Don’t Take the Pot
Yup. You heard me. This message is directed to all you kids out there that are sneaking the computer and going through your mom’s blogroll.
Don’t take the pot.
Okay, okay. I was just being funny and imitating my parents there. What I really mean is don’t SMOKE the pot.
Why? Why, you ask?
Well, because you might decide, at the wise old age of 14 or maybe 15, that when your friend calls you on a Saturday and tells you she got a joint from that stoner guy who rides your bus, that it would be a smashing idea to go to the gazebo by the lake and get high.
So you lie to your parents and say you need to get something from the drug store and instead you get on your yellow 3 spd bike (with the dorky baskets on the back that are better suited to towing people than carrying stuff) and you swing by your friend’s house to pick her up. You guys take turns towing each other to the gazebo only to find there are people there feeding ducks.
Puh! Hopeless dork losers that they are, you leave them to their duck-feeding while you and your friend try to think of place where two wickedly cool teenage girls sporting feathered hair and black eyeliner and wearing those little nylon Dolfin shorts (yes, like the kind Richard Simmons and Hooters girls wear) can go burn one without being too terribly conspicuous.
You end up deciding that the little tunnel of bushes behind the Publix Supermarket will afford you the privacy needed to get baked. While puffing away, some stock boys from Publix follow their noses to your hideout and you guys have to share with them. They are kind of cute and you decide this is for the best since you’re already way too stoned. Being a novice pot smoker, you always let this happen. You never quit while you’re ahead. Dumbass.
As the stock boys depart, high as kites, talking about what kind of food they plan on swiping from the store, you and your friend finally exit the bushes, too, and you get on your bike.
Realizing your condition, you wisely decide to walk the bike instead. As you guys get closer to home, it starts to rain and your friend casually announces that she has to leave now to go to her aunt’s house with her mom.
Whoa, whoa, wait a second. Your brain, in it’s compromised state, is about to catch on fire because it’s working extra hard to process this bit of confusing and bad, VERY BAD, information.
“You’re leaving me? Like this? You can’t. I’m all baked and I can NOT go home like this. I need someone to hang with until I can go home.”
But in the blink of bloodshot eye she’s gone and you are alone, in the rain, high.
Hmmmm. What to do. What to do.
And then you have a brainstorm. You will go to the house of the people you babysit for.
Yeah. They’re pretty cool. He’s a cop and keeps weed in a Tupperware in the bathroom cabinet. And they’re swingers. Remember those Polaroids you found? Ewww. Don’t think about that part. Doesn’t matter. They’re nice people. They are. C’mon.
And before you know it, you’re ringing the bell. Mr. Erlich (Officer Erlich) opens the door and you ask if his wife is home. He smiles and kindly welcomes you in while explaining that Karen and the boys are out but will be home soon. He’s just watching a movie and you’re welcome to hang out and wait. Trying your hardest not not let him see how gross and pasty your mouth is (because then he would know for sure that his teenaged babysitter was totally high) you decide to grab a pillow, lay on the floor and watch the movie. This is an awesome plan, you think to yourself as Mr. Erlich brings you an orange soda. Yes, indeedy!
As you open your eyes, you hear a little voice saying “Mommy, Daddy, she’s getting up!” You look up and there they are. The whole Erlich family looking down, smiling widely at you like you just did something hilariously funny.
Oh wait. You did. You fell dead asleep on their floor for 2 hours.
Grinning sheepishly and silently praising Jah that you’re not high any more, you apologize profusely and get the hell out of there.
If memory serves you correctly, the Erlichs never ask you to babysit again. You don’t care, though, because you’re really embarrassed (and they never had any good food to eat anyway.)
But still. You know you did something really dumb and you’re pretty sure the Erlichs knew. How could they not? And you hope to God they don’t ever tell your parents. Your dad & stepmom were not young enough to indulge in the Summer of Love and all that hippie stuff. They called it taking pot, for pete’s sake.
