Poor mouse.....just had a good feed and was probably off to get laid....
C'est la vie......BOOM!
C'est la vie......BOOM!
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What's the goofiest thing you've done while high?
- Thread starter JustSumTomatoes
- Start date
M
moose eater
Yep. Lots of parables in that memory; for me, and the mouse.
For the mouse, the fruits of greed and taking what's not yours.
For me, the fruits of excesses... and taking what's not yours.
Same farm, we were fairly constantly stoned, and we had a couple of sheep, among numerous other types of animals.
I don't know if it was our sheep, or if all sheep have horrible eye-sight, but the sheep would get loose on occasion, and go wandering through the woods.
There were critters in the woods that wouldn't mind mutton for chow, so any time one of our animals got loose, any animals, again, being that we had little in the way of cash, it was imperative to find them, and put them back in their pens.
Goats, ducks, chickens, rabbits, hogs, sheep, etc.. Feral cats, fox, weasels, raccoons, coyote, and bear posed potential risks to most of the animals.
Outright running at the sheep, and trying to catch them that way, often simply resulted in a lengthy chase. Or in a few memorable instances, the owner of the place tackling a sheep, and ending all balled up, with legs intertwined.
But the owner discovered that if we froze in place, like mimes doing a forest of trees scene, the sheep would warily walk up the trail, looking this way and that, stepping ever so slowly & cautiously, with us frozen like trees or bushes, arms raised like branches, and we'd wait until the sheep were right near us, when we'd pounce and grab the buggers.
Who knows how he thought up that particular ploy, but I'd suspect cannabis or hallucinogens, or both, played a prominent role.
I rated chickens and sheep back then as being tied in 1st place for least brilliant animal...
The nanny goats were my buddies, though. Cleaner than most persons assume them to be (nanny goats, not billy goats), and smart as a whip.
One summer we had over 200 ganja plants in 2 rows, up the middle of the garden. The goats managed to get out of the pasture and into the garden area, and feast on a fair amount of the weed. For at least several days, when I'd milk the goats, I was certain there was a subtle green hue to the top edge of the milk where the small air bubbles were next to the inside of the milking pail.
That whole stint was a good time and experience for a young man on the road, rejecting most of what was conventional, and with cause. I left the farm and the U.P. in 1977, and moved to the Yukon Territory of Canada.
Despite all the reasons for that period to not be viewed in retrospect as being positive, looking back, it was truly an amazing time.
And whether we were felling trees to mill or to burn, or building, or raising and tending critters, tending bedding plants to sell to the public in spring, or weeding or harvesting the garden, or what ever, there were joints being rolled from 5:00 A.M. when we got up to make coffee on the wood cook stove & milk goats, and begin the rest of the day's chores, until the last of the chores were done, later into evening..
-Many- 'goofy' memories from those days. And most of them likely having weed on-board at the time.
For the mouse, the fruits of greed and taking what's not yours.
For me, the fruits of excesses... and taking what's not yours.
Same farm, we were fairly constantly stoned, and we had a couple of sheep, among numerous other types of animals.
I don't know if it was our sheep, or if all sheep have horrible eye-sight, but the sheep would get loose on occasion, and go wandering through the woods.
There were critters in the woods that wouldn't mind mutton for chow, so any time one of our animals got loose, any animals, again, being that we had little in the way of cash, it was imperative to find them, and put them back in their pens.
Goats, ducks, chickens, rabbits, hogs, sheep, etc.. Feral cats, fox, weasels, raccoons, coyote, and bear posed potential risks to most of the animals.
Outright running at the sheep, and trying to catch them that way, often simply resulted in a lengthy chase. Or in a few memorable instances, the owner of the place tackling a sheep, and ending all balled up, with legs intertwined.
But the owner discovered that if we froze in place, like mimes doing a forest of trees scene, the sheep would warily walk up the trail, looking this way and that, stepping ever so slowly & cautiously, with us frozen like trees or bushes, arms raised like branches, and we'd wait until the sheep were right near us, when we'd pounce and grab the buggers.
Who knows how he thought up that particular ploy, but I'd suspect cannabis or hallucinogens, or both, played a prominent role.
I rated chickens and sheep back then as being tied in 1st place for least brilliant animal...
