Pot Baby

Back in my college days I was known to smoke some pot every now and then. And really, who didn’t toke up every once and a while back in college? If you say you didn’t you are lying. Even Bill Clinton admitted to it and he saying he didn’t inhale is total bull shit in my book. Regardless, don’t judge, I haven’t been near pot in ages (my fun college days are way behind me, dammit).

Pot made me hungry 99.9% of the time that I smoked it. I remember one time after enjoying a little pot I was so ravenous I attacked the pantry trying to find something to eat. Unfortunately, being a broke college student the pantry had ramen noodles, peanut butter, saltines and granola bars in it. That isn’t much to work with. At least you’d think it wasn’t. However in my genius pot haze I thought of the best plan ever. To dip the chocolate chip granola bars into the jar of peanut butter. I remember my sister and I standing in the pantry doorway like hungry wolves over a carcass engorging ourselves w/ peanut butter covered granola bars. You’d have thought it was the most fabulous meal cooked by a world famous chef the way we inhaled these things. Looking back I’m sure had we been sober they would have tasted decent enough but nowhere near good enough for us to be shoveling them in our mouths the way we did. And one other time I ate an entire medium pepperoni pizza by myself. The whole thing. In one sitting. And I locked myself in my boyfriend’s room so no one else would even dare try to take a slice. (No wonder I gained the freshman 15…) Talk about a little pot piggy.

After my pot use was over and I grew up into a mature adult (ahem...) I became a fairly picky eater. I’d only be in the mood for certain foods and if that isn’t what Wade wanted too bad for him b/c that is the only thing I can even think of eating.

Not anymore.

Give me anything.

I don’t care what it is.

I’ll eat it.

It’s like I’m a human garbage truck. And I’m eating non-stop. It’s like I’m back in college and smoked pot again and all I can do is think of eating.

Anyways, I’ve come to think that this baby is the equivalent of really good pot. Minus the nonstop giggling and me saying “what?” over and over. So basically this baby makes me want to eat anything and everything. You’d think I was a starving Ethiopian child the way I want/dream/think about food all the time. So if you ever have the pleasure of enjoying a meal with me while I am expecting you’d better watch your hands. If they even start to move toward my plate there is a good chance I will bite your finger off.

And eat it.

Ciao!