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Ahhhhh, to have the luxury of being young & stupid…
My parents never did find out about that Saturday afternoon, thankfully. They would have been very disappointed in me. I was the kind of kid that did bad stuff but got good grades and was generally very responsible. The kind of kid that fools all adults…
I smoked pot many more times after that but I finally had to throw in the towel and admit that I was not a good pot taker. I couldn’t drive (well, I could. But only at speeds under 20 mph). I couldn’t go into a store or do anything remotely normal. I could just eat A LOT, read the same line in a book over and over and then fall asleep. I wasn’t much fun.
These days, however, I have hard time sleeping unless I’m dead tired and taking the pot seems like maybe not such a bad idea.
But the eating. The unabated crap-eating…
Arghhhhh…
Better keep the pot away.
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That was hilarious! You paint such a vivid picture, when I’m sure your brain had to be a little fuzzy.
I must admit, I did like taking the pot. Alot. I’m pretty sure I could have won a Pulitzer by now if not for all the pot taken my Freshman and Sophomore years of college. Oh and my junior and senior years of high school.
BUT, I always did it in the sanctity of my boyfriends apartment, so no one cared if I passed out. Except for that one time, when I dropped alot of acid.
But we have now reached into “too much information, maybe we can laugh about this at BlogHer” land
Such a great story. My son is 14. I am on high-alert. Pun intended. :-O
When I was 11-12 years old my best friends Dad was a DJ and he had a beautiful girlfriend and they were the biggest stoners. They would get really stoned and take us to Fun Factory where they would give us money to keep us entertained and then they would play Galaga for HOURS! It took me about 5 years after that to try it myself. It was all down hill from there;)
I never took the pot myself but I have some great and very similar drunken stories. Excellent memories!
Heeeeeehhheeeeeee Izzy. That was good.
I cannot say whether I took the pot or not.
I don’t remember anything.
Yea thats stuff sucks LOL
I was the same kind of kid. I got good grades, played sports and such so my parents stayed out of my business. I took the pot. Alot. I liked it.
I tried, but to no avail. I was a horrible pot smoker. It was so not my thing.
I never tried pot. I was never around it as a teen, and the first time I was offered it was by Aaron’s parents. They’re hippies, or should I say, STILL old stoner hippies.
There’s just something odd about your husband’s parents offering you pot.
I took the pot, oh did i ever take the pot. I don’t know why I kept taking the pot because all it ever did was make me paranoid and crazy. Maybe it was just more interesting the then coctail mix of psychotropics the psyciatrist had me on. Ha.
You paint a vivid tale there Izzy.
I tried it twice; both times I could not inhale and could not get past that horrible taste in my mouth. My sister, on the other hand, took the pot on more than one occasion and made it look like so much fun.
You told that well.
I just about fell off my stool laughing so damn hard.
I too, tried taking pot at that age. But I confess to not being bright enough to be able to hide it from the folks. So at the crack of dawn the next morning, Dad had me up and at em, stripping the paint from our fence and then restaining it. He told me if I wanted to get high, I might as well do it off the paint fumes while I was doing something useful.
I got a whole lot better about hiding my pot-partaking after that day. Hee hee.
Sounds like your parents are like mine. When I was in college my mom asked me if people still did LSD. She could not comprehend that it still existed.
This was really funny! Thanks for sharing.
My parents in fact were right in on the hippie thing - my dad tells me stories that make my hair stand on end now. I think he finds it immensely funny that I am so drug-free, but then one Cold Tylenol puts me out for 24 hours, so it’s just a matter of wanting to be conscious! Alcohol only for me.
Every time I tried getting high I would end up with the spins. The ridiculous thing was, I kept trying. I really wanted to be a pot head, but after a while I just had to give up.
Oh the pot. Would make me completely paranoid and then fall asleep. Yet I still took it. I was cool! I had to take the pot!
Love this story, Izzy.
ROTFL!! Hi, I came across your site thru Blog Explosion and I have tears in my eyes. Aah, this brought back memories!! Life was so innocent back then. HAHAHA!! Thanks for the laugh & memories!!
So I guess that means you and Dawn don’t want to do gravity bong hits with me at Blog-Her?
Too funny!
