I smoke a little weed -

- just to relax after dinner.

Dealing with the public all day scratches at my sensitive composure. All those people that need choking and I smile and point to the brochure rack. You'd have a little stash in your closet too if you had to wrap your tongue around, "Good Morning, Ishabrook Insurance" two hundred times per day. I've got a nine to five lisp.

So now that I've admitted my recreational drug use on-line, I suppose I can't invite my mother to read this blog. How the hell do you get people to read these things anyways? Perez gets millions everyday and he draws cum stains on people. Wonder if his mother is scandalized? Margaret (that's my Mom) lives in a U-brewed white wine fog and prefers television.

Kill your television. I will not be bought.

back to the weed.... Can't wait to get home tonight and relax with a little puff of my newest closet-harvest. It has been drying above the fridge for two weeks and smells like green-goddess heaven. And I have a new IKEA catalogue to salivate over. !!! (not to buy stuff, remember the collage art)

Shit. I promised myself this blog would be really cool. Post modern. Or maybe contemporary. But definitely brilliant. OK, I just got started on this blogger thing. Maybe my next post, with the help of the green goddess and some Swiss designed, yet affordable inspiration. I might need a hat. Or a golden retriever puppy.