The nanny goats were my buddies, though. Cleaner than most persons assume them to be (nanny goats, not billy goats), and smart as a whip.
One summer we had over 200 ganja plants in 2 rows, up the middle of the garden. The goats managed to get out of the pasture and into the garden area, and feast on a fair amount of the weed. For at least several days, when I'd milk the goats, I was certain there was a subtle green hue to the top edge of the milk where the small air bubbles were next to the inside of the milking pail.
That whole stint was a good time and experience for a young man on the road, rejecting most of what was conventional, and with cause. I left the farm and the U.P. in 1977, and moved to the Yukon Territory of Canada.
Despite all the reasons for that period to not be viewed in retrospect as being positive, looking back, it was truly an amazing time.
And whether we were felling trees to mill or to burn, or building, or raising and tending critters, tending bedding plants to sell to the public in spring, or weeding or harvesting the garden, or what ever, there were joints being rolled from 5:00 A.M. when we got up to make coffee on the wood cook stove & milk goats, and begin the rest of the day's chores, until the last of the chores were done, later into evening..
-Many- 'goofy' memories from those days. And most of them likely having weed on-board at the time.
I'd bet that you are a great story-teller moose.....even in person.
Sounds like mostly you have been a country-boy, out there in the wilds making stories to tell.
Sounds like mostly you have been a country-boy, out there in the wilds making stories to tell.
JustSumTomatoes
Indicas make dreams happen
Great stories indeed. Sounds like you've had a very interesting life all round. Many people dream of being able to live on a farm or in the wilderness for that matter.
M
moose eater
I think the greats, Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, Robin Williams, Will Rogers, et al, all tapped into the realization that life provides us with the best material, with no changes or embellishment necessary. Just perspective.The Cosmic joke can be horrid, painful, and acidic, or funny as all hell. It's all in the angle of view, and acceptance at some level of what is, not that that's always easy..
My father left a 13-page suicide note when he went, February, 1968. A horrible event at the time, though we weren't told the facts of the matter for another 5 years, but rather given euphemisms and metaphors during that period of time. I reflect on that as relative to my verbosity and vociferousness, and see it as a Yin Yang genetic curse or gift. Irony in the reality of there being no simple and brief "Good-bye cruel world!! for -my- lineage. Apparently we ALL had something to say, whether others wanted to read or hear it or not.. ;^>)
Dark humor as an alternative to depression. Humor as an accent to life. And much of it only takes our living of our lives in such ways as to create the mistakes we later laugh about, if we notice them, or someone else's mistakes, and reframe the dynamic in our own minds..
Crossing an International border with my daughter, stoned, with minor stash in my possession, but well-taken care of, and the officer (a -very-serious guy, former military for sure; I'm guessing SF or Marine Corps) making it somewhat my duty via an unspoken challenge, to make him break that concrete emotionless facial expression of his. Ironically, having been raised by a dope grower, activist, and socially conscious anarchist (me), my daughter has always been about conformity, insecurity in the face of scrutiny, and not challenging folks with power (other than me), and not making waves.
The stone-faced U.S. Customs dude asks us if my friends in Canada gave us anything that we're bringing back to the U.S. (I refrain from referencing the Grapefruit Haze). I tell him that I have 1/3 of a growler. He states, with inflection, implying my friends are cheap, "Your friends gave you a third of a growler??!!" as though the indignity is his to express. I clarified that they actually gave me 2 full growlers, but I had gotten carried away the day before, and there's only 1/3 remaining. But that it was taped shut with electrical tape for transport.
He then asked my daughter if there was anything on-board, alive, but not human. I busted a gut laughing out loud, still stoned, and he again leaned down sufficiently to see across the front seat, and inquired as to what I thought was so funny. I informed him that considering he was speaking to my daughter, the question as to whether there was anything on-board that was alive, but not human, might well receive an affirmative answer categorizing -me- as such, if he asked ANY of my kids!!
He finally smiled. I strongly suspect he had children of his own. We reached a silent (albeit oppositional) bond at that moment..
