Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Double Dutch Doobies

Say you worked at the peanut butter cup factory and one day, while eating
in the cafeteria, you saw a sign that said "This is a peanut free zone". You
would probably think, if you allow the pun, that the folks in HR had gone
a little "nutty". Well, it appears the Danish authorities have been smoking
far too much of what their laws freely allow.

The Dutch Health Ministry, in their infinite Rastafarian wisdom, has
banned the smoking of tobacco products in marijuana bars. That's correct. You
can light up a fat doobie, suck on a bong all afternoon, or do hot knives
over a bowl of hutsput, but you can incur the wrath of the Dutch authorities if
you dare light up a Marlboro.

Wouldn't everyone just be too stoned too care? What would your excuse be?

"Honestly officer, these cigarettes are for personal use, I swear I only smoke weed"


Joe Camel

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Table For One

Those who are avid readers of my many literary incarnations, know
that while I am partial to timeless axioms, I am a most ardent detractor when it comes to cliches. That being said, I must admit that the cliche which states that "one should not air one's dirty laundry in public",
seems to be the only appropriate turn of phrase that can best preface a
post that talks about the aftermath of a break up.

I have once again, joined the ranks of the single. You know who you are.
You spent valentine's day at home avoiding the TV because every time
a news anchorman blathered on about roses and chocolates, it felt like
someone was impaling your heart with a searing butcher knife.

There is some good news to report from the field. Frozen turkey dinners
have improved, and actually have a passing resemblance to real turkey - unlike
their tin foil predecessors that looked like shoe insoles, and tasted like Melba toast
dipped in paint thinner. They also seemed to have decided to do away the customary
side dish of fifteen peas that looked like shriveled leprechaun testicles.

Fortunately, I have recently moved into more suitable accommodations, so I
am no longer a slave to the culinary abortions that you stick in the microwave.
I can actually cook a real meal that has not been prepared by some giant machine
run by that crazy robot from Logan's Run. Not that I've actually been motivated
to cook anything yet, as I have yet to return to the ranks of those who have good
taste and proper sleeping habits.

The worst thing you can do when your wading through the emotional soup
that is a break up, is actually start reading about what your going through. Take
this encouraging passage I found from a cold and clinical study I had found
perusing the Internet.

"After a divorce, and/or break up, single men often move to sparsely furnished
bachelor apartments, often spending hours staring at the fixed points on the wall,
or of old pictures of their loved one."

It's one thing to be alone and heart broken, it's another to feel like your the subject
of an episode of Wild Kingdom.

Like all things that hurt in life, it gets easier. I guess every relationship, when you are able
to look back with a less jaundiced eye, always feels like the first and the last. Not to
down play the significance of this one. It was one of the most meaningful 3 years of my
life, and I wouldn't change them for anything. Except maybe for a talking monkey that
drank brandy all day, but otherwise said nothing except to quote Calvin Coolidge when
the situation warranted it.