loudly]... what is this a FARM?! I was talking to this one guy- I forgot his name because he was boring, but there he is in the stupid clothes [pointing at an "important" family member] and he was going on and on about this guy [drunkenly points to Vince] and I was like "big fucking deal- why are you so chubby?!"...
ABBEY:
[27 minutes later]... so when I put the jeans on, I was SHOCKED because I hadn't been doing as much cardio as I normally do, but I still lost weight. You might ask me "how?"- well, shut up dummy- you wouldn't know! I did it by having sex in public more and giving more blow jobs- which really curbed my desire to nosh...
ABBEY:
[43 minutes later]... and so it cleared up, but my dress was ruined. Anyway, I am going to get out of here because my buzz is wearing off, but before I go- I would like to say a few words about the groom: he cheated on Rebecca- with a black chick.
ABBEY:
[6 minutes later] Just kidding guys. Vince is a great guy and I am happy to see him with such a lovely lady- her Grandparents are a bit unreasonable, but she's got a good head on her shoulders. Let's eat!
END SCENE
I may write more of these, but it seems I barely have time to write at all anymore, so we'll see.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Meet Joe Blech
I've been in LA for a couple days now and I have had a good time listening to names being dropped and dreaming of seeing John Mayer in some coffee shop or something. However, I have given up on seeing John and will instead focus on how I met Joe.
I met Joe at a huge industry bonfire that he invited himself too. Joe was the star of his own internet television series in Chicago. Joe got let go a few years ago.
When you can't make it in Illinois, LA is a great idea.
Joe doesn't work or have a car (car's are more important than food here) and somehow finagled his bitterly entitled personality into the back seat of my friend's car while we drove across town from the beach party we were welcomed guests at. It was my fault that Joe was riding with us, but it was my friend's fault for not pulling over on the freeway to kick Joe out of the car.
It's a sad thing to hear a person's soul leave them, but when it does, you will hear "I hung out with Gunther from Friends." Gunther was a secondary character who worked at the coffee shop the cast of Friends liked to hang out in for the series. Sometimes Gunther wasn't even working there when they were hanging out... and no one who watched the show thought "I wonder if Gunther is sick today." Gunther sucked and so does Joe. Joe was a representation, to me, of the worst kinds of people in LA. People who feel embittered that they haven't made it, instead of checking their premises and realizing they have no exceptional gifts to catapult them out of the reality they wish to escape. I know there are sad people out there, but there are starving, beaten children... any pity or compassion I have is reserved for my own charity: taco carts. People expecting something they don't or can't earn just piss me off. I don't know a lot of people named "Joe" that I like- even Trader Joes is questionable, but I am positive I will never name anything Joe... unless it's gross.
I overheard this other guy, a new agent at the bonfire talk about how he probably wont date for a year because his car isn't nice enough. Can you imagine what he will expect from love when he is behind the wheels of a Maserati?! I think it will involve a lot of blow jobs, threesomes and anal.
I <3 SF
I met Joe at a huge industry bonfire that he invited himself too. Joe was the star of his own internet television series in Chicago. Joe got let go a few years ago.
When you can't make it in Illinois, LA is a great idea.
Joe doesn't work or have a car (car's are more important than food here) and somehow finagled his bitterly entitled personality into the back seat of my friend's car while we drove across town from the beach party we were welcomed guests at. It was my fault that Joe was riding with us, but it was my friend's fault for not pulling over on the freeway to kick Joe out of the car.
It's a sad thing to hear a person's soul leave them, but when it does, you will hear "I hung out with Gunther from Friends." Gunther was a secondary character who worked at the coffee shop the cast of Friends liked to hang out in for the series. Sometimes Gunther wasn't even working there when they were hanging out... and no one who watched the show thought "I wonder if Gunther is sick today." Gunther sucked and so does Joe. Joe was a representation, to me, of the worst kinds of people in LA. People who feel embittered that they haven't made it, instead of checking their premises and realizing they have no exceptional gifts to catapult them out of the reality they wish to escape. I know there are sad people out there, but there are starving, beaten children... any pity or compassion I have is reserved for my own charity: taco carts. People expecting something they don't or can't earn just piss me off. I don't know a lot of people named "Joe" that I like- even Trader Joes is questionable, but I am positive I will never name anything Joe... unless it's gross.
I overheard this other guy, a new agent at the bonfire talk about how he probably wont date for a year because his car isn't nice enough. Can you imagine what he will expect from love when he is behind the wheels of a Maserati?! I think it will involve a lot of blow jobs, threesomes and anal.
