"That's a News Van"

Yesterday, after getting appropriately toasty, my wife and I were preparing dinner. We were in the kitchen, and we started to hear some sirens and noticed that there was something going on. My wife loves "action". You know, sirens, ambulances, choppers, etc. If it looks like it belongs in an episode of "Cops", she's into it. During the midst of all this audible commotion (we couldn't actually see what was going on from our home), I noticed a chopper flying overhead.

Me - Hey? What's that police helicopter doing flying overhead?
Wife - Nah man, that's just a news van.
Me - A news van?

This is when we both started laughing our asses off. My wife actually fell to floor from this.

Me - That's some fucking news van.
Wife - You know what I meant.

We continued laughing for a little bit, then went on to have a damn good dinner. I'm not sure if it was the pot, but everything tasted great. And that was a great laugh.

My Salvia Experience

Yesterday, the wife and I were feeling a little adventurous. We had seen that salvia video on YouTube where the guy pretty much laughs for 10 minutes straight. So, ready for a new experience, we went down to the local smoke shop and picked up some salvia. We were not sure which one to get initially. The prices range from $20 to $60 depending on the potency you want to experience. We went with the middle grade stuff, and paid $40 bucks for 1 gram.

We get it home, and my wife decides to go first. We pack a bowl into our little bubbler piece, and she gets going. From what we'd read at the time, you're supposed to hold it in as long as possible. About 20 - 30 seconds. She did this, but did not initially feel anything. So, she took another hit. This time, right after she handed me the pipe, she started laughing. She kept saying how great it was. Then, she rolled off the bed and laid flat on the ground. She was having a conversation with something (later on I found out she was talking to Alice in Wonderland and the White Rabbit) that kept making her try to go under the bed. I managed to get her back on the bed, and after a couple of minutes of laughing, she came off her salvia trip and told me all about it.

It was now my turn to try this out. I took a big hit off a newly packed bowl. I exhaled after holding it in for the full 30 seconds. I didn't feel anything at first either. I asked my wife to pass me the pipe again, and she just shook her head. That's when it hit me.

Now, this is a little hard to explain. I could definitely feel it pulling at my arm. I started laughing hysterically, and then things got weird. It's like life as I knew it started to melt away, and my body became part of this universe that had always been laying dormant underneath. My body was now part of the architecture of this strange world. But this world was not like the one we live in. It was more like a storybook, and the middle of my body was the spine of the book. From time to time I would see flashes of my wife materialize in front of me as she tried to ground me in reality, but she would be like a statue with flowers come to life.

Mind you, I was laughing throughout the entire episode. It was a little on the perturbing side, but still interesting. I guess the best way to describe the world that I was in would be to compare it to the dream world in the movie "The Cell". I know, a Jennifer Lopez movie? But it was trippy like that. As I was coming off the trip, flashes of reality started to interconnect with this alternate universe/reality that salvia had plunged me into, and after a couple of minutes, I was done.

Salvia trips last maybe 10 minutes tops. It feels like an eternity when you're right in the middle of it, and then when you come off of it, you're left with a "What the fuck just happened?" feeling.

My wife decided to take a 2nd trip after I had sobered up. The 2nd trip came over her rather slowly, but what I saw was her propped up on the bed, her head laying on her own shoulder, and she kept saying "no no no". When she came off of it, she told me that her trip was more introspective rather than fantasy like her first trip. But it also scared her a little, because during her hallucination, she saw her life as a tiny pin-prick sized picture that was part of a tapestry of other lives on the wall of an all knowing being. She said she heard me saying "just relax and let it take you" but she equated that to succumbing to this giant wall of pictures and she tried fighting it. This ended after a couple of minutes and then she sobered up again.

It was my turn for my second trip. Again, just one hit off the little bubbler piece sent me on a hallucination-filled trip. This time, I felt it in waves, starting from my feet all the way to my head. As I lay on the bed, I could feel my body transforming into an infinite amount of random objects. I felt my self turning into cruise ship after cruise ship, room after room, street after street. Again, reality melted away into this alternate universe. Whenever I opened my mouth I felt like I was opening up into an ocean (I later learned I was drooling, which might have helped with the wetness sensation I was feeling). From time to time, my wife would ask me how I felt. She told me I kept saying "everything". She asked me what about everything. I told her that I loved everything. This time though, there were voices in my head. These voices kept telling me to ignore her. She didn't know what was real. She had no idea about this world that I was being transformed into. That scared me a little.

