There was a giggle quality to that old nineties brick weed that the modern stuff just doesn’t have.

The experience went from, “that stain in the carpet is hilarious. Who threw my burrito against the wall?” to, “the cosmic, like, existence, is, whoa, did I think that? I can’t find my face.”

Modern stuff is so potent that I can’t stay conscious on even the smallest of hits. Great for sleep aid, useless for doing anything.

Sometimes I just wanna laugh at Ren and Stimpy while I’ve got a pile of cheeseburgers in a feed bag strapped around my neck, you know?