Bad drugs, bad friends, BAD DOG!!!

Jan 18, 2011 17:30:27

Friends from a band I played with in Vegas were in SF last night.  Offered my place and a night out for taking care of me out there.  Went pub-crawling - ran into one of the cops (not MY cop) and his wife, and they invited us back to their place in North Beach.  He’s great and I adore her – a blast – drinks a lot and ummm, has a medical marijuana card and really racks up the "frequent-higher" miles on that thing.

Beautiful Victorian house, very Full House-ish – open door and at the top of steps is this gorgeous German Shepherd!  Now, I’m about the most “dog” girl you’ll ever meet: I screamed, tail went flying and we met halfway up stairs – hugged, scratching ears “Awwww – look at the good... uhhh BOY!”  Boy oh boy, what a boy – his puppy lipstick was sticking out!!!  Chased me to the top of the stairs, SLAM – jumped ON my shoulders, knocked me down.  Laughing, I flipped over and goddamn – puppy was happy to see me – had his arms around my knee and was trying to make little Nike-puppies with my sneakers.  “Whoa, whoa, whoa – stop pup!”

Cop puts him in the bedroom.  Drinks and shots and TV and music and funny Vegas stories happened out loud.  The pharmacy pill bottles of medical marijuana comes out.  Bass player goes to restroom, opens wrong door and dog comes flying out of the bedroom, sees me, jumps, pot goes everywhere as he tries to sit in my lap.  “Ssshhh, quiet pup – calm down!” I whisper to which he just jammed his snout right in my jean crotch, kept pushing harder - scared he was going to bite my birthing bunny he was so aggressive.  What the fuck is wrong with this dog?  Again with the humping of my knee as half the room is trying to get him off me, the other half laughing.  Back to puppy jail with cop – cop had to go to bed early anyway.

I suck at pot.  Laugh my head off for hours, play guitar forever, get paranoid and scared, starved, then nap – whole cycle takes 10 minutes.  They were smoking and asked me to be the judge on WHICH of the 2 pots(?) was better.  In the future, this is right where I say "NO" but it wasn't the future yet.  I light the bong, bubble up and rip it in.  Ever had a shaken Coke can explode on you?  My Coke lungs itched and expanded disproportionately to the intake.  Held, held, start chirping out my nose and woosh – breath smelled like I ate a pine cone!  Nada.  Second one – thick and heavy – held, held – whew!  Still nothing , but everyone's staring at me alarmed like something big is about to happen.

Couple minutes later while glazing at the TV, I got a phone call from that lady in my brain that we had about 6 minutes of consciousness left, and I needed to start planning right this fucking second for it.  Then she started counting down "5:59, :58, :57..."  Pulled a pillow off the couch, curled up on the rug, face TV with college basketball and announced I was going to take a quick nap.  Dreamt about laughter – was at a comedy club – maybe the TV?  Comic was making funny noises into the mic – kept bouncing it off his head talking about being hit in the head during a sporting event.  Hysterical laughter – like people couldn’t breathe laughing – had to get a better look, so I lifted my head up a little – can’t see what’s so funny.  MORE LAUGHTER – try to get up and squint – what’s so GD funny?

Well, appears the dog got out and was going to town on the top of my sleeping forehead in some bizarro interspecies K9-69. Pretty sure he felt me up as well, because I had claw marks on my shirt and slobber all over the butt of my jeans. Was obviously too funny for any of my friends to assist me, but their stoned laughter woke the cop up, AND instead of helping, he was looking for his phone to film this mutt molestation.  See the kind of crowd I call friends???

Not posting how they described it or length (of canine assault) – suffice it to say I saw the “red rocket’s glare” up close and personal.  NOTHING sexual happened - guess it’s an attempt at dominance or something.  My forehead itched this morning, my hair cowed when I touched it, and my scrunchie wouldn’t make eye contact with me.  Counseling will be sought.

Drugs are bad, friends on drugs are worse and friendly dogs while drugged are the worst of all.

You've been warned…

K