A Case Of The Empty Empties
Note: I had a very long and funny post that was eaten by Blogger and ultimately unable to be recovered...that really sucks. It was hysterical. No really. You'd have laughed yourself silly. Some of you would have hurt yourself from laughter and might have pursued legal action against me...maybe it's a good thing it was eaten. But really...you should have been there...
I thought we needed to shake of the dingy dark winter days with a little shout out to spring. Here's a shot of a day lily from Shelley's garden last summer...maybe it will bring a glow to your world.
The warmer weather brings out the hippies.
Last night as I was walking back to my car from the library, I passed a house and the marijuana smell wafting from the windows nearly threw me back a block.
It was so intense that I was fairly certain that the house was either hosting a spontaneous concert by The Wailers, or someone living there had the world's worst case of glaucoma.
I'm not a prude, and I was certainly no choir boy...I just think it's a little excessive to turn your fireplace into a walk-in bong.
My apologies to the hippies in the audience. I'm just not very hippy, though I did sort of marry one. Sure, she seems straight-laced but she's got latent hippy tendencies. She did live in Portland and San Francisco after all...those ARE the West Coast affiliates of Sodom and Gomorrah right?
It's gotta make you wonder, btw, why did Sodom get something named after it but Gomorrah...zippo. Come on Gomorrah, represent yo!
I lived in San Francisco too, but it didn't really have any lingering affects.
I did try to wear flowers in my hair once, but I don't have any hair so they sort of fell on the ground...I guess I could have taped them on...but then the song said nothing about visiting San Francisco and scotch-taping flowers on your head, so I think I made the right call.
When I got home last night, Shell and Gracie were in the bedroom playing.
She was probably teaching her some hippy stuff like ultimate frisbee.
Shut up!
Sorry
Anyway, she said, "Gracie, come see who's here".
GG walked around the corner, saw me and her eyes lit up. She got a huge smile and ran up to me, threw her arms up at me and said "Hi Dada".
It's enough to make a grown man cry.
Maybe I am a hippy after all...hippies cry a lot. Alan Ginsberg would sob for hours. Ken Kesey was a puddle of tears 24-7, well when he wasn't seeing monkeys talking to Jesus.
Hmmm...'Bong Hits 4 Jesus'...now I know why he needed all those loaves and fishes!
The girls are gone now. They went away for the weekend to Tim's house.
Probably getting their freak flags on!
Shut up, I said!
Oh yeah, I forgot...I was totally baked
So I'm all alone in the house, me and the dogs. I'm just wandering room to room. I don't get it. I was alone, basically, for 30 plus years...why am I suddenly lost without a giggling toddler and a busy-bee wife hovering about me? I've double checked to see if Shell pinned a note to my shirt in case I got lost. No such luck, but to be on the safe side I probably shouldn't got outside.
Plus what would I do? Hug a tree?
What if the tree hugged back??
My apologies to all the hippies out there...I love you all...just stay away from my Oreos.
I thought we needed to shake of the dingy dark winter days with a little shout out to spring. Here's a shot of a day lily from Shelley's garden last summer...maybe it will bring a glow to your world.
The warmer weather brings out the hippies.
Last night as I was walking back to my car from the library, I passed a house and the marijuana smell wafting from the windows nearly threw me back a block.
It was so intense that I was fairly certain that the house was either hosting a spontaneous concert by The Wailers, or someone living there had the world's worst case of glaucoma.
I'm not a prude, and I was certainly no choir boy...I just think it's a little excessive to turn your fireplace into a walk-in bong.
My apologies to the hippies in the audience. I'm just not very hippy, though I did sort of marry one. Sure, she seems straight-laced but she's got latent hippy tendencies. She did live in Portland and San Francisco after all...those ARE the West Coast affiliates of Sodom and Gomorrah right?
It's gotta make you wonder, btw, why did Sodom get something named after it but Gomorrah...zippo. Come on Gomorrah, represent yo!
I lived in San Francisco too, but it didn't really have any lingering affects.
I did try to wear flowers in my hair once, but I don't have any hair so they sort of fell on the ground...I guess I could have taped them on...but then the song said nothing about visiting San Francisco and scotch-taping flowers on your head, so I think I made the right call.
When I got home last night, Shell and Gracie were in the bedroom playing.
She was probably teaching her some hippy stuff like ultimate frisbee.
Shut up!
Sorry
Anyway, she said, "Gracie, come see who's here".
GG walked around the corner, saw me and her eyes lit up. She got a huge smile and ran up to me, threw her arms up at me and said "Hi Dada".