I <3 SF
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
See the Forrest For The Gump
I am on a computer with a defunct 'R' (the '5' just flipped over when I typed that) and sometimes it doesn't click, which makes me grumpy or "gumpy"- which I like a lot more. When I'm "gumpy", it negates "grumpy" because "grumpy" is way more Lieutenant Dan and, let's face it- I'm feeling pretty "gumpy"... RUN SENTENCE RUN!
I have been sans laptop for a bit now and haven't made as many improvements as I thought I would... I can barely speak French and I'm only 200 pages in to reading Atlas Shrugged for my second time. I still have things getting in the way of myself and my goals. They aren't things outside of myself, but diversions I imbibe in to avoid living in the moment or being productive. I am aware of them and the hollow results they bring, but I engage for as long as I can before exhausting all of my vitality. It's not "why?" I do it, but "how can I get on with it"? Surely there is something I can blame it on, leaving me unaccountable... oh yeah, there isn't. When did THAT happen?! I feel like all I want to do is be alone or at a comedy mic. I do 6 shows a week and other than that, would prefer to be anonymous in public- to everyone. Community makes me want to live on a boat, but who could I tell my jokes to? They aren't my jokes, they're the Collectives'. If that is true, then what is the credit I get for telling them? I don't even care right now... I want to be on a boat, just like Forrest Gump. If this computer had its way, it would be a "shimp" boat. Hilaious.
There isn't a whole lot funny about wanting to be alone all the time. I have crushes, but I resent any distraction they impose to my psyche... where would I fit in a date when I barely see established friends? I wont date because I would only resent someone from taking me away from my own focus. I am also a little raw from my heart being broken by a beer cozy a couple months ago (that's right computer, a "bee cozy" does sting). I feel like I can't talk about it because there is nothing to say and maybe that's why I want to be alone all the time. What can you do when you get foiled by a beer cozy besides can it and chill out for awhile. Reading Ayn Rand doesn't help me want to talk to people either.
I am writing to write, to produce, because every time I think about the week and a half that passed since I produced a blog, I feel betrayed by myself and that makes me gumpy.
I have been sans laptop for a bit now and haven't made as many improvements as I thought I would... I can barely speak French and I'm only 200 pages in to reading Atlas Shrugged for my second time. I still have things getting in the way of myself and my goals. They aren't things outside of myself, but diversions I imbibe in to avoid living in the moment or being productive. I am aware of them and the hollow results they bring, but I engage for as long as I can before exhausting all of my vitality. It's not "why?" I do it, but "how can I get on with it"? Surely there is something I can blame it on, leaving me unaccountable... oh yeah, there isn't. When did THAT happen?! I feel like all I want to do is be alone or at a comedy mic. I do 6 shows a week and other than that, would prefer to be anonymous in public- to everyone. Community makes me want to live on a boat, but who could I tell my jokes to? They aren't my jokes, they're the Collectives'. If that is true, then what is the credit I get for telling them? I don't even care right now... I want to be on a boat, just like Forrest Gump. If this computer had its way, it would be a "shimp" boat. Hilaious.
There isn't a whole lot funny about wanting to be alone all the time. I have crushes, but I resent any distraction they impose to my psyche... where would I fit in a date when I barely see established friends? I wont date because I would only resent someone from taking me away from my own focus. I am also a little raw from my heart being broken by a beer cozy a couple months ago (that's right computer, a "bee cozy" does sting). I feel like I can't talk about it because there is nothing to say and maybe that's why I want to be alone all the time. What can you do when you get foiled by a beer cozy besides can it and chill out for awhile. Reading Ayn Rand doesn't help me want to talk to people either.
I am writing to write, to produce, because every time I think about the week and a half that passed since I produced a blog, I feel betrayed by myself and that makes me gumpy.
Friday, May 28, 2010
No Computer, No Problem!
Maybe my computer broke and I haven't been writing as many tasty blogs for my 14 followers (including myself) to chew on... maybe. However, before you start calling me unmotivated, there is someone who only writes a blog 4 times a year and it's always disappointing to one of my followers because the writer doesn't mention me- ever. Maybe. So, I could be worse... I could barely be writing and talking about myself even less- how would that feel?! Maybe.
My computer up and left, just like my parents. Only thing is, there is no State of Oregon to raise me now. There is no foster computer and what happens? I start reading more and taking French lessons again. I've also been out of the house more, making friends and using their computer... kind of like how I ate all the neighbor's food before the state started feeding me.
