Grazing: Good for Cattle, Bad for Bartenders

Before I begin, its important to know a couple of things about me (which if you know me, you already know very well).

One, I like to eat. Anything and everything. I get pretty excited about food.

Two, I am not a huge fan of the marijuana. I've done the whole college thing; been there, done that, not a fan. That's not to say I hate pot, it's just not my thing. Smoke your heart out, I'll drink a beer or two with you. Pick your poison.

So this weekend I had a lot going on: friends and sister in town, Willie Nelson's Fourth of July Picnic on Sunday, sun poisoning, dehydration, etc, etc. And Monday, I had to get up and go to work at what felt like 4:00 AM (actual time, 10 AM). My shift turns out to be pretty dull, not a lot going on, so I start cleaning wildly; throwing away things that I think have been at the bar too long, finding lost bar tools... a veritable cleaning frenzy. Along the way I find a perfectly cut, rectangular, homemade fudge brownie. I become elated.

Me, by myself, upstairs at the bar: "Hell yes! Some dumbass left their freaking brownie up here and I am going to eat the crap out of it! Allllriiiiigghhhhhtttt."

Ask around, "Does anyone know whose brownie this is, cause I'm gonna EAT it."

No one seems to give a rat's ass about the brownie, so I dig in. It's delicious. About half-way through the best brownie I have ever eaten, I begin to hear a small voice inside my head.

Conscience: "Brynnan? What the hell are you doing? Are you suddenly the dumbest person alive? Where did you get this brownie? That's right, you FOUND it. Who eats a 'found' brownie? Put the brownie down. Dumb. Ass."

Two hours later, I fumble down the stairs to head out to a movie with ex-boyfriend, and receive a text from fellow co-worker: "You bitch, you ate my brownie!"

Not good. This can only insinuate that this brownie was some sort of "special" brownie. And here is when I go through the stages one feels after eating something one thought was harmless and turns out said food is laced with drugs.

Denial: No way that was a pot brownie. It didn't smell like anything strange. And anyway, I feel fine! Don't I feel fine? Why am I stomping the ground like this and jerking my arms around?

Anger: WHY ME?! WHO LEAVES A POT BROWNIE AT THEIR PLACE OF WORK?! WHY DID I EAT A STRANGE BROWNIE I FOUND AT THE BAR!? WHO DOES THAT?!

Bargaining: Maybe if we go back upstairs, ex-boyfriend can eat the rest of the brownie and in two hours, he will feel equally as strange as I do right now.

Depression: I just want to go home and lie down. My life is pointless right now. This movie is going to suck. I can't concentrate on anything right now. I would sooner die.

Acceptance: Screw it. This is going to be a good night.