May flowers.

Spring is upon us and it seems like more than flowers are in bloom! I've been getting some of the most beautiful buds lately, everything from lush and green to heavily crystaled and purple. And the improving weather gives way to smoke sessions in parks and on the beach. I'm looking forward to many stoned weekends on Singing beach in Manchester by the Sea with my girl Neezy. This summer is going to be a lot different from the years past, however. Mainly because, this is my first year without summer vacation. Realizing there was no Spring Break on the horizon was tough enough, but the liberal freedoms of the summer months between the "torturous" months of education are no more. All responsibility, all the time.

Fuck. I don't even have enough free time as it is (hello, the May issues of Vogue and Glamour are still sitting unread on my entry table) and with the sun shining down on me I know I will want to spend less and less of that time in the office, grocery shopping, and working my second job. For now though, I'm getting a short reprieve. Tomorrow I'm off to my home town in coastal Texas and to enjoy the sleepy, harsh effects of my favorite, Mexican dirt weed. A literal brick, sometimes kind of brown, and seedy, it gives the sleepiest high and is cheap, cheap, cheap, meaning I cans smoke blunts all day, every day. A dime bag there gets you almost an eighth.

Are you a stoner snob? Would you never be caught dead smoking cheap, low grade weed? Mexican dirt holds a special place in my heart, perhaps because it's what I started smoking at the age of 14 and bought a lot of throughout high school. I'm sure I'll cop some nice kush while I'm there, but I'm looking forward to the crap weed!

 

I leave you today with a little photo of my current buds and an old but interesting article which suggests that smart women smoke more weed! Imagine that!

 

Oh my God,this clip of Joan Rivers toking up has me watching last nights episode of her show. SO FUNNY. It's so refreshing to see someone not only smoking in public, but on national television. And that someone is successful and over 50. So fabulous.

Click here to view the video since Blogger only lets you embed videos from YouTube like an asshole. And yes, that is a pipe with a pig on it.

Stay Stoned ♥

Amsterdam, I'm yours.

Four weeks ago the Italian and I were sipping tea and coffee in the lobby of the mod-inspired NL Hotel, nestled on one of the many canals lining the streets of Amsterdam.  It was cold, a little drizzly, but it was beautiful. I insisted our first stop be one of its renowned coffee shops. I picked one that sounded appealing from my guidebook and off we went.  

Desperate for my first smoke of the entire trip we stopped at Rokerij, an Indian-themed chain of local coffee shops. Dimly lit, but inviting and comfortable we grabbed a couple of seats at the bar and ordered a few hot chocolates. I headed up to the bar to pick out my first of many baggies.  "I'll take a gram of the cheese," I say to the budtender. Wham. Bam. Thank you ma'am. He hands me a little unmarked bag with my marijuana and I'm back with the Italian in seconds, breaking up my bud, and rolling my joint. I intended to write about the weed itself, but stoner me forgot. And now so much weed has been smoked that it's all a blur.

That coffee shop remained my favorite for the rest of our trip. Each day we'd stop at one or two different coffee shops and grab a gram or two of something new to try. Our hotel room had a terrace so even though our hotel was non-smoking, I was able to enjoy my treats on our patio. Despite the liberalism surrounding marijuana in Amsterdam, I still felt unnecessarily strange smoking out in the relative public of our patio. I don't know if I'll ever shake it...

Stay Stoned

The Daily Grind

My very first grinder was handed down to me by a beautiful Latina I used to smoke mad weed with in college. Her apartment was literally on campus, but without the RA presence, so it was our go-to place to hang out and smoke between classes, after meetings, and before parties. When she moved to England she left her little collection of pieces with me and let me keep the grinder. I loved it. It was small, had a kief catcher, and was a lovely shade of metallic red.

Unfortunately, I smoke so much weed that grinder isn’t working so well anymore. I wish they would create some sort of powder that you sprinkle inside the chamber and sharpens it as you twist it. Wouldn’t that be awesome? Is that possible? I’ve had to retire that lovely little grinder and now, I have a much larger one. It was also handed down to me from a very good friend, who happens to be my current connect. It’s silver, also has a kief catcher and has a see-through lid so I can watch it grind dozens of beautiful nuggs into oblivion.