Is this a sad blog? Am I sad? Nope, J' ai faim, so I should go get a sandwich! Okay, I'm back and now that I am filled with sandwich (I never left), I am really going to start producing some notable paragraphs. Yep, up until I stood up to go eat that pretend food, I was just wasting time, now I am a machine- pumping out observations everyone can relate to; Most importantly, Rachel. As long as my sweet friend, who bought my movie ticket (SATC2) can relate... who cares?
Being a single, or (depending on my self-esteem) "focused" gal in San Francisco can be tough. I haven't really been looking at all, but one reader was for awhile and she bought me groceries once. I am all together disinterested in dating, but I should probably consider it because I think my vagina might grow back together and I could forget how to kiss.
NEWS
If you stop dating/ being intimate for more than 4.5 months, you forget how to kiss and even worse, you vomit in mouths of people who try to resuscitate your hopeless attempts at finding a counterpoint.
TRUE STORY
I had a fellow call me his "counterpoint" once. I thought he was joking and I loved him for his sense of humor. However, in retrospect he was a hacky romantic and I vomited in my cervix a little thinking about that, baring me from ever having red-headed children. I hope he doesn't read this (he wont), because I think he is an interesting person, but sometimes I think he may just be contrived... In case he is reading this, I should let you know that a penis shouldn't look like that. gross.
ANOTHER STORY
I had a friend who ran into an ex of mine recently... it's actually a really funny story that I will tell you tomorrow, Rachel (SATC2!!!) and the ex said "yeah, she wants me dead," in reference to being asked if he were my ex. I don't want him dead. I think that he is honestly just a bread sandwich soaking up the vomit of his new girlfriend, who purged an actual sandwich all over his useless, moldy body... because she is bulimic and he doesn't have a clue. I don't like him, that doesn't mean I want him dead. He was inconsiderate of me in a way that was so hurtful, I couldn't ever want to be his friend again. However, instead of saying "yeah, I'm her ex" and being accountable for his own behavior, he somehow placed himself in a power seat of being "wanted for dead". Like he were Butch Cassidy- hey Butch- fuck you! Sex and the City is in theaters and I am going to see it tomorrow with Rachel and Aiden's back, so there couldn't be a ill-will in my entire, glorious body. Enjoy having herpes, Butch Cassidy, I'm having Red Vines.
So, no computer, no problems. Just evolving over here.
My computer up and left, just like my parents. Only thing is, there is no State of Oregon to raise me now. There is no foster computer and what happens? I start reading more and taking French lessons again. I've also been out of the house more, making friends and using their computer... kind of like how I ate all the neighbor's food before the state started feeding me.
Is this a sad blog? Am I sad? Nope, J' ai faim, so I should go get a sandwich! Okay, I'm back and now that I am filled with sandwich (I never left), I am really going to start producing some notable paragraphs. Yep, up until I stood up to go eat that pretend food, I was just wasting time, now I am a machine- pumping out observations everyone can relate to; Most importantly, Rachel. As long as my sweet friend, who bought my movie ticket (SATC2) can relate... who cares?
Being a single, or (depending on my self-esteem) "focused" gal in San Francisco can be tough. I haven't really been looking at all, but one reader was for awhile and she bought me groceries once. I am all together disinterested in dating, but I should probably consider it because I think my vagina might grow back together and I could forget how to kiss.
NEWS
If you stop dating/ being intimate for more than 4.5 months, you forget how to kiss and even worse, you vomit in mouths of people who try to resuscitate your hopeless attempts at finding a counterpoint.
TRUE STORY
I had a fellow call me his "counterpoint" once. I thought he was joking and I loved him for his sense of humor. However, in retrospect he was a hacky romantic and I vomited in my cervix a little thinking about that, baring me from ever having red-headed children. I hope he doesn't read this (he wont), because I think he is an interesting person, but sometimes I think he may just be contrived... In case he is reading this, I should let you know that a penis shouldn't look like that. gross.