Coming off the trip is a trip all of in itself. Reality once again started to flash every other second. Eventually, I no longer felt like I was being turned into a part of something I was not.

Salvia is pretty potent stuff. I don't recommend doing it all alone. Even though both my trips were fairly similar, and I was indeed laughing through both of them, they had an underlying fear factor. I guess it's fear of the unknown. I don't regret doing it at all though. This shit is mind-expanding. Until now, I had gone through my 29 years of life on this planet without a single sensory hallucination. Now that I have experienced it, I feel like my life is a little richer. It's not something that I want to do every day. Don't get me wrong. I'm not going to trip off of salvia every damn day of my life. But every so often, I'm going to visit alternate realities for a couple of minutes at a time.

Pineapple Express Trailer

I need me some pineapple express. Oh, and the movie looks fucking high-larious as well. See what I did there? I put "high" into the word hilarious to make it more . . . um . . . weed'y? Fuck it. Watch the trailer, and then watch the movie.

Dreams

My wife and I just scored some chronic after getting hook-ups of homegrown stuff. Have to say, it's nice not to have to smoke a full blunt to feel toasty. Anyway, after smoking the inagura-bowl, we started talking about dreams we'd just had. Because that's what stoned people talk about. Right?

Wife - Oh man, I had this dream last night, and I remembered it during the day, and I was totally going to fucking tell you what it was about, but I forgot most of it.
Me - You were going to fucking tell me?
Wife - Yeah man. Ooooh, it had some guy . . . and . . .
Me - I had a dream I was smoking pot with my dad.
Wife - What? That's messed up.
Me - Yeah, like all grown up. We were smoking weed together, and the my mom shows up. And I shove the pot his way and kind of tell her that it's his drugs.
Wife - Oh man, that's better.
Me - Yeah, I sold out my dad in my dream . . . *I start laughing*
Wife - Oh, OK. So, there was this tampon in my dream. But it had shit on it, and it was also toilet paper.
Me - What the fuck?

I repeat her description of her dream to her, just like she'd told it to me, and we both start cracking up.

Wife - Oh, and that guy (we don't know who this guy is) was there and he was creepy.
Me - Weird man.

Oh yeah . . . I remember this

Ha, the other night I totally remembered that I had started this thing to keep a semi-acurate record of what happens when we get high around here. What I hadn't counted on was how lazy and forgetful pot makes you. So, sorry if I hadn't posted anything since around Thanksgiving 2007. But seriously, something like this is to be expected from potheads.

I'll tell you just how lazy I am though. I never, ever ever ever ever pack my own bowls. I leave that to my wife, who is, I'm pretty sure, a master at it by now. I don't pack them, mostly because I am lazy, but also partly because I wouldn't want to insult the craft of packing bowls with one packed by me that doesn't smoke right. And forget about breaking the shit up before it goes in the bowl. Knowing me, I'd just grab a handful of it (seeds and all) and just drop it in the bowl. My wife keeps trying to get me to learn, I'm thinking so she can be relieved of her bowl handling duties, but I ain't having none of it.

I also hate securing the merchandise. We have a couple of sources, friends and professionals, and I do not like making the phone call to get the stuff. I don't even like to handle the cash. To me, securing it is like a spectator sport. I watch from the sidelines while it's taken care of for me. Once again, it goes back to me being super lazy. Don't judge me.

So, that just reinforces my excuse. We've also being doing it a lot in recent weeks. Like, every day rather than a weekend thing. So, my periods of lucidity are mostly spent at work, and not anywhere near a computer where I can safely write about the subject. I'm just taking the time now to explain this all to you (or none of you since this blog goes around largely undiscovered) before I have to jump in the shower and get ready for another 8 hour day at my Corporate America job.

"What's 4911?"

Yesterday evening, during the digesting of our Thanksgiving dinner, and post herb smoke-out session, my wife and I were standing on our front porch, trying to keep warm in the nippy November weather, smoking a cigarette. We had just been out there long enough to light up the smoke when a lady came walking down our street, looking like she was searching for something. She spotted us and started to make her way towards us.

Lady: Hi, do you guys know where 4911 is?
Wife: Umm . . .
Me: What's 4911?
Wife: It's . . .
Me: Oh, wait, I get it. Well, this is 5021, and the house across the street is 5014, so it's down that way.
Wife: Yeah, just keep walking down there and it should be on this side (motioning to our side of the street).
Lady: Do you know how far down?
Both my wife and I: No, not really.
Me: But it can't be far. But it could also be on the other side of that main street. Sorry, we're not sure.
Lady: OK, thanks.

