Hemp Couteur

The web project is, basically, finished. The next three days will be spent creating the foreign language pages (German, French and Spanish), but that should go pretty quickly. Then, there is always a little fine-tuning, but I’m pretty much calling this one in the can.

Thanks again to Ville and Lashell for coming over and making me drink their wine. They made me, I tell you. I didn’t want to! I wanted to knit…. or embroider… or something like that. Yeah, that’s it. I wanted to sit and knit myself a winter nose-warmer, but would they let me...

The best (and scariest) part was when I drove to get some munchies. I hadn't had anything to drink, but I was wearing a hemp shirt with a pot leaf pattern all over it (it was given to me by Ville, who got it from someone else, who bought it for their mother thinking the pattern was of palm trees). Oh yeah, and I had to drive about 5 miles (past Tumbleweeds, where all the cops were hanging out because it was College Night) to the Texaco on Hwy 51 and Counrty Club Road, because our street is still all torn up. Our local stop ‘n rob is only 1/4 of a mile away, but I had to drive all the way out there to get some chips and assorted dips. Oh well, I got home safe and sound, but the visions going through my head weren’t great:

Police Officer Obie: “Kid, where ya goin’ in that mara-joo-ana shirt?”
Me: “Sir, I'm going to the Texaco to get some chips and dips.”
PO Obie: “What ch’yall been smokin’, kid?”
Me: “Nothing, officer. I don’t smoke pot any more. I don’t even smoke cigarettes.”
PO Obie: “Kid, you want me to believe that, on a Friday night, College Night at that, you’re driving away from Tumbleweeds in a mara-joo-ana shirt, goin’ to get munchies, and you ain’t been smokin’ nothin’?”
Me: “That’s the truth, sir. I cannot tell a lie.”
PO Obie: “Kid, we’re gonna take you downtown and take yer pit’cher in that fine mara-joo-ana shirt.”