As for me, I touched the stuff once and got so paranoid I never did it again. End of story. That’s about all I remember.
What an awesome story. But mortifyingly embarrassed, I am sure. So was your friend high too, and did her mom and aunt figure it out?
I cannot comment on my past pot-smoking activities, if indeed there were any. Not that I am saying there were. I would not want to jeopardize my position as a super secret government spy.
I wasn’t a very good smoker either. But it was because I tended to get extremely paranoid and emotional. It is supposed to relax you I think but I didn’t like the feeling of being out of control. Alchohol was a whole different story though. I gave that up though. :) 13 months so far.
Weird, Izzy. As a teen, I babysat for an MD and a JD who also had a not-so hidden cache of pot…and, uh, how shall we say, adult toys…and a huge stack of dirty magazines. Not that I ever snooped.
God. I was a fantastic stonehead potter. I took the pot, and then some more, and then some more. And then I rolled a blunt.
Vey good recollections. Funny how we remeber best where we broke the rules.
I did not try pot until I was 23 or 24 and married. I could have earlier in life but I was too much a good girl as a teen. I just don’t see the point in it these days. Life is great without drugs or alchohol.
That has got to be one of the all-time funniest pot stories I’ve ever heard!
I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this post. I laughed out loud.
Thanks.
LOVE IT.
Thank god I’m not stoned right now or I’d be paralyzed by the giggles.
izzy, you started early and mama tulip is my kinda gal! i can’t comment as to whether or not i took anything, but at 17 i remember following tail lights to a friends house. ah, what the hell, i’m all for pot dammit! if more people smoked it, the world would be a better place!
Take the pot? Don’t mind if I do.
(Exhale.)
That was hysterical. I can’t stop laughing … and I haven’t “taken the pot” even!
Oh gosh that was funny!!:) I took the pot once and never did again because I did not like the way it made me feel! One thing i am proud of is my kids knowing I did not use drugs and it makes me feel a bit easier that they won’t. Besides they know I will kick their butt big time if they ever do!
Yeah … those were the days.
You’re friggin hilarious. God you and I are a lot alike in the pot taking reactions. This may seem freakish but since I’m a dogwalker in NYC I find pot in it’s little one inch ziplock all the time. Can you believe people drop their pot that much? Well on occasion (once every six months or something like that) I will indulge and I’m completely usless. It’s all about watching funny tv, eating everything in the house and falling asleep then waking up grumpy. Why even bother.
Too funny. Insert my name anywhere in story, this totally sounds like something I’d have done. :-) Only I continued to take the pot. Way past the time when I should have! I have no idea what it would feel like now and reading this doesn’t make me wanna remember.
How about “Doing pot”? That’s one of my fav way’s my parents would say it. Like, “Do any of your friends DO pot?” TOOOOO funny Izzy!
And by the way, there were moments in that story that I lived as well. Memories….
I’m not ashamed to admit I have taken the pot. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, and I know it’s not the dangerous “gateway” drug our stupid government leaders seem to think it is. Ever heard of someone smashing their car into a van full of kids because they were stoned? Nope.
If it’s okay to come home from work or hang out on the weekend drinking cases of beer, why isn’t okay to do the same thing while smoking some nice weed? Well, except cases of beer don’t lead to the eating of massive amounts of Doritos and cookie dough and the renting of Cheech and Chong DVDs. But otherwise…
P.S. I would like Tb to be my roommate at next year’s BlogHer!
Oh I’m laughing! Laughing so hard. I agree, I can’t smoke any more because of the issue with the thighs rubbing together and all. My lungs–fine.
I can neither confirm nor deny having taken the pot.
Fantastic cautionary tale, Izzy. Between you and Dawn, I will be giggling all day.
I gotta say I endorse pot smoking 100%. Pot smokers write & record better music.
Thanks for sharing that hilarious post! It was like I was riding in that dorky basket that probably had plastic flowers stuck to it. :) I remember those shorts too……arrrrggghh! I can only imagine how you felt when you opened your eyes. Wowie, what a ‘teachable moment’ the Erlichs had that eve! ;)