that reminds me of the time...that i was smokeing a doob and loe and behold a not-so-good freind of mine calls...seems to me they always call while i'm getting high...maybe it's a sign...my dad knocks and i open the door trying to act like i didn't just slaughter a skunk in my ultra comfy chair,he go's "what the smell are you smokeing weed?"(he's a smoker too BTW)i mumbled something,and said "i need to take this call" he walks into my room and asks were my weed is and i say i don't have anymore(which is true) but my little metle pipe is sitting on the desk(has a fimo wrap around with the danceing dear of the Ungratefull Dead on it,hence the name Smokey the Bear )and he looked right at it,no way he could have missed it,he looked at the pipe and then glance at me with that all to knowing fellow stoner look and says"Just don't smoke in the house".i nearly shat myself,but the whole time i had a huge grin on my face and afterwards i went and got a nug from his stash(he was asleep on the couch undoutably stonned off his rocker)and have two bowls,over all a good night.now a days i leave my 29 inch homemade bong and my two new glass pipes out on my bedside table with my weed right next to them,i love the privacy he gives me,he said(and i quote)"i smell the shit all the time and don't say anything" so i can smoke when,where,why,and how i want as long as i'm not blowing smoke in his face .good luck with your Mum,hope she takes it well when you tell her
KronicKing Reviewed by KronicKing on . The Tale of the Pocket's Hole This isn't really a thread to reply to I suppose...but feel free to. Here goes... Scrapped together some bits and pieces into makeshift doobie this humid afternoon. The sweat trickled down the bridge of my nose as the doobie was completed with a final flick of the tounge. I then proceeded to perform my ritualistic set of tasks before ingniting the doobie. Get hair out of the lighter range. Check. Wait for what little breeze there was to die down. Check. Glance at the sky and a nearby Rating: 5