Right now it’s 17:47 and I’m in Howieland. First I took a few small twigs of shroom, followed by “medicinal” mary…a $25 J as perfectly rolled as a cigarette, comes in its own screwtop glass tube. My whole head feels like your palm when you stick it out the car window doing 40. My eyes are painless but look like eggs and ketchup. I feel like a statue in the seat of a roller coaster, unmoving yet moving FAST. There are cookies EVERYWHERE, real ones, and fried chicken and sandwiches. The place is it to myself.
Thank you Santa!
It’s now a few hours later. I was grinning like a mild idiot watching an ancient movie called “The Manhattan Project” about a 16-year-old genius who “borrows” some plutonium and builds his own atom bomb (lucky for us, the kid is White and non-Muslim). The kid, whose acting career has fizzled since, especially compared to his then-hot movie girlfriend Cynthia Nixon (later the “dykey” red-haired wench on Sex and the Nonstop-Yapping), runs around town being chased by the actor who later became “Frasier’s” father playing the hapless military goofball trying to catch him.
This ridiculous piece of cine-fluff is saved by the great John Lithgow, who by himself suspends disbelief for everyone else. He had one kick-ass line that should be applied to all terrorists today: “Lock them in a room…and throw away the room”.
I now have a mild “stoneover”, a word I refuse to believe I coined, where my head feels like a painless ball of needless pressure. I worked out and now am waiting to see if Spike will cancel on me for goin’ out. Life rolls on a like a turd.
Tags: "medical" marijuana, 1986, Dirty Howie, eggs, john lithgow, ketchup, sex and the city, shrooms, the manhattan project, time
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