I love having my grinders bestowed upon me. It’s like carrying on a legacy. That was certainly the case with my little red grinder. It’s been everywhere with me; to Six Flags, to the beach, all over the city, to countless parties, and who knows the adventures it had back in the day with my girl. I believe she got it in Amsterdam, so it really has lived to it’s full potential. And to think of how many delicious ounces it has pulverized into smokable goodness! I know it sounds like I’m writing an obituary, but that little grinder just means so much to me. I’m holding onto it, it’s definitely earned a spot on my smoking shelf, but it’s now retired.

You never realize how handy those little things are until you’re left without one, breaking up bud by hand like you’re still in 10th grade smoking in your parents garage. It’s such a pain in the ass.  I don’t take my grinders home when I fly home to Texas, so every time I go home I’m reminded just how much easier life is when you don’t have to take 5 minutes before every bowl to break up a dense nugg. Then again, it wouldn’t be ‘going home’ if I wasn’t sneaking around my mom smoking pot.



I don’t religiously name by grinders like I do my pieces but perhaps I should. They are just as special as any other piece... Like my newest. A beautiful new bong. But that’s a new post for another day.



Until then, Stay Stoned ♥

I guess I've been a pothead for a few years now. I can't really remember when I started smoking daily, but I think it's been at least 3 years now. I believe that's about how far back this journal entry dates back, perhaps a little longer. I've long lost the habit of journaling (and thankfully the habit of smoking cigarettes), I probably haven't even drawn anything in at least a year (not that I'm any good) but this one habit, smoking, has stayed with me. And flourished, resulting in this blog. I'm not going to fight it.

Act Like a Lady.

 In case you didn't know, Lady Stoners are everywhere. Aside from me being one of the greatest (yeah, I'm full of myself) I know quite a few ladies who feel the same way as I do about marijuana. Which, apparently, society thinks is pretty unladylike. For a long time, stoner culture has revolved around Jay & Silent Bob, rappers like Biggie and Tupac, and Josh from Clueless. But in modern women's stoner culture, weed plays a different role. Now, weed is not my life (obviously, cause I don't have enough readers here to earn money from it) but it has a huge role in my life.

My number one thing to do while high is shop. Online or in the store, I'm blazing before I'm buying. I always pick out the best stuff and create the best outfits when I'm high. I have an obsession with Juicy Couture Jewelry (additional 40% off!) and shoes, and the Gap. I love the Gap. Mostly cause they make size 00 and I'm a scrawny little thing. Last week I stopped at Juicy to check out the sale and I bought an orange studded leather cuff. The next week, I went back and bought one in every color AND a blazer. Yeah.  On September 13th Missoni launches their Missoni for Target line and you bet your sweet ass that I will be online at midnight trolling for goodies. I may even pop into the store when it opens on the 13th, but I'll probably have to fight a bitch. When I'm not shopping, I'm thinking about shopping. Or reading about shopping. In addition to my normal magazines, I read The House of Gucci as well as Deluxe: How Luxury Lost it's Luster. The latter really opened my mind to the quality and production of goods, a good read if you're into fashion, marketing, or craftsmanship. The rest of my summer reading list are a stack of various September issues. I love magazines. 

Another one of my Lady Stoner activities is cooking. Mostly just to enjoy whatever I've made at the end, but sometimes I have to look at the fridge and come up with something to feed myself. When I was in high school I had three very good 'stoner' (I really don't like the negative connotation of that word) friends. Pretty much every day would be spent in my back yard, swimming, smoking, and making up straight up ridiculous shit. Now, one of those 'stoners' is another Lady Stoner. Perhaps for me, the greatest smoking partner to ever live (except, her house was always really cold and never had good snacks, sorry girl.) She and I spent hours in the pool, even if I was just sitting on the edge because there were no lines in the pool (a story for another time), we'd be there making up games and talking about how Nutella is the spread of the Gods and the only good thing to come out of New Jersey. Swimming really builds up an appetite, and I have some ridiculous stories and recipes that when I type them out, just don't make sense. One invented recipe has withstood the test of time, and if I had a microwave... oh, man. I wish I could remember how we came up with that name. Anyhow, here's the recipe, just try it on.

Spidels

Eggo Cinnamon Toast Waffles
Butter
Marshmallows
Cinnamon/Sugar

Prepare Eggo's according to the directions on the box
Place marshmallows on top and microwave until melted
Sprinkle with Cinnamon Sugar, Sprinkles, or whatever sweet topping you have
DEVOUR.

Now you can leave them pizza style or you can separate the mini-toasts and make a little sandwich out of it.

In my next post... More about Lady Stoners, Interviews with a few Lady Stoners and of course, more weed.

Stay Stoned ♥

Cape Side Woes

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 ♥