"Duuuuuude, got some bud for me?" That's exactly the type of greeting I'd expect these days from someone on the street. Catch me at the right moment, and you'd swear I had just danced with Mary Jane. It's 4:20 all the time and I've clearly gone to pot, right?
Nah. I seem to be susceptible to dry, irritated eyes at this time of year. The moisture-less air wreaks havoc on my baby blues and gives me a Spicoli gaze. No ganja for me unfortunately, just the red-eyed appearance of such.
When it's really bad, I sometimes think I should wear a tee shirt that states "Currently Sober". Prior to early morning meetings at work, I should volunteer to walk a straight line while touching my nose with my left index finger. I consider it a preemptive strike before I'm requested to donate daily urine samples.
