#295 - Pinky Swears Are Binding
Stoney Baloney | A Narrated Cannabis Column
Yes, pinky swears are a lighthearted agreement rarely enforced, but we all know that there exists a code with the intention of not being broken. Because in this sue happy world of painful litigation, if we don’t respect the sanctimony of a real deal, then why agree to it in the first place? Locking pinkies is a silly way to execute blood brotherhood without the pricks. And I’m not referring to the kind of pricks who drive BMWs, but the kind you make on your finger by poking it with a needle to draw a drop of blood. I’ve seen blood bonding in movies where two warriors will cement an...
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#294 - The Shit We Do When We're Drunk
Stoney Baloney | A Narrated Cannabis Column
Make bad decisions. End of story. Well, there’s more actually. See, we all know that It’s difficult to think clearly when gazing through the glowing lens of beer goggles. Because when everything in your periphery is enhanced by fuzzy Glamour Shot lighting, the miscalculation alarm can be severely compromised when your weaker senses are enticed. Suddenly, casting caution to the wind makes perfect sense, and you are down because you’ve just unlocked the jailed trap star who runs the city. That antisocial video gamer who clocked in this morning with a Best Buy name tag just got run over...
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#293 - Getting Socks as a Gift
Stoney Baloney | A Narrated Cannabis Column
There’s not a damn thing wrong with socks. Hell, life without them just wouldn’t be as cozy. In fact, I can’t say that there’s a more soothing sensation than pulling up a brand spankin’ new pair of cotton fluffiness over the feet. It’s a reward for those soldiers, a way of thanking them for taking a pounding and being the trusted vehicles that get you from point P to point Q. Did you know that your feet are among the heaviest producers of sweat in the body, and socks are there to soak all that up and prevent the scent of cheese from settling into your shoe? I know what...
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#292 - Flattery Will Get You Everywhere
Stoney Baloney | A Narrated Cannabis Column
Everyone loves being told they are wonderful. That simple sound of adulation flowing off another person’s tongue can have the most pleasing chemical rush on the brain, pushing the dopamine swiftly to the receptors, instantly unlocking any tension while lifting the corners of the mouth towards the stars, loosening the jaw, and warming the refrigerated heart. Even the prickliest of Ebeneezers loves to hear how wonderful he is, though you know he’s likely to shrug off the compliment as a waste of air if not ventured for profit. Because somewhere in that hardened soul, there lies the need for...
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#291 - Let's Taco Bout It
Stoney Baloney | A Narrated Cannabis Column
Who doesn’t love tacos? I mean, this juggernaut of Mexican culture easily rivals the hamburger when competing for most delectable item in the food pyramid. And whether you like your fillings grilled, deep fried, or sauteed, there is only herding the ingredients into a tortilla and wrapping that baby up to convert your hand into a flavor shovel of extreme awesomeness! Think about it. Tuesday would be Bluesday if not for the amazing taco. And not just because the two are alphabetically compatible, but because tacos are so damn cheerful, they turn an ordinary meal into a downright fiesta. And...
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#290 - Wookies
Stoney Baloney | A Narrated Cannabis Column
The brain needs oxygen so the body yawns. And upon rising from the pillow one overcast morn, there was a gurgled effect and a peculiar pitch out of the mouth that seeded my core with suspicion. Oddly, it resembled an anxious Chewbacca sending a ‘let’s get the fuck outta here’ to his not so trusted friend Han Solo who invariably induces motion sickness from the erratic movement of dodging asteroids to the smell of burnt Wookie dingleberries from laser beam near misses. I panicked. Had some strange transformation occurred whilst asleep? There was no extraneous fur growing on my body, no...
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#289 - Problem Solving is Easy
Stoney Baloney | A Narrated Cannabis Column
I’ve got a secret for anyone paying attention. So long as you’re alive, you’re always going to be dealing with complications on some level. Yes, sometimes more than others, but there is no avoiding the hard cold fact that there will never be a day when you don’t have to generate a solution of some sort. It’s true. You’ll never be challenge free at any point in your life. And as you resolve things, there will inevitably be fresh obstacles to overcome. That’s actually not a secret at all. Finding weed used to be a big problem. Like, there were times when we stoners were willing...
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#288 - Father Time Is Undefeated
Stoney Baloney | A Narrated Cannabis Column
No matter how well you take care of your body, gravity will eventually pull you back to earth to be reclaimed by the soil. And although very smart people on this planet have developed stunning scientific methods to prolong the everlasting blink, when your train is whistling into the station, you’ll need to politely disembark to clear space for new passengers. This is the end of the line--no pill, no surgery--no more birthdays. But you can’t be mad. Being atop the food chain doesn’t mean you live forever, just that you live well longer. In fact, you’ll most likely dwell here about five...
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#287 - Boogers Are Influential
Stoney Baloney | A Narrated Cannabis Column
The finger reaches into the hole. And why not? Although this appendage often sits idle, like an old motor, it is a tool best maintained with regular use. And as the subconscious wanders into aimless thought while tediously inching through rush hour traffic, the instinct directs the fingernail toward an accessible area of the anatomy in need of grooming. Sure, this exercise serves some low-level maintenance to the nostril, but at the same time there is an element of achievement in withdrawing that coagulation of dirt and snot from the inverted cavern as if excavating something valuable. Like...
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#286 - Urine Love
Stoney Baloney | A Narrated Cannabis Column
Discussing urine sounds disgusting. Afterall, what we’re referring to is liquid waste that is excreted from your body. And it’s generally yellow. If you’ve taken your vitamins, that is. But when you really break it down, it’s just water that regulated your system so that it functions optimally. And the facts are that urine is about 95 percent clean. So clean that some people drink it. And are proud of it. Let’s not get into why, but the question must be asked--what is this fascination with reclaiming the holy water that once flushed your machine? Like, once you’ve drained the oil...
info_outlineWe all know the 10-second rule. When you drop a piece of food, if you pick it up within ten seconds you have beaten the decomposition clock, essentially rescuing the item from the armies of crazed little germs that lie in waiting for food fumbles. In your mind’s eye, these microscopic creatures are blood thirsty vampires, lurching, smothering it with toxic juices and dripping fangs, rendering your Funyun a potential risk to your body’s wellness.
Your taste buds, however, may not excuse your blunder. There is not a moment to waste for the fast action determination that will either land that flavor into your mouth, or sadly litter the ground with another dead soldier. This is a decision factored on the intensity of your saliva, painfully anticipating the explosive zest while the impatient clock races to the point of no return.
You grow weary of your surroundings, weighing the risks of irreparable illness, or judgement from any onlooker within eyeshot. Do you forego the hazards and redeem the gaffe, or exponentially enhance the chance that a frenzy of multiplying bacteria could foster an unpronounceable condition?
Tick, tick, tick. You’re down to 007.
You stare upon it, frazzled by the dilemma. This is an exceptional onion flavored ring, and you are not one to waste tasty salt. The forehead begins to bead. Slow motion ensues. There is a finite number of Funyuns in existence and this one is yours. You put the fun in Funyun. You reach down and pinch the item with two fingers, brush any dirt across your jeans, inspect it momentarily, then hammer into the crunchiness with a shear jaw clamp. You chew and finish. You do not lick your fingers this time but wipe the hand on your jeans and go about your extremely busy day.
In this unpredictable world where the strong survive, acquiring good food comes with challenges, and you are not one to be wasteful. Besides, those little critters are pure protein. Kind of like a ladybug on a blooming nug of weed.
Not that you would ever eat one. Unless of course it came after your Funyun.