Dude...
It's raining -- Hello, rain! -- and I'm sitting here with glue stick paste on my fingers, wondering how the hell I managed to get myself the one college art teacher still giving out collages as projects, when it suddenly dawns on me: I'm totally high.
First things first: It's not my fault. I didn't smoke anything, I didn't buy anything, and no, I don't sniff glue sticks. Besides, they're non-toxic.
Rather, I'm the victim of the awesome and cheapest way to get stoned, ever: the contact high.
The pot dealers below me started smoking scary Cheech and Chong amounts this morning and haven't stopped, like, at ALL, even as we go into the afternoon.
Having them live downstairs for almost a year and half now, I've adapted to their ways. Calling the cops doesn't solve the problem and the owner of the building turns a blind eye, so it's up to me to deal with it. If it gets too bad, I light tens of really poofy smelling candles. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.
I could tell today was going to be one of the bad days by how ineffectual my really, really gay candles were. The rain had transformed the pot smell into something freakishly potent and it was overpowering my poor, really gay candles.
But now I have a headache and it's all their fault because they couldn't even do me the decency of smoking the good stuff, and in my book, if you're going to get someone high, you use the good stuff. It's like, the rules, or something.
God, I hate my neighbors.
First things first: It's not my fault. I didn't smoke anything, I didn't buy anything, and no, I don't sniff glue sticks. Besides, they're non-toxic.
Rather, I'm the victim of the awesome and cheapest way to get stoned, ever: the contact high.
The pot dealers below me started smoking scary Cheech and Chong amounts this morning and haven't stopped, like, at ALL, even as we go into the afternoon.
Having them live downstairs for almost a year and half now, I've adapted to their ways. Calling the cops doesn't solve the problem and the owner of the building turns a blind eye, so it's up to me to deal with it. If it gets too bad, I light tens of really poofy smelling candles. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.
I could tell today was going to be one of the bad days by how ineffectual my really, really gay candles were. The rain had transformed the pot smell into something freakishly potent and it was overpowering my poor, really gay candles.
But now I have a headache and it's all their fault because they couldn't even do me the decency of smoking the good stuff, and in my book, if you're going to get someone high, you use the good stuff. It's like, the rules, or something.
God, I hate my neighbors.
posted by John M at 1:53 PM
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