She told him she was tired of trying to make him understand. Tired of feeling frustrated, tired of excuses – being drunk or stoned didn’t count. She was tired of convincing herself it wasn’t her problem.
And it wasn’t.
But most of us end up tripping over the bong along the way. It’s not intentional. It’s not malicious. Fuck, it’s not even deep-seated. Face it: There are just some times when you need to sit back and let someone else handle the rolling duties for a change. You’d be amazed at the shit you didn’t realize you were actually getting away with.
Communication’s the name of the game here, similar to everything else you become involved with, I guess. Don’t end up coming off like some clueless boyfriend who couldn’t decide between his babe or beer pong. Make sure you mind your surroundings so you don’t start grinding on people’s grillz. You really don’t want to end up with the reputations any of these suspect stoners have been tagged with.
The Scavengers: Made famous in the stony epic “Half Baked,” scavengers always find a way to sneak up on you when you’re in the middle of a smoke session. The problem, though, is that these guys never seem to have a stash of their own, nor do you ever find them throwing five on it. You’ve practically made it rain on them, and all you feel like is pulling a Pacman Jones and asking for your stash back. Oooo…
The Swoopers: Like the pesky scavenger, swoopers find a way to nuzzle into the best spot in the rotation, aka the next in line. While some believe seating arrangements to be a survival of the fittest – so stoned they see Darwin’s mug in their half-devoured pita – most of us aren’t down to be swooped on. Wait your turn. This isn’t Disneyland – although I hear it’s fun on acid.
The Roachers: Being stingy with your weed is one thing; smoking a joint till it’s down to the crutch – I’m talking totally crutch – is another. You won’t get high smoking paper. I don’t care how much resin your boy back home told you gets stuck to the sides. While some tokers consider this act detrimental to the lungs, I just can’t stand the fucking smell. Put it out. Go roll another one.
The Mongers: If you’ve seen the movie “Sandlot” and you know Hercules, then you know what I’m talking about when I say slobber. Really, how hard is it to keep a spliff dry for a brother? Most of us get by just fine – dry as the Mojave, letting us trip like we’re on peyote. Seriously though, the last thing I want to know is what your pit bull tastes like after she’s been slobbering on your face. Ali G would call it “restecp.”
The Femme Fatales: If flashing a blatant “fuck me” look doesn’t get a stoner turned on, then a phat rip out of their 5-footer will be sure to get your name on the list. Flirting is a harmless gateway towards a free blunt, but make sure you’re not just using your new bud to score some herb. They’ll probably catch on before you think. And yes, dude – bros can also be dubbed femme fatales.
Always keep in mind that the rotation can be a crafty little bitch. It’s almost inevitable. Everyone wants the same thing, and sometimes our similarly insurmountable urges get the best of us. But try to keep them in check and watch yourself (but first shake your ass), because I’m tired of this misunderstanding. “And, yet, my heart still skips a beat every time the floor creaks because there is some part of me that to wants to hope that you’re still coming” to sneak in a few quick puffs before you’re on your way.