Are You Stoned Too?

Poor Poor Hunter with her screwed up shoulder and back. All sorts of knotted up and no insurance, no doctor. I'm sorry Baby. It hurts me to just look at you. Thank God for Shane and his magical chiropractor. I'm going to tell you something, you are honestly the only person I know that could go to get adjusted and come out with a styrofoam cup full of free weed. It's just  ridiculous really. I was so happy though to hear that little singsong lilt to  your voice again though. It's been to long. 

 Okay, once again, very nice tinfoil bowl you were trying to concoct. What are you 14? Seriously, I don't smoke pot and I could of come up with something better than that piece of crap. Oh yeah, I did. I just happened to find an unused bowl hanging around in my store of a house. So you were lucky (as was I) that the kids were walking in as you were once again about to try and blow the tinfoil one out my window. It bought me some time to find you the one with the  dolphin on it that I bought in Antigua as a stocking stuffer long ago.

 God almighty. 

So I had so much fun hanging out with you. Especially when we got to the "What are we going to eat?" portion of the night. Seeing as I hadn't showered in a day or two and you were pretty much lit, going out wasn't an option. So into the kitchen. I should have taken a picture of the joy in your eyes when I pulled out that gyoza. I ran upstairs to do something. When I came down you were bustling around that kitchen like some jacked up Martha Stewart. Except for that nasty soy sauce dip you made. This is where I came in handy. I made an equally gross mustard one, but when you put them together they were delicious. Even on the pizza. My favorite part was when I said, "If you use the exact right amount of each on the crust, it taste's like bernaisse." And you tried a little, shook your head yes and with complete innocence go, "Wait, are you stoned too?"

I love you Man. Now get better you freak. I miss you.