…it sucks at:
Getting Rid Of Heartburn. It makes mine worse.
Motivation to get up & go = 0
Of course, I can’t focus. And if I do, I will forget about it.
I want to make a strain specifically for PMS. This is my dream job! My testing site would look like this:
And my crops:
Who says I’m not motivated?
Hey you. I don’t have a pc & I want to tell you about the whole trip, but I’m texting it in my cell. Psssh. I’ll try:
Grand Cayman: we pet huge sting rays in clear water. We’re told they have been eating from tourists hands for so many years that they come when they hear the boat. They did! They bump into you, head first, and slide between your legs to get your attention. They now have health issues (high cholesterol) from years and years of hand fed fish. We were asked not to feed them. They were like big puppies, just wanting attention/food.
We also went snorkeling on a coral reef. I think snorkeling was the most fun. I chased colorful fish around, and tried not to get caught up in the current that went to a very dark spot of the ocean.
Cozumel: my favorite place ever. We ported in the middle of Georgetown. It’s a colorful tourist port. We didn’t want to be with the tourists so we rented a jeep and drove around the island, stopping at the Myan Temples right away.
The Mexicans do the “slow sale”. They are very kind and will talk to you about their calendar and tequila for hours. But they expect pay. We were almost $300 down on this first stop, and that was mostly because I tipped them $20 each time. Next time, I’ll slow my roll.
The temples had almost no tourists, and several of them sit in the middle of a very hot jungle like place. Wild iguanas are like our lizards…..everywhere. I chased them. They were gray and green, and camouflaged well within the temples. I found an unmarked temple & got video of myself marching thru to get to it. The video is kinda Blair Witch like.
We were hot as hell when we left that place. We drove to a “Rasta” bar that Kevin previously found on Google Earth. He promised weed. 🙂 I told him to let me handle asking for it, because there was no doubt that the Mexicans trusted me more than the bald white guy. I was very scared though….it looked like a bad idea.
I asked the bartender (after ordering food & drink) if he knew where I could get “some smoke”. He pointed to the cigarettes. I had to be blunt: “marijuana” with a smile. The bartender just laughed and said no. I said fuck it, and ordered 3 shots of vodka. About an hour later he pointed to some rich looking Mexican, in a pink polo and khaki shorts. This guy asked me to follow him. He took me up stairs to this room that only had a table. I said, “how much?”. He smiled and asked “per kilo?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “No! Just enough to enjoy the ride today.” I was too tipsy to be scared. I should have been scared! He laughed too (thank god) and gave me a price of $10/joint. Cheap! I told him I’d take two and handed him a $20. He told me to wait at the bar for it. Later he walked by and dropped a napkin in my bag.
This is where it gets surreal.
We left the bar and headed down an empty road. I smoked with ease. No one was around and Kevin seemed to be driving fast. It was not pretty, just very hot. The weed kicked in right as we came to an empty beach that was so blue, clear, and so so beautiful. We stopped and Kevin held my back while I floated in this oasis. It was pure bliss, Sandy. If nothing else, this would be my “spiritual awakening”. The blue just led to an infinite horizon….more clear blue ….. No land. If there was an aerial shot, from the universe, we were just two tiny specs in the middle of this blue. (That’s what my stoned head was thinking about while I floated.) I felt insignificant but wonderful.
We left that place and started down the road again. I smoked the 2nd joint. I had to get rid of it before we got back to the port.
I am super stoned. I look over and there’s a bull standing on the side of the road. Kevin says it’s there too, so I know it wasn’t just me. I tell Kevin it must be fake. He says it’s not and turns around to go back toward the bull. I’m sure you saw the pic of me and the bull. A man and his toddler son stood out there in the heat waiting to make tips from their bull. They did that day! I was happy to dish out my last cent to the man and his baby. They guy was so happy, and told me to take my time and to make sure I “grabbed the bull by the horns”. That was profound under my condition. It was like a Jim Morrison dream……
Oh, the end of my high was crazy! We took the jeep back. They tell us we owe $22 for gas. Kevin pulls out a credit card. It’s too late for that – they want cash. Neither one of us have cash….the guy with the bull had the last of mine. Kevin is also fleeced. They tell us to take it to the gas station and fill it up. It’s storming now, and the jeep does not have windows (or seat belts). We’re at the gas station, with about an hour before our ship left, and Kevin cannot find his credit card. I pull mine out, and some lady pumps 160 pesos of gas. Sounds like enough to me! We take the jeep back to these men, and they freak out because it’s not enough. This time I go to the ATM to get cash. My card had been turned off. (Fraud dept due to my location). I’m not going into great detail here because the crazy shit never stops. Basically, we have no money to pay for gas that had been pumped into the jeep. Mexicans want their money. We have about 30 mins to get back on the ship before we are stuck in Mexico with zero money. Cell phones do not work due to the storm. Men take Kevin away and I’m in a jeep, stoned, wet, in the middle of a storm – alone.
So while I’m getting rained on sitting at this gas station, a group of old men are laughing at me. They aren’t loud or mean. They just see an American sitting in a jeep without windows. I look over at them and smile and shrug. They start telling me places I can go and get cash…just with a credit card number – that’s it. I realize this is fraud and a scam….but I need cash and my card is already canceled so ‘good luck, Mexicans’, is what I’m thinking. I just need to find Kevin.
Anyway, we end up offering them our stuff. They laughed at the Myan earrings I bought. They took Kevin’s HD water proof camera.
And we made it home!