ANOTHER STORY
I had a friend who ran into an ex of mine recently... it's actually a really funny story that I will tell you tomorrow, Rachel (SATC2!!!) and the ex said "yeah, she wants me dead," in reference to being asked if he were my ex. I don't want him dead. I think that he is honestly just a bread sandwich soaking up the vomit of his new girlfriend, who purged an actual sandwich all over his useless, moldy body... because she is bulimic and he doesn't have a clue. I don't like him, that doesn't mean I want him dead. He was inconsiderate of me in a way that was so hurtful, I couldn't ever want to be his friend again. However, instead of saying "yeah, I'm her ex" and being accountable for his own behavior, he somehow placed himself in a power seat of being "wanted for dead". Like he were Butch Cassidy- hey Butch- fuck you! Sex and the City is in theaters and I am going to see it tomorrow with Rachel and Aiden's back, so there couldn't be a ill-will in my entire, glorious body. Enjoy having herpes, Butch Cassidy, I'm having Red Vines.
So, no computer, no problems. Just evolving over here.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Robin Hood, Meet Carrie Bradshaw, Carrie Bradshaw, Meet AIDEN
I went shopping and after that, went to see Robin Hood, because the weather was beautiful and I should be cutting back on spending. Seems resistance has gotten it's evil hand on my hand and is just sliding my bank card around like it were Carrie Bradshaw at Dolce and Gabbana... DID I JUST SAY "AROUND"? I did and eventually, I will get around to the point.
I sat through a movie that got me to thinking how funny it would be if they (movie industry) tricked everyone in the movie theater by showing a feature that NEVER ended (much like the headliners of most black comedy shows)... like a 6 hour movie, but you don't know about it until it's too late. The last Lord of the Rings felt like that to me, could have been the farts around me or my father next to me, but either way- I wanted to go home (fuck the Shire!).
Robin Hood was okay, but not nearly as exciting as the preview before it for Sex and the City 2: Return of Aiden. YOU HEARD ME!!! He's back! I don't know how either, because last we saw him (Season 5) he was with child (in a Baby Bjorn, no less). It seems there is some trouble in the marriage of Carrie and Big (no surprise there- have you seen his eyebrows?) and all the other ladies are getting past the age where sexy is appropriate (Blanch Deveroe anyone?), so they are heading East... and being that they live in New York City, that can only mean one thing: Long Island! or...
Abu Dhabi... Hmmm, I get two confused. It's very odd to have trouble in the paradise that is: Carrie and Big, but you add the torrential rain of Aiden showing up in the Middle East and you've got a disaster that would make the incidents in Chile and Haiti look like Katrina (so 2005, I know!)!
I have to work Friday morning, but I'm thinking about quitting so I could go see this movie. or something. I don't think this is the best blog ever, but someone is sitting next to me telling me how bored she is and my computer is broken, so her state of being is relevant, because this is her computer (and apartment). However, we BOTH have Aiden Fever and will be curing it this weekend (I hope)!
PS
I can't believe Aiden is Back!
I sat through a movie that got me to thinking how funny it would be if they (movie industry) tricked everyone in the movie theater by showing a feature that NEVER ended (much like the headliners of most black comedy shows)... like a 6 hour movie, but you don't know about it until it's too late. The last Lord of the Rings felt like that to me, could have been the farts around me or my father next to me, but either way- I wanted to go home (fuck the Shire!).
Robin Hood was okay, but not nearly as exciting as the preview before it for Sex and the City 2: Return of Aiden. YOU HEARD ME!!! He's back! I don't know how either, because last we saw him (Season 5) he was with child (in a Baby Bjorn, no less). It seems there is some trouble in the marriage of Carrie and Big (no surprise there- have you seen his eyebrows?) and all the other ladies are getting past the age where sexy is appropriate (Blanch Deveroe anyone?), so they are heading East... and being that they live in New York City, that can only mean one thing: Long Island! or...
Abu Dhabi... Hmmm, I get two confused. It's very odd to have trouble in the paradise that is: Carrie and Big, but you add the torrential rain of Aiden showing up in the Middle East and you've got a disaster that would make the incidents in Chile and Haiti look like Katrina (so 2005, I know!)!
I have to work Friday morning, but I'm thinking about quitting so I could go see this movie. or something. I don't think this is the best blog ever, but someone is sitting next to me telling me how bored she is and my computer is broken, so her state of being is relevant, because this is her computer (and apartment). However, we BOTH have Aiden Fever and will be curing it this weekend (I hope)!
PS
I can't believe Aiden is Back!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Date Rape Brownie
You ever think "I wish there were some way I could feel out of control without hurting anyone but myself."?
Eating Pot.