My daughter gave me shit all the way to the Alaskan Coastal town for daring to 'play' with customs at a border crossing. She said, "We have a boat to catch, and if they'd really searched us, it would've taken all day!!" I reminded her that we had plenty of time, as the boat didn't leave until that evening, and what else were we going to do? Sit in an expensive village cafe' and spend money on bad coffee?"
Watching the farmer I stayed with in the U.P., stoned, having felled a large pine tree, and walking up the 25-30 degree angle as the tree was hung up, so not laying flat yet, and him carrying the chainsaw up the up-side of the tree's side, cutting limbs as he went, cutting too many branches beneath it, until half-way up (+/-) he cuts the wrong limb, and does this amazingly graceful descent, riding the tree down, remaining upright, but, chainsaw still running and in his hand, reminiscent of Slim Pickens in 'Dr. Strangelove' riding the bomb down... Both of us stoned, me laughing my ass off, and him irritated by my finding humor in it. Abbot and Costello.
Overall, even when life has sucked, it's sometimes been with a twinkle in its eyes. Much of it good material, and very little of it that I'd change.
My father left a 13-page suicide note when he went, February, 1968. A horrible event at the time, though we weren't told the facts of the matter for another 5 years, but rather given euphemisms and metaphors during that period of time. I reflect on that as relative to my verbosity and vociferousness, and see it as a Yin Yang genetic curse or gift. Irony in the reality of there being no simple and brief "Good-bye cruel world!! for -my- lineage. Apparently we ALL had something to say, whether others wanted to read or hear it or not.. ;^>)
Dark humor as an alternative to depression. Humor as an accent to life. And much of it only takes our living of our lives in such ways as to create the mistakes we later laugh about, if we notice them, or someone else's mistakes, and reframe the dynamic in our own minds..
Crossing an International border with my daughter, stoned, with minor stash in my possession, but well-taken care of, and the officer (a -very-serious guy, former military for sure; I'm guessing SF or Marine Corps) making it somewhat my duty via an unspoken challenge, to make him break that concrete emotionless facial expression of his. Ironically, having been raised by a dope grower, activist, and socially conscious anarchist (me), my daughter has always been about conformity, insecurity in the face of scrutiny, and not challenging folks with power (other than me), and not making waves.
The stone-faced U.S. Customs dude asks us if my friends in Canada gave us anything that we're bringing back to the U.S. (I refrain from referencing the Grapefruit Haze). I tell him that I have 1/3 of a growler. He states, with inflection, implying my friends are cheap, "Your friends gave you a third of a growler??!!" as though the indignity is his to express. I clarified that they actually gave me 2 full growlers, but I had gotten carried away the day before, and there's only 1/3 remaining. But that it was taped shut with electrical tape for transport.
He then asked my daughter if there was anything on-board, alive, but not human. I busted a gut laughing out loud, still stoned, and he again leaned down sufficiently to see across the front seat, and inquired as to what I thought was so funny. I informed him that considering he was speaking to my daughter, the question as to whether there was anything on-board that was alive, but not human, might well receive an affirmative answer categorizing -me- as such, if he asked ANY of my kids!!
He finally smiled. I strongly suspect he had children of his own. We reached a silent (albeit oppositional) bond at that moment..
My daughter gave me shit all the way to the Alaskan Coastal town for daring to 'play' with customs at a border crossing. She said, "We have a boat to catch, and if they'd really searched us, it would've taken all day!!" I reminded her that we had plenty of time, as the boat didn't leave until that evening, and what else were we going to do? Sit in an expensive village cafe' and spend money on bad coffee?"
Watching the farmer I stayed with in the U.P., stoned, having felled a large pine tree, and walking up the 25-30 degree angle as the tree was hung up, so not laying flat yet, and him carrying the chainsaw up the up-side of the tree's side, cutting limbs as he went, cutting too many branches beneath it, until half-way up (+/-) he cuts the wrong limb, and does this amazingly graceful descent, riding the tree down, remaining upright, but, chainsaw still running and in his hand, reminiscent of Slim Pickens in 'Dr. Strangelove' riding the bomb down... Both of us stoned, me laughing my ass off, and him irritated by my finding humor in it. Abbot and Costello.
Overall, even when life has sucked, it's sometimes been with a twinkle in its eyes. Much of it good material, and very little of it that I'd change.
