I woke up in LA after passing out from smoking too much medicinal marijuana. Showcase has a card after being cleared by a doctor. He can buy, transport, grow, and smoke weed without going to jail. He has an affliction that requires him to smoke weed once an hour all day. Lucky for him, he lives in a progressive state where they allow their citizens to smoke dope for medical reasons. Showcase is cleared to purchase weed from various legal pot clubs in California. He picked up Hassan and Black Momba last night. One made me sleepy. The other kept me medicated for a sustained amount of time. I might establish California citizenship so I can get one of those cards and be able to fly with weed. Unreal. Who cares if The Man listens to my cell phone conversations and reads my email. They already know I'm a pothead. I might as well go ahead and get medically cleared and become an official pothead of the state.
My flight to Long Beach started out on a bad note. We were stuck on the tarmac for forty-five minutes in the rain as we watched several international planes from Swiss Air, Iberian, Icelandic Air, Air France, and KLM take off before us. The lady next to me ate an entire chicken Caesar's salad while we waited to take off. I thumbed through a book from Alan Watts and listened to a Sonny Rollins bootleg that GMoney gave me.
During my flight, I watched two bad episodes of Law & Order SUV. I think Bobby Flay's wife is in one of those episodes. She plays the assistant DA. I caught Bobby Flay on the Iron Chef and he made goat cheese and chocolate ruffles with black berries. That made me hungry. The only thing I had to eat was an $8 chicken and panini sandwich. It had a spicy mayonnaise with roasted red peppers. I picked out the artichoke hearts. I watched a Travel Channel special on hot dogs. I haven't had a Pink's dog in several years and it's on my list of things to do.
Somewhere over Nebraska, I watched the season finale of The OC and Marisa Cooper is dead. Awesome. She's the worst character to hit the airwaves since Brenda Walsh on Beverly Hill 90210. And as soon as the producers and writers could, they shipped her character's bitchy ass to Europe and replaced her with that chick from Saved by the Bell who smoked pot and by the end of the series, she sucked off every dude in the 310 area code.
The OC and The Sopranos were both big disappointments this year. My faith rests in the arms of Entourage. The Tao of Turtle is simply amazing. The dual hijinks with Johnny Drama rivals the best comedic duos of all time, even better than Jack Tripper and Larry from upstairs.
I have to finish up an article that due on Monday at 6am. Being in Hollyweird makes it tough to actually do work with the ominous sun. I walked past a magazine stand on Robertson and Pico and spotted three poker publications that I have written for. Must say that gave me goosebumps. And I'm totally narcissistic and vain so I took a peek at my work. I ate breakfast at Nick's. Change100 lives around the corner. She went last week and some of the waitstaff asked about me. I guess they didn't miss me as much as my generous tips.
One of the older waitresses calls me Sweetie. When I gave her my order, she said she remembered me because she likes her hasbrowns the same way as me... with melted American or cheddar cheese. My standard Nick's order is iced tea, French Toast, bacon, and hash browns. I called Daddy for a Dial-a-Bacon, but he wasn't around. Tasty bacon is like a great blowjob. You'll drive 100 miles just to get it.