Post of Shame

Why, why, oh Lord, am I doing this? Riffing in… what is it…WordSmith? WordPress? Improvising anonymously, away from the prying eyes of my public?

My God. Peace and quiet, that’s why.

So afraid that the hounds of FaceBook, the shrews of Pinterest, the… the somethings of Instagram… and that SnapChat thing… will find me. And Tinder. And Grinder. What was I thinking?

And what are they putting in this weed?? Absurdly strong. Absurdly cheap. My fingers are numb. I’ve got to pull over. Typing one-handed on the freeway like this is nuts. Traffic is light though, for LA. Not counting the 101 closures caused by the mudslides.

Hello, Baby. It’s just you and me here. Alone at last. Better than meeting in that Whole Foods parking lot, surrounded by SUVs with the fully tinted windows.

This will sound crazy I know, but it’s the legal pot talking: when I lecture tomorrow at the studio in Culver City, and I start to work my way through the PowerPoint script deck, I’m going to plant that picture I took of you cooking in nothing but the blue apron, halfway through my spiel.

Don’t hate me. I just got a Like on this site from someone suspicious. That’s one good thing about Whole Foods. Nobody has ever Liked me there.

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