I ran out of the cannabis oil that the old guy gave me awhile ago and without a license of any kind to attain legal or quasi-legal cannabis oil, my only other option is to make my own. Having never made it myself one can turn to the internet to get their feet wet in any trade.
With a few grams of marijuana I had stashed away I used one gram to experiment. Using calculations from the internet I produced a small amount of cannabis coconut oil. To figure out an adequate dosage took some general estimation and me being my own guinea pig.
It looks like a small amount but the effects of edible cannabis is about 5 times stronger than when cannabis is smoked. It has something to do with the liver processing the THC. This 30 gram batch contains 15-20 small doses.
The reason why I went to the trouble of making this is because I’ve always found marijuana to be a great sleep aid. I don’t like the process of having to smoke it nor do I like some of the effects it gives me. Some people like warm milk and a bedtime story, I like cannabis.
Last night I tried a small dose of my creation and it was a success. Today I felt great. I mean, exceptionally better than 99% of other days. I wasn’t high, I was just in a good mood and there wasn’t a point in the day when I wanted to take a nap. I wasn’t on top of the world or anything. If someone kicked me in the balls I’d still be pissed off about it.
It’s difficult to be hungry and happy, sick and happy or tired and happy. Good health, food and sleep are the fundamentals to feeling good.
The last old white guy who sold me a rotary phone told me how great his was, “they don’t make them like they used to.” After bringing it home I found out it didn’t ring like it used to either because it was missing the bell. His kid probably yanked it for a science experiment.
This other old white guy gave me his “word” that this one was fully functional. “If it doesn’t work you know where I live.” I told him I would be too lazy to come back to look for him(50 minute drive). I had full confidence in him though and turns out his word was as good as a golden toilet(I was just listening to a radio program talking about Saddam Hussein’s gold toilets). In other words the phone was fully functional!
You might be thinking that I picked up a piece of shit for $40 but I’ll have you know I found a gem for a bargain.
A couple weeks ago I picked up a leather heavy bag made in USA, USA, USA. If you have ambitions of beating and dragging small Asian women this would be an ideal exercise equipment to have weighing in at 80 pounds.
During my bag workouts I picture various people that I do not like and sock them in the lip and then in the solar plexus. It’s a great workout and stress reliever. Far more enjoyable than the hamster wheel treadmill.
I felt that not sweating regularly besides from the hot steam from hot meals hitting my face was probably unhealthy. I hate jogging because it’s kind of boring and torturous like most other cardio exercises. You know you live in a good country when you run aimlessly to burn extra calories.
What stops me from driving to certain places is the amount of Asian drivers that I will have to encounter in small parking lots. Indirectly, you could say they are doing their part for the environment by encouraging people to walk or take public transportation. If you could read people’s minds when they are driving behind a supposed bad driver it would say, “I bet that’s an Asian driver or an old person.”
It’s easy to think of reasons why old people can be bad drivers but I get the sense that people think Asians are just inherently bad drivers just like how they think Asians are inherently good at math. I used to think Asians were inherently bad drivers until I visited Hong Kong and rode in a taxi. Holy shit could that guy drive.
My theory is that when most Asians immigrate over to a developed country, most of them have never even driven an automobile. It’s possible they have never even ridden in one besides public buses. Learning to drive in a new country would be terrifying in those circumstances. It’s like being 30 years old and being introduced to algebra for the first time.
Being a bad Asian driver is a very similar situation to when immigrants who can’t speak English never end up learning how to because they stay in their own non-English speaking circle for their whole lives. When all of your family and friends suck at driving too, you’re likely not going to improve. To get better at something you have to try and get better. I have family members who have been driving for 30 years and they still suck at it.
It’s possible that bad Asian drivers don’t try to improve their driving because the communist genes are too deeply embedded into their DNA that getting into an accident to them means the possibility that the government will strip them of their life. They’re probably also afraid of some loud white person yelling at them.
Daily Prompt: Drive
No one gives a shit about your garden. If I wasn’t into gardening I probably wouldn’t care either. It would be about as interesting to me as a lipstick review.
The summer weather has been mild with a handful of days reaching highs of only 24 degrees Celsius(75 degrees Fahrenheit). Many days have only seen a high in the upper teens.
To my surprise, mostly because I’m new at this, tomatoes have started growing. It was like they appeared out of nowhere. I’m in a secret competition with my uncle who has been growing tomatoes for a couple decades. My goal is to take away one of the few things in life he has to be proud about. It will teach him to think twice that us “young kids” don’t know anything. Luckily for him I really don’t know anything. I’m just winging all of this.
