I was gonna clean my room until I got high

So I'm sitting here looking at a vaguely blurry screen with a mean ass cotton mouth. I keep trying to get rid of it with all sorts of beverage options. I'm listening to some hooligan outside yell Happy 4-20!!!!! Down the last block and a half he's walked. I have been celebrating the "Holiday" so to speak. I don't feel quite as animated as him and therefore am not responding. That and the fact that its a dangerous game to play responding to a person in the streets in my neighborhood. There's a huge possibility they'll stop where they are and stay there yelling for the remainder of the night.


I've come to realize that this blog may make me sound like I'm a huge pot head which in some ways is accurate and in some ways is not. I'm sort of a pot head of convenience. If its there I'll smoke it. Conveniently I'm in a relationship with someone who has also been in a very long and somewhat serious relationship with Maryjane. Its always around and its pretty much in abundance. Its fun, its relaxing, it's enjoyable...why not smoke it? And I have been since I was 15. Shwag to kush its been a hazy, crazy, lazy road of memories with my crew to Sunday afternoons adventuring with my boo


I've made it past the level of scrounging some loose bills and change to grab a dime sack after school to using a delivery service to buy pre-packaged varieties of exotic blends. I've graduated from smoking out of cut up dasani bottles with tinfoil tops to technically advanced vaporizers. I've moved on from carrying vizine and a deodorizing body mist in my purse to cover up my devious behavior to sparking up at my own leisure in the comfort of my own home.


So I've celebrated this reefer holiday referred to as 4-20 many a time. I can't say I can recall in detail all the ways I've celebrated...I know one year I hung out at the park with some pals and a garbage bag full of candy and snacks. Another year I went to a house party where there was green in a variety of options-bowls, joints, blunts, vaporizers, treats, alcohol...or you could just walk in the front door and breathe in. I literally got so far out of my fucking element I thought I might go permanently insane. Things made me laugh to the point of not breathing and then I would feel sick and want to lay down in a dark quiet room. The next morning I woke up to go to work and my eyes would literally barely peel open, they were so bloodshot I looked like a strung out vampire...and of course I wasn't a fully functioning human being until another 12 hours had past.

According to wikipedia this is what we're all toking up for: Wikipedia knows all...


This year I celebrated with the boo and some pals. The boo and his boys rolled up plenty of blunts as me and my dear pal Mr. Orleans whipped up a nice batch of green rice krispies. Mr. Orleans provided the herbal butter. He had never even made a regular 'ol batch of Rice Krispies in his life!! I was shocked that he had been missing out on this American pastime. I gave him a sort of retarded introduction to it.


 Rice krispies are literally one of the easiest things a person can make. Its sort of like baking without having to bake. Its one of the first cooking projects you can do with a small child. It wasn't like we fucked them up. They actually turned out quite delicious. After melting the butter and whipping it up with the marshmallows I cut out the middle man (the mixing bowl) and just dumped the whipped mess into the pan and sprinkled rice krispies on top of it. I then proceeded to mix it in the pan with a large spoon flattening it out as I went. It resulted in some lovely bars with very concentrated buttery/ oily bottoms... But nobody complained. In fact the bars were not eaten but rather inhaled.

Green butter...now I know what Dr. Seuss was talking
about...

Mmm the weird little rice krispie elves always
seemed like they were on something but I think its
more along the lines of meth.

After we were completely hazy from our blunt rotation and the body high ensued from our treats we zoned out to netflix on demand. We watched the intense and subtitled martial arts film Ong Bak 3.

This is a fucking trip man...its a

trilogy. You really don't have to

watch them in order.

 And some comedy specials to lighten the mood. 

It was halfway through the first comedy special that I decided I need something more substantial and came up with the brilliant idea to make mac 'n cheese. I made a three box batch!! But just as the magnificent meal came to completion three of the six stoners headed out, leaving me, the BF and Mr. Orleans to the eating. I was pretty fine with that.

Nobody knows why but everybody agrees that shapes taste better.

And this is the best way to eat it. Just a dash of health!
I'm weird. I love peas. 

                                  

All in all the maryjane is a recreational lifestyle choice I enjoy partaking in. You either love it and appreciate it like this guy:

 You know nobody enjoys a rainbow quite to that degree unless they're a total hippie pothead. 

