All Things Profane and Sacred

Last night my pool partner was a little late meeting up with me. In those 8 minutes that I sat alone at the bar, I was approached and hit upon. I mean, talk about record time. This bar isn't a meat market in the slightest-it's ostensibly a "sports bar," but since it is one of the few bars in the area, there's usually a more eclectic crowd.

The guy hitting on me was cataclysmically stoned. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm pro-pot. I'm just not very attracted to guys who have achieved that constantly stoned look. Because, as much as I like to get stoned, I don't like to be constantly stoned. I have shit to do. Shit that involves being not stoned. Because when I'm stoned, I don't want to do anything except eat or go to sleep. I don't even understand this "weed as aphrodisiac" deal. I don't want to make the double backed beast when I'm stoned. I'd rather eat the double backed beast. No. That didn't come out right.