Hemp vs. Marijuana

My Dad and I have a backyard vegetable garden; one of the more unique things we are growing this year is industrial hemp. Since many people don’t know the difference between hemp and marijuana and since we just had someone steal hemp plants directly from our backyard (obviously under the impression that it was weed),

I decided to explain the difference between the two plants in the form of a metaphor:

Hemp is like that super overachieving cousin/ sibling you may have. Everything they do is great; they’re top- of- their- class, captain of a winning sports team, and are always involved in volunteer work. You can hardly find anything wrong with them at all. You might want to hate them for being so perfect but you can’t because they’re so freaking nice.

Marijuana is more or less the family screw- up. Always the life of every party they go to (and they go to many, many parties), nobody really takes them seriously. Though to be fair they can do some great things if steered in the right direction; but, for the most part, they are just there to have a good time. All in all, likely to get the smallest share of grandma’s inheritance.

Coming full circle, the most important thing I can think to emphasis is hemp contains (very) little to no THC. Which leads me to my last and possibly most important difference:

Hemp won’t get you high.

SO DON’T STEAL IT FROM MY BACKYARD. 

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PS- If you’re going to take something, take zucchini. Seriously. We’d love it if you stole some.

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UPDATE/ EDIT:

It was pointed out to me that both hemp and marijuana are in the same cannabis family. Imagine having that last name in middle school.

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Things that are Weird to do Alone- A Guide for the Socially Awkward

***Please Note: by “socially awkward” I am not necessarily referring to  introverts; I myself am just about as extroverted as they come but am cripplingly socially awkward. The following are places I’ve found through my own awkward adventures that you really shouldn’t go (that is, without being in a group of at least two or three).***

Bowling.

Bowling is an aggression relieving fun activity which can seem like a great way to spend a weekend night. But remember, unless you are a professional bowler practicing for a big match, parents at the alley will shoot you suspicious looks and warn their children not to get too close. A lonely bowler is a creepy bowler.

A sit- down restaurant.

While a nearby coffee shop or small cafe is a great place to go solo, a restaurant is not. Nothing screams pity more than sitting at a table with no other person(s) there. This namely happens when I am the first of a larger group to arrive at the restaurant while everyone else is at least 20 minutes behind. Trust me, you do not want to get the pity look from your waitress when you explain that you are waiting on some friends after having sat there, all alone, for 10 minutes.

Swimming.

Unless you’re at the local gym doing laps for exercise, swimming is one of the worst things to do alone. Much like bowling if you’re at a local pool by yourself you set off several warning signs to parents and lifeguards alike who will watch you like a hawk to make sure you’re not going within three feet of a child (which is hard to do in a pool). Also, if you’re going to the local pool to sun bathe and not actually swim, you’re just wasting your money and everyones time.

 

Please learn from my mistakes and avoid these awkward situations by traveling in groups of two or three.

Any places I missed? Let me know so that I can avoid them as well.

I Have No Rant to Give

I LOVE to rant. I have rants on everything from organic local produce to (awesome) TV shows. From consumerism to that kid in my 102 class who won’t laugh at my jokes. (Hate that kid.) I can rant on anything and everything.

Except Valentine’s Day.

I have zero problems with St. Valentine’s Day.

It’s the holiday almost everyone has beef with, the most socially accepted holiday to hate, and I have nothing to say.

Dr. Doofenshmirtz doesn't hate Christmas, I don't hate Valentines day. We are alike in so many ways.

Dr. Doofenshmirtz doesn’t hate Christmas; I don’t hate Valentines day. We are alike in so many ways.

It’s not that I am some big- eyed hopeless romantic (I have rants on big- eyed hopeless romantics). I have always been single for Valentine’s Day and wanted/ expected anything more.

Growing up, Valentine’s Day meant my Dad would buy each kid a box or two of those little heart candies and chocolates or flowers for my Mom; it was simple, sweet, and fun. And I always liked the cheesy class valentines with cartoon characters and candies taped to them that were exchanged between my elementary classmates and I. Even in middle school you could send orange sodas to others and I always sent one to each of my close friends.

When I think Valentine’s Day I think sugar, not romance.

…Which is probably why I have no problems with it…

Happy Valentine’s Day, whether you love it, hate it, or are filled with a burning apathy, I hope your day is great!

Sisters

“We’re so close, we’re like sisters” -Every Teenage Girl Ever

That. That saying. That never made sense to me.

I have brothers so, admittedly I have no idea what it’s like to have a sister but I imagine it’s not the best thing ever. Growing up a lot of my friends had sisters and they fought, argued, and black mailed each other. Sure they loved their sister but they didn’t like their sister.

Cousins, on the other hand, those we like. Cousins are interesting because you don’t really have to love your cousins, you just have to get along (or pretend to around family). You get more of an option with cousins than you do with siblings.

Some of my favorite cousins I’m not even related to. They’re my cousins’ cousins. Which makes them my 2nd cousins. Twice removed. Probably. I really don’t know.

The way I see it, close friends are more like cousins. So we’re not so close that we’re like sisters.

We’re so close we’re like 2nd cousins twice removed. 