I doubt if this is the goofiest thing I've ever done while high, but it's the first thing that popped into my mind...
Very early 70's, I was 18 and had my first car.. Actually it was a 1953 Chevy pick-up truck...
One night I was driving in an area of the city I was not too familiar with..I'd been there plenty in the day, but not very often after dark..
I was by myself and stoned to the bone, as I cruised down Monticello Ave... I was approaching an underpass, and as I started down, I saw a yellow light.
Automatically, I moved my foot to the brake and began slowing down, since I wasn't gonna take the chance of getting pulled by the cops in my very stoned condition...
After a second I realized the yellow light wasn't a traffic signal, but instead it was the street lights that went under the overpass..
I muttered to myself that I must be really high, as I put my foot back on the gas pedal.
I went about 100 feet and saw another yellow light...
I began to slow down again, before realizing it was just the next street light..
This happened again a third time before I told myself that I better get my ass home and into a nice chair with some good tunes playing on the stereo..
Very early 70's, I was 18 and had my first car.. Actually it was a 1953 Chevy pick-up truck...
One night I was driving in an area of the city I was not too familiar with..I'd been there plenty in the day, but not very often after dark..
I was by myself and stoned to the bone, as I cruised down Monticello Ave... I was approaching an underpass, and as I started down, I saw a yellow light.
Automatically, I moved my foot to the brake and began slowing down, since I wasn't gonna take the chance of getting pulled by the cops in my very stoned condition...
After a second I realized the yellow light wasn't a traffic signal, but instead it was the street lights that went under the overpass..
I muttered to myself that I must be really high, as I put my foot back on the gas pedal.
I went about 100 feet and saw another yellow light...
I began to slow down again, before realizing it was just the next street light..
This happened again a third time before I told myself that I better get my ass home and into a nice chair with some good tunes playing on the stereo..
Have you ever forgot where you were? We we just driving around one night, getting stoned and were outside of town near an industrial park. I pulled up to the 4 way stop, and I suddenly realized I had no idea where we were. So I put it in park, and said "does anybody know where we are?" Everyone looked out the windows and none of us remembered where we were headed, or where we were. We actually got out of the car and started walking around trying to figure out where we were. Finally, someone said "hey, we were going to Al's house!" So then it clicked and we piled back in the car and went to Al's.
Edited because editing
JustSumTomatoes
Indicas make dreams happen
Damn Moose, for someone who's lived out in the middle of nowhere you seem very well spoken, talented at writing and insightful. Sorry to hear about your pops, lost mine when I was 15 and it was a life perspective changing experience. I agree with your outlook on dark humor, and agree that most of my own negative life experiences have come with a silver lining when given the time to process and reflect back on them. I've always felt that the arts (music, writing, comedy/humor and any other form of self expression) is something that provides an anchor against the tragedies and sorrows found throughout life. I guess this could be true of anything that someone is passionate about.
Thanks to everyone for sharing these stories. I've been down in the dumps lately and in need of a good laugh as well as some insight on life. ICMAG is more than a place just to learn about growing or pot in general. Always great people around here with very interesting life experiences and outlooks in general.
Thanks to everyone for sharing these stories. I've been down in the dumps lately and in need of a good laugh as well as some insight on life. ICMAG is more than a place just to learn about growing or pot in general. Always great people around here with very interesting life experiences and outlooks in general.
too detailed and long story(s), a group of about 6 of us played elaborate practical jokes on one another, the targets being each others cars or homes while they slept; many included theft of 'joke' materials, bagels to decorate our Jewish friends house with, or one of those helium filled blimps announcing the new 'Frank's Nursery' opening. Tied that big thing to the top of Chuckles Mustang II, we delivered it to Marcs house, tying it off to railings that would keep it from tangling in trees.
EDIT:
The funniest one was when we swiped one neighbors entire nativity scene, I'd seen it set up there for 20 yrs over the holidays. It was plywood & excellently painted, very pretty, it moved quickly between the two of us, moving to another Jewish friends house about 4 doors away we knew the rightful owner would have it back intact quickly, we even boosted the flood lamps & power cords to light it up on Goldstein's lawn.......
Early to mid '80s, if only we'd had cell phone cameras
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