Or you don't: 

 "I think we're dead"

Bed & Breakfasts- Cute or Creepy

So after my debacle with horseback riding (FYI I will now refer to horses as WHOREses, because that's what they are.) we went back to our cozy little Bed & Breakfast to smoke some green and get sloshed on locally made Mendocino wine.

I'm only 23 so I haven't had too much experience in the world of B&B's, I think its primarily something restricted to couples who have been fucking for a while and are trying to make things more romantic/ serious, newly wed couples, couples who are trying to make it even though they're old and tired of one another or groups of couples who are considering swinging with other couples...oh and of course don't forget about the gals groups like book clubs or wine clubs that want to take their friendships to the next level (possibly one involving lesbian experimental behavior). And I think that this is exactly the type of people who should frequent these  of destination spots. I did tag along with my mom to a few B&B's as a youth. I think I would enjoy the cuteness and quaintness of sharing that experience together at this age more than I did back then.

These are the ideal candidates: 

They're not actually reading the news, they're looking
at the ads for tranny hookers to spice up their sex life

Don't let the love die before you do

Ultimately what I've concluded from personal experience and anecdotes from others is this: You have a 50% chance of going to a really charming and cozy B&B with a delightful no pressure breakfast (aka you can come and eat it or you can skip it) and a relaxing stay.

Slightly overgrown but still sweet garden arch
facing the ocean.

Charming little cottage at the Inn at Schoolhouse Creek

Mmmm worth waking up for

You also have a 50% chance of going to a really creepy and uncomfortable B&B where the owner basically operates it so they can show off their doll collections* or the thousands of blankets they've woven on their handcrafted looms and force you into awkward conversation at 7 am over some shitty tea and crumpets. Luckily we got the former experience.

This is Bed & Breakfast Barbara...an example
of the type of proprietor you want to avoid,
She has way too much time on her hands
and way too much information she's dying
to talk to someone about.

This place clearly has some angry spirits dwelling in it.

Bed & Breakfast Barbara will probably talk your
ear off about all their names and outfits.

This is what the angry spirits in the house want to do with
the Chatty Cathys and Peeing Pollyanna dolls and
Special Edition Sacajawea.

The Inn at school house creek is an adorable little arrangement of cottages with silly little names and unique little touches, ours was a  potbelly fireplace (which we didn't end up having enough energy to take an interest in), as well as a front porch (appropriate for glasses of wine) and a back porch (appropriate for bowls of maryjane). It also, for whatever odd reason, had a little fenced area with two mules behind the back porch. Mules are a lot more respectable than whorses simply because people don't ride them for pleasure but you can ride them if absolutely necessary or you can just throw some sacks of your belongings on them and have them Sherpa your shit around for you. It was also supposedly haunted, which of course got the paranormal detective in me all excited (no eerie happenings, which is probably for the best).

Unused but enduring nevertheless.

Add caption

Mules muling about.

Whimsical garden pic

So we lushed out on our complimentary wine and decided to throw on our suits and cottage provided matching robes (awww for cute!!) and take a late night dip into the hot tub and sauna. But what city dwellers forget is that when you're out in nature you have nothing but the stars as guiding light. There's no street lamps or flashing sirens or skyline...just the dark, the stars and the moon if she's out. This particular night was foggy and daaaark. The boyfriend instantly turns into the token black man in horror movies (he just wants to get the fuck out of the situation). So I'm holding the flashlight and he's holding me like a human shield against whatever dangers the dark night has in store. The flashlight beam only showed about 3 feet or less. It looked like we were getting ourselves into a Freddy VS. Jason situation walking deeper into the woods.

The journey at night

So we said fuck it and had a party in the normal sized bathtub back in the cottage instead, When we went to go find the hot tub and sauna the next morning after breakfast we were ashamed of our pussy ass behavior. We were less than 5 feet away from it the previous night, all we had to do was open a gate. Its probably for the best anyways; who knows there may have been some weird verts leering behind the brush. If the creepy maintenance crew of the B&B is any indication to the level of weirdness that roams the property the answer is yes there probably were.

The destination in comforting daylight

As we were packing up the car one such employee took it upon himself to stop down and chat with us about our plans for the day. We told him we were considering sea kayaking or hiking around to which he again took it upon himself to advise us into doing another activity...walking down along side a river on a path that mostly locals know about and like to use. We thanked him for the kind suggestion, got in the car and immediately decided that we was probably plotting to bind us to trees, steal our identities and dispose of us in that very river if we decided to take that hike. But after an inconclusive search for where the sea kayaking start off point was we ended up checking out the river path against our better judgement. Not only because of Mr. Megan's law but also because of this:

Notice specifically: "Keep children close, as mountain lions
seem to be especially drawn to them." So we had two
perverts on our hands

We felt fairly confident that we wouldn't be a rack of ribs dinner for any mountain lions however, because there was an older woman walking ahead of us with an ugly little fluff of a mini poodle who would probably be of greater interest and easier pray for any hungry big cats.





