Tag Archives: Weed

a month of sobriety

SEETHING RAGEWell kiddos, I made it a month without smoking grass.  I can hardly believe it myself.  There have been some trying times.  I managed to avoid puffing at a party, during relationship duress, and through several sleepless nights.  After I made it through the physical detox, a new set of psychological challenges emerged.  What surfaced was a deep well of seething rage that I’ve been spouting out in every direction at anyone who even slightly annoys me.  It’s fair to say that without weed, I’m a total cunt.  All my physical symptoms have diminished.  No more sharp pains between my ribs.  The wheeze is gone, as is the choking feeling I experienced around my throat.  My moods, however, need regulation.  For quite some time, I’ve been using ganja like some people use lithium – to manage moods.  While I was aware of my dope dependency, I didn’t realize until I quit that I arrested my emotional development by using instead of feeling.  Now, at this late stage in the life game, I’ve got to come up with new ways to cope with the depressing state of the human condition.  I’m far from figuring out a consistent solution, but I’m working several different angles – yoga, meditation, and therapy, to name a few.  Some days these methods are effective, and I can self-soothe my frustration.  And some days I yell “fat boy” at my neighbor for continuously slamming his door like an obnoxious idiot.  I’m not proud of the way I behave when I get aggressive with others, but I’m working on it.  SHUT UP FAT BOYI also wonder if I will ever be able to successfully reintroduce miss maryjane back into my life in a similar fashion to the relationship I have with alcohol – which is I can take it or leave it.  I don’t crave booze.  I can have a Scotch occasionally with friends and go months without a drink.  It is this relationship of non-attachment that I strive for in every area of my life.  DETACH

Hell Hath Frozen: I quit weed.

PASS THE DUTCHIEYou read it right.  I quit Mary Jane.  It has only been 7 days, but the first week is the hardest, right?  (Fuck, I hope so.)  I’ve been smoking grass for 20 years.  I’ve had a hardcore daily habit for at least 10 years.  Bong hits for breakfast; bong hits for lunch; bong hits before bed; that was the routine for a decade.  Since I was a high-functioning addict, I managed to graduate university and law school with high honors, and pass the bar on the first try.  I was able to hold down professional jobs stoned.  Nobody knew or they didn’t care.  I’ve driven everywhere stoned.  I’ve engaged with parents, professors, bosses, and law enforcement high.  During virtually all my interactions with friends and lovers, I’ve been under the influence of our green leafy friend.INNER WEED BABYWhile universally supportive, the first response most of my friends had when I told them I quit was, “why?”  I found this question interesting, since my friends know gawddam well that I’m probably the biggest fucking stoner they know.  Isn’t it obvious why?  Let’s start with the sharp pain in my ribs that felt even more intense and persistent after a day pulling tubes.  The wheeze I developed with a quick intake of breath was certainly cause for concern.  Top it off with a tight uncomfortable choking feeling around my throat and thyroid.  Physically, my body has been saying “stop” for some time.  Well, enough is enough.  I’m a grown-ass woman.  Beyond the physical ramifications, I don’t want to be enslaved or addicted to anything.  Addiction robs you of freedom and self-control.  Whether I’d like to admit it or not, many of my decisions were motivated by a desire to serve my addiction.  What a waste of time, energy, and money.WASTE OF MONEYI ain’t gonna front like it has been easy.  This week, I’ve been a really big bitch.  My fuse is short.  I’m impatient.  I’m annoyed.  That’s because I’m having to cope with those unpleasant feelings I’ve been avoiding for the past 20 years.  Sleeplessness, mental confusion, and lack of appetite haven’t helped my mood.  I’m sweat detoxing and stink.  It’s really not a good look – except for those 5 lbs I’ve lost just in time for my trip to Grand Cayman.DETOXLook, my ex would get really sanctimonious and judgmental every time he quit weed, and then like clockwork three months later he’d be asking me for the bong.  I’m not about that hypocritical bullshit.  What you do with your body and your life is your business.  However, if you are contemplating a change in your life – whether it be smoking, drinking, eating, or whatever your addiction, I encourage you to get a hold of the situation.  While difficult, it isn’t as hard as you think.  All rationalizations and expensive rehabs aside, for most (who don’t require medical supervision to detox, eehhm alcohol and benzos) it really just boils down to a decision to quit.  Quitting requires courage, fortitude, and commitment, but once you do, you’ll not only be free of your addiction, you will know what you are made of for the rest of your life.ENOUGH

 

on friendship: shitty, mediocre, or exemplary?

