In case you hadn’t seen, Clean Smoke has an official Facebook page now. Like it.

You’ve made it to the middle of the week. Here’s some CLEAN Smoke to inhale.

Last night I tied a few on but was in bed no later than 11:30. I woke up first to take a very early morning piss around maybe 3 or 4. It took me no less than 5 minutes to find the light switch in my room, had to embrace my inner blindo and walk around like Frankenstein’s monster. When I finally made it back into bed, it wasn’t for long. I woke up for good right after 6 AM. I felt awake enough, checked what the college football lines are at for the upcoming weekend and figured it will be great to have so much extra time before my 3-hour work day.

I’ve only gotten up before 7 AM 1 or 2 other times this summer, and at least one of those times was to golf, so this morning I rediscovered the beautiful peace and quiet early morning brings. I poured myself some iced coffee, broke the silence with the obnoxious sounds of Fortnite, but eventually graduated to reading a few chapters of my current book.

One of my former co-coaches would say how he hates mornings and struggles to wake up early. Our middle-aged coaches would respond by telling him he’ll have a tough time in life if he doesn’t learn to like mornings. By no means is it “easy” for me to motivate to crawl out of bed much earlier than I would need to, but once I’m up, I feel relaxed, at peace, and ready to get some shit done. If only I could learn to get the fuck to sleep at a decent hour every night and feel well-rested at 6 AM. Unfortunately, I like alcohol, and Netflix, and video games.

But maybe there’s another way. Parents of young children dictate the kids’ bedtimes, sometimes with a nice story like this one:

Image result for go the fuck to sleep

I just need some tough love at night to get me to sleep and win my mornings back. Or maybe I could just sleep on a boat. If I start posting a lot more blogs, you’ll know I was successful.

I got a speeding ticket on my way to Syracuse last week. Driving west around 7 PM with the sun directly in my eyes, I lost track of my speed and got caught going 81 in a “65”.

First off, this was bad luck as much as a bad mistake. I was behind a ton of cars, but the nearest one behind me was way back making me an easy target. Not to mention the New Jersey license plates. Those things are bright yellow to warn everyone we are veterans of the NJ Turnpike and Parkway. You have to be a little crazy to drive on those, let alone survive.

On top of this unfortunately situation, I was informed that it was “Speed Week” in New York State. Cops really crack down on those hard-working people who keep up with traffic to “protect and serve” as their duties are defined. I’m all for respecting our law-enforcement officials, but I’m a safe driver with a clean record and pulling me over to steal my hard-earned money isn’t protecting or serving anyone.

Here’s my real bone to pick. NO ONE drives 65 miles per hour on interstate highways. In fact, I’ll venture to say that going 65 would be more dangerous than going my measly 81. Technically, I was going “16 over” at that single interval the (kinda cute) female cop caught me. But can we all just be honest with ourselves here, 81 is not 16 over. it’s 10 over at the most because, I repeat, NO ONE DRIVES 65 ON THE HIGHWAY. I’m pissed at the system, but also myself. Hopefully I have a v successful week betting on football to offset the fucking ticket. At least I’m over it.

My girlfriend just arrived and we’ve already started drinking. I was promptly reminded that PBR is an okay beer if and only if it’s ice cold. We went for a little cruise in the boat around the lake and the next sip I took was like sipping rusty penny water. Also, the new cans have Japanese symbols on them. Very confusing because I thought that most huge PBR drinkers might not even be aware other countries exist and are only fluent in American.

Image result for pbr cans japanese

Still a fun beer. Too many country songs reference it to really hate on it.

Just clearing the air.