Stoney Musings

This is the funniest thing I have read in so long.  Yes, I’m stoned.

Credit: RudeJude


Oh, Google – always good for a laugh.  Question:  what medical procedure training requires the removal of that ass hatchflap panel?

My husband J and I do the best thing when we get home from work; we stand in the kitchen, sharing a joint and tell each other about our day.  At a little before 6pm, the sun is just leaving behind that muted brilliance of summertime light, and it softens our little kitchen and part of the hall.  The cat lays his big fat beer belly across the carpet, enjoying one of us trailing around a piece of string and we talk about the crazy fucked up shit that happens at work.

Today he told me about his unbalanced nutbag architect of a boss who gives him all kinds of shit for other peoples’ fuckups.  Then there’s the Russian foreman who had a breakdown after several years of working for The Nutbag and was basically publicly ridiculed for something every day, even after J was given his job and more money – we feel kinda sorry for the guy, he used to give J hell and they hated each other and would bump heads on the job site all the time.  But now he’s been all bitched into submission and you can’t help feel glad that it’s not you.  For a while he would tell me about this shady skinny dude on the job that would slide up next to him in the elevator and try to squeeze his ass – naughty!  also hilare.

Typically I tell him about what’s pissing me off at work, a dipshit client or retarded co-worker whose job application I begin to suspect has been falsified.  Today I told him about the co-worker I had been bitching about yesterday, and how today we were told she wouldn’t be coming in as her son had passed away.  That was a shock and everyone just stood there and said they didn’t know what to say.  I had been so annoyed with her because every time I work with her, she always end up leaving for some period of time for some terrible reason.  When I met her, she was severely obese, pushing 400lbs easy.  I don’t know how she managed the travel, but she ended up having heart surgery twice, so that look a long time to recover from.  She was on her second marriage to a man 10 years her junior and had two boys in their late teens, one of which was a high functioning autistic who was still living at home.  Then she was in a very bad car accident and apparently developed a chronic pain condition.  I didn’t see her for two years but when I did, she had had some type of bariatric surgery as she was now literally half her size and then she had surgeries to remove excess skin.  She said she was getting her tits and ass done but I don’t know if she did.

A while later her sister died, terminal cancer.  Then one of her sons had gotten married pretty young, and fathered a baby born with a congenital heart defect, who lived a while but never made it home.  His fledging marriage didn’t last, and later, this woman got divorced again.  Since we started working together on this project a couple months ago, she’s been absent weeks for her son being sick (no longer at home though), her mother having open heart surgery and most recently she’s been out for 3 weeks, hospitalized with something.  I complained to J about being left in the lurch and scrambling to reassemble the team and not get behind schedule.  About soothing the client while trying to find out what she was working on and get it covered, only to have her call this week and say she’s coming back sometime in the next 2 weeks and can we stop everything and catch her up?

Since I am used to her being gone for personal reasons so much, I wasn’t even feeling much sympathy for her being out sick, but when I heard about her son this morning, I felt terrible.  I couldn’t help thinking that at the same time I was bad mouthing her last night, she was probably receiving the news.  Damn.  How can one person have so much tragedy in a life?  I can’t even imagine.


Being able to wind down together while relaying the day is not something J and I have ever gotten to do before, I’m always on the road, 4 days a week.  It’s been eight years like that, and that kinda blows my mind.  But I really love this time and I know I won’t get to do it forever, I’ll have to go back on the road eventually.  And I just realized how much it means to me.

…Brought to you by Weeds and Showtime.  But that’s okay!  Because it’s exactly two minutes long, artfully constructed, and I don’t feel the need to fact check it before posting.  Did you know that Queen Victoria was prescribed mariHUUUAANA for her menstrual cramps back in 1891?  Now you do!  And you can inform those around you next time you pass the pipe.  Please to enjoy:

Feel free to add your own favorite pot facts in comments – knowledge is power!

Happy Friday, Hookers!


Welcome to a new feature for all the 420 friendly folks out there, Ganja Gab.  We’ll be talking about all the do’s, the don’t’s, the how-to’s and the never-do’s when it comes to your favorite recreational activities.  Gotta question you always wanted to ask but didn’t want to get caught not knowing?  Have a topic or drug you’d like to know more about?  Send ’em in and the internet will keep you anonymous while I tell you what you want to know and keep you from looking like a newb.  Or worse, a narc.

Today, we’re starting with some basics: Pot Etiquette, after the jump.



These are the Squidbillies, get yourselves acquainted.  I recommend a suspension of reality and whatever does the best job of making you non-sober.  Yee-Haw!!

Rusty sprouts his manhair and gets his first Tuscaloosa Dumpling.


oh hai, meat missile.

Okay, raise your hand if you attempted to make your own Bacon Explosion.  (raises hand)  Hmm?  Who else?  Come on, I know it wasn’t just me.  Ok, technically it was Mr. K who did the crafting but we’re married, so 50% Rule applies.  Yesterday afternoon we left the house to go run a few errands.  I dropped Mr. K off to get his hair cut and went to the drugstore, picked up some bagels and some mail and came back to pick him up.  As soon as he got in the car, he instructed me to drive to the grocery store because he had decided to make Bacon Explosion.  (make ‘a’ Bacon Explosion?  make ‘the’ Bacon Explosion?  whatevs..)  We went to the store, he got what he needed and we came back home, whereby he started assembling the meats.

Now, I’m not sure exactly what happened after this.  I saw a very serious looking mass of meat being put together and then it was whisked outside to be cooked.  After a while, the meat returned, however it was heavily guarded by my husband’s shoulder, back and whatever body part he could put between me and that meat.  Okay, fine.  I returned to the living room and waited.  When he emerged from the kitchen several minutes later, he had a sheepish grin on his face and a plate full of bacon and sausage shrapnel.

Me:  what happened?

Him:  well, it kinda caught fire.

Me:  oh.  (poking it a bit)

Him:  want some?

Us:  (burst out laughing)

So.  Attempt #1, not so good but good try nonetheless.  This morning I offered up the story during Facebook Confessional and unknowingly prompted him to set about correcting his earlier mistakes.  About an hour after telling some friends about it, my husband turns to me and says, “I have enough left over to do another one.  A mini one.  What do you think?”  And off he went.  (Might I add how absolutely wonderful it is to be married to a man who is motivated by bacon.  Don’t hate.)

And so, dear readers, I present to you, Bacon Explosion Redux. (more…)

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