I’ve been single for quite sometime and happy with the situation. I accepted the fact that I may be a loner in life, and I’ve been good with that. This sounds cliche, I know, but for someone like me – who has had a constant need for male approval, it’s amazing how little I care these days.
As most wise people already know, being alone is necessary to become your genuine you. I did not know this.
Anyway, I am now seeing an old friend/ex boyfriend. The relationship has been very good. I feel less like playing games and less consumed on how sexy I am or am not to my mate. The relationship is deeper than that, and that’s a first for me.
Also my daughter is leaving back for Gainesville next weekend. My relationship with her, this past summer, has been way less than fun, but through some tough moments of screaming and years, we did have major breakthroughs. We have definately grown closer. She is an adult now. There must be mutual respect, and I think we finally have a good report.
My birthday is August 13 th. My boyfriend is taking me on a cruise to Cozumel. He hates pot, but he found a “Rasta pit stop”. He told me I can some and “really enjoy one of the most beautiful spot on earth.”
That’s pretty sweet.
She’s very sexy.
If I were to go for a woman – this sexy, androgynous, globe- trotter….
She is Jenny Shimizu.
So, for the first time in my 44 years of life, a drug test is a problem. I received notice yesterday that I was chosen for a Random. I was in a panic the entire day. Is this silly plant going to be the reason I get fired from the company I’ve been with for almost 20 years? My career *poof* because I *puff*?
I was determined not to allow this. I had to pass it. I needed clean pee and a plan.
I Googled, took notes, got a plan, and went shopping.
1) Small Empty Bottle (find them in drug stores or travel section). It should hold 60mL of liquid.
2) Heating Pad. I was able to find a foam pad (for muscles) that was microwavable.
Basically, I had to get someone else’s clean urine to the lab, while keeping it body temperature. The lab tech’s job is to make sure the urine is between 90 to 100 Degrees (F). If it is not the right temp, the test will be failed or you will be asked for a re-do. Either way, you’re fucked.
I made my daughter’s boyfriend donate the urine (hey, he gets free room & board all summer; he owes me). I prepared my loose dress and tight, full panties the night prior. In the morning, I nuked the foam-thing, wrapped the bottle of urine in it, and grabbed the thermometer. Once I got to the clinic, I took it’s temperature. 100 degrees (F) – perfect. It gave me 10 degrees to lose or not. I just couldn’t get it hotter. I rammed the bottle into the crotch of my tight underwear. I stuffed the bottle very snug against me so it would hold my body temperature.
I sat down and I could feel the bottle crunch against the plastic chair under me. I then noticed a co-worker walk in. Sure as shit, the gabby South Carolina woman sat next to me, and whispered with a thick southern draw: “You know this ain’t random. They pick people they KNOW don’t use.”
My day brightened a million fold the moment I saw the “yes” checked on my paperwork. Yes, my pee was the right temperature. HOME FREE!
I took a trip to NYC this weekend with the same guy discussed in previous blog. I couldn’t bring weed through TIA’s crazy-serious TSA. It’s downright creepy getting through that even when you’re squeaky clean, much less trying to hide a tiny baggy full of Felony! So, I was stuck weed less during this journey. However I discovered two experiences that made me feel “high” in the same way pot does:
1) Being on an airplane, window seated, on a beautiful summer day. The beauty tinged with a bit of fear was quite like being high.
2) Walking slowly through a dark street up to Times Square for the first time. The sudden bright lights, and stunning display of life, capitalism, and the different scents from one minute to the next – is almost better than being high.
I saw a couple of these online articles, but once I got to the first piece of advice for men (clean more), I didn’t read the rest. Ways Men Can Support Feminism
I get the “equal” thing – but I think it is of simple thinking to believe this extends to errands and whatnot. If men truly felt like our equals, then our domestic preferences is a more of an intimate matter than “50% = Equal”.
I almost posted one of these bullshit articles on my Facebook page, but then I thought – This is downright insulting to women. Men, clean more; problem solved.
Try this instead: Men, talk to women and together come up with a domestic plan that supports what you each do best, and is fair. If the woman enjoys cleaning, she may want more than 50%. She may want it all! And if that works, why go 50/50? It just doesn’t make sense. In reality, as in all things: very few things equal out and at the same time work out. I mean, look at Communism!
I am here to confirm that marijuana, without a doubt, enhances sexual interactions with oneself and together with a partner. I spent the weekend with a male friend whom I’ve been having sex with for about 10 years. The sex has always been very good, but I have been unable to achieve orgasms in most cases.
This weekend was spent with this friend. I would quickly smoke marijuana (regs) via wood pipe. After about 2 bowls, I would become sexually aroused (wet) before any interaction started, and I would become more sexually aroused watching him, and would begin to flirt heavily in order to seduce him into the bed. Normally, my ego is more powerful than my libido. With marijuana, my ego turns off and my brain is in such an easy going state, I can simply enjoy the experience and sensations without any kind of neurosis getting in the way.
Intense and 100% enjoyable…
I’ve been getting stupid- high and trying to read The Bell Jar (Sylvia Plath). It is taking me forever because I’m going back and underlining lines.
The character is struggling to connect to NYC life:
“I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo…”
“…it wasn’t night and it wasn’t day, but some lurid third interval that suddenly slipped between them and would never end”.
And she uses the word “caviar” 10 times within a few pages. The character talks about how she would ignore social graces so she could cram caviar in her mouth. It’s an odd combo: eating caviar like a starved person.