I’m So Baked

Were it not for my intimate musing on her father, I would totally share this blog with my heart daughter,. I just bought my first legal purchase of weed. I bought three different strains. I want to see if I can tell a difference. I thought, I’ll try the Kush n Cheese first, then have some Dairy Queen before the write in tomorrow.

Turns out, I vaped the DQ tonight. It’s a total yoga and writing high. I ground it up real fine, then loaded the box what I figured was a quarter full of the kief. There’s so much kief left, I had to rig up quite an elaborate set up, because I need to keep it separate from the rest, to try the rest by itself, to see if I ought to blend the kief back into the mix. Can it be done?

I suppose I’m being deadly boring right now.  I feel super confessional, but also super redeemed. I totally want to get up from writing this and give my body and sweet stretch. Yeah, I still got it. I showed the folks outside Stonies tonight. I identified myself by my facebook cover photo. in case you wondered, this is half a hundred.

I imagine how this could play out. Danger! But not from the police, from the weed and public confessionals and all like I’m doing. A story. Someone learns about this old lady, alone and getting high with a houseful of marijuana. (3 grams). I know just how to tag this to catch the attention of an unsavory element who is smart enough and hungry enough to want to come get my weed. I’d better lock the house up.

But I don’t have to tag or categorize it all all, and no one will read it until something spastic happens. I gotta go wiggle my way out of this.

I’m so stoned! Up to this point I’ve been vaping months old indica and smoking years old bud; yes, with a bong, Dude outside Stonies. Stonies. What a name. I suppose it sounds kinda hip. I want to move my hands around spastic like the girl in the hotel who ended up mysteriously inside a water reservoir. There is video of her in an elevator, twisting her fingers and arms around like I feel bound to do. I’ve got to honor the blueberry.

Unsupervised, in public! Oh it’s only my insignificant blog. But so long as I am beautiful, so long as I am entertaining, so long as I’m not foolish. Am I embarrassed to smoke pot publicly? Obviously not. I want to tell my story, but I have to make it entertaining, I have to turn it into pretend. Plausible deniability. Crap, I’m stoned, and not a person to see me. ‘Cept in line at Smokies, I mean Stonies, and anyone who might recognise my faceook profile from my wordpress one. I don’t know anyone who looks at one will look at this other, but how many people might read it? How many people would want to?

Got to make it beautiful, got to make it entertaining, got to keep it from being foolish. Posture: Yoga, body rush, recreational, solo, vulnerable? No, I’m not vulnerable. And maybe I paid for this pot with the money I got from making audiobooks, that aren’t embarrassing. Got to make it beautiful, got to make it entertaining.

The Evidence: I can be quoted as saying, I work for a very conservative boss who would most likely not want to know I was smokin’ weed. I can be quoted as saying, I didn’t realize I had a condition which could have got me smoking legal a few years ago. Course, I didn’t work at a place that would tolerate drug use, even for medical. I actually inquired about it and was told straight out no. But, on leafly.com it states how good certain strains will work to treat depression.

Redemption? Johnny’s at a wake for his father. His funeral was today. I’ve been forgiven for not going, since I’ve already taken time off for diverticulitis and a broken tooth. My boss urged me to go anyway, but I’m anticipating a large tax bill from not having any withholding taken from my unemployment checks. Johnny wants to buy a van and I’ve just spent a grand on a stinking crown. Gah!

But I went ahead and spent $45.00 on weed tonight. I figure it will last me a ridiculously long time. Even if I smoked every single night, I wouldn’t use all that pot up for 6 months, I’ll wager. But I plan to be a weekend toker. A solo smoker and I’m not smoking I’m vaping!

I need to continue to do well for my job. They seem to be happy with me, but I should check in on Monday. I’ve been eating breakfast at my desk instead of setting my alarm earlier to allow for full face make up. I’m doing my eyebrows for the first time ever. I think I look pretty decent. I’m going to take a selfie with the laptop and post it here. That would be my biggest bid for verifying my public image with my real self.

I’ve been tossing around the idea of making a truer to life story, about a middle aged woman who begins smoking pot as soon as it gets legal. She has a new job that doesn’t test for drugs and the state behind her. But she foolishly posts a blog about it with out being careful to hide her real identity and becomes the target of thieves who think they can waltz in and snag her $45.00 worth of weed and maybe take a laptop or do some violence.

Really, a person wouldn’t target someone’s weed at their house. It would have been easy as pie for the bicyclist to snag my pack as I walked by, to snag my bag, my bright white paper bag with my hot pink vials of three different strains of cannabis, all perfectly legal. If that were to happen though, the story would move to the boy who stole the bag.

But that may be a conceit, that young boys would want pot. Everybody in that line was over 30, that’s for dang sure.

I applied for a job at Stonies, back when I was unemployed. It wasn’t all that long ago, but I wasn’t sure if the other gal dishing out buds was the same as who interviewed me. I wonder how cool that would have been, if I would have bought my buds from her. The woman buying bud the same time as me was an older woman, hair done, make up and fit over sunglasses (sexy). All of us in line seemed mighty sober.

I love where I work. I hope I am not too obnoxious there. I’ve vowed to check in with them on my progress. How much more is there for me to learn? What am I not doing yet that I should be doing? I need to get up an extra five minutes and maybe not worry about using concealer so much. I’m going to get a new pair of glasses, as soon as I get the taxes paid and my crown and what not. Johnny wants a van, the driveway needs patched, we should finish the waterfall and build some decks. I want to get our lawn in order. On and on and on. Can Jann really support all of us? Will the conference be a disaster? Wait, weed is supposed to be good for anxiety. Wait, what?

Turns out, I got a bit of insomnia from the DQ. I made an anonymous profile on leafly, in order to make a review warning other bipolar users of DQ that it might mess with their sleep. I guess I should have said the paranoia side effects are significant, but really, how much of that is the fault of the actual strain and not just with a persons life circumstances at the time of intoxication? That’s why I bought three different kinds of strains. I asked to get one end of the spectrum and then the other, and then I’ll start discriminating.

A lot of this blog is stoner ramblings. I’ve cleaned it up a tiny bit, but I don’t want to destroy the log of me getting back into using pot, so this is as clean as it will get. And maybe it doesn’t track, and maybe it’s deadly boring, but this blog sees very little traffic anyway, so fuck it.