…Brought to you by Weeds and Showtime.  But that’s okay!  Because it’s exactly two minutes long, artfully constructed, and I don’t feel the need to fact check it before posting.  Did you know that Queen Victoria was prescribed mariHUUUAANA for her menstrual cramps back in 1891?  Now you do!  And you can inform those around you next time you pass the pipe.  Please to enjoy:

Feel free to add your own favorite pot facts in comments – knowledge is power!

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In an attempt to read news that doesn’t spell catastrophe for my rights, finances or future way of life in general, I took a little spin around the web today.  If you are feeling immensely pissed due to the fucktards in D.C. like I am, then anything that DOESN’T have to do with the current crises would be welcome.

A little levity:

Tom Wopat, aka ‘Luke Duke’ was busted at Mitchell International Airport in Milwaukee with some delicious weed on his person.  Having flown through that airport countless times, all I can say is that clearly Tom knows nothing of pusseh weed.

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In Ohio a woman was arrested for “chasing children, urinating on a porch, and blocking traffic – all while wearing a cow suit.”  The best part is that she showed up for her court date, still dressed in her udderly fab ensemble.

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Las Vegas PD will begin identifying illegal immigrants who have been arrested and brought into the detention center, and initiating deportation proceedings against them.  Whatever, just don’t let OJ get away again, m’kay?

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Brewer fans are so excited about ending the teams’ 26 year playoff drought that they can’t stay away from Miller Park.  Some were “aided by cocktails” and some just wanted the midnight sausages.

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Texas Gov. Rick Perry thinks the national economy “is a drag“.  Hey Mofo, take it up with your boy, Dubya.  Meanwhile, Dallas Cowboys receiver Terrell Owens is whining, again.

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Janet Jackson has canceled another show on her Rock Witchu Tour and has been taken to a hospital in Montreal.  Yo, Janet – If we have to go to shitty jobs that no-one cares about then so do you.

As I travelled to Spain this week, I couldn’t help but remember a trip about eight years ago, made with two of my closest girlfriends. We were heading to Newport, Rhode Island for a long weekend, and I don’t deny we were ready to party. My friend Trixie (yes, there is more than one of us — we all call one another Trixie) had a few tablets of “herbal ecstasy” in her Advil bottle, just something she bought at the herbal remedy store that none of us had any high hopes about. I had smoked a bit at home before leaving for the airport, but wasn’t carrying anything.

And yet practically the moment we stepped into the terminal, a big shaggy-haired orange dog came bounding up to me, and soon was on his hind legs sort of dry-humping me. Idiot that I was, I thought it was just some friendly traveller’s dog and greeted him with hugs and kisses, until I noticed who was at the end of the leash — a big, burly, dumb-looking cop.

“Come with me, ladies.”

And the hell began. I explained that I had been at a party the night before wearing the same coat and people were smoking dope there. But they soon started going through all our things as we sweated bullets. As I was interrogated and threatened with a strip search, I heard them emptying the other Trixie’s Advil bottle. And soon I heard this: “Is this ECSTASY????”

Party fucking over.

In the end, despite an hourlong interrogation, the fuckers didn’t charge us with anything, believing the other Trixie’s story that she had just grabbed the bottle from her boyfriend’s medicine cabinet and didn’t know there was anything other than Advil inside. Instead, the other Trixie had to pay a $500 fine on the spot and sign one of the most hilarious declarations ever, given her lifelong affection for recreational drugs:

I, Trixie-Jean McTrixter, hereby solemnly swear that I do not do drugs, have never done drugs and will not do drugs at any time in the future.

It is framed and hanging on her office wall. Last time I smoked weed with her at her place, we looked at it again and laughed. But that outwardly horny but inwardly malevolent drug dog, I must say, haunts my dreams. I remember him every time I walk into an airport.

 

So it’s a long weekend up here in Canada, and long weekends mean camping to many of us — not to me, I can assure you — even though it can still be seriously cold at this time of year if you go much north of Toronto.

But my 18-year-old daughter and her girlfriends are going anyway, just as I did with my friends on May Two-Four, as we call it (the weekend that falls closest to May 24th, which was Queen Victoria’s birthday, which we still celebrate up here with firecrackers and public drunkenness).

So because one of my daughter’s friends thinks my Facebook pseudonym and headshot are so funny, she is on my friends list. So I got a little notification the other day saying “Sally has joined the group We’re Going to Party Hard at Six Mile Lake This Weekend” in my news feed.

I shouldn’t have looked, I know. But I did. And stupidly, I looked AFTER the minivan had already left the station. And oh dear. Totally open, public group, and they’re arranging on the wall who’s going to get the booze, the weed and the hallucinogens. My daughter was simply asked to provide fruit and cookies, fortunately, but dear sweet Tessa who lives down the street and is an honour student who’s been accepted into the most prestigious university in the country assures the girls that she’s got a line on shrooms. I quote: “It’s going to be AWESOME to trip on shrooms while staring at the Milky Way and the Northern Lights, bitchez!!!” (more…)

leaf-1.gifyou know how some people are gadget junkies? well, i’m one of those people, like, i mentally tag half the skymall catalog every time i have the misfortune of forgetting my ipod and i get stuck with nothing to do. but i’m also a gadget junkie of a different flavor, see i have some weird obsession with wasting spending money on ‘smoking devices’. and by ‘smoking devices’ i mean pipes, bongs, diggers, one hitters, dugouts, vapes, papes, bats, rollies, hookahs, steamrollers, bubblers, spoons, chillums – whatever you smoke your weed with, yo.
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