stoner witch.

it's the big day.
if you're a lame stoner, that is.
4-20.
reefer mutha-lickin' madness,
all damn day.
that's correct.
good vibes.
hemp pants.
cheech and chong movies.
vegetative brownies.
left-handed cigarettes.
and lots of snacks.
enjoy it, pot stickers.
i can almost smell the jam band armpits from here.
incidentally,
the saying is:
just be dope, OR F* right off,
not,
just smoke dope, then F* right off.
...but it could be.
i won't even be reppin' incense today,
for fear my beard will warrant an unwelcome free-association.
i don't smoke blunts, ninjas,
i smoke m.c.'s
***********
it's also hitler's berfday.
...speaking of not dopeness.
what better way to celebrate both 4-20s,
than a clam bake in a volkswagen beetle?
yeah!
it's genius, i know.
you have to do it in your garage,
with the engine running.
(for the grateful dead 8-track, right?)
but make sure you close the garage door.
we wouldn't want anyone to see you, after all.
good luck with that.
***********
up here in the woodsly goodness,
nug-chuggin' nazis aren't applicable;
it's just tuesday.
there are cinnamon buns in the oven.
actually,
i forgot the cinnamon inside the buns.
for real.
so they're just sticky buns.
relax,
i put the cinnamon in the drizzly confectioner's sauce.
we'll get there, y'all,
we're just going the long way.
the sun is shining down.
there's talk of picnics,
there're rumors of hikes;
but i'll be working all day.
so i already know what my daylight hours hold in store.
it isn't picnickity hiking, either.
but i'm pretty sure that the soundtrack will rock it.
i'm listening to non-stop canadian hick-pickin' folkiness,
via the the agnostic mountain gospel choir.
get some of that hottness a.s.a.p.
you need it.
you really do.
turn the volume up,
to eleven;
never quiet, never soft.....