Girl on the Brink: Surviving Desperate Times with Desperate Measures

When you’ve been as unemployed for as long as me, you have time to think about things, food being one of them, because I do get hungry and phantom sex only goes so far.

So it should come as no surprise when I reached into a box of crackers, the same kind of crackers I’d been eating for weeks, when I stared at the cracker’s brand name: Stoned Wheat Crackers. Really? I’m eating “stoned” crackers?

No wonder they’ve been stacked in the box, not doing anything, since I brought them home from the supermarket. Just as I thought; the side of the box shows that they came from a farm with a happy sun smiling overhead in a bright blue sky.

The box says eating them is the “sensible solution.” To what? My mental health? I’d rather have what these crackers got when they became stoned.

Since I know the Jacksonville, Florida, sheriff’s office is “following” me on Twitter, I’ll be careful what I say. I don’t smoke pot, anymore. Even if offered now, I’d have to turn it down because it’s not worth the risk if I get hired at a company that requires a drug test. You’d have to be clean for a good long whistle before the test results would come back negative.

But, yes, I miss pot’s medicinal qualities. I remember smoking a lot of pot in college; seems like everybody did. I wish I could recall some of the funny stories of being stoned, but I can’t because I was stoned and, well, don’t remember.