There's Not Mushroom In Here

I had some fairly major things happen in my life over the last week. Most were good, a couple bad, but even the bad ones will be good in the long run, I imagine. I’m a “hey, my glass is only half full – can you top this off, please?” kind of guy, and this blog thingy I’ve got going here certainly isn’t where my legions of faithful readers come to hear me talk about my personal life. But suffice it to say, it’s been interesting.

And so, of course, I did what any person with a lick of sense would do … I ingested some hallucinogens for the first time in over 25 years. As I’ve been removed from the drug culture for a score and a quarter (oh, how clever is that?), talking to the guy from whom I was pretty sure I could get this stuff was a bit awkward:

Dead Acorn: I’m, umm, looking for, you know, some Scooby snacks.

Guy From Whom I Was Pretty Sure I Could Get This Stuff: Scooby snacks? Did you just say Scooby snacks?

Dead Acorn: Umm, maybe … why? Is that wrong?

GFWIWPSICGTS: Jesus. Jesus Chr … it's just that no one .. no one says that any … look, okay, I know what you want. Just shut up.

Dead Acorn: Is it still in grams?

GFWIWPSICGTS: Yeah. Yeah, it’s still in grams. But still ... shut up. Seriously.

So I’d like to thank the drug culture for succeeding in teaching the youth (and former youth) of America about the metric system, where the public education system so obviously failed (with the exception of the cross-county athletic team). Oh, and Schoolhouse Rock, without which I would not know that a gram weighs about as much as a paper clip or a raisin.

Anyway, I ate my little mushroomy things, and went out to spend a lovely evening on my front steps. I really can’t imagine what type of lifestyle anyone reading this might think I lead; probably that of a continent-hopping jet-setter doing lines off of the curvaceous bodies of Hollywood starlets, but it's really not like that, for the most part. My existence is one of simple beauty: here’s what I get to see from my steps:

Above: A bit of a cliché, what with the neighbor having the white picket fence and all, but I’m comfortable as a cliché.

I can hear you even as you're reading this: "Oh my golly, how relaxing! Gosh, The Dead Acorn is so lucky!" Yeah, well check this out:

Above: Not disturbing whatsoever.

THIS IS WHAT I HAVE TO LIVE WITH! Menacing curmudgeonly flowers threatening me (or at least passing judgment in a really condescending fashion). There's no way in hell that thing's not gonna mess me up in my sleep. I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT, HAUNTING DEVIL-FLOWER!

I think I'll tape a post-it note with "EDIT BLOG" written backwards on it on my forehead before I go to bed.