Day Two
This is the second day in a row out of the week that I have refrained from smoking up. To tell you the truth, I don't feel much different. My worst fear as a stoner, and maybe some of my other stoner readers can back me up on this one, is that I will wake up one day from a smokeless night, and feel as totally empty as if I had smoked several blunts. And I think empty is the wrong word, but whenever I roll a blunt I cease functioning for a time. I wish that I had an audio blogger account, because I have a wonderful argument that I taped with my little pocket recorder of me and birdman after a rough and tumble encounter where I nearly walked home from Wegmans in the middle of winter because he wouldn't let me hold the shopping cart, all due to our dear friend Mr. Dutch Master.
It should be illegal for men to hold the shopping cart, or at least for birdman to. He constantly leaves it in the dead middle of the aisle, and all the other women with their carts look at me like "Why did you let him hold the cart? She must be a terribly weak woman." Besides, I have a purse, and most of the time a scarf, hat, and gloves, as well as his gloves that he will lose if I don't hold on to them too. And he'll leave my purse all alone in the middle of the aisle in what looks like an abandoned cart, and then I have to freak the fuck out and cry for a couple minutes for him to get the point that it "is very important to me". Seriously, what If a bum steals my purse? What am I going to do? Ask the bum for my purse back? Ask him to give me my ten dollar purse back, with a couple old napkins and a half eaten peppermint patty all melted in the bottom of it? I was raised to be very protective of my purse.
It had been a full 24 hours, and I have yet to cry today. This is an accomplishment beyond words, in my case. When I go in and out of smoking for prolonged moments in the year, it really fucks with my emotions. It's like having your period all year long.
I have purchased three tickets to go and see the Brucio in San Francisco. Now all we have to do is figure out how to get there. If anything, i'll be out 75 bucks, but it's better than being able to swing a long car trip or something last minute, and getting all the way to California to find the show had been sold out. I can just picture us on Jan. 14th at 7:30pm in New Mexico looking at the map all jaded and stoned and out of luck. We should have bought one of those navigator things for the new car instead of those really nice speakers. At least we'll be jamming all the way to nowhere.
Speaking of Brucio, this is not my first time I have travelled across the country to see him. Which makes me think of all those pictures I took with the Kids in the Hall. Which sparks a small draft in my head where brain cells used to exist, that carries a little wind to the receptors that are still left, that are telling me to try and post those pictures online before I forget again. I set up a photo album thingy a couple of days ago online, and we bought a really nice digital camera in NYC, so I am going to attempt to take pictures of the pictures and get them up before Christmas. I forgot to post this blog a couple of days ago, so technically it's been 4 days since I stopped smoking, but I have a feeling that we'll be trying out the karaoke machine I got for Christmas tonight, and you know that kind of shit isn't nearly as amusing sober.
Happy Holidays stoners!
It should be illegal for men to hold the shopping cart, or at least for birdman to. He constantly leaves it in the dead middle of the aisle, and all the other women with their carts look at me like "Why did you let him hold the cart? She must be a terribly weak woman." Besides, I have a purse, and most of the time a scarf, hat, and gloves, as well as his gloves that he will lose if I don't hold on to them too. And he'll leave my purse all alone in the middle of the aisle in what looks like an abandoned cart, and then I have to freak the fuck out and cry for a couple minutes for him to get the point that it "is very important to me". Seriously, what If a bum steals my purse? What am I going to do? Ask the bum for my purse back? Ask him to give me my ten dollar purse back, with a couple old napkins and a half eaten peppermint patty all melted in the bottom of it? I was raised to be very protective of my purse.
It had been a full 24 hours, and I have yet to cry today. This is an accomplishment beyond words, in my case. When I go in and out of smoking for prolonged moments in the year, it really fucks with my emotions. It's like having your period all year long.
I have purchased three tickets to go and see the Brucio in San Francisco. Now all we have to do is figure out how to get there. If anything, i'll be out 75 bucks, but it's better than being able to swing a long car trip or something last minute, and getting all the way to California to find the show had been sold out. I can just picture us on Jan. 14th at 7:30pm in New Mexico looking at the map all jaded and stoned and out of luck. We should have bought one of those navigator things for the new car instead of those really nice speakers. At least we'll be jamming all the way to nowhere.
Speaking of Brucio, this is not my first time I have travelled across the country to see him. Which makes me think of all those pictures I took with the Kids in the Hall. Which sparks a small draft in my head where brain cells used to exist, that carries a little wind to the receptors that are still left, that are telling me to try and post those pictures online before I forget again. I set up a photo album thingy a couple of days ago online, and we bought a really nice digital camera in NYC, so I am going to attempt to take pictures of the pictures and get them up before Christmas. I forgot to post this blog a couple of days ago, so technically it's been 4 days since I stopped smoking, but I have a feeling that we'll be trying out the karaoke machine I got for Christmas tonight, and you know that kind of shit isn't nearly as amusing sober.
Happy Holidays stoners!
posted by baby bison at
12/20/2004 04:16:00 PM
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