that's always the worst, when you're half an inch from getting booked, and your parents want to discuss it...completely ruins the high. Before I let high school (aboot 16 or 17 years old, I think (maybe)) I used to have an enormous mullet hairstyle...the kind that just poofs outwards and back-if it wasn't so straight, it'd be a kickass fro...ANYWAYS, it used to be big enough that I could hide shit in it, I could easily carry 1/8 and a couple doobs behind my ears, and my hair would cover it completely...one night, coming home from a pretty big session, my mother asked me if I had been smoking. At the time, I had a doobie behind each ear, and I had no idea what she was talking about...she lectured me for an hour about the dangers of cigarette addiction, how she couldn't quit, how she started young...the whole time, I was getting worse and worse, to the point where I couldn't even stand up on my own, and I had to lean on the kitchen counter. She finally let me go to bed, and I later found out that she had driven past my school much earlier that day, between periods. She had seen me standing (just standing! I hadn't started smoking cigs yet) in the smoking pit with my smoking friends, and assumed the worst.