It's enough to make a grown man cry.
Maybe I am a hippy after all...hippies cry a lot. Alan Ginsberg would sob for hours. Ken Kesey was a puddle of tears 24-7, well when he wasn't seeing monkeys talking to Jesus.
Hmmm...'Bong Hits 4 Jesus'...now I know why he needed all those loaves and fishes!
The girls are gone now. They went away for the weekend to Tim's house.
Probably getting their freak flags on!
Shut up, I said!
Oh yeah, I forgot...I was totally baked
So I'm all alone in the house, me and the dogs. I'm just wandering room to room. I don't get it. I was alone, basically, for 30 plus years...why am I suddenly lost without a giggling toddler and a busy-bee wife hovering about me? I've double checked to see if Shell pinned a note to my shirt in case I got lost. No such luck, but to be on the safe side I probably shouldn't got outside.
Plus what would I do? Hug a tree?
What if the tree hugged back??
My apologies to all the hippies out there...I love you all...just stay away from my Oreos.
---------------------------------------------
6 Comments:
Your Oreos are safe from me. Oh, whatever happened to the kinder, gentler marijuana of the 70s paired with a half gallon of butter pecan? And that was the MIDWEST!
Be good to yourself while the ladies are gone. Mr Z leaves for two weeks this evening -- two weeks, overseas. I intend to get busy, get stuff done; hit the gym every other day, do all the deferred maintenance on the fleet that I can possibly do without creating a noticeable, gaping void in the coffers; have the new appliances installed, do the rest of the spring clean-up outdoors. I might even drag the Christmas tree down to the yard waste composting center.
Of course the Eenas will have to install Net Nanny on the lap top in order to make this happen. Amazing what I can do when they limit my Internet access to an hour a day (I do NOT have a self discipline problem! NO, I do NOT!)
Okay -- I'm challenging you! You make your list, I'll make mine, we'll see who checks the most stuff off by April 5th. Winner gets a bong hit, a half gallon of butter pecan, and an eight hour nap!
I hate it when blogger eats posts!
Thanks for your note about taking a walk down the street on the weekend to meet your Shell and Gracie - I really want to meet them, but I can't. I just don't think it would be right to pop in when I know they have company... I don't want to become the annoying neighbor and have them hoping I will loose their address...
angel- I understand. Secretly I would be jealous that she would get to meet you first! I don't thnk they'd ever view you as an annoying neighbor though...so shh...
zilla- Canadian Oreos are bad anyway...blech...I have to make a list?? I don't wanna make a list. I just wanna take the big nap now! If fact...wait a second...there's nobody here...um...I've got to...uh...go do something...not napping of course, oh heavens no...where's my blankie...
Hippies are sixty.
If you're too young to be part of the social movements, you're not a hippie, right?
I get a little annoyed with my brother-in-law who likes to pop in unannounced, light a bowl in our driveway and discuss the latest, "Freaking awesome total hippy chick," he's been seeing. I mean these gals are younger than me. Did I miss something? Smoking more pot in a day than I did through college and high school combined and wearing handmade hemp halter tops purchased at the Multicultural store does not make someone a hippie. Right?
Hippies are extinct. All the true hippies my parents hung with are now pulling in six figure salaries, and have all inherited their wealthy parents' estates. They are NOT protesting in DC. They aren't even smoking pot any more...except when they get together for reunions. They're complaining about high tax brackets, hiring domestic help to do the boring jobs, and giving their daughters shit for staying at home with the kids. They're also all on more than one form of legal medication.
Too broad a generalization.
I'm sure there are some real hippies still out there.
I haven't seen a real one in a very long time, however.
I'm thinking you got a little contact high from poking your head in the window of the hippy house over and over until the hippies told you to put in or go home. Or maybe they said, "No we refuse to give you anymore shot guns." OR maybe they said, "Stop wafting you wafter..."
And don't tell me you walked by that house holding your breath...please.
I love you Ron, you made me laugh like a hippy stoner, hmm, wonder if I have any oreos, double stuff, yeahhhh. Giggle, snort, giggle some more.
Bet you looked like a whack a mole bobbin in and out of that window scaring those stoners to death.
Don't you know it's national, don't scare a stoner week?
Um, I have a friend, we had a party one time at holloween, however it's spelled, and this other friend showed up wearing a cop uniform, came to the back door, knocked, people ran from every other exit, blindly, with great enthusiasm, until we realized it was Jack. Yeah I was runnin....
Jack had a name badge on, it said, you guessed it...."Officer Isee, A Doobie...so damned funny.
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