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. Read More »