Of one the best things about being a weed smoker is other weed smokers.
Tokers stick together, and help each other out, in ways some societies could learn a lot from.
Whilst the image above may not represent an enormous or lovely bit of bud, for me it meant a huge amount.
I ran out of weed this morning. Well, if I’m honest I ran out last night, I just spent the last while pretending it wasn’t really happening and expecting, willing, my remaining weed to last further. Like hell.
Relatives were also incoming, and the normal man was out of action. The day ahead was looking extremely bleak.
Anyway, I turned to my friends. And all was well. Despite having lived in this small Spanish village not very long at all, I contacted two mates (who indeed, I barely know) and both came through for me in a big way. In the way that weed smokers look after other weed smokers. I love that – and I would like to thank all weed smokers in the world for being so fucking cool about this.
I’m not very good at running out weed.
I get high with a little help from my friends.