Medicinal Marijuana Fail.

I feel like I've been hit by a truck.

While crossing at a crosswalk.

Head on and flattened.

So, there I was cooking up some pain killers in butter.

The Dispensary has been out of my favourite pain killing gem, 'Whoop Ass Butter', for a while and I've been relying solely upon the 'Snake Oil' to get me through.

So.

My brain injury didn't knock out the memory of how to make my own infused butter, and I decided that I would take a crack at it.

really ... no pun intended ... but this was beyond crack let me tell you ...

And oh, I made it good.

Real good.

Too good.

Once, during my 'abusing of anything to take me from reality' days, I had made a batch of pot brownies for a party I was invited to.

I annihilated the party.

Too strong.

People were hallucinating, vomiting, hiding from paranoia, and by the end when everyone decided they were able to be around other humans, we all came together and watched TV.

I was told to never ever bring anything to a party again.

Turns out, I was never even invited to any more shindigs.

we don't want your kind round here ...

So, on Friday, I decided I would make my own pain killers.

As I was letting my butter become infused with happy herbs to heal my biting back, I heard it: 'clink, clink clink'.

The Bastard Prince had gotten to the spoon I was using to stir my concoction.

"FUCK, NO!!!!!!!!!  What the fuck!?!?  You didn't seriously just lick that fucking spoon!?!?!?!?"

Indeed, he had.  Not the whole spoon, but enough for a little being of that size that it may create some 'issues'.

Instead of rushing him to a kitty hospital, I put a quick poll out to my Facebook friends, to find out how a cat would react from this.  I got a lot of mixed emotions from people really upset that I could allow this to happen to my cat, to a few who giggled at the fact that my cat had droopy face and would soon have the munchies.

The poor guy really wasn't his asshole self.

I left his favourtie room door open where he could pounce on half full bags of dog food and hunt for the rat that is no longer there, but he just laid on his bed and looked.

Didn't even move a paw.

I had to make sure he was breathing, and sure enough when I got too close he bit me.

Yeah.  He was going to fine.

Just a little too far out in kitty koo-koo land.

At about that time was when the effects of my pain killers hit me.

Yup.

Too strong.

Fuck.  I was not enjoying myself.

Being clean and serene for 12 years, I appreciate living my life.  This is no longer a feeling I choose to have.

So, I had to ride it out, and found that this batch of pain killers I made had lasting powers right until the next day.

Hence, I didn't sleep for a full 24 hours.

I finally got to sleep after my appointment with the film maker and her clan.  I managed to fake it through without the give away that I wasn't completely all there.

Being up all night, I had the time to ...

... play my bass, compose music for the most current film score, catch up on emails, shower, organize my office ...

... hide my pale face behind blush and my red tired eyes behind some lovely shiny mineral makeup.  I looked 'fresh', even though I felt far from it.

i'll just blame the red eyes on my contact lens ...

But I mean, c'mon, people are used to at least one band member to be a flake and a candidate for the 'short bus', eh?

It was my turn.

Now that I've slept 16 hours, I am much more coherent ...

... i haven't re-read yesterday's blog ... i apologize if it didn't make any sense what-so-ever, though i did have 230 reads on it ... guess it was ok ...

... and I'm ready for my long awaited MRI today.

I think no matter how much pain I am in today, I won't be venturing toward the butter.

I think I may have killed a few too many brain cells Friday night.  However, the sliver lining was, I had 24 hours where I felt absolutely no pain.

Hell, maybe I should market this little treasure to the hospitals!