“Schwarzenegger v. Entertainment Merchants Association” Irony

I’ve been lost so long in the monotony of the pending supreme court case, Schwarzenegger v. Entertainment Merchants Association, that I almost forgot to blog about the irony of the star of some of the best violent films ever targeted toward children being the one representing the State of California in arguing the constitutionality of the Violent Video Games Act.

Nice, did it all in one sentence.

How to Make a Waterfall Gravity Bong

So, given my last few posts which detail tried and true methods of getting away with smoking weed at home and college, I feel obligated to elaborate on the topic of making a waterfall gravity bong, also known as a “waterfall gb” or simply a “waterfall bong“.

I should note, the following specifications merely constitute my preferred style of waterfall gravity bong. You can extrapolate the physics of waterfall gravity bongs into virtually any manifestation. As long as it’s a container that sucks in weed smoke by releasing water, it’s a waterfall gravity bong.

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Actually this is quite late, I’m closer to 1,500 at this point.

I noticed it like two days ago and meant to post something about it then, but yesterday I realized I forgot.

Then today I realized that although I acknowledged to myself yesterday I forgot to write a post about it, I still didn’t actually write the post.

So here I am, writing about forgetting to write about what I’m writing now.

Epic “Passing By” Moment

Okay, before I even begin to divulge in this overly descriptive description of an earlier social encounter, I must urge those of you who haven’t read my earlier post, Awkward “Passing By” Moments, to do so prior to reading this one so as to avoid mass confusions.

Alright, now that’s out of the way I need to preface the following story with a brief tidbit of information:

Last semester I decided to take “Native American Literature” as a class to fulfill my only remaining English credit. The professor was a totally cool guy, almost definitely a past and future weed-head, but he was nonetheless an English teacher.

And those people fucking suck.

I may be able to see myself hitting a bong with the guy, but in the classroom he was a total dick. I recognize that as my fault though, if I wasn’t such a shitty student he wouldn’t have been so dickish, so whatever.

My point is that I basically kinda ended up sorta not really totally doing all the stuffs and things typically required of some such person as me before reaching the point often referred to by those who speak words as “completion.”

Sooo, I failed. But I still learned a shit load about Native Americans. For what it’s worth. Which isn’t much actually, considering we drove them to the edge of extinction with that whole campaign of genocide grade school teachers refer to as “American History.”

Anyway, so until today, I hadn’t seen said professor since last semester. Not totally by accident, I know where his office is and, well, I wasn’t exactly trying to hang around that area; seeing a professor who failed you the prior semester is perhaps one of the most awkward social encounters a student can find him or herself in.

Today, I found myself in that scenario. And I’m happy to say, I butt-fucked the shit out of this one.

The following takes place in my college library as I was rushing between printing out my homework for class, which was also in the library.

Rush into Library at 3:02pm to print out work for 3:00pm class * Fucking computer obviously has no sense of urgency * Get homework from printer * Get to stairs * Start walking up staOH SHIT IT’S HIM * WTF I don’t even have enough time to thi”Heyy, how ya doin?” * “Heyy, not bad, you?” * “Doin all right, hangin in there” * “Good, good to see ya”

Boo-fucking-SHIT-yeah! I just engaged the fuck out of that little bitch.

Hangin’ in there??? Where the fuck did I pull that one out of? I literally don’t think I’ve ever fucking said that before.

The adrenaline had only begun to subside once I took my seat in class.

99 Constitutional Law Case Briefs on the Wall…

So, I’ve been kind of a lazy sack of shit when it comes to my scholarly responsibilities.

I haven’t literally failed to complete, and now have to make up, 99 case briefs for my constitutional law class…

Just like 30 or so.

I guess that’s around the point you can expect an email along these lines:

Dear James,

I have learned that this Wednesday, March 30, is the deadline for withdrawing from a course with a “W” instead of a “WF.”  I bring this to your attention because at this point in the Constitutional Law course, you are in serious danger of failing.  As I pointed out in my note to you following the mid-term exam, you were already so far behind in your case briefs at mid-term that you risked forfeiting all credit for that portion of the grade.  You have not responded to my invitation to create a plan to make up the missing case briefs.  Worse, you have turned no work since the mid-term and have not attended class since spring break.