It’s been many many days since I’ve noticed holes in my cabbage plants. For some reason a couple nights ago I decided to investigate. The internet had me to believe that some small green monsters have been drilling holes and laying their dirty kids on my cabbage. There they were, on the underside of some of the leaves ready to be smooshed.
I harvested 2 good looking zucchinis recently but while doing so I accidentally cut off one of the vines. I’m afraid some bug or virus will get in through the hollow vine and destroy my plant via the matrix. Since this incident I’ve noticed the leaves have been deteriorating but it’s possible there’s no relation.
It appears that my zucchini plant has been under the spell of an affliction named, powdery mildew. Last night in the dark evening hours I went out to have a another look just for kicks which brought me another new gardening lesson. Some of the bugs like to come out at night to play with themselves and each other. The pill bugs and earwigs were having a party on my zucchini plant. With a pair of scissors I created a massacre that surely made it to their morning news. The next day I saw that the dead bodies were taken away. There’s a clean up crew that would rival the CIA’s.
It’s been a satisfying gardening experience so far. I’m semi-excited every morning to inspect my garden for growth. I’m hoping to get my hands on some marijuana seeds. I’m sure one marijuana plant won’t alert anyone and if they do catch me they’ll never take me alive, coppers!
When I dropped by the volunteer office the other day I was talking to a guy there about my garden and told him I would give him a zucchini when they get growing. After, I started thinking how awkward it might be having one single guy give another a giant edible green dildo. Chances are though, no one else thinks like I do.
Picture taken today
I have a new method of grilling. I use my charcoal chimney as a grill. It’s more efficient.
It’s canine safe. My dog is not that daring.
On the way to the supermarket I came across this insect. It kind of looks like that Android robot dude.
I’ve built a relationship with the guy at the meat department. He gave me a free sausage. In the spirit of free I drank the bottle of wine that was given to my mother by her coworker. If she gets home on time she might get to sample a taste. I’m a good person.
I’ll leave you with a picture of my dog. She’s so damn cute. Everything she does is cute. Do I sound annoying or what? I have to take advantage of her cuteness. Someone left her on the street. I took my shirt off to blanket her. I brought her to the vet and it costed me $5000 but it was worth it. I was willing to offer my bone marrow if it came to that. I’ll get all the bitches.
Often the people I assist at my volunteer gigs want to know if they can ask for me specifically next time. It melts my heart a bit and makes me wonder what I did that was so special. Whatever the case, I guess I’m good at what I do and I should be proud. It’s either I’m good at the job or everyone else is not so good.
My volunteer coordinator says I’m 1 in 10,000 or some other large number. Apparently it’s a rarity for a person who is not retarded and of working age to be willing to do what I’m doing.
It means something. I don’t know what exactly. I just live by a different philosophy in life. Most people doing what I’m doing are either retired trying to fill up time or students needing a credit. Many other volunteers apply but never follow through. Some just come along to get a free criminal record check.
When I get a $2 tip I feel like I scored and then I realize that if I worked the same amount of time at a minimum wage job I would have received $10. At my old job I would come home from an 8 hour shift with $150 after taxes but it did nothing for me. At the time it felt like I was just getting an extra spoon when I already had 10.
It’s easy for me to do what I do because I put my ego aside. Once you cling to the idea that you’re getting ripped off or people only deserve sub-par service because it’s free is when you’re on your way out.
Someone informed me recently that some countries are rewarding volunteers with future benefits similar to a social security benefit. If it happens here I hope they will back-date my contributions so that I can get my diapers changed for free when I suffer from incontinence
Feeling hopeless is like being stuck in the dark thinking that the sun may never rise again. When left with no seemingly better options in life one can only gravitate towards short-term stimulation. Living in darkness keeps you from wandering too far because the only sanctuary you believe in is within your small familiar radius of hell.
No matter how shitty your life is in your youth there’s always this thought that it will get better and not only better but good. Everything will just work itself out because that’s just what life does. There’s always this light far up in the distance from the abyss that you feel that you are in. The glimmer of light could be your imagination but often the mind does not discriminate between good quality hope and hope that is Made in China.
Laying in bed in the dark, alone, is reminiscent of so many years in my past when I was swallowed by the darkness of life. Not dead, not sleeping, but fully conscious and wondering about the whats and whys. Old habits die hard or they never do and just seem to always be part of your algorithm of life.
In darkness is when your thoughts come out to play. You could turn on a light but they hate it when the game is over. Death is not an option but the runner-up is sleep, and in third place are your thoughts in the dark.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Sometimes. But other times what doesn’t kill you chips away at you to the point that even the foundation is unfit to be built upon.
Without hope for a better tomorrow, today’s hell has no end except in those hours where you play dead.
Daily Prompt: Darkness