She walked away, and 5 seconds later, my wife and I started to laugh. I, for one, had thought that she was looking for an establishment called "4911", and my wife, who has been living in the same area for close to 10 years now, could not give her the appropriate directions. Thinking about it now, we did point her in the right direction, so there's no way she would have gotten lost. It couldn't have been more than a block or two away, at the most. We just have to remember to not give directions to people when we're high.

"What is this Movie Called Again?"

From time to time, I will have the distinct pleasure of coming home from a long day at work to a pretty stoned wife. Which is great, because it makes for some hilarious hijinks. This past Friday, after coming home with a gift card from work, we decided to hit up the local Blockbuster for some movies. We don't frequent Blockbuster whenever we want to get some new DVD's, but since the gift card was for that specific retailer, we had no choice.

My wife was pretty baked for the whole trip out. We got there, and found a rack of movies which were selling at the rate of 4 for 20 bucks. Pretty sweet deal, specially since my gift card was for just that amount. We started picking out movies, and my geek-heart immediately picked up Marvel's animated feature "Ultimate Avengers 2". I know. Shut up. My wife then picked up a used copy of "Half Nelson", which she had been wanting to watch for some time now. I then picked up "Snakes on a Plane" . . . because I have a deep appreciation for Samuel L. Jackson . . . and because it has to be hilarious to watch while high. Our fourth and final DVD choice was a little bit harder. But, after sifting through the rack of movies, I picked up the recent remake of "Miami Vice". I had heard great things, but my wife had been totally anti-watching it in theaters.

Me - Hey, how about this? (Shows her the DVD box)
Wife - Miami Vice? Um, OK. Yeah, why not.
Me - I heard it was good. And it's only 5 bucks.
Wife - Yeah, get it.

We waited in line, paid for the movies, and headed back home. I then joined my wife in her altered state of mind and we popped in "Miami Vice" into the XBOX 360's DVD player. As soon as the opening credits start showing up, my wife sits up and looks at me, a bit on the perplexed side.

Wife - Wait, what is this movie called again?
Me - Miami Vice
Wife - What? I thought we were buying Bad Boys 4 or something.
Me - What the . . . Bad Boys 4? That movie isn't even in production.
Wife - Oh man, I thought it was going to be one of those Bad Boys movies.
Me - I asked you in the store if you wanted to watch "MIAMI VICE", and you said "yes".
Wife - Wow. I'm really high.
Me - Yes. Yes you are.

We laughed pretty hard about that, and then watched the movie. Which was great . . . when something actually happened. I might have to re-watch that again while sober, because when I'm baked, I tend to doze off. And since this movie had long periods of time when practically nothing happened . . . I fell asleep a couple of times. Good thing there are gunshots in the movie, because those woke me up periodically. Otherwise, I would have missed the whole thing.

Storytelling Under the Influence

Just this past Saturday night, I had a moment of utter brilliance when I tried to tell my wife a story. Unfortunately, my brain to mouth filter was clogged with cannabis, so it went wrong somewhere along the line. The story ended up a little like this:

Me: Hey, remember that one time when I told you that stuff?
Wife: What?
Me: You know, about your sisters and the cheese.
Wife: *stares at me and makes "what the fuck are you talking about face"
Me: You know . . . wait, it's gone.
Wife: What?! *she starts laughing
Me: Oh, OK, it's back. That one time when I was telling you about your sisters and how they took our cheese.
Wife: I don't remember that.
Me: I was really tired then, so I kept saying that your "chisters stole our seese". And I kept trying to correct myself, but every time I tried saying it right, it would still come out as chisters and seese?
Wife: I don't know what you're talking about . . . but whatever it is . . . you're a great storyteller.

So . . . that happened.

Reflections

Things like this tend to happen to us when we've been smoking weed. It's understandable though. Pot affects the mental faculties. This one just happens to be a little more on the hilarious side than other times. Most of the time, we just can't think of a word and we'll spend a few minutes trying to figure out just what we want to tell each other and by the time we have figured out the word, we have already forgotten what we were talking about. Good thing this particular memory stuck around in my head.

Wife - Hey man, you can see yourself in the reflection there . . .
Me - Yes. Wait? Did you just say that to me? I can see myself in the reflection?
Wife - Yes (giggles) What?
Me - Nevermind . . . How much have we smoked tonight?

The Proposition - High Review

Well. My wife and I went to get a movie on Sunday to watch because there's nothing on TV worth watching during the summer. Until our favorite summer shows start premiering later this month. But I'm straying into something rather unrelated. We picked up the movie, got home, and sparked up and then proceeded to get nice and baked.

