When I used to write for the QW!, I was known as the one to write the EMO posts.  You know the type, the soul-searching, woe is me, make me feel better and kiss-a-boo-boo styled drivel that plagues most “online journals”. (read: Ego-masturbation)

With a box of tissues at the ready, I’m hunkering down to write my greatest emo masterpiece.  Are you ready to bear witness to my pussification?  I hope so.

I’m 26 years old, and in a little over a month, I’ll be 27.  I’m a married home-owner, who basically writes his own ticket at work.  Financially, I’m ok.  I’m not rich, but I also have just about everything I want (within reason).  My wife doesn’t care if I watch porn, smoke out, and play videogames all night.  I work from my home 3 days a week.  I pretty much have it made, right? 

Somehow, it doesn’t feel like it.  Now, listen, I’m not saying that I have it bad, but I won’t say I’m lucky.  I worked hard to get where I am, and I’m not afraid to say it. 

Here’s the ultimate problem:  I have all these things, all these positive things in my life, and yet, my life feels empty. Mind you, I’m not slitting my wrists or popping pills for attention.  I’m relatively happy, but at the same time, left with the feeling that at the end of the day, none of anything that happens in our lives really matters.  Nothing that we do today, will affect generations to come in a positive way.  Not in any real sense.  What can we do about it?  Not much. 

I’m also overwhelmed by the devisive vitrolic culture that has rooted itself in our society.  We’re at this point where you are damned if you do, damned if you don’t.  You know why I don’t give a fuck about politics?  Because when it’s all said and done, there isn’t really anything we can do about the things we don’t like.  Mostly because the entire system is flawed.

It’s not just politics, either.  We, as a general rule, don’t really give a fuck about our neighbor next to us.  Oh, we pretend that we do, but the reality is that most of us, myself included, are too wrapped up in ourselves to think about the next guy.  We have no sense of community, no great purpose.  We are bones and meat, a series of synapses and chemical reactions.  And frankly, we’re nothing more than animals who are self-aware.

I’m constantly asking myself, “So, what now?”, because I feel confused.  I’ve done the things that I’m supposed to do, and yet, still find no relief from the ever tormenting question.  Part of me, believes that there is more to life.  But for all you devout church goers out there, faith isn’t going to do it for me.  I’m too savvy to fall for a few tomes of magic tricks and ghost stores (read: Thanks King James’ Bible!).  But if not religion and faith, what can fill this void of unknown?  Can’t there be some kind of real tangible evidence that we are more than just evolved monkeys who can drive fast cars and fuck fast women?

Now, you’re probably saying to yourself, “Hey man, didn’t this guy just write about how shitty blogs are and why I shouldn’t give a fuck about the authors?”  And you are right.  You shouldn’t give a fuck that I’m feeling this way.  But you SHOULD give a fuck if YOU feel this way as well.  I may be just some dope-head geek with a penchant for violence, but you probably aren’t.  And if I’m not the only one feeling this way, then man, we’ve seriously got some problems collectively.  I see the end of our species on the horizion, man.

OR maybe I should just stop writing when I start smoking, if you know what I mean. *Sly poke, and taunting wink*

My buddy Big Al from The Netherlands has a new website.  And in honor of his online move, I’ve decided to make Relax The Churning’s Blog of the Week.

Now, this site might not be for everyone.  Some people might not enjoy pictures of (NSFW) bikini girls begging for weed, or they may disapprove of the kind of indoor horticulture that’s celebrated in Amsterdam (but happens to be illegal here in the “home of the free”).

I’m not going to try to convince you by singing Big Al’s praises.  Instead, I’ll let his work speak for itself.  Take a look at these magnificent creations.

He started with this…

And just a few weeks later…

Now that’s a work of art.

(If you want to check out Big Al’s archives, you can find them here at his old site.)

Let’s keep this shit going, people. Add your suggestions in the comments and I’ll update the list.