Let me just tell you- I didn't know I was in for anything but a snack, but the freezer had other plans. I was cat sitting for a friend and I wanted to eat some food I didn't pay for, so I went to the freezer and saw brownies (my 7th favorite!). I don't smoke pot, in fact I hate it, but you know what they say "heart disease is the leading cause of death among men over the age of 60?" no... the other thing: You are what you hate/ eat. I really didn't know what was to happen to me.
I was a pot brownie... Now I am a tortilla chip.
7 Hours In The Life Of Pot Brownie (an internal dialouge)
Oh boy, it's tough being brownie... kept in the freezer... I can't worry about that now, my head is disconnected from my gooey center and I'm clearly at room temperature. It's like I am a million delicious particles... what was that?! Where am I? I better get off the phone because I don't know what this person is saying "who is this?" oh yeah, hope he doesn't take that wrong... what just flew by me?! Oh- it's a chair... good, it's not moving. wow... wait... what am I holding? "hello?"... "who is this?" I gotta get to the couch. I'll just set my phone in this glass of water. Water is weird... woah, but it's everywhere. I wonder if there is a joke to that. No time now... what time is it? what does '3 o' clock' mean? I better stand up if I'm ever going to walk again [laughs]. I'm not even hungry, maybe I should do some yoga...
ONE HOUR LATER
why can't I eat almond butter and tortilla chips? It's so good... there is nothing else to eat... I've never eaten cat, but it sounds like a lot of work. I don't know if I will ever poop again. Batman makes a good point... What ever happened to women being so stupid in movies? Oh god... I wonder if I overlooked something in the cupboard... tahini? maybe with some maple syrup... oh yeah- I need some more chips.
END SCENE
Seriously, I can't talk about it anymore. It was the worst thing ever. So many of my peers enjoy pot, I tried to enjoy it, but it's a lot like being that one guy in a gang bang who really wishes women respected themselves more. I came up with a lot of useless ideas and ate my own weight in condiments; conversation scared me. I walked 5 miles home at midnight just to give my digestive system the upper hand in it's slow road to recovery. It's still mad at me. I can't believe I dated someone who did this all the time. I have to explain to my friend what I did now... which is not embarrassing... unless she asks me about her freezer burnt Mochi... then, it's pretty embarrassing.
Anyway, here's a video about it:
Eating Pot.
Let me just tell you- I didn't know I was in for anything but a snack, but the freezer had other plans. I was cat sitting for a friend and I wanted to eat some food I didn't pay for, so I went to the freezer and saw brownies (my 7th favorite!). I don't smoke pot, in fact I hate it, but you know what they say "heart disease is the leading cause of death among men over the age of 60?" no... the other thing: You are what you hate/ eat. I really didn't know what was to happen to me.
I was a pot brownie... Now I am a tortilla chip.
7 Hours In The Life Of Pot Brownie (an internal dialouge)
Oh boy, it's tough being brownie... kept in the freezer... I can't worry about that now, my head is disconnected from my gooey center and I'm clearly at room temperature. It's like I am a million delicious particles... what was that?! Where am I? I better get off the phone because I don't know what this person is saying "who is this?" oh yeah, hope he doesn't take that wrong... what just flew by me?! Oh- it's a chair... good, it's not moving. wow... wait... what am I holding? "hello?"... "who is this?" I gotta get to the couch. I'll just set my phone in this glass of water. Water is weird... woah, but it's everywhere. I wonder if there is a joke to that. No time now... what time is it? what does '3 o' clock' mean? I better stand up if I'm ever going to walk again [laughs]. I'm not even hungry, maybe I should do some yoga...
ONE HOUR LATER
why can't I eat almond butter and tortilla chips? It's so good... there is nothing else to eat... I've never eaten cat, but it sounds like a lot of work. I don't know if I will ever poop again. Batman makes a good point... What ever happened to women being so stupid in movies? Oh god... I wonder if I overlooked something in the cupboard... tahini? maybe with some maple syrup... oh yeah- I need some more chips.
END SCENE
Seriously, I can't talk about it anymore. It was the worst thing ever. So many of my peers enjoy pot, I tried to enjoy it, but it's a lot like being that one guy in a gang bang who really wishes women respected themselves more. I came up with a lot of useless ideas and ate my own weight in condiments; conversation scared me. I walked 5 miles home at midnight just to give my digestive system the upper hand in it's slow road to recovery. It's still mad at me. I can't believe I dated someone who did this all the time. I have to explain to my friend what I did now... which is not embarrassing... unless she asks me about her freezer burnt Mochi... then, it's pretty embarrassing.
Anyway, here's a video about it:
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