My Hate/Hate Relationship with Pot

In the midst of my first ever college finals freshman year my dorm had a little study break party. It was called the Midnight Breakfast and included karaoke, games and an abundance of really tasty breakfast food.I attended with some friends of mine and ate: two servings of scrambled eggs, two bowls of Lucky Charms, two waffles (one with ice cream and sprinkles, one without) a Pop-Tart and a banana. I then dragged my friends up to the stage and sang a very special version of Belinda Carlisle’s hit, Heaven is a Place on Earth.

Why do I remember this so vividly? Well, putting that much food away in one sitting has a tendency to stick out in your mind…and over the top of your jeans.

Why so much food? Why Belinda Carlisle? I must have forgotten to mention above that I smoked some (read: a TON) of pot before heading down to the festivities. So much, in fact, that I was too stoned/moving too slowly to catch an ember that had been released from the bowl and eventually fell onto/burned a hole into my roommate’s sheets and mattress.

It was then (the following morning, actually, after I was carried to my room and things were no longer hazy) that I decided to take weed off of my “to do” list.

I know it seems so impossible/crazy/completely out of the realm of possibility, but I just don’t like pot. Trust me; I have tried to like it. I tried to like it from a bong; I tried to like it from a joint; I tried to like it in a car; I tried to like it at a bar; I have even tried to like it in a cupcake shaped like a penis.

I just…don’t.

Everyone tells me that everything is so much funnier when they are high. That they are more relaxed, happy, productive and can see things more clearly with a little marijuana in their systems. As much as I wish it were the same for me, it isn’t.

For me, the only thing I see more clearly is the cake in the bakery window. Nothing is particularly funny because nothing is really happening when you are stoned and lying on the floor staring at the ceiling (with a fruit roll up wrapped around your finger).

I am by no means opposed to pot as a general herb. In fact, I know plenty of people whose lives are enhanced by pot every single day (like the guys who own Taco Bell). But it just isn’t for me.

My body – and patrons of karaoke bars everywhere- appreciates that decision.