Your behavior tells me that you are not really interested in the course.  I am willing to allow you to withdraw with a grade of “W” if you wish to do so at this point.  I am also willing to let you stay in the class if you can persuade me that you are serious about making up the missing work, not missing any additional work, and studying enough so that you can perform adequately on the Opinion Assignment and the final exam.

To which the necessary reply is:

Professor ______,

I apologize for how little I have been communicating with you, but my intentions are still to finish the course. I can assure you that my behavior has been a horrible representation of my interest in the content of the course. Many of the briefs that I didn’t turn in have been completed, as on a number of occasions I simply forgot to hand them in at the end of class in my rush to make it on time to my next one.

As for the others, I would like to meet with you to create a plan to make them up if the offer still stands. I am free all day tomorrow (Wednesday) if that works for you; my class schedule is pretty busy for the rest of today.

What can I say, writing case briefs just isn’t as fun as blogging.

How to Get Away with Stuff #2 – Smoking Weed at College

Oh yes, here we are. It’s time for the second post in ewwty’s special How to Get Away with Stuff features. This time we are addressing how to get away with smoking weed at college.

While my readers are already pros at smoking weed at home, I would be remiss if my next step was not to instruct them the safe and sneaky ways to smoke weed in their college dorm room and get away with it.

I should note, smoking weed in your dorm room is never safe. The college or university owns your dorm room, and therefore has the right to come in and search on a whim. Your rights as a United States citizen are not the same as your rights as a student of the college or university you attend.

More by James Kalìwæ

How to Get Away with Stuff #1 – Smoking Weed at Home
How to Get Away with Stuff #3 – Passing a Urine Drug Test
Stoner Essentials #1 – Best Weed Grinders of 2015
Stoner Essentials #3 – Best Scales for Weighing Weed

Just as I mentioned early in the first article, I have never been caught smoking marijuana. By anyone: Neither my parents, nor the police, nor college authorities. And I’m not lucky enough for that to have been by luck.

If you follow exactly what I say, you will have the knowledge needed to smoke weed at college without getting caught.

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Page One | Page Two | Page Three | Page Four | Page Five

Problem #2 – No Smoking Indoors

Okay well this one isn’t really our fault. But it’s something we have to deal with.

Allow me to textually illustrate what happens in 1971 when I’m smoking outside a building and a young lady approaches, clearly struggling to carry a number of items. Let’s assume it’s a double entrance.

Go outside to smoke a cig * Young lady approaches door carrying multiple items * It will clearly be difficult for her to make entry into the building without help * Luckily, it’s 1971 and I see no reason why I can’t help her * “Hi there young lady, allow me” * “Oh, you’re too kind, sir” * Open door * Carry one item for her * Walk in behind her, cig in hand * Open second door for her * “There you go, miss” * “Why, how ever could I repay you?” * “Ummm, Sex?”

Hey, the 1970’s version of me is no less opportunistic.

Now let me textually illustrate that same scenario, except in 2011.

Go outside to smoke a cig * Young lady approaches door carrying multiple items * Dammit, It will clearly be awkward for me to watch her make entry into the building without help * Unfortunately, it’s 2011 and I see no way I can help her * Instead I have to stand here like an awkward douche-bag * I guess I could put the cigarette down … but that’s setting a bad precedent * Oh, good; she’s inside now

Point: made.

Stoner Munchies of the Week: Combos – Jalapeño Cheddar Tortilla

Okay so I have decided to make a new theme of weekly blog posts: Stoner Munchies.

These posts will identify one snack item I have thoroughly enjoyed while under the influence of the cannabis plant and review its quality. The end goal being, of course, to build the most comprehensive database of Stoner Munchies the internet has ever seen.

