Thursday, October 14, 2004


So I'm on my way back from the Barnyard Dash Cross race in Loveland, OH.
Got third, flatted on the last lap, drizzled some, bumpy-fast course.

Stop in at a convenient store to grab some sort of go-juice. The one cashier is gooning on a buddy outside with his mike, he's a happy fellow, wanting to make his day go by with a little more fun than most I'd say.

So he rings me up and my total comes to $4.20. "Woah, 420, looks like a good time!", says he. I reply with some sort of remark that gives him the impression that I do indeed know what 420 is (the international smoke time (for some, it's always 420)).
"Yeah, you look like an old stoner", and he rambles on some more.
"My girlfriends mother looks like she's stoned all the time, she's like 40"
Gee thanks, I smirk, grab my change, my two cans of Monster and bag of pretzels, and head out to my VW Bus, oh wait, I get into the 4Runner.

Must have been my tired post-race look and the hair all pulled back.
Or that I just look like an old stoner. Great.

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