1. 4:20 Time
2. A Number
3. Barbecued Iguana
4. Baseball
5. Baseball Bat
6. Bifta
7. Blogroll
8. Blue Hair
9. Blunt
10. Bone
11. Bowling
12. Bud
13. Buddha
14. Bunk
15. Cabbage
16. Carla
17. Carrot
18. Cat Food
19. Cheeba Cheeba
20. Chronic
21. Chrons
22. Coffee Break
23. Cone
24. Cracker
25. Creeper
26. Cron
27. da Kind
28. Daddy
29. Dank
30. Darren Popovich
31. Dirt Weed
32. Donnie
33. Doob
34. Doobage
35. Doobie
36. Dope
37. Fatty Boombalaty
38. Fetid Finger
39. Fire
40. Fishing
41. Freshly Baked Bread
42. Gang Dang
43. Ganj
44. Ganja
45. Garden Gnome
46. Garlic Knots
47. Ghandi
48. Grass
49. Green
50. Greenage
51. Greener
52. Greenery
53. Hairy Mexican Skunk Balls
54. Happy Leaf
55. Harry Larry
56. Heinlen
57. Herb
58. Herbage
59. Hippie Lettuce
60. Hit
61. Hogger
62. Hog-Leg
63. Hooba
64. Hoobastank
65. Hydro
66. Indica
67. Indo
68. Inhibition Reducer
69. Irish Mind Bomb
70. Jay
71. Jazz Cigarette
72. Jesus
73. Jibber
74. JJ
75. Joint
76. Joseph
77. Kaya
78. Keeping It Real
79. Kill
80. Killer
81. Kimo Sabe
82. Kind Bud
83. Kindly
84. Knockout
85. Leprechaun’s Hairy Beaver
86. Loco Weed
87. Long-Beach
88. Mary
89. Mary Jane
90. Maui Wowee
91. Mexican Dirt
92. Mids
93. Mommy
94. Mother Nug
95. Nodge
96. Notes
97. Nugs
98. Oregano
99. Parsley
100. Pasta
101. Pinner
102. Pizza
103. Pop Tarts
104. Pot
105. Puff
106. Puff The Magic Dragon
107. Red Hair
108. Reefer
109. Regs
110. Roach
111. Rotini
112. Shit
113. Shwag
114. Skizzzunk
115. Skunk
116. Skunk Tail
117. Smashed Potatoes
118. Smeck
119. Smokage
120. Smoke
121. Spliff
122. Stank
123. Steege
124. Sticky Bud
125. Sticky Icky
126. Sticky-Icky-ICKY
127. Strange
128. Sweet
129. Sweet Leaf
130. Tea
131. Tetrahydrocannabinol
132. Thai Stick
133. THC
134. The Tree
135. Tickets
136. Tonto
137. Toot
138. Trees
139. Wacky Tobacky
140. Weed
141. Wowe Maui
142. Yellow Fever
143. Yukon Gold
144. Zol

More reasons why The Churning will never be allowed to host a children’s television program:

Reason #whatever: It’s hard to teach math when you’re high.

(Art and concept by Ev)

Time for round two!  Add your suggestions in the comments.  Let’s keep this shit going, people!

1. 4:20 Time
2. Barbecued Iguana
3. Baseball
4. Blue Hair
5. Blunt
6. Bowling
7. Bud
8. Buddha
9. Carla
10. Cat Food
11. Cheeba Cheeba
12. Chronic
13. Creeper
14. Dank
15. Darren Popovich
16. Donnie
17. Doobage
18. Doobie
19. Dope
20. Fatty Boombalaty
21. Fetid Finger
22. Fishing
23. Freshly Baked Bread
24. Ganj
25. Garden Gnome
26. Grass
27. Green
28. Greenage
29. Greenery
30. Hairy Mexican Skunk Balls
31. Heinlen
32. Herb
33. Hit
34. Hooba
35. Hydro
36. Inhibition Reducer
37. Jesus
38. Joseph
39. Keeping It Real
40. Kill
41. Killer
42. Knockout
43. Leprechaun’s Hairy Beaver
44. Mary
45. Mary Jane
46. Mexican Dirt
47. Oregano
48. Parsley
49. Pasta
50. Pizza
51. Pot
52. Puff
53. Red Hair
54. Reefer
55. Rotini
56. Shit
57. Skunk
58. Skunk Tail
59. Spliff
60. Sticky Icky
61. Sticky-Icky-ICKY
62. Sweet Leaf
63. Tea
64. Tetrahydrocannabinol
65. Toot
66. Wacky Tobacky
67. Weed
68. Wowe Maui
69. Yellow Fever
70. Yukon Gold

In Amsterdam, they have these shops that are sort of like convenience stores. But instead of selling lottery tickets, cigarettes and beer - they sell mushrooms. Yep, those kind of mushrooms.

