Fear and Loathing on the Backwoods Highway I can't believe it! I actually made it home, and now I'm sitting here in a possibly serious (and seriously painful) situation and I am still laughing my ass off![FONT="][/FONT] I sort of screwed up. I was over at a friend's house and his youngest brother in law came over. He's a good- hearted kid. A lot of folks are kind of scared of him because he looks like one of those crazy vato's, but he's not. He's not even a Mexican, he's some sort of Eastern Alaskan Native, I think.. Hell I can't even pronounce the damn name of the tribe much less spell it! It starts out with a "whaaa" sound then has a bunch of different "choking on a 50-cent piece" type sounds and ends with a "click, click!!" done in intensely emphatic fashion. I'm pretty sure someone must have stolen all the vowels from their native alphabet. The BASTARDS! But he handles it well. He's really, really quiet though…and I find that to be very spooky. You always hear the news lady start out with, “Witnesses to this horrific scene describe the man as kind yet quiet†then go on to describe some sickeningly gruesome tale of horror about how these friends were at a “party†and one of them suddenly pulled a long, thin-bladed object from his pocket and…yadda, yadda, yadda. Always. Anyway, he came over and hung out for a while, listening to his brother-in-law and I joking and telling humorous stories. After a bit he reaches into his pocket and breaks out a little stash of some medicinal herb that he and his friend created by breeding two distinctly different strains together, the result of which they named "The Purple Keegz." Then he calmly but quietly starts to pack what appears to be just a small nugget into a sort of miniature peace pipe. The gentle smile on his face as he handed me the pipe should have been my first warning. At first, I said, "No, I have to drive about 15 miles through a mean speed trap and I just know what will happen.†I then went into a narrative of a previous encounter (the results of which actually prompted me to start seeing a cognitive therapist) in which I pissed a cop off so bad I was literally seconds away from being gunned down by about seven other cops who had arrived to back up this nazi screw-head who had the unmitigated gall to start giving me a lecture on how to drive down the shoulder on a flat tire! I'd been driving longer than this jack-booted, weird bastard had been alive! Not to mention I was already pissed off at having to drive on the shoulder with a flat tire in the first place, and then since my driver's side window wouldn't roll down I had to move to the passenger side to roll the window down which is what started all the bullshit. However, to be brutally honest even though the other officers had the whole wrong idea, I'm certain they were doing what they thought was right. Anyway, after finishing this rather intense story, I was extremely surprised to find the whole room laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes about something as serious as very nearly becoming the victim of an "accidental-death-by-misunderstanding" and I was so blasted I couldn't drive, but I had to try to get somewhere…anywhere I could recover from these hysterical fits of laughter. So since we were all…well almost all…(I don't think my friend's wife partook). in an herbally-induced state of wild hilarity I tried telling a couple other narrative vignettes about a couple different things as if I were doing a stand up act. They flat fell out! If I can get the just guts up to walk out on a stage with no plan whatsoever and just freefall my way through whatever time they gave me, I think I possibly be able to make it as a stand up comic! I'm getting off track here...so ...anyway... After about an hour or so, I figured I'd better head home, and the first part was kind of fun. After driving about fifty yards further under the wooded canopy of his driveway, I decided I should at least turn the parking lights on. I mean polite is one thing, but when you hit a pot hole (no pun intended) and your kidneys drop down to kiss your pelvis, ahhh...c'mon! So I backed and filled about a gazillion times, then headed back out the long, dark rutted driveway, having to play a vehicular form of Tetris in order to try to avoid the worst of the four million, half-mile deep holes making the driveway look like downtown Beirut after a bombing run. I was never good at Tetris either. I did finally make it to the highway though. A light rain glistened on the newly paved highway as I turned onto the smooth black asphalt. Since I have cruise control, I use it so I don't get any tickets, because I'm here to tell you, this car has LEGS! Fast legs! This was eerily different though. The fear and loathing I felt were palpable as I eased the speedometer up to 56 miles an hour, and set the cruise control. So far so good…but listen on. For the next few mind-numbingly terrifying miles it seemed like I was roaring down that dark highway at well over a hundred miles an hour! I just knew my speedometer had to be lying. On a highway historically known for large, very stolidly built savage animal life leaping out of nowhere and totally crushing the front of your vehicle to somewhere south of Ohio, it was only the terrifying thought of running into this one well-known small-town cowboy cop that kept me from shrieking in horror at the velocity in which I was barreling down this Ribbon- of-Death. All in all I am proud to report I survived it, with a bare minimum of further terrifying things happening during the rest of the Ride From-Hell. I then attempted the Herculean task of wobbling into my house. Please note the word, attempted. Sugar, my quite large and thoroughly insane cat, took one look at me with one of those full-moon maniacal glares, and straight-up bull-rushed me, slamming right into my bad knee, quite effectively knocking me right back down the steps and at least spraining if not separating my shoulder! I managed to pick myself up and stumble into the house just in time to sit down and try to write this down before I forgot it all, but this is as far as I can make it. I just wish I wasn't having such a difficult time typing this. I've about worn out the backspace and delete buttons (I know because they're starting to make a very annoying buzzing sound when I press them) because this is taking far longer to tell than usual. So I will close now, eat the entire fridge and the cat, then go to sleep, perchance to dream...of MORE WIERD AND EERIE STUFF! Thank you for listening. Vincent “Vinny†Setala [FONT="]2010 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX [/FONT] Fear and Loathing Part II Oh...I feel so much better today! I finally took a whole day off, read books, watched a couple movies, "Eastern Promises," and "A History of Violence," both starring Viggo Mortensen.