Friday, October 19, 2007

McCormick Confessional

You know what's a good time? Tell your mom all of the dangerous and ridiculous things you did growing up. She can't do a thing to you, other than just brow beat you a little. Try it; you'll get some laughs. Well, I'm about unload a doozie here in this post. I will now tell you about one of the stupidest things I have ever done.

One snowy evening long ago, I found myself hanging out at Marny Ray, and Arlon's apartment (I have changed their names as to protect their anonymity). Arlon was entertaining a lady friend so he was busy and not paying much attention to Marny Ray and I. Our casual chit-chat eventually turned into a conversation that would shape that night's events:

Marny Ray: "Hey dude, did you know that if you eat nutmeg it makes you really high?"
Kristjan: "No way man, thats preposterous. How could a common household spice get you high?"
MR: "I swear dude, my friend Jordan did and he swears it makes you high. He never lies."
K: "Uhh...."
MR: "Uhh...."
K: "Uhhh..."
MR & K together: "LET'S DO IT!"

So we decided to take the Pepsi Challenge, as it were. We booked it down to Smith's to pick up the finest, dankest, highest grade nutmeg that money could buy. We got the good stuff that comes in a glass jar instead of a plastic one. I think it was like "McCormick Selects" and it cost $3.73.

With the goods gripped tightly in my hand, we headed back to the apartment to tweak out. We supposed that the recommended dosage was about 2 tablespoons per person... so we took 4 tablespoons a piece just to be sure. Come to find out, swallowing dry nutmeg powder is A.) repugnant B.) really hard. A few ounces of Arlon's OJ in the fridge made the spicy smack easy enough to choke down.

With an 8 ball of spice in the stomach, it was time to wait for the swirling colors and talking pillow cushions to appear. About 3 hours had passed after we had hung out and watched Kill Bill 2, and still not even a buzz... just a deplorable aftertaste. Marmy Ray and I unanimously voted "Myth Busted" on nutmeg and we called it a night.

Folks, what happened in those wee hours of the morning between when I went to bed and when I woke for the 8 A.M. potty break, was unprecedented. I got out of bed and stumbled, no, crawled on my hands and knees into the bathroom. I couldn't believe what I saw when I looked into the mirror... big black pupils, and eye lids that were stuck at half mast. Realization finally hit me that I was "faded", using the parlence of our times. I staggered back into bed and turned on my cell phone...I had to tell somebody about this. I had to call Marny Ray.

He beat me to it. When my phone booted up, I had 3 messages from the guy. The first one was something like : "Du hahah duu hahahhaha duude Kristjan... duude. duuuude, I am so hi hahahhahahah hi hahhah hahah hiiiigh!!!" The other two messages were variations of the same thing. Contrary to Marny Ray's giggle fits, I was not feeling that handsome. Rather, I felt like I had been wrapped up in my blanket, and thrown down the stairs, then beaten with a garden hose.

This was my first run in with substance abuse, so I didn't know how to deal. The only thing that seemed logical was to call every person in my cell phone and tell them how high I was. Some of you may remember that call... priceless. After I called everyone that I knew, the only other activity that seemed appealing was feasting on mass quantities of junk food. Oh yeah, and drinking lots of water to get rid of the cotton mouth feeling.

Anyways, that lasted until about noon of the next day. Miserable. So, thats my story. I ate nutmeg and got really high. It sucked. Sorry Mom.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

"In my country..."

Just a thought I had today as I was lunching:

My attire today consists of Reebok shoes (British in origin, but made in China), and an Adidas track jacket (German brand, but also made in China) emblazoned with a soccer team's logo (from Argentina). I drove my Subaru Legacy (Japanese) to school where I talked to my buddy (from Denmark) and read a certificate of credit (from Spain) in my marketing class. Then, I stopped by Dask's for a gyro plate (Greek, but prepared by Mexicans) on the way to work. The soundtrack to my commute consisted of samba (Brazilian) and reggae (Jamaican).

Tonight, I will go home and fix up a cup of mate (from Paraguay) and work on some homework. Maybe I will get a second to play some blues (American) on my Fender Stratocaster (American, but built in Mexico).

Good grief, I feel like a United Nations meeting today.

Sunday, October 7, 2007

The Dark Side of the Powell

I am sitting here at the Dojo, sipping on a toasty mug of Mate Chocolatte, and ruminating about my weekend. I have kinda made it a point to not use my blog as a travel journal, but to use it for an outlet for sharing whats on my mind.

That being said, I just returned from a great little weekend jaunt down to Lake Powell with my friends and family. Those of you that have been there know that most any trip to Powell is an insta-classic. The scenery, the recreation, the good times with your people are always way above-par and each trip has its special moments. Let me recount one such moment.

Last night, as people were bedding down in the houseboat, I climbed myself and a sleeping bag up onto the top deck of the boat, and stretched out for few minutes of stargazing by my lonesome. Again, those of you that have ever been to Powell on a moonless night, you know that the amount of celestial eye candy above is literally entrancing. So as I was staring up at the perfectly chaotic visual mess (best way to describe what it looked like) that is our galaxy, I noticed some echoes from up the canyon that we were in. Since the night was pitch black completely still, I strained my ears to figure out what the sounds were. Buried beneath of the deep echoes being caused by the high sandstone walls, I heard: "Breathe, breathe in the air. Don't be afraid to care. Leave, but don't leave me. Look around, choose your own ground..." a.k.a, the opening lyrics to Pink Floyd's mind-blowing record, Dark Side of the Moon.

WOW. That's all I could think. I could not have handpicked a better soundtrack to accompany the incredible scenery I was taking in. The right music at the right time can really enhance a great experience like this one. My thanks to the earthy fellas camped out up the canyon from us for providing the perfect musical score for that perfect visual moment.