No, seriously. That’s pretty much all I need to say.
I caught a group of patrons drinking and smoking weed in the parking lot tonight. And really I just care that they walked out of our (licensed) bar area into our (unlicensed) parking lot with open bottles of beer. That’s not ok, and we could lose our liquor license. But they thought I’d be mad about the weed and tried (rather badly) to hide it. Except I could smell it 50 feet away, and they all had some pretty wide stares on.
Seriously, your smoking weed does not affect me one iota. The cops won’t fine me for witnessing you smoking weed. But they’ll fine me for your beer, so go back inside or I’ll tip it out.
It’s a funny old world, isn’t it?
Since I’m still feeling flu-ey, and it’s got to that point in the week where I just want to get lost in something, I’m going to go roll around in the velvet covers of Jimi for a while.
He’s kind of my ex. A man I’ve made love to so many times in the back of my mind….
… Ahhh, sweet Jimi… No one will ever truly know what you’ve meant to me…