October 7, 2017 at 11:11 am (On the road again..., That's not funny...)

My Dad used to say, “You’d forget your head if it wasn’t fastened on.”

He didn’t mean me specifically. He mostly said that about himself, but I always enjoyed the visual; grabbing someone by the scalp, holding their severed head up a la Kathy Griffin and saying, “Um, dude…?”

Considering my age and how much weed I’ve smoked over the past 42 years, you’d think my brain would leak like a sieve. This is hardly the case. As my brother-in-law used to say, “You’ve got a mind like a steel trap. Rusted shut.”

I’d like to think I fall somewhere in between a mental lint-trap and Niagra Falls. But this week, I saw some glimpses of the doddering old man I may soon become…

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Deja Vu All Over again

September 20, 2017 at 11:11 am (On the road again..., Waxing Nostalgic)

Country Bumpkin

I love to drive. I started at age twelve by taking laps of the back yard in a 1970 Toyota Corona. I learned to drive a stick (three-on-the-tree) in a 1964 Ford F-100 half-ton pickup. When I turned fifteen and got my permit, I took my driver-licensed, stroke-paralyzed Dad along to keep it quasi-legal, and we drove and drove. This last weekend has been reminding me of that.

Mizelle has been using me… as a means of getting her vehicles home to middle-Washington. Work hours and childcare complicate matters, but I am more than willing to help.

It’s like being on vacation!

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Dairies and Berries

September 15, 2017 at 11:23 am (Cosmic Encounters, On the road again...)

Mizelle was lighting up my phone. “Hi there!”

“Well, hello sir!” she replied. After exchanging pleasantries, she got down to business. “Want to do me a favor?”

“Sure. Whatcha want?’ Her favors aren’t usually too annoying.

“I’m buying a truck out in Scappoose, and need someone to drive it back. You game?”

“Of course I am!”

And so began my summer vacation.

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Out In The Country

May 31, 2017 at 11:17 am (Cosmic Encounters, On the road again..., Sweet sticky things)

After a fifty-hour work week, lots of work drama, and a phone that won’t stop ringing, I needed a respite.

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Cryogenic Gluteus Maximus Removal

January 14, 2017 at 12:05 pm (Cussed Dumbers, On the road again..., That's not funny...)

No. Just no.

No. Just no.

I’m surprised I’m not seeing little piles of gluteus maximus all over downtown. I almost froze my ass off last night.

I texted Dr T; “If Giggles is still there, tell him I’m gonna punch him in the head if he’s late tonight. We had to sit almost two hours to catch the last and only bus. That ain’t happenin’ again.”

I was pissed.

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Stay Frosty

January 11, 2017 at 11:11 am (Cussed Dumbers, On the road again...)


It was a four-hour shift. I spent almost that long at the bus stop.

It was spitting snow when I left the house. By the time Southie left the West End Store, a white blanket covered the intersection. By the time I got off work, YakTrax were required, and there were no buses or MAX crossing downtown. That’s not unusual after 10 PM.

I hurried to the bus stop. The tracker wasn’t working, but the bus was due at the top and bottom of the hour. Eventually I would catch a ride. I had a nice post-work buzz going, and the landscape was pretty. I could wait a while.

And I waited. I checked Transit Tracker for MAX, there was a train scheduled to leave four blocks away in ten minutes. I’d head there, while keeping an eye out for the Hawthorne bus. I passed a familiar looking group at the Madison stop. I went to the light rail stop. I hadn’t seen a train going any direction in a while. The sign at the MAX said, “You might want to consider not using public transportation tonight.” Great. I went to a different bus stop, on 6th Avenue. There was one of the #14 buses, sitting sideways blocking the entrance to Broadway on Main Street.

I tripped back to the MAX, still no sign of train. Midnight rolled around, and little by little people started walking. At 12:35 AM, I saw a bus taking an odd turn, and I got walking. I made it to 4th and Madison just as the #14 Hawthorne pulled up. The driver waved off my fare.

He was the only bus still in service.

We conquered. He turned and made one more pass. I hope he made it, for everyone’s sake.

Now I am heading back to work, for a full shift this time. If I leave three hours early I might make it on time.

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January 9, 2017 at 6:26 pm (Cussed Dumbers, On the road again...)


Ice storm!Snowmageddon!Close the schools! It’s the end of times!

SPOILER ALERT: I survive. In fact, I came out of it pretty good.

We haven’t had a real winter for a couple years, so Mother Nature is making up for it in spades. The past week hosted non-stop sub-freezing temperatures, and the past few days have added liberal doses of precipitation, leading to enhanced thrills and spills. Cue Paul Simon; “Slip slidin’ awaaay…”

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You Doth Protest Too Much

November 10, 2016 at 10:40 am (Cussed Dumbers, On the road again...)

