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Hi.

Our thumbs are basically numb from texting back and forth 24/7 about everything we love (AND HATE) that's happening on our televisions, iPads, and eye glasses (hi, we think we're funny) and we thought WHY NOT SHARE THIS JOY WITH THE WORLD?!  

MARIJUANA MEMORIES FOR 4/20

MARIJUANA MEMORIES FOR 4/20

Here's why I can't smoke pot. I mean, I can, but I choose not to. Here are a handful of reasons why I personally steer clear of the marijuana:

  • One time in college I smoked so much pot with a group of friends that we got lost in a wide-open field and I hallucinated that we were human-sized gerbils in overalls. 
     
  • Another time in college I smoked pot with friends, then gathered with them in the commons room to watch TV, at which point we found an obscure black-and-white Russian cartoon on cable that I became convinced was sucking my soul out of my body through my nose. I ran to the bathroom where I sat on the toilet fully clothed for what I thought was 2 hours, only to return to the commons room and discover I'd been gone for less than 5 minutes. We changed the channel to VH1 and the video for Shania Twain's "Still the One" appeared and I tried to crawl inside the TV to commune with her.
     
  • Another time in college I got really high, hyperventilated, and then spooned with my friend while playing Sarah McLachlan's entire "Surfacing" album and petting my friend's hair.
     
  • I stopped smoking pot in college.
     
  • When I was 21 my roommate and I thought it would be hilarious to get really stoned before going to see "Deuce Bigalow, Male Gigalo" at the  movie theater of the Mall of America, a place I declared to be "a cesspool of consumerism." I suspended my principles and we had our sober friend drive us while I became increasingly convinced that we were all going to die in a car accident caused by an asteroid. Once inside the MoA theater lobby, we ordered our tickets as people began to emerge from various theaters claiming they smelled smoke. I started hyperventilating as I imagined we would all be trampled to death while our skin melted off our bodies. My non-paranoid stoned friend told the ticket agent we needed our money back since my brother died in a fire and this was bringing up terrible memories. I don't have a brother. I did, however, question if I set fire to the theater. I didn't. There wasn't a fire; just possibly malfunctioning film equipment. On our way out I saw, through my deluge of tears, cops at the door and realized they were going to arrest me for setting fire to the theater. They weren't, because there wasn't a fire and I didn't do anything wrong. They also weren't cops; they were security guards on their smoke break. I've still never seen "Deuce Bigalow, Male Gigalo."
     
  • Once I got high with co-workers and my girlfriend at the time when we were at a weekend work-training retreat and we played a card game and I had them repeat the rules approximately 12.7 times and I still didn't understand and I caught my girlfriend and another friend exchanging exasperated glances and I realized no one loved me.
     
  • Once I got high at a work party at my boyfriend's (now husband's) place and I lost all ability to process sarcasm, curled up in the fetal position on his bed, and endured everyone taking turns to come look at me and laugh. In retrospect, I was ridiculous and the laughter was warranted.
     
  • I don't smoke pot anymore.

Moral of the story: I prefer alcohol and caffeine, but you do you! 
 

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WHAT WE TALK ABOUT WHEN WE TALK ABOUT THE HANDMAID’S TALE

WHAT WE TALK ABOUT WHEN WE TALK ABOUT THE HANDMAID’S TALE

I'M WITH HER, BITCH (RHONY RECAP)