Not quite as catchy…

I Just Want to Pee Alone

About a week ago a friend contacted me asking if i could pet sit her dog and 2 cats for the weekend.

Wait.

That’s not right….

“Dog” should’ve been “hyperactive puppy” and “2 cats” ought to have been followed with “who are very happy to show you that they’re not de-clawed”.

Other than the animals insisting on sleeping with me, then waking me up at freaking 4 am (because “who doesn’t want their face clawed off?”) and again at 5 am (because “the sun’s almost up which means it’s time to play”) it was a pretty chill weekend.

But I couldn’t pee alone.

I have a very sweet mut at home who occasionally freaks- the- hell- out when left alone inside for long periods of time but even he can stand to be outside of a closed door for 4 minutes while I use the restroom.

I would close the door and OH MY GOD SHE MUST BE DYING! The dog starts to whimper and the cats claw the door. And if I don’t open the door right away and DEAR GOD SHE MUST’VE FALLEN AND CAN’T GET BACK UP! I’LL ALERT THE NEIGHBORHOOD BY BARKING/ MEOWING MY HEAD OFF.

I open the door after I’ve finished my business all exasperated and ask “What is it? What is so important??” (Because irrationally yelling at animals is always the answer)

And the dog looks a me like “I was so worried” and the cats just make this smug little face like “shesh, don’t be so dramatic.”

I just wanted to pee alone…

Inappropriate Places to Fart

If you’re human you probably flatulate on a regular basis.

However, if you’re anything like me I only flatuate when it is the worst possible time to do so. The following are some of my favorite fart stories.

Forensics

My Junior year I was at a speech competition where I made it to the third round of competition. It isn’t very far but the room was extremely competitive, also, it had three judges all ages 60- 70+. This would have been fine if my monologue wasn’t a dark comedy about a crazed first- grade teacher (which is apparently on YouTube somewhere but no one will tell me how to find it!).

Anyways, in my piece there was a part where I screamed and then paused (took a “beet”) for comedic effect. As you may have guessed, when I reached this part I went through the usual motions of jumping, screaming, and then silence, this is when I farted. There’s no real way to know how loud the fart was (the first row defiantly heard it), but to me it may as well have been a canon blast. Into a megaphone. That smelled. After a brief moment of internal panic, I continued with my piece as normal and practically ran out of the room after the round was over, and laughing recounted the tale to my teammates. That room never knew what hit them.

Play Practice

This year, as a senior in high school, I took a Beginning acting class though the local university. Part of the curriculum was that we were cast in these 10 minute plays directed by the Beginning Directing class, I was cast in 3 of these. One evening we had rehearsal we had on a Sunday evening after it had been lightly snowing all day. Basically, the temperature never rose above 7 and all we had to show for it was a light layer of powder on the ground. Because of this I spent the day in braided pigtails, a less- than- flattering sweater, and mom jeans. I went to play rehearsal unaware that we would be trying on costumes that day. I ended up in a little black cocktail dress with a hot pick lace. With tube socks, braids and tennis shoes. To make matters worse, I had a healthy helping of fart- incing foods before I left the house.

Yup. Rocking it.

Yup. Rocking it.

All these elements added together as I walked on stage to say my line and ripped one. Loud. Oh, did I forget to mention that all the other actors were men? Whoops. Needless to say this got one guy laughing, which got us all laughing and breaking character, much to my directors discontent. Thankfully as they all had deep hearty laughs, this gave cover for another fart which passed by unnoticed.

Thankfully these wonderful stories have taught me to never take myself too seriously as I laugh at myself now.

P.S.- Spell Check is trying to tell me that “flatuate” isn’t a word. Which it is. I don’t care what you have to say, Spell Check!

Just a Tip

“NO! DON”T LEAVE AMERICA! SHE’S GOING TO DITCH YOU FOR A GINGER!!!!”

These were my words after watching Disney’s Pocahontas.

My brother and I had decided to watch Pocahontas 2 the night before (because we’re cool like that and watch movies out of order). This, after many of jokes about historical inaccuracy and racist undertones. resulted a cynicism for the romance between two people with perfect hair.

Look at the animated perfection!

Yes, yes, I realize that she thought John Smith was dead and after some not so catchy songs about  internal struggle she decided to move on but still! She even says “I’ll never leave you” in the first film!

I need a life.

A word of advice: never watch Disney movies out of order. Also, yelling at a television screen doesn’t work.

Again in Serious Consideration of my Womanhood

As the only teenage girl in my family, one would think that I would be the one PMSing and being an emotional saucepan. Especially with Valentine’s Day coming up here soon.

My life.

However, for some reason all the men in my family are suffering from fluctuating hormones prior to their menstrual period:

  • My 16 year old brother has been having some fairly funky cravings concerning bacon.
  • My father, normally a fairly easy going guy, has been rather irritable lately, going from calm to ape- crazy in a span of about 58 seconds.
  • My older brother has been very secluded and hasn’t really said much for the last few days (which is very out- of- character for him), even admitting once that he has been feeling irritable as well.

I, on the contrary, have actually been in a pretty mellow mood considering my prolonged cold. I contribute this to my self proclaimed 1 1/2 “X ” chromosomes. Should be an interesting Valentines Day.