Week #1: Jalapeño Cheddar Tortilla Combos

Combos Baked Snacks
  • Snack foodCombos
  • Flavor – Jalapeño Cheddar Tortilla
  • Price About $2-4 depending on size
  • Availability Gas stations/Grocery stores
  • Rating 7/10

Oh yes, Combos. Who hasn’t enjoyed these delicious little snacks in the past?

I picked this particular bag of Combos up from Wawa the other day before smoking, which was smart because I often fail to remember I get very hungry when I get high.

It had been a while since I enjoyed any flavor of Combos, which was reason enough to buy each of the snack’s flavors, but when I realized I had never eaten Jalapeño Cheddar Tortilla Combos, I bought them immediately.

I was beyond satisfied, of course. The best part about Combos snacks in general is that they’re quite filling.

Another little detail, which I’m sure contributes to their awesomeness, is that Combos Baked Snacks come from MARS Incorporated, the same people behind legendary stoner snacks such as M&M’s, Snickers, and Skittles!

However, I rated this particular Combos snack a 7/10 simply because it didn’t live up to the greatness of other flavors of Combos. If you are particularly into Jalapeño flavored snacks, however, I would certainly recommend this Combos variation.


My First Marijuana Experience as a Teenager

Oh, this is always a fun story to tell. Oh, what I would give to be a teen on marijuana again. Is there any better combination than marijuana and youth?

Answer: Not for a high teenager there isn’t. I suppose that’s why no one ever forgets their first weed experience. But for all the rest of us, pretty much every combination of any other two things in the world is better than youth + marijuana. Teenagers totally can’t handle their weed.

The best part about teen marijuana use are those awesome fucking anti-marijuana ad campaigns it comes with. They are the only commercials on Comedy Central that make me laugh harder than the shows. What’s more is I can rest easy knowing they’re completely ineffective at decreasing marijuana use among teens, so they’ll never stop producing new ones!

But I digress.

So, my first experience with weed was pretty fun, although I should note I had tried marijuana before this, this was the first time I knew I was high. And there are psychological studies that support the theory that some people don’t get high the first few times they experiment with weed. I think.

So I should probably just stop wasting my time writing this introduction and present the fucking post.

The names have been changed to protect the guilty. By the way.

First Weed Experience

It all started when I got to my friend Matt’s house. We were sixteen at the time and just got our licenses. Matt and I have been best friends since we were super young, and recently each found out that the other tried marijuana a couple times. I get up to his room and right when I walk in he asks:

Heyy man, do you wanna smoke some weed tonight?

To which I responded affirmatively.

His plan was to head over to his sister’s apartment, where she would smoke us up before selling us some. We decided to wait for our Asian friend, Scott, to come over and left in his car when he arrived.

You heard right. We got in a car an Asian was driving.

We get to her house, and we smoke out of a bubbler. Definitely by far the most chronic weed I had ever smoked by this point in my life. So it goes without saying that as we were leaving, I was the highest I had ever been.

So as we walk out the door, tripping over ourselves, we make it to the car. I’m in the back seat behind Matt, who’s riding shotgun. As Scott begins to back out of the parking space, I begin to perceive us as moving about 45 mph. This frightened me enough to yell:


At which point Matt and Scott’s responses were something along the lines of “wtf, man?”

…Which was when I realized he was backing out at about 0.5 mph. I felt stupid.

By the time we get on the road, I’m repressing the urge to yell at Scott every second we continue, as by this point we really are traveling at about 45 mph and it feels like about 450 mph. Plus Scott is Asian.

I found that putting my head in my lap, in a fetal position of sorts, worked the best to calm me.

It doesn’t take long before the munchies strike, and so we decide to stop at the Sonic up ahead. We pull up and go to the drive thru, at which point they ask us for our order.

Scott: “Yeah I’ll have uhhh…”


Sonic Worker: Excuse me sir?

Scott: “(Matt shut UP!) Umm, yeah sorry about tha…”


Me: Dude! Quit it with the TOTS!!!

Scott: (Uncontrollable laughter)

Matt: “CAN I…(giggle)… CAN I HAVE A BIG CUP OF AIDS?!?!”

Sonic Worker: Sir I don’t find that very funny.

