The Cannabis Diaries

Friday, August 26, 2005

Then I'd cut her eyes out so no one would have seen what I'd done.

I like to buck certain social norms. For instance, I don’t turn around on elevators. I try to be the last one in and I will stand there in a stranger’s personal space and blankly stare them down. People usually just look down; but some laugh and stare back. Most men like to disguise their actions when examining a woman’s rack. I like to be more blatant. Rather than lower my head and trying to find something else to act like I’m focusing on, I prefer to concentrate on sexual fantasies. Often I’m rolling the tip of my tongue across the roof of my mouth imagining a nipple in my lips. I will squint and strain my eyes to try to distinguish the size and shape of the nipples. I find most women fall into one of two categories: receptive and unreceptive. Her reaction to a wink and nod will reveal in which category she falls. Another frequent faux pas I like to commit is dropping the F-bomb in entirely inappropriate situations. I never do this in a threatening manner. There is no fun in that. I like to slip it in casually like

“Sir I think you left your lights on”

“Oh thanks”

“Yeah, boy that’ll ruin your fucking day”

Of coarse any yahoo can walk around all day saying fuck. The challenge is to still sound intelligent. Eventually slipping “fuck” into conversations won’t be enough. This leaves you in the situation I find myself in with my good friend Chuckles. Chuckles and I like to say the most inappropriate things in public while remaining completely straight-faced. This all started while we were enjoying some unusually strong psilocybin mushrooms. We were standing near a beer line commenting to each other about the sexual acts we’d like to perform on the various gals that would walk by. I noticed a gal next to me listening in. So I said to Chuckles. “How’d you like to fuck that gal in the ass” indicating an approaching woman with a buxom bottom. “Oh, fuck yeah” Chuck replied with enthusiasm. I quickly followed with “Then chop her up into little pieces…. send them to her mom” We’ve enjoyed hours of such comments since then. We got some real dirty looks when I expressed how glad I was that Peter Jennings had lung cancer. That was in line for the Star Wars III Premier. A more recent gem was in McDonalds where I said I wished Cindy Sheehan had lost two sons in Iraq. We thought it best to jam in a hurry after that one. Danger