Big Beast
VS.
Little pieces of shit Poods
 

You can decide who will win that battle...

This little stumbled upon nature sculpture was either made by an artsy fartsy hiker or it was left as a sign from the weirdo back at the B&B to let us know he was around...

I embellished it with the blossom,

After the easy little jaunt down the river path we went to check out some sea bluffs and a giant sink hole. Sounds exciting, I know but it was actually quite beautiful and again with a hint of danger. There were multiple signs posted warning us to NEVER turn our backs to the ocean!!! It claimed that many lives were lost a year from people simply walking around, not paying attention and being swept off the cliff edge by a rouge wave. We decided to take the advice to heart and tried to stay as far away from the edge as possible. We only got brave on a very high increase of bluff that looked completely dry, untouched by any murderous waves. But as if God was wagging a finger us in warning, just a few minutes after we walked away we heard a loud crash and saw spray drench the edge of where we had just been standing. It wasn't powerful enough that it would have swept us away, so we didn't have the sensation of our lives flashing before our eyes but we did feel simultaneously anxious and relieved and took it back to the grassy, safe zone of the bluff.

The sink hole was a trip. It doesn't look to crazy but its basically the ocean coming underneath the bluff we were on to a place where the land just gave away and now there's a sort of little pond of ocean in the middle of it.

After getting our fill of small town/ nature adventures back to the city we went in our little shit mobile (it may not look to fly but it gets us where we need to go)

Down by the river. We left contact info. in the glove compartment in case we ended up getting kidnapped and tortured by the weirdo

Back on the windy road home we go...we saw where Paul Bunyan ashed his cigarette on the way.

Mental Escapes/ Physical Escapes

So Life has been tick tocking on by over the last couple of weeks...I've found myself facing a few mental and nervous break downs. There are a few reasons in particular why things have been especially stressful and trying as of recent; but its better to be vague. I'm going through one of those premature mid-life crises that people in their early, mid and most likely late 20's go through. Its that thinking that keeps you up at odd hours, turning on Nick at Nite to turn off your brain.

Don't worry!! I'll put you right to sleep...

The sort of thoughts like What am I going to do with my life? When will I get my shit together? Am I worthless human being? Does anybody love me? You know that normal stuff (maybe I don't have normal self-esteem). With that said I've gone from drinking nyquil in excess to shut the world out and just sort of deciding to carry on and deal with my personal bullshit. 


There's a lot of metaphors I could use...its like I've been in a whirlwind, riding a roller coaster, yada yada yada. But the most appropriate metaphor for this blog post would be to say that I've been thrown off the horse but got back on and kept riding...


Recently the boyfriend and I went on a lovely, somewhat romantic and mostly relaxing coastal weekend adventure outside the city. We went further up North on the coast to Mendocino, CA...never heard of it? Its basically just a little dot of a small town along the Pacific Coast of California. Its beautiful surely but it could really be any other Oceanside small town USA. This random destination was chosen through an appealing deal on Livingsocial.com escapes, I'm not trying to be a psychotic, QVC like sales lady/spokesperson but there's some truly amazing shit you can get your hands on. Check it out: Living Social Adventures. Its more like I'm the crazy coupon lady of the 21st Century. I'm obsessed with groupon.com, livingsocial.com, gilt.com...basically anything that provides me with life's luxuries at 50% off. Instead of sitting up with a cup of tea clipping away into the odd hours of the night, stuffing coupons for generic brand jello and cat food into a personalized binder in an attempt to save a grand total of $50 a year (God bless the moms across America that have the time and patience to do so). Instead I have these brilliantly put together websites send amazing deals to my e-mail inbox daily (at this point I pretty much use the Internet for nothing else) and flash my phone to cash in, because I'm fucking hip, cool and with it/ I feel like I should be getting paid for the way I thanklessly advertise these companies. I would love to work for any of the previously mentioned businesses but its highly likely they require a College degree and some basic understanding of technology (of which I have very little). So instead I'll just tell everyone I know about their fantastic deals and gain nothing but the pride of having someone appreciate a kind hearted suggestion. 


