Index - Profile - Archives - Notes - DiaryLand - Random ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Pot Saves The Day. I had a brief, brief conversation with GirlsDontCry a bit ago. She asked me how I was, and because I cannot tell a lie, I said, "Recovering from being stoned." To which she expressed some shock at my drug use. Because, I don't really talk about it. It's just something I do if it's around. I've never purchased any type of drug, and I don't have it around the house. But, back in college I skipped many a class to stay at home with a bong and Mortal Kombat. So, yes. Today I got stoned at my grandmother's Easter bunch. In front of her, and even with her, though she had smoked earlier. Someone thought it was a wise idea to put me in charge of the waffles. Which lead to some over heated video camera drama, my aunt in hysterics, and me sitting kinda numb trying to figure out what happened. Everything turned out okay. I didn't burn anything, if we leave out the video camera, and even that turned out to be undamaged. Today, I needed to get stoned. Or get laid. Or get drunk. And, the only readily available option was the drugs... so I did. But the background story, to attest to the state I was in before I got there is probably worth the effort of typing it. Here goes. Yesterday, I was forced to take my 85 year old grandmother, the one I live with, not the pot smoking one, to the grocery store. I'm not sure if any of you have had the pleasure of escorting an elderly person through a grocery store the day before Easter, but let me tell you... it was THE WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFE. She needs whipping cream, and not the kind they sell at the store we're in. Oh no. The kind they sell at another store. So, I know I'm going to have to make another trip. Fine, I think. Today is already shot, why the fuck not. Around 3, I go over to the other store only to find they have NO WHIPPING CREAM. I come back home. Tell grandma, "They don't have any whipping cream at Safeway." "WHAT! OH MY GOD! SHIT! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO NOW?!?" "Well. I don't know." And, I walk off, thinking this is the end of it. I was mistaken. Half an hour later, "Carie. I'm going to call over there tomorrow morning, to see if they get any in." "Fine." First thing this morning... "Carie. Go over to Safeway. They said they got some whipping cream in. The lady said you don't have to add sugar to it." "Grandma, they mean they got the kind in the can. You won't use the kind n the can." "Well. Here's the money. Go get some whipping cream." I leave with wet hair, certain I'll kill the next person to piss me off. I get to Safeway, I go to the dairy case. No whipping cream. Only the kind in a can. I think, Fuck you, grandma. You're getting the shit in the can because I'm sick of fucking with this. I wait in line for 20 minutes. I get home. I think I'm late for brunch. I set the can on the table. "Here. Here is the DAMN whipping cream." "Well, shit. I CAN'T USE THAT!" "Grandma. THAT. IS. ALL. THEY. HAD." "But isn't there a... " "No. There is not a Safeway between here and Grandma Terry's house." "Oh." "I'm leaving now." "What?!?" "I'm LEAVING. NOW." And out the door I go. I get there, have a cup of coffee, smoke a bowl, finish telling my grandmother what happened, and the phone rings. "It's for you." "No fucking way." It's my grandmother. SHE WANTS ME TO GO BACK TO THE STORE WE WENT TO YESTERDAY TO PICK UP SOME FUCKING WHIPPING CREAM. THE ONE WE WENT TO YESTERDAY. FUCK. So, the moral of the story is that drugs saved a life today. Keep that in mind the next time you talk shit about a stoner. 5:59 p.m. - 2003-04-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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