People I Should Apologize to for Being so High

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jeff_high(Editor's Note: This piece has been edited down from a longer version. The original piece was over twelve pages long. The following contains the most coherent excerpts.)

Well, here I am again. It's three am on a weeknight and I am starring at my computer screen trying not to keep it together enough to type this piece. It's pretty difficult because I've gotten astronomically high... off of MARIJUANA for those of you who need it spelled out for you. I went to a friend's party and inhaled marijuana smoke from a water pipe until I couldn't even finish a complete sentence. Now I'm trying desperately to reverse gears and get back to the land of the normal person. I think anyone who's been too stoned to think can understand where I'm coming from.

Now lets back up for a second, in case you are 1) my parents or grandparents or 2) people aiming to defame me for some political reason when I'm running for President or some shit, I am not always high. People who know me realize this. I think the fact that I've gotten here -- to this alternate reality of highness -- is a true sign that I'm not only NOT a chronic pot smoker but I'm that guy that doesn't realize when I've gotten three hits farther than I should go. And for those (few) of you who've never been here before, it's only fun in a sort of third party kind of a way. It's like you realize this is supposed to be the nirvana that everyone thinks they want when they start smoking, but it's actually beyond control like when you got on the Tilt-a-Whirl and realized you really shouldn't have.

Look, I'm not judging anyone. If this is your thing then that's great. If, however, you happen to be in the remaining 90 per cent of the world, let this be a warning cry; if you get this high, you become a total dipshit. And these are some of the people you should consider apologizing to:

1) My ever-loving girlfriend. Mavi, your eggplant parmigiana is so good it almost trumps your attempts to jeff_helmethelp me calm down from this ridiculous high. I can't ever really repay you. You are the absolute best in a way that really can't be be explained through touch typing. I'll never really be able to say how sorry I am for waking you up by constantly giggling as I climbed in and out of bed tonight, but I sure will try. Also, I'm totally gonna write a country song about that eggplant parmigiana if I ever get the Grand Ole' Opry to underwrite my record deal.

2) My coworker and host for the evening, Alex. Duuuuuuude, what a great party!!!! I got so effing high that this what I'm writing now. Also, sorry that it took me like two hours to leave because I couldn't unlock my bike. I swear, one day I truly will remember the combination, or at least I'll be able to execute the unlocking of it. Thanks for being patient, bro-ha.

3) The high school basketball coach who cut me from my freshman year junior-varsity team. I bet you thought you were going to teach me discipline and give me character and shit when you decided that I couldn't make the lowest level of high school athletics, but here I am no more disciplined than when you last saw me sweating profusely and missing free-throws like a son-of-a-gun.

5) The good people of Brooklyn for sparing me my life tonight. Because I can't plan anything, I decided to bike to the party and then later PA_Larson_Chopsrealized that I would have to bike back home admits a myriad of potential automobile accidents. You are a merciful and beatific lot for sparing me my immortal soul from the same fate met by my Great-great-grandfather P.A. Larson. You see, Peter Anders Larson was the original American Larson. He served as a sharp-shooter for General Sherman on his infamous scourge of the South that ended with the burning of Atlanta at the end of the Civil War. After surviving all of that he got drunk at a pub a few years later, stumbled out onto the street and was run over by a horse and buggy and killed in the streets of New York City. You may be thinking you've spared one Larson too many, but I assure you that I am forever grateful for saving my life and I promise never to run you over when I'm driving a semi-truck way late in the morning for no reason.

6) Anyone who's believed that I could become something more and invested time and money toward making me a better person. I can and should do better, and that will start as soon as I don't find this so funny that I pee my pants. I'm especially speaking to you my beloved partners, Tim and Matt. Gee, I love you guys.


12) The block of cheese in my fridge with bite marks in it. You were intended to be put on sandwiches and into quesadillas, not simply unwrapped and munched on by yours truly. I guess this is kind of more an apology to not-high-Jeff who will be grossed out by the half eaten cheese tomorrow. Hmmm.... this makes me hungry again for more cheese.


73) Jack Nicholson and Jack Nicklaus for getting you confused almost every time I say your names. Usually I'm talking about the one of you who was the Joker, not the golfer. You know, the one who was in Easy Rider and not the one who has the Lemonade/Iced Tea Drink named after him. Oh wait, I think that last one is Bob Evans.

99) My cat Buenos for calling you a "goddamn cocksucker, useless, piece-of-shit cat!" You are none of the above. You are a sweet loving animal that doesn't know any better. It is you who are solely able to realize that I'm just away for a moment that I'm okay high or not. I love you, you cat!


99xinfinity/infinity+1) You all having to read this ridiculous rant. Not really though, I am who I am. If you have a mother fucking problem with that then you can take it up with my bros. Yeah, that's right.


1 Comment

  • 1

    i firgot to puke. blecch. aaah feels good. thanks for that.

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