[FONT="][/FONT] Other than going to get a pack of smokes, I did a bit of writing and a bit of reading and that was it! And then I slept for almost ten hours (which was great except the new meds only last 4 hours so I was NOT feeling too well when I first woke up) and as soon as my morning meds kicked in, I felt fine. I had made a new batch of that "butter" but this time the plant was in full flower and the leaves I used to make it were the little bitty ones right off the flower. Since I bake things with it, I always have to "test-drive" each batch since I have no clue as to how to "standardize" it. I normally take two standard "pats" worth (approximately two tablespoons) on pancakes, or toasted bagels or something similar because orally it takes 3-4 hours to "kick in." This time I figured the final butter would be a bit stronger due to the season and the specific leaves, so I tried a table-spoon and a half. Way too much. Three fourths of a teaspoon would be a nice mellow buzz for 12-14 hours (with NO neuropathy!) and a little less than half of that would dull the neuropathy and joint pains with no euphoria other than that caused by the cessation of chronic pain. But last night sure was an Adventure in Modern Bachelorhood!!! I thought at 4 hours, the oral dose would have peaked and it was a bit more euphoric that I'd prefer, but still okay, so I went to get a pack of smokes, and the cheapest place to go is about 17 miles away. By the time I found, re-lost, then found again my wallet, then found, lost, and re-found my keys...then walked out to the car, forgot what I was going out there for and walked inside checking the fridge, the cupboards etc, then finally seeing the ashtray and remembering, then drove to the store and parked, the additional 45 minutes had created a state of cerebral havoc with the rest of me. I knew I was getting to be in a slight bit of distress when I realized that somewhere along the way I had lost the front of my face! Following a brief moment of panic and awe that it was even possible to lose the front of one's face...a quick "pat down" with my fingers told me all was actually where it was supposed to be, it was only numb. Whew! That was a relief. I could have never remembered just where I had lost it. Shit. At this point I'd already forgotten what the hell I had come here for...again. It was at that point, where the blaring of the cigarette ads screaming reminding me why I was there, that the bad part hit me. I was very shortly going to have to attempt actual conversation with other human beings who were nowhere even near the same planetary system with me! Oh. My. God. What the hell wasI supposed to do! I couldn't just stand here next to my car frozen in place with this look of abject terror on my face! Somebody was bound to be suspicious. Hmmm...desperate situations call for desperate measures. I made a decision. I would attempt communication with someone outside the store first! I looked about the fairly crowded parking lot, and noticed out by the pumps a van with colored soap writing blaring out the statement. "Obama is a LIAR!!!" on the back. Aha! Here was a guy who was obviously severely deranged (even though the statement is true) so at least he wouldn't immediately realize I was massively impaired. We had a very convoluted, baffling conversation that he seemed to enjoy immensely and which caused me to recognize two important things. (a) This Right-Wing Republican fanatic was making about as much sense to me as the other two thirds of most "instruction manuals...or should I say El Libro de Instrucciones," and (b) I didn't actually "have" to speak to anyone to buy smokes, I could just point then put money on the counter. Whew! Mission accomplished. So I bought the smokes, and considering the impairment that had caused the loss of the front of my face now had me "pat searching" my whole head from time to time for reassurance, decided to take the back, back, back roads home. Which was perfect for the safety of others, but for at least one party it was like driving from the store right off the known world's maps and straight into some Clive Barker novel. Between the local flora and wild fauna it was an altogether eerie and loathsome slow motion movie filled with great and terrifying special effects. George Lucas would've turned green as the millions of little eyeballs staring out at me from whatever cover I happened to be surrounded in at the moment. NEVER has my driveway looked so warm, inviting and safe as it did when I finally figured out exactly where I had used my "other" left and eventually got home. After one last face and head check, I wobbled through the darkness to my house and right as I began to heave a sigh of immense relief a cougar screamed off in the distance at the same moment I realized I had left my smokes in the car! Figuring the hunting cry of the big cat was off in the distance, I figured I'd better run, since those big mountain lions can cover a LOT of distance in the blink of an eye (for those of you who haven't lost the front of your faces) so I took off at maximum adrenaline-powered speed. Which is to say I immediately took a face-first dive off the steps I forgot I was standing on, picked myself up knowing it was too late for me now, and like the gazelle, just obligingly walked to my car to be horribly mauled then eaten. I grabbed my smokes, lighting one up right then and there since this gigantic cat should be fanging , clawing, and chewing its way through my hapless, helpless body any second now and I was George and be damned going to have one of those cigarettes I just went through vehicular hell to get. So I made it home safe and sound, face and head intact, un-cougared and ready to watch a movie. And the moral of the story is, always check the potency of any baking item you create before you actually cook with it. Or eat it. [FONT="]Vinny aka Vintendo56[/FONT] [FONT="] [/FONT]