When I was eighteen I lived with a man that I would like to forget. He was not good to me, not a particularly good person and had a belly that threatened to smother me during uh intimate moments (moments that I did a lot to avoid because UGH). The reasons I was in this relationship are lost in history and sometimes I just want to go back in time and smack the holy shit out of myself.
He was also a pot smoker, like a lot of people my age. The drugs didn't make him more pleasant, I mean weed doesn't make you mean. It just makes you thoughtless and shitty and just kind of a fucktard. Or at least it did him. And he mixed it with various other WHATEVER and whatnot and dude became a tool of the worst order.
At any rate I can't be around drugs. Beyond the illegal nature of that shit I just can't handle it. And the smell of weed brings about a physical reaction that I am sure is at least three parts psychological. I get migraines and I vomit. Fun huh?
So we went to a Kings of Leon concert last night and after enduring a fairly shitty opening band (note to the bassist, you are not the female Flea and you were not rocking so quit acting like you did something) the show started. It was awesome. They were great live and we were having a good time (except assholes were standing at a seated concert goddamn I am a hundred years old). And then some dick starts smoking out behind us.
Around what had to be the third bowl I had a headache (excellent at a loud ass concert) and I started to feel sick.
I had to fucking puke before we left. So embarrassing and I felt so bad ruining our night. But what could I do?
Damn you pesky kids and your damn enjoyment of recreational drugs!
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