So, you’ve decided to try this *huge air quotes* Mary-Jo-Wanna that all the kids are talking about. (Yes, you know that’s not how it’s pronounced.)
Congratulations! Now you can be like all your friends.
Forget that voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like your mother saying, “If all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do it, too?” Because the answer is of course, “Yes. Yes, I would.”
That’s you in the distance, late as usual to the bridge jumping.
You’re doing this old school. One friend has supplied you with a cute wooden pipe that looks like some kind of Appalachian wind instrument. Another friend has provided the actual Mary Jane, the reefer, the ganja.
So many different names! You dated a guy once who called it “God’s herb,” which was nice. It made marijuana sound like something you’d find in any well-stocked kitchen. Like herbs de Provence, whatever that might be. Presumably herbs from Provence.
But you thought weed was a dry, crumbly leaf? And this looks like… what? A miniature Christmas tree? A piece of shrubbery? Well, they’re the experts.
Please refer to your instructions. You took off your glasses so you’d be prepared to fully succumb to pot’s ethereal charms. But that means you can’t actually read what you scribbled down about packing the pipe.
Look, it can’t be that hard, right? Miley Cyrus was probably rolling joints in her crib.
Okay, you’ve got a pretty good draw going. You burned off your thumbnail with the lighter, but it will eventually grow back.
Wow, there’s a lot of smoke. You’re surprised that you’re not coughin-
Should’ve had the glass of water closer. That was probably in the instructions. All better. Speaking of which, why does your mouth taste like a car chamois? Chamois. That’s a funny word. ShamWow. Haha. You love that guy. Whatever happened to him? You should look that up.
Can you OD on pot? How much is too much? You better take it easy, even though you don’t think anything’s really happening. Maybe you’re immune. Can you be immune to pot? Maybe something is wrong with you. Why is your heart beating like that? Does it always beat like that?
LEAN CUISINE. You forgot to call your mom to tell her that your stash of Lean Cuisines were not part of the most recent recall. You better do that RIGHT FUCKING NOW.
You talk to her like 50 times a day. Just hit redial.
SHIT, the last number you called was 911 because your mom was having a nosebleed and you’re not good with blood. So you called an ambulance for her. She has excellent insurance, and apparently it was a slow night because five paramedics showed up, including the chief of police.
You had to sit in another room with your head between your legs.
Speaking of the police, marijuana is not yet, strictly speaking, legal where you live.
Okay, it’s okay. The phone only dialed the 9 and one 1 before you caught it. It probably didn’t even go through. Call mom.
*5 seconds later* KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
Oh, shit. You know the sound of that knock. It’s the knock they teach cops to knock at cop school. Sonofa-
Priority numero uno: Do NOT let him in the house. Quick, spray some Glade Country Spice Air Freshener in your hair. Go explain. Outside. In the rain.
Shit, he’s tall, and hot. Tall, hot cop. Tell him the nosebleed story, but don’t be weird about it. Maybe leave out the part about the Lean Cuisines. Your eyeliner is probably running. Stop staring at him. Mmm, the air freshener smells like cake.
You should ask the cop if he likes cake.
The first pipe was a spent TP roll with a piece cut out and aluminum foil for the bowl, that my sister constructed. When my parents came home I was consumed by guilt, probably just for being alive, but they were none the wiser. All this quickly escalated to buying hash from Jonathan, my next door neighbor drug dealer. Ah the salad days of white suburban girlhood when my life was an episode of Freaks and Geeks!
That was fun.