You have no idea how much willpower it’s taking for me to write this journal entry tonight.
I woke up early this morning. Too early. I had breakfast, washed, and cleaned up the Witch Cave before 8:30 a.m., all because I couldn’t fall back to sleep. After some work and more organizing, I took a short nap and then walked to the gym in a pretty good mood.
I talked with Bryan and Greg a lot today. Tito even messaged me while I was at the gym and we had a short conversation. After my normal exercise routine, I showered and walked back home.
I bailed on Bryan tonight. Although, technically, it wasn’t really a bail. Bryan had asked if I wanted to hang out this evening, and I said that I had plans with Dan I wanted to honor. Of course, the minor detail was that I hadn’t actually made those plans yet. Today was 420, though! Dan and I had to do something together to mark the occasion. I told Bryan that I couldn’t hang out. I apologized, and added that I was looking forward to seeing him tomorrow.
After all of that, Bryan fucking iced me for two and a half hours. The texting silence was only broken when Bryan responded with a very eerie, “Sounds good! Have fun!” I could almost hear the sarcasm in his voice. Oh, well.
Dan walked over to my place. We caught up, drank, and then Dan busted out the ganja that he had brought over. Obviously, we both wanted to smoke, but I had moved all of my weed stuff out of the Witch Cave and Dan didn’t bring anything with him, except for the nugget. All I had in the apartment were matches.
Well, leave it to me to turn into Mary Jane MacGyver. Within four minutes, I had constructed a third lung with nothing but an empty carton of milk, a Walmart shopping bag, packing tape, and tinfoil. Dan and I both took multiple hits off of our new contraption.
We. Were. Fucked.
Oh, my God. It was insane. We both flew to another planet. Dan and I were so stoned. We listened to Mariah Carey albums, played Bop-It, talked for a long time about random music facts, and then finally left the Witch Cave and began migrating west.
Dan and I went to Nando’s for dinner tonight. After a very stimulating walk, we passed through the restaurant doors and began waiting in the huge line to get a table. I was out of my gourd. I was so high. To make matters worse, the lighting at Nando’s was a harsh, overhead fluorescent. I felt attacked.
Out of nowhere, a crazy woman started calling Dan’s name from behind the check-in counter. It was his friend, Shelly. Actually, I’m convinced it was Miss Tammy 2.0. Either way, she was a manager at Nando’s and immediately gave us the VIP treatment.
Shelly was amazing. She also knew Dan and I were baked off our asses. To trip us out, Shelly brought us to the front of the 45-minute line and sat us at a booth that was in the shape of a birdcage. Not to mention, the table was meant for eight people and it was rush hour at the restaurant. Shelly also comped Dan’s meal, gave us both free drinks, and gave me free ice cream.
I was beyond baked. Girl, I was scorched! Eventually, I calmed down. I was so high inside that birdcage at Nando’s, though. I’m not kidding. I was fucking zoned out. In fact, I’m only remembering now that after three Coke Zero ice cream floats at Nando’s, Dan and I went to the mall and walked around aimlessly. Then, we both had to pee and decided to wait for a bathroom stall together at Burger King. After that, we walked all the way back up Yonge Street and through the Village to get home. We said goodbye at the corner, because I wanted to get a donut at Tim Horton’s.
Well, Tim Horton’s was motherfucking closed. The audacity! I went home, lit the oven, set a timer so I wouldn’t start a fire like I did on my last 420, and threw in a tray of spicy chicken and potato wedges.
30 minutes later, cut to me to layering spoonful’s of fat-free strawberry Danone yogurt onto my tongue in an attempt to extinguish the five-alarm heat from the spice. Fuck. Every time!
I’m actually feeling like a complete beast right now. I’m fucked. And I just took a Panic Pill.
I read what I wrote last night about Logan. It was sort of vicious. I still meant every word, I guess. I think the worst part about all of this is the weird imagery of Logan that keeps popping into my head. Nothing but short little memories or moments where I can remember an exact look of his. Because, you know, Logan and I had a serious relationship. I knew so much about him. Fuck. I’m such an idiot.
I feel as though Bryan might be upset. Did he want an invite tonight? I’m touchy with the whole inviting thing...thing. Mixing friends and boyfriends has never been my forte. More importantly, I wasn’t about to bring Bryan over to meet Dan for the first time, and then have us all get baked together. Not a good idea.
On a final note, while I was at the gym today, my phone rang. After some ridiculous technical difficulties and a very flustered run to the locker room, I could finally hear who was on the other end. It was The Clubhouse! I can’t remember her name right now, but the woman invited me for an interview tomorrow morning at 10 a.m.
Now, it’s 12:30 a.m., and I haven’t prepared anything. Not that I really need to, though? I don’t even know what I’m going to be interviewing for tomorrow.
I’m also pretty bye-bye right now. Why did I try and quit weed the week of 420? I really do want to stop.
Goodnight xo
Waiting for a bathroom under some very abusive lighting. Burger King, Toronto