TALKING SHITSome hateful bitches are talking smack about you.  A shitty friend adds to the gossip.  A mediocre friend remains sheepishly silent.  An exemplary friend ferociously defends you. CLUELESS FALLYou trip and fall flat on your ass in front of a crowd of people.  A shitty friend laughs.  A mediocre friend backs away fearing contamination by third-party embarrassment.  An exemplary friend scoops you up, asks if you are alright, and loudly proclaims “nothing to see here” as she escorts you to the bar for a recovery drink.JENNY MCCARTHY ENGAGEDYou get engaged and share the news.  A shitty friend informs you she slept with your fiancé a few years ago.  A mediocre friend offers a bland congratulations.  An exemplary friend says “I’m so happy for you” and really means it.  DADYour Dad dies.  A shitty friends sends you a sympathetic text.  A mediocre friend sends flowers.  An exemplary friend sends weed. BAG OF WEED

 

bong buy

 

CAM00700Went bong shopping on a whim with Hil yesterday and she spotted this beaut on the top shelf of the head shop.  Meet Augustus Clarc Gus for short.  At 9 millimeters thick, Gus is one durable, bitchy, glass-on-glass queen.  He’s a sturdy, flamboyant, fat, flat bottom.  Dontcha just love rainbows?CAM00701Beyond mere aesthetics and charm, practical considerations influence the purchase of a bong.  First and foremost, the glass must be thick.  Pay more for a substantial piece that can survive life’s hard knocks.  The tube to base ratio matters.  If the tube is too short relative to the size of the base, water pulls up the tube resulting in that unpleasant toilet splashback sensation.  I prefer a bong that fits comfortably from lap to mouth enabling the user to balance the instrument hands-free. CAM00702Don’t be seduced by the megahuge gimmick hamster wheel bongs.  While fun to look at in the store, they’re impossible to clean and difficult to pass in a communal circle.  Some of those devices almost require you to mount them to get a good hit.  Trust me when I say they aren’t worth the trouble.  Besides, you’ll be sad you paid so much when one of your clumsy friends breaks it. CAM00703

When you find your perfect glass slipper, upgrade the slide as the standard issue bowls are almost always shitty.  Negotiate.  At many headshops, clerks have wide discretion with pricing and steep discounts are not uncommon.

CAM00704

everybody smokes weed

concert commandments

I’ve been attending my fair share of live shows lately, and that means I’ve been annoyed by all the douchebag behavior of the general public.  Let’s review the basic commandments of concert-going, shall we?Thou shalt not wear a band t-shirt to that band’s concert.  We already know you are a fan.  You bought a ticket.  Attendant commandments include:  I shall not blast the performing band from my car stereo while waiting in gridlock in the parking lot of the concert venue, and under no circumstances will I emulate the dress of the performers like a pathetic, dorky lemming.  All you dress-alike Jack White fans looked like Mennonites.  I shall respect my fellow concert goers and not place the world’s largest tarp on the ground in general admission in an attempt to save room for my six late-arriving friends.  Conversely, thou shalt not dip in the show after the curtain drops and expect to shove thy way to the front.  Early birds get the good seats.  Late arrivals expect to compromise on proximity to the stage or encounter intense wrath from the long-suffering and dedicated early birds.  If your late ass wants a view, spring for the expensive assigned seating. I shall further respect my co-fans by actually watching the performance rather than spending the whole show with my back to the stage trying to get high.  But on that note…

Thou shalt share thy bud.

Thou shalt resist the temptation to sing along to every song regardless if thy know all the words

Thou shalt use the phrases “please,” “thank you,” and “excuse me” liberally when negotiating the crowd.

Thou shalt not bring a beach ball.  Who are you anyway?  Every fucking show with the fucking beach ball.  Enough with the beach balls. 

Afternoon Delight: Happy 420

herbaceous

Sunday with Bunny Wailer