These furry little buddies have been all over around the here, and for some reason they remind me of this book that my teacher read to our class in third grade called Bobby Butterfly. (Newspaper article about the book, circa 1986., Buy the one copy I could find on the interwebs here for $95. Eek!) Brief synopsis: cute little caterpillar succumbs to peer pressure, becomes an addict, and comes out of his metamorphasis as a deformed butterfly. It was really sad, and perhaps, somewhere far down in my psyche, is the reason that I don't do drugs (excepting, of course, boxes of wine).
So that, combined with the fact that it's illegal, is why I have yet to smoke pot. (Also, I'm kind of paranoid. Every time I walk through those beeper things at a store I'm afraid that I'll have accidentally dropped something into my purse and that I'm going to be hauled off to jail, even though I've never shoplifted--ever. What the hell?)
Oh, and I won't be selling drugs any time soon, either, because I've seen Weeds and Breaking Bad. From these masterpieces I've learned that:
- It might seem like it's easy to sell drugs but it's harder than it looks.
- Large sums of money come in rolls.
- DEA agents are all over the place.
- Selling drugs is really stressful, and causes one to become a bad decision-maker.
- There are some drug dealers who are really mean and who will try to kill you.
- It's a damned slippery slope.
To sum up: just say no to drugs (the sale of and the consumption of). I read that on the back of a Lemonheads box.
Hey! It's the weekend! What are you doing? Drugs?
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