So anyways...I got this deal off of livingsocial.com, my newest online obsession. It was for a one night stay at a Bed and Breakfast called the Inn at Schoolhouse Creek in Mendocino. It came along with a gift certificate to have a Spa service in their Yurt. If you're not familiar with what a Yurt is you're not alone, apparently its a cylinder like tented structure and that's what they use to do facials and massage. Its some super hippie shit, just like the hot tub and sauna where clothing was optional. For us swimwear was an option we chose (publicly at least, we do have some modesty).  Unfortunately I never took them up on the offer for the spa service at the yurt either. But because the livingsocial deal was only for a one night stay we had to find accommodations for our first night up in Mendocino and that is how we ended up staying at the Seabird Lodge (one of two hotels in Mendocino with a pool. The boyfriend insisted upon it and I obliged even though I have very little expectations of small town hotel pools...I'm an adult. If you would have asked me my interest/ expectation level 15 years ago it would have been vastly different. Fun noodles and chlorine drying out your eyes anyone?! Hell yeah!). 


So our adventure began on a drizzly Saturday morning. We started the road trip off with a bang by making a stop at the Taco Bell/ KFC in the Marina where I was complimented on my rain boots by an admiring meth  head . I also got to enjoy a nice home style biscuit as the boyfriend downed 4 different versions of synthetic meat tacos. After our stop we continued on our way with me kicked back in the passenger seat [ I choose to be a professional passenger. I make great conversation, can be an excellent DJ but am generally horrible with assisting in directions unless its simply reading a print out of a google map. I'm a professional passenger because I can't legally drive. No its not for any dramatic reason...I just have never made it past the permit level. Never bothered and have been content with public transportation and bumming rides for the last 23 years.] So off we went just the boyfriend, Maryjane and I. It was a lovely scenic ride which I thoroughly enjoyed while reading my zines and zoning out. It was on this ride that we made a pit stop at a super understocked town store with a creepy sales clerk and an even more creepy deli that apparently offered catering services (no thanks).  The store literally had about 3 boxes of wheat thins, some dusty cans of soup and a rack of generic candy. 

This is sort of what the store looked like. Maybe not quite as nice.

We eventually made it to our destination the quiet, recession hit town of Mendocino. We checked in at the motel with Chipper Chip. Like San Francisco Mendocino is uber pet friendly. The "lobby" if you can call it that was covered in calendars and posters of kittens and puppies; some in costumes, some au natural. Amongst the mayhem of animal art was Disney art (are you surprised?).

Precious and Pervy.

Awkward and adorable.

Our bedroom was a normal motel room that vaguely reminded me of the movie Joy Ride...please don't act as though you forgot this film starring the beautiful Paul Walker, Special face Leelee Sobeski and unmentionable Steve Zahn?? If that didn't ring a bell maybe this will "Candy Cane...Caaaaandy Caaaane" (this is said in a deep, creepy trucker voice). Anyways you can insert any description of your choice that has to do with a creepy motel room where you could potentially get tied up and tortured. 

Highlight of all of these actors careers.
I guess with the exception of Paul...
He did star in the Too Fast Too Furious
Trilogy.

The journey to Mendocino exhausted us so much that we had to take a 4+ hour nap, which we didn't feel too bad about because it was a rainy day. We woke up and went to the local Brewery's restaurant for some eats. In an extremely small town I'm always surprised to see minorities which sounds racist but it's usually because I assume the majority of the town is racist and that's why people of color wouldn't live there. I'm a judgemental liberal I know...but you become that way when you get odd stares holding hands with your significant other of another color and think hmmm it's 2011 aren't we over that yet? So we had a super hyper happy young Asian man as our server. His cheerfulness sort of made up for the lack of service that the restaurant otherwise provided. The meal ended up being pretty good and the BF got crunk off a huge pitcher (that he had to himself) of the local brew. We thought it would be a good idea to top off the meal with a desert and chose a mud cake which ended up literally tasting like dirt...dirt with vanilla ice cream. We want back to the motel mildly satisfied and watched Catfish. I had no expectations of what this movie was going to be like nor did I believe it was a real documentary which apparently it is (still questionable). I won't give away the story in case anyone reading this has yet to see it and still wants to. But I will say it will either thoroughly creep you out or make you depressed or do both simultaneously.