We stopped in at one of these special places just a half a block from our hotel. The shop was on a major street corner in the heart of the city, with people rushing past, heading to and from work. From the outside, it seemed relatively non-descript. I can’t even remember what made us want to walk inside to check it out. But as soon as we stepped into the place, we immediately knew what we were looking at.

The place was well lit with fluorescent lights and there were tall glass-door coolers on all sides. The refrigerator shelves were lined with hundreds of packages of dried mushrooms in clear, professionally labeled Ziploc bags. An attractive young lady with a kind face stood behind the cash register smiling at us as we browsed through the products.

Lady: “Good afternoon.”
JJ: “Hi.”
Lady: “Can I help you choose?”
Momo: “Ummm… We’re just looking around.”
Frankie: “Actually, I have a question.”
Lady: “Sure, how can I help?”
Frankie: “Well, we don’t really know what we should buy. Can you recommend something?”
Lady: “A lot of people love the Afghani ones. It’s a very visual high. I recommend them if you’re experienced.”
JJ: “Actually we’re sorta new to this. We don’t want to be too… messed up.”
Frankie: “We don’t?”
Lady: “Well the Mexican and the Thai variety are not as strong. The high is very relaxed.”
Momo: “That sounds cool.”

The thing that struck me about this conversation was how normal it sounded. And the lady’s voice was so completely soothing. She was helpful and nice, like a pre-school teacher. But we weren’t talking about milk and cookies. We were talking to a drug dealer. A drug dealer who sells hallucinogens out in the open, in public, protected by law.

It was fucking fantastic. It’s such a luxury to feel so free. Lighting up a spliff in a “coffee shop” is one thing. Buying a bag of imported psilocybin mushrooms at a corner store is entirely different.

Time for another list! Add your suggestions in the comments.

I’ll keep this going as long as you keep playing along.

1. Pizza
2. Mary Jane
3. Buddha
4. Ganj
5. Chronic

What most of you don’t know is that prior to meeting JJ, I never smoked weed.

The first time JJ and I partook of the ‘pizza’ (* if you haven’t figured this shit out by now, you’re fucking retarded), it was relatively laid back. We watched some movies, ate some brownie sundaes and called it a night. For the record, we had rolled ‘pizza.’

Upon the harkening of the second coming of ‘Pizza’, JJ purchased a ‘vase’ that would allow us to fly to heights previously unrecorded. (C’mon, B-O-N-G.)

:: Now, is the part of the show where I like to explain a bit about myself.::

I don’t do anything in moderation. Not drinking and definitely not smoking. Ask Brandon, everytime we hang out, I end up passed out.

::We return you to your regularly scheduled program::

So we head over to JJ’s house and he’s excited and I’m excited and I’m excited and I’m excited. See, coming into weed this late in the game has made me a bit of an obsessed stoner. All I ever think about is toke toke toke.

Being the usual over-indulgent Caligula type figure I am, I start taking deep drawing breaths of the stickiest of the icky. Nobody tells me that once you start to feel like you never want to exhale, you should stop. So, I just keep on going, and eventually it’s just me and JJ passing back and forth until even he stops. And I keep thinking, man this shit isn’t working because I’m totally, dude, I mean I am totally, like…what the hell was I saying? Oh Jesus, that cat is moving really fast. Ha ha ha JJ is laughing and shaking like a giant JJ-styled dildo. I wonder if he knows that. You think my parents know I smoke weed? Fuck. Jesus, I would like to bang my wife. Can you get a boner when you’re stoned?

Then out of the blue, I get this rush like someone has come along and picked up my soul out of my body and thrown me into the air. And I even make this sound that comes out like “UUuuuuAAAAAHHH????” And that’s right about when things start going wrong. I start to feel like I’m going to puke, so I make my way upstairs to the bathroom and try to uppage the chuckage, but alas nothing. So, I rub some cold water from the sink on my face and lay down on the floor, because I’m starting to think holy Jesus I’m going to be the first motherfucker in the world to die from smoking pot, ha ha hahahahahahaeeeehehehe heheeeehehehe I love everything right now. I feel so good, but so terrible, dude is this what Heaven is like, I bet it is man, I bet it is.