3 hours later, we remembered the movie we picked up and we popped it into our DVD player. "The Proposition" had gotten some pretty great reviews and from the looks of it, it's a very well crafted western which benefits from a change of location. But . . . the marijuana got in the way of me being able to keep up with the movie, as I kept falling asleep and losing track of the narrative plot.

What I can remember is a lot of beautiful vistas, sunsets, some very grimy looking Australian cowboys, and an aborigine head exploding. Yeah, that was pretty fucking tight right there. I will have to revisit the movie once my system is devoid of cannabis so I can enjoy the movie without missing parts due to slumber.

This particular day that we watched the movie was a bit of a new experience for me though. Usually, when I smoke the cheeba, it's just for a couple of hours and then I'm off to sleepy-land. This time around, we started smoking at around 3 pm and then continued throughout the day, re-baking and maintaining our high for hours. Makes for "dope times" *chuckle*, but it makes your attention span really short. I don't recommend watching movies when in this state. But, if you have some of those Adult Swim shows hanging around your DVR machine, those are the right length at 15 minutes a pop. Maybe that's why they do that . . . hmm . . . it all makes sense now.

"Why is this piece not changing to a long!"

As I type, Jack & Jill are engaged in a furious Tetris battle that has been waging for about 1:13 minutes. Five minutes ago, Jack was trying to change a square piece into a long piece by desperately pressing on the green button. My wife and I lost it during this, as Jack kept trying to fit the square piece into a single columned area.

We regained our composure as we kept trying to explain the intricacies of Tetris to Jack, which is fantastically impossible. No fault of the recipient of the knowledge, but it is our fault, because we can't convey a single coherent fucking thought from it's initial inception a nano-second before to where it should go. But somehow it gets scrambled by a pot filter somewhere near our nasal passages. The words that come out make no sense.

They've switched from Tetris to Pac-Man now. The validity of Jill's Pac-Man skills are currently being contested by the collective us. Apparently, using an XBOX 360 controller is not the same as an Atari Joystick. She also had made a comment on how she preferred a Joystick and my wife made a sexually suggestive comment. My wife rocks. Never misses an opportunity.

"Is that what she said?" - Micheal Scott from The Office.

“You’ve got paper in your pants”

The following details our latest experience with pot. My wife and I had been pretty much baked for a couple of hours. She was lying down on the bed while I was going through some mail. I don’t know why I was checking the mail at around 11 pm, but it felt like a good idea at the time . . . taking into consideration my state of mind.

I came across an advertisement for a furniture store and picked it up, and then took it to the bedroom to show my wife what I had thought looked like an awesome bed. She was still lying on the bed as I walked into the bedroom and told her to check out the advertisement. She did, and said she liked it, but hated pretty much the rest of the furniture featured on the advertisement. I then snatched the paper out of her hand, and we started playing keep away.

She was lying on her back, with her eyes closed, and I would wave the paper around her, and just using her sense of hearing, she would try to snatch the paper of my hand. She failed, quite a bit, but it was fun so we continued until she actually snatched a piece off of the ad, and tossed it over to the side of the bed. Then, I walked out of the bedroom because I had remembered the reason I had been looking for paper. I had to kill a moth. Which, I failed by the way. All I succeeded in doing was waking it up and royally pissing it off.

I managed to fight off the moth onslaught and retreated to the bedroom, closing the door behind me. At that point in time, my wife still on the bed, had shifted positions, and now was lying on her side, and to me, it looked like she was hiding something. My marijuana-influenced mind started to put the pieces together, and it deduced that she had folded the piece of paper she had torn off the ad and was hiding it in her pants. Why I thought this, is of course, beyond me. But I was determined to get it bad.

“You’ve got paper in your pants” I said, as I jumped on the bed and started trying to undo her pants.
“You’re fucking crazy,” she said as she laughed. “What are you doing??!”
“I’ve got to get this paper out of your pants” I kept saying over and over again.

We wrestled for a moment and then she managed to get away. It is then that I realized what the hell I was doing. There was, indeed, no paper in my wife’s pants whatsoever. The paper she had torn off during our earlier keep-away lay crumpled on the other side of the room. It is then that we both started cracking up. We laughed until our sides hurt, and when we finally started to get it together, she mimicked my earlier attempts to get the non-existent paper from her pants on me, which again, sent us into hysterics. Explaining what had happened and why I had been so determined just made us laugh harder.

We then ate some brownies, tried to watch a horror movie, and dozed off.