Me: Dude! She doesn’t find that very funny, man! Shut up!

Sonic Manager: “Stop harassing my employees and get off this property before I call the cops!”

Me: Shit dude! SCOTT, DRIVE!

Scott floors it and initially heads straight for the exit, as it’s right in front of you when you drive from the drive-thru. But, being Asian, naturally he somehow managed to be confused by the exit situation and ends up accidentally doing a quick lap around Sonic before exiting, as the Sonic workers watched on perplexed.

Once Scott’s Asian ass manages to find his way to the road, we end up at a stoplight. We were in the far right lane of three lanes. I looked ahead and noticed that our lane ends between the light we’re at now and the next one. But at the time there was construction on the road, so they had a diagonal line of orange traffic barrels across the lane to indicate to drivers to merge left.

By this point, I had been freaking out often during the drive over little things, so I didn’t want to mention to Scott that the lane ends up ahead out of fear that he would accuse me of backseat driving. I put my head back between my legs in fetal position, figuring he’d be able to merge effectively.

After the light turns green and we start moving again, I become lost in a thought with my head in my lap. So about 8-10 seconds after the light, I decide to look up.

What I see is Matt in the passenger seat doing the robot to a song that was playing, and Scott in the drivers seat looking directly to the right at Matt’s robot dance, cracking up. The other thing I saw was a traffic barrel about 15 feet in front of us.

15 feet in front of us at the exact moment I looked up; we were traveling about 40-45 mph, so by the time I managed to scream “SCOTT!!! MERGE!!!” it was about 7 feet in front of us. I imagine by the time Scott applied the breaks it was about 1 foot in front of us. It was raining, by the way.

So we slam into the traffic barrel, hit it into another traffic barrel which then got knocked out into the middle of the lane we were supposed to merge into, directly in front of another car, which struck it into the middle of the intersection ahead.

At this point I’m yelling at Scott to get the fuck out of the area. Which we do. We manage to make it to a McDonald’s where we got some much needed food.

By the time we got back on the road Scott was done eating and ready for the next step of our vehicular trip; interstate driving.

Granted, the stretch of i95 he had to traverse was about three miles long, it was an intimidating prospect nonetheless.

Immediately upon entering the on-ramp, Scott finds a way to time his merge so that we come up right next to a large bus. Under the influence of marijuana, and Asian genetics, he struggles to figure out exactly what to do as the end of the merging lane approaches, clearly having trouble deciding whether to speed up and merge in front of it or slow down and merge behind it.

He decided on the more dangerous one about .0001 seconds before it was too late and ends up nearly rear-ending a Volkswagen Beetle that was in front of the bus.

Matt and I freaking out at this point, instruct Scott to get behind the bus and just follow it until we got off i95.

As he pulls over to the middle lane to slow down and let the bus get in front of us, I notice that the car in front of us was not a Beetle at all, but rather some other new style of Volkswagen that looks just like a Beetle from behind, but more like a sports car from the front.

This troubled me thoroughly. I was not aware Volkswagen had a model such as that by this point in my life. I did not like the evil Beetle transformer impostor.

By the time we got in front of the bus, we were calming down a little.

Until all of a sudden, the charter bus we decided was so safe to get behind of starts acting erratically. All of a sudden it would just be driving straight in the right lane. Then it would swerve quickly to halfway over the middle lane. Then back. Then all the way to the middle lane. Then back. Then a little swerve the the left and back. This went on till we exited.

What’s worse is every time this bus swerved, it would reveal to my eyes the evil impostor Volkswagen.

Stuff like this never happens when you’re sober.

Finally we get off the exit and make our way back to Matt’s neighborhood. Once there, in an apparent last ditch effort to give us further reason to make fun of his driving, Scott stops the car in the middle of the road. No intersection or anything. Matt and I, perplexed as to why he stopped, look over at Scott, who was staring in awe at a mini stop sign that’s meant for the bike path parallel to the road and says,

Dude, that’s the smallest fuckin’ stop sign I’ve ever seen in my life.

We went back to Matt’s house and have been potheads ever since.