I’m not sure if I was dreaming or if I was awake, but I started seeing Neil Armstrong floating around on JJ’s bathroom ceiling. I called out to him with my mind, but apparently I lack telepathy so he just kinda floated around. He turned that spacey helmet of his towards me and with a nod of the visor, shot me a look that said “Dude, you’re totally tripping.” I watched him float around the ceiling for a bit, and then everything went dark.

It felt like I had only been up there about 20 minutes. In reality, I had been upstairs almost 3 hours. And thus began my TRUE love of pot. Because it helps you time travel.

Time travel, motherfuckers!

The Churning is run by a bunch of stoners. Or at least that’s what you’d think from reading this week’s entries.

One common weed-related theme over the last few months involves an inside joke - our own marijuana euphemism. Some of you have already picked up on it. For the rest of you: pay more attention.

Here’s story #1:

When I was in high school (Mom, stop reading right… now), there was a rumor going around that the government could listen in on your phone calls. Today, we all know that’s actually true - but back then it seemed like pot-fueled paranoia. Regardless, we were worried enough that we didn’t want to talk about weed on the phone.

Back then, my dealer was just another high school kid. He was just like the rest of us, except he had ambition. I mean for fuck’s sake the kid ran his own business. Highly illegal and totally creepy, but it was a business nonetheless.

So if we needed to get hooked up, all we had to do was call the guy. He’d show up within half an hour, and we’d make an exchange. It was just like ordering pizza. Thus: “pizza.”

*ring*
Dude: “Umm… Hullo.”
Me: “Hey dude. You busy?”
Dude: “Dude, I’m never bizzzzy.”
Me: “Cool. ‘Cause I’m looking for some pizza.”
Dude: “Right on, dude. I got some awesome pizza right now. You want like a large pizza, a small pizza… or you know, like a super duper large pizza.”
Me: “Shit man, I don’t remember what that means. I guess like a medium. You know - whatever I got last time.”
Dude: “Cool, dude. Meet me at the BK lounge.”
Me: “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Large fry mothafucka!”
*click*

I know, I know. There’s no way I was referencing Dane Cook in 1993. But I really did meet the dude at Burger King, so I figured it was appropriate.

And yes - that’s how the euphemism “pizza” was created. It was because the high schooler pot dude delivered like a pizza guy.

Here’s story #2:

Why am I admitting all of this? I know some of my co-workers read this shit. Whatever.

So I know this dude in DC who really enjoys hanging out with Mary Jane. If you don’t realize that Mary Jane isn’t a person then you’re really missing something.

Whenever I hang out with this dude after work, he’s always gotta stop at home first before heading to the bar. He says it’s because he has responsibilities. He’s gotta go home to “feed the cats.” And I believe him. I’ve seen pictures. He does in fact have three cats. You may be asking yourself why a single stoner guy living alone has three cats. That’s another story for another day.

But here’s the thing - whenever he stops by his house, he tokes up. Pre-gaming. Thus: “feeding the cats.”

*ring*
Dude #2: “What’s going on, JJ?”
Me: “Hey, dude. I’m in town tonight. You wanna hang out?”
Dude #2: “Yeah man. Definitely. I just gotta stop by the house first to feed the cats.”
Me: “Of course you do. You really enjoy feeding the cats, and I totally appreciate that.”
Dude #2: “No really. I have to feed the cats. Well, yeah. Maybe I’ll also feed the cats.”
Me: “Excellent. I’ll meet you at the bar in an hour or so then.”
Dude #2: “Cool.”
*click*

Notice no one says “bye” to end phone calls in my stories. It seems like that’s the way it works on TV and I wanna be cool like TV. Even though in real life, my calls always end with “later,” rock on,” or “peace in the middle east!”

Another strange thing I just realized: Reading back over story #2, it almost seems like “feed the cats” is a euphemism for jerking off. Have I been confused this whole time? Have I been talking to my friend about masturbating when I thought we were talking about rocking the ganj? Shit.

Anyway - If you’ve been reading along this far, you’re obviously down with the chiba. So to celebrate the weekend, let’s all head over to Big Al’s place where it’s always 4:20. Please tell him The Churning sent you.

I drew this in homage to my good buddies JJ, and Barndon. One day we’re gonna have pizza in philly. Clicky for full-size.

What can I say? It’s Friday and Ev’s hungry for pizza.
(more…)

i’m gonna smoke weed and watch tv. not yet. but in a little. i never do this but let’s do this for science.

soon let’s find out how i change from bruce banner to the hulk. (more…)