Could be. Now that I’ve found this lil secret weapon:

But first, the back story!

As we emerged from August, smoldering from yet another dumpster fire of a month in 2020, it occurred to me that I could only recall one night since March 18th that I didn’t drink.

Now, does that mean there aren’t more?


But realistically, I’d assume that I blacked out more memory in the last six months than my CRS caused me to forget – before you ask: Can’t Remember Shit.

This is a frequent topic during my Lyft shyfts – how are you coping? Oddly enough, I give a lot of rides to people in the cannabis industry. About as many weed indy riders as strippers, to be honest. Besides essential hospital workers, these are Portland’s essential heroes.

For what it’s worth, I think both represent great coping mechanisms. Well, one is a coping mechanism.

So, these weedies – as I’ve just now decided to call them – often tip pre-rolls. That’s great and all, but I suck at smoking, so the last time I was offered one, I appreciatively declined. When I told her why, she got very excited and told me I had to try syrups.

Sizzurp, in case you didn’t see that on the label pictured above.

So I decided to check it out.

This is about the time I started trundling running again – or what I’m calling running these days – and I thought intoxicating qualities aside, pain relief potential could also be a win.

I wander into my local dispensary, Broadway Cannabis Collective – about which I’d gotten a hot tip from a passenger that this was the best shop in town, lucky me – and after waiting my socially distant turn, inquired. Meeting my randomly matched budtender at the cooler, she started in on a dizzying diatribe of information. This was after telling me they didn’t sell much from this cooler, so the info she had off the top of her head was…well, like I said – dizzying.

But what jumped out at me was this line:

These are the ones I’d go with, the small bottle is 125 and the large is 1000, so that’ll really last you!

<record scratch>


I heard my grandpa in my head saying “I just wanted to get “x”, not buy the place”…but played it totally cool.

No, really, totally cool.

Like on a scale of 1 to shizzle, I was a fo‘.

Wait, wait…don’t unsubscribe! I’m sorry! Hehe.

As she continued on, recommending that I try a small bottle to see how I like it and casually flipping labels around to tell me about the profile of each flavor, I saw that the “125” bottle was only $15 and realized the 125 that she was referring to was milligrams of THC.

Glad I played it cool.

Realizing my mistaken assumption, I chose the 1000 milligram bottle, whose dose was one teaspoon. That meant the bottle had 24 doses and I’d just bought two 12-packs of La Croix, so I figured it was meant to be and that I was set for a couple weeks.

You might want to start with a half dose until you know how it hits you.

My budtender suggested.

Ok, so I’m set for a month!

And let me tell you, a half teaspoon sets me up just right! After my evening concoctions the first two nights, I slept over 10 hours both nights.

I’m so fucking rested, I feel guilty.

On the third morning, I woke up feeling exceptional – having neither imbibed alcohol or sizzurp the night before. Stretching, my hands ending up moving from akimbo over my head to stretched towards my toes and then resting on my abdomen – or where my abdomen would be if not for the shed I’ve build over my tool…I realized something was missing. Or at least significantly reduced.

After just three days with no booze.

I’m so mad weed was villianized when I was a kid.

And while my shed may be shrinking, my wallet is breathing a sigh of relief. I can get a 6-pack of a great IPA for $8-12 bucks. That’s a steal compared to $6 + tip at a bar, for sure. It cannot compare to about $1.25 for a half-dose of this sizzurp, though. I’m a convert, mind you, I am typing this post at the oldest bar in Portland…no need to overdo it, right?

Call it a dryish month.


16 thoughts on “Dry…Month?!?

  1. Alcohol is highly overrated. When I see stuff like this I rage against the lunacy of whatever remnant of bible belt BS is hanging around in Texas. less than an hour from Dallas I can gamble (but I don’t) I can have friends procure flower and vape and now I see that in some more enlightened parts of the world Uber would bring me THC syrup! My wife went to NYC just prior to the lockdown and sent me pictures of a city bus festooned with an ad for weed delivery. God almighty, makes an old hippie muso angry. Went to see friends in the reddest of red states, Oklahoma, land of my distant youth and they fired up in a restaurant parking lot. I freaked. Old habits die hard. Syrup. Who’d a thunk.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Haha…welcome to post-legalization Oregon. Look at the craigslist jobs section and budtender is actually the name they use for employees in the industry.
        Hey, did you ever weigh in on what I should do with the acid I was tipped?

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Well, having been a touch of Captain cosmic in my avant-garde arteest days I can say that if you’ve been experienced you understand there’s an 800 number to all that that doesn’t require updating your inoculation, so to speak. The beautiful thing about acid is that all that knocking your head against philosophy falls right off the cliff. You get it, or you don’t. All the whiny assed depressives on the Internet need to stop whining, drop a hit and close their I’m so depressed websites.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I’m so depressed. I just backpacked through Europe, hung out in Paris for a month. It’s hell being a trust fund puppy who has to learn the hard way asshole isn’t a popular career option and potential mates have a threshold fo4 it. Oh whoa is me, I’ll never be loved again…but here’s some snaps from the louvre in my little black dress.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Ok, that last scenario…your reaction the friends sparking up in a parking lot, has me envisioning 60-somethings at the community center running lines during rehearsal for their presentation of Up In Smoke or something. I can’t stop hearing the awkwardness of law abiding non-actors trying to create a scene about weed culture without the context of legalized marijuana.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Oh man. We used code words. “You got any new albums?” The term for telling/asking someone the wandering drive included weed was Spaghetti. Because we wandered around all over with no destination. Sheesh. Last time I saw my old bass player he offered to share a “jazz cigarette.” In Oklahoma, where we ducked and hid and ate roaches at the sight of a cop car this guy and girl I went to school with were puffing away on rhinestone vapes in front of Chili’s. Arrrrr!

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Meredith says:

    Dude, we have some homemade stuff (um, we didn’t make it) Been too afraid to try it. We’re pretty good with leaves if you get my drift. Easier to control. But, still won’t give up beer. Glad it’s working for you and be thankful it’s legal there.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I am *so* grateful! Even more grateful that – finally – 6 years after legalization we have a non-profit running drop in expungement workshops in town. If someone – and let’s face it, we know it’s someone with melanin aplenty versus one of us Caucasian types – has a weed related citation or conviction, these folks can wipe it off their record, legally and while the person is sitting right there with them. I’ve been kvetching about this for…well, 6 years now. Finally! And the instant resolution makes me so happy for these people. Some of them couldn’t vote or see their kids or get a decent job all because of a weed charge on their record. I cannot imagine what that must feel like in the moment, knowing your world just changed as you walk out the door to the dawn of a changed existence…
      Now, about those edibles – just split one with Charlie! What could possibly go wrong? 🙃

      Liked by 1 person

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