The Italian and I took an impromptu trip for what we call "luxury camping." We camp in a tent outside his families cape house where we have wifi and access to the pool and bathhouse and usually hit up a restaurant for dinner and have lunch on the beach from the seasonal seafood shacks. During the morning rush and rush-of-mood-swings, I was packing up my purse (weed, camera, bowl, lighter, snacks, etc) and realized all that shit wasn't going to fit in it. So, in comes my huge ass suede reptile print hobo. And you know what I forgot to take out of the other purse? My fuckin' weed. I always put it in the inside zipper pocket and clearly, my x-ray vision is out of commission. Like last week, we went to the beach and I took my little pipe from Costa Rica (pictured) and I had a wonderful time. I love the lid on it!!
Imagine my freak out when, after setting up the tent, I'm ready for a bowl and I don't have it. Since my anxiety has been through the roof lately, it wasn't a pleasant scene. My boyfriend, being the wonderful man he is, offered to drive me back to Boston from the Cape (and back to the Cape again, if I so desired). Of course, it's super sweet, but also kind of ridiculous. So, I sucked it up and am doing the drug-free thing for 24 hours.
After sleeping on the ground though, I'm in desperate need of a bowl, my bed, and tonight's yoga class. As of now, we're both in the tent, rocking the Notorious B.I.G. Pandora station, pecking away at our laptops, me blogging and him reading the news (probably, mostly, soccer news). We woke up at 6 o'clock in the morning to the sound of crows well, crowing and the noises of other fauna on Cape Cod. It was also pretty sweet when last night at about 3:30 in the morning when the sprinklers went off and were pounding our tent. Not.
It's kind of a tradition for me to smoke where ever we go (oh, you're surprised?). I usually toke on the car on the drive, windows cracked just enough for the smoke to escape but not enough to make lighting a bowl impossible. I know, I know, "why don't you spark up a joint?" Well, I'm just really not a fan of joints. I feel like so much weed is wasted! Especially when it's windy and then that shit just burns freely when you're not puffing on it. Last year for our anniversary we took a trip to Vermont and rented a hotel room. And damn straight I smoked in that hotel room! When I go back home, I smoke that dirty Mexican schwag all day everyday. That is, until it makes me pass out for my afternoon nap, usually around 4 o'clock. The only place I don't get to smoke when I visit is NYC. None of my friends who live there smoke so I don't know where to pick up, and I'm not really down with taking an eighth with me on the Bolt/Megabus.
I'm guessing most of you take a break when you're on vacation or weekend trips. but shit, I just don't want to.
Stay Stoned ♥