Tag Archives: Nothing

What I really think about wake ‘n bake.

Evil wake ‘n bake, a surefire way to ruin your entire day.

Of course, when I woke up at 2:07 this afternoon, there wasn’t much of a day left to spoil. And, if we’re being completely honest, I had already woken up around 8:45 to piss and (since once I’m up, I’m up) smoked what was left of my bedtime bowl in order to lull myself back into the haze of sleep.

Little did I know, that haze wouldn’t lift for another five and a half hours.

In fast-forward I prepared for the day, ran my two errands, and roasted a bowl with my friends on the way the Lan Su Chinese Garden downtown Portland on 3rd and Everett, after which we indulged in our munchies and ate some authentic Chinese cuisine in the heart of Chinatown. Har… har… Maybe not so authentic, but so greasy and delicious. And dirt cheap.

Then we smoked some more on the way home. Then we played cards and smoked again. Then I did a Sobe. And now Taylor is home, so we’ll have a little more.

Why does one little, innocent wake ‘n bake always turn into an all-day event of bowls and food and fatigue?

Speaking of which…

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What I really think about poppyseed dressing.

I would think that it is delicious, except the weirdly full, nostril-burning scent. It seems like it should be delicious, but I think that it tastes a little bit like Miracle Whip or something.

Maybe it’s got  mayonnaise in it?

The only reprieve is the crunch of the poppyseed, and then the tart taste of the insides of it coming out.

Either way, not very palatable. I was pretty upset to find the miso vinaigrette two days expired and a little weird smelling.

But I’m broke, and I poured the poppyseed shit all over my salad, and I can’t afford to waste it.

Ewww. Ugh.

(Please, stay tuned for more gripping, thrilling, earth-shattering blogs about my completely pointless existence! Today, salad dressings, tomorrow, the meaning of life!)

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What I really think about writer’s block.

Fuuuuuck.

So blocked. So blocked I can’t even write a blog. And this blog is supposed to be block therapy. A little treatment to get me out of my current state of… nothingness. So blocked that I can’t think of anything I want to write a blog about except how blocked I am.

Great.

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What I really think about blogging.

Ahhh, blogging.

I am of the belief that there are few worthwhile reasons to blog:

1. Your job (I know I will do relatively anything for a few bucks–relatively);

2. To keep in touch with a mass group of people, ie: “here are some pictures of my little family for my distant relatives” or “check out these posting about my trip overseas!”;

3. You actually have something important and meaningful to say, and you know how to say it well, but you’re locked in a small confined space with only a computer;

4. You’re fucking bored and blocked (moi!) and need some sort of outlet, probably just to sit around and bitch and criticize shit (you know you love it!).

And so it ends up that here I am, posting the first entry of my little bitter blog, hoping that perhaps it will push me into some sort of thoughtfulness or inspiration, that maybe I will develop the good habit of sitting down and writing every day, even when I have nothing good to say (and what better place to have nothing good to say than a blog?). Or, maybe, that some publishing executive or editor will stumble upon this, find me unavoidably clever and ask me to write for them, and then I will become rich and well-liked.

Isn’t that always the end goal, after all?

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