It’s been nearly half a decade since James wrote about Smoking Weed at Home and College without getting caught or smelling up your entire house or dorm. So when he started writing these “Stoner Essentials,” it seemed appropriate to highlight some items that would go along with it.
And by “appropriate,” I mean, “bleedingly obvious.”
A nice digital scale is a must-have for any weed smoker. Most people think of scales as a product only pot dealers need, but even if you’re not in the business of selling weed, it’s wise to invest in a scale for a number of reasons.
The most obvious of which is the power to discern whether or not your weed dealer is shorting you. But other than that, a digital weed scale just comes in handy in a lot of situations. If you’ve ever gone in on a sack with one or more friends, you probably wished you had a pocket scale to split up the sack with accuracy. Continue reading “Stoner Essentials #3 – Best Scales for Weighing Weed”
Most people don’t know this, but Amazon.com is a great place to get cheap weed-related paraphernalia. While they aren’t exactly an online headshop, they nevertheless have a lot of great products every weed smoker should have.
In this edition, I will highlight the best budget-friendly weed grinders available on Amazon.
For some reason I decided to ingest a drug my friend referred to as Sassafras, which is just slang for MDA. I have no idea what to expect. I’ve never done MDA.
I do, however, know that I’m going to be up all night on this shit.
Ever since writing “The DMT Experience“, which I wrote in the month following the experience, I wanted to write about another hallucinogenic drug while tripping on it. Not an original idea, of course; I’m certainly not the first person to try.
But I like to trip balls, and I like to write, so I’m going to do both, because America.
Depression sinks in. Sitting in traffic after a long week at work, painfully aware that my only free time for the next 7 days is squashed. Leaving the office at 5:00pm allows just enough time to navigate the clusterfuck of Virginia Beach rush-hour traffic between me and my destination. Nothing more.
Overwrought, I envision the next 48 hours.
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I was arrested for a DUI 3 months ago. It happened on an early Sunday morning around 2am. I took an Uber from the bar to a friends house where I left my car. His door was locked so instead of requesting another Uber, I decided to drive 10 minutes down the road to smoke some bud with another friend of mine. I had been lucky too many times before. This time, I hit a checkpoint. Continue reading “Tales from Weekend Jail”
The party is dying, and FAST. The bottle of Grey Goose you stole from your parent’s freezer is finished, the 6 pack your buddy talked his older brother into giving you is depleted, and the people are getting antsy. The girls are about to leave, because this once smooth-sailing get together is on its way to a spectacular crash.
You and your friends are starting to get nervous. After all, you’re the ones who are supposed to be throwing this bash, and if somebody utters that dreaded “Let’s bounce bro, this party is lame” phrase, you’re fucked.
Tensions have risen across the country in the wake of the shooting death of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Mo. While we don’t have all the facts as to what prompted Darren Wilson to kill Brown, the event certainly has brought to light the issues people of color in that community have had with the police in the past.
Read receipts have achieved a certain level of infamy in the smartphone world. It’s understandable that people are wary of such a feature.
Allow me to explain, for the dwindling race of smartphone-lacking heathens reading this out there (on their antiquated laptops, I presume), that a “read receipt” (pronounced “red”, not “reed”) is a notification to the sender of a text, or texter, that the receiver of the text, or textee, has read the texter’s text.
And for the record, “texter” and “textee” are hereby words. Get with the program, Merriam-Webster!
As we know all too well, weed gets kind of a bad rap. Let’s face it: drug use in general gets one hell of a bad rap. It seems everyone knows someone whose life was destroyed by drugs.
See? Instantly when you read that sentence, your mind conjured up an image of the stereotypical drugged-up moron. The bumbling idiot who wears his Bob Marley tank top with pride (yet can’t name more than one or two of his songs), rocking his marijuana leaf socks, recording Snapchats of every bong rip he takes, posting about 4/20 on Facebook. He probably doesn’t have a job. He certainly has no ambition. Continue reading “An Open Letter to the Potheads of the World”