Tired Ol' Goat

Tired Ol’ Goat

I’m so sick of politics. Part Three.

Since the election, Trumpers have been walking around gloating, and the HRC camp (under-forty) are pissed and rioting in the streets. (“Voicing their opinion” as they call it.) Opinions are like assholes, and downtown has been full of opinions since the election.

I just wanna go home!

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All Hail Laffy Taffy!

August 2, 2016 at 4:20 am (Cosmic Encounters, On the road again...)

Ten years ago I’d have been called a weed dealer. These days I’m a “caregiver.”

I’m not trying to be cynical or sarcastic. This is wonderful! I’ve gone from that Dude in the Alley to “The Nice Man that helps Uncle’Jeff’s back.” It’s about time! I do miss the shady side of weed. Getting away with it was half the fun.

These days it’s more about getting through the day than the latest episode of Thrillseekers. Instead of looking for something that will “fuck your shit up”, these days people can choose major, little or no effect. Just read the label!

Laffy Taffys, as my clique calls them, are a workday staple. Costing $5-$25 and varying in strength, these portable godsends can make the difference between a pleasant workshift and a night on the milk crates, praying for the clock to hurry up and tick so you can go home and crawl into bed. You can get comfortable, pain-free or all fucked up. Just read the label.

Pull My Taffy

Pull My Taffy

Silver Label: Regular Strength, THC content 70+mg. One of these early in the morning is great for a day off, say a Saturday brunch and nap. If you are a lightweight, this might be too much. Anyone who has eaten ten beeswax caps can handle one of these. Don’t drive.

Blue Label: Double-strength, THC content 170 mg. I eat half, then the other half an hour or so later. It gives the THC time to creep, instead of putting you to sleep. These cover me for a whole work day.

Purple Label: Indica, 177 mg. This was a pleasant surprise. At $10, and 177 mg, this is cost-effective AND fucking potent. I split one with my sister before running errands. I was all teeth and no eyes. NOT for work.

Black Label: The Fatty, 261 mg, 2.+ mg CBD. These are my sister’s favorite. She quarters them for work. I ate a third of one as I began typing this, and am getting a warm feeling in my bones. (Warm, not burning. Big difference.) A whole one would put me in a coma, so sneak up on this one. It will knock you out, said mama.

Gold Label: All CBD, and the most expensive. I haven’t tried this one, because if I’m spending $25 I want to catch a buzz. Works amazingly for pain, I hear.

All of these team up splendidly with opiates. If you have oxycodone, morphine etc… you can make your dope go twice as far my eating half a taffy with your pills. You’ll be functionally drunk, and it feels like a hug from within. But… Don’t get too attached to this feeling. It’s a bitch if you get addicted.

Opiates, as a way of life, appear to be on the way out. As much as it pains me, (see what I did there?) the doctors are right. Ibuprofen works better long-term. (Opiates are more fun, though.) There will always be heroin, but I’m not fond of the buzz enough to subject myself to that kind of life change. I know me. I could never maintain a heroin lifestyle. It would kill me, one way or another.

So I am enjoying my Laffy Taffy this morning, about to price-check some CBD cartridges, pick up some goodies for my friends. Even though they can go do it themselves, they prefer me to shop for them. That’s okay with me. Yesterday my new Senior Discount was substantial enough to pay for a Black Label taffy. It will be gone by the time I get to the Pickles game tonight. Baseball oughta be a hoot!

Happy Tuesday, everybody.

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None Of Your Beeswax

July 23, 2016 at 4:20 am (Cosmic Encounters, On the road again...)

It’s great being thick as thieves with your little sister. She’s been my best friend for life, sometimes despite me treating her less than perfectly. She’s loving, forgiving, and a lot of fun. We take care of each other, because no one else will. Not like the special way we do.

When it comes to partying, drugs and alcohol, she’s from the “I learned it by watching you” school. We’ve enabled each other over time. In my heavy stages of alcoholism, she would go fetch beers for me, until she realized, before I did, that I was dying from it. She refused to buy me booze, a moratorium that exists today. And some days she’s the only reason I don’t guzzle half a gallon of bourbon. We are good bad examples for each other.

...and Beeswax is good...

…and Beeswax is good…

Weed is a different story. I kept her in weed when she was our mother’s caregiver. I would visit as often as allowed, living in the cabin and bringing stories of the big city. We developed habits, some okay, some not so good.

So when she had a cancer scare a few months back and quit drinking, I got her interested in medibles. It’s like having a drinking buddy in the house again! The best part? She hates to shop, so she hands me a wad of cash (or in this case her ATM card) and says, “You know what I like.” Then it’s up to me to cull the Leafly listings to see what the best bang for the buck would be.

It was the last of my days off, and she said, “I want something to come home to.”

I was off to the races.

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