when people ask me if i’m a smoker, i always say yes. cuz i am.. so i assume they’re talking about cigarettes until i get offered to be smoked out. then i realize they’re talking bout the purp and i have to decline.
not that i dont LIKE weed… ok i lie, i kind of hate it. i hate the way it smells, i hate even MORE the way it taste. i hate the cotton mouth… but the euphoria of actually being lit is somewhat enjoyable. i just hate the process.
so i guess u could say i have a love/hate relationship with the cush. i rarely ever do it cuz — well, i’m a big foodie and I firmly believe if it tastes like skunk/body odor .. dont put it in ur mouf! but have u ever watched the simpsons on mute while listening to biz markie as u stuff ur face w/ flaming hot cheetos dipped in cream cheese? cuz i swear homer simpson knows all the damn words!!!!
other times i’m sitting there like a paranoid FREAK watching my life flash before me in comic book view. u know what i’m talkin about? when you go from one scene to the next but you have NO IDEA how the hell you transitioned? yeah, like that. and being around large groups of inebriated people just amplifies the paranoia sooooooo, how about no?
the only time im really gung-ho about rippin the bong is if i’m at home, about to watch How High on dvd for the 5357th time, or listening to reggae. wether it be at a concert, in my car, or on the beach hearing J-Boog’s “Ganja Farmer” makes me wanna either learn how to roll a blunt or bake a batch of weed brownies.
cuz i’m listening to “Bowl for Two” by the Expendables as i type, and i gotta feeling.. … but then i dunno if i can stand the taste of FEET in my mouf so u know what, maybe i change my mind. lol.