I’m Gonna Get High On My Own Supply

kinopoisk.ruMuch love to Biggie (RIP) but I’m gonna break one of the commandments today. I wouldn’t of made a good dope man anyway; I’ve seen The Wire and I’m just not tough enough.

Why today?

I’ll let Smokey take that one:

(Here’s the clip if you wanna see it live and in color. I would have embedded it into this blog directly but I don’t know how and I’m too lazy to Google it right now:


To wit:

Smokey: “I know you don’t smoke weed, I know this; but I’m gonna get you high today, ’cause it’s Friday; you ain’t got no job… and you ain’t got shit to do.”

That’s pretty much me today. I mean I’m a temp so that’s hardly a real job. And I’m taking in the cannabis in hardly a real way. I bought some special watermelon gummies. That’s probably the least cool way to get high in the known universe. As soon as I pop it in my mouth, Snoop Dogg and Willie Nelson will stop short and shiver a bit. Their respective assistants would ask “Is there something wrong, sir?” They would both mumble the same response: “I felt a great disturbance, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and suddenly had their mellow harshed. I fear something terribly uncool has happened.”

I even had to email the dude who made the gummies and ask him if it would make me sleepy or hyped up because I’m such a Jan Brady that I need to schedule all my shit. Shit, I’d probably schedule my shits if I could. He hasn’t responded yet. I know what you’re thinking. An edible maker probably isn’t the most perfunctory and organized type but this guy’s table was excellent. He had cool looking business cards and all the gummies looked like they could be the real ones. The presentation was excellent. He clearly loves his work.

Don’t worry. I’ve already talked to my psychiatrist about marijuana in relation to clinical depression. She’s not a fan. She says that depressed people don’t need to risk getting amotivational syndrome. I get what she means but I work 6 days a week and got so much shit going on at night (don’t worry ; it’s nothing cool) (oh and I basically did NOTHING for 14 months so I got a lot catching up to do) that I can’t possibly lose my motivation. And if I wanna be a slug for a few hours on my only day off, I say ONLY GOD CAN JUDGE ME! So I’m going to ignore her recommendation, change into my Christmas themed Tyrannasaurus onesie (it’s very cozy, pop one in my mouth, lay out in bed and crack open Superman: American Alien (good reviews).

I’m not worried. There’s a 7-11 two blocks away.

I started with the dearly departed Christopher George Latore Wallace aka Big aka Big Poppa aka The King of New York and so I’ll finish with his immortal words:

Spread love, it’s the Brooklyn way.

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