Marijuana, Dagga, Kush, Weed. No-matter what you call it, the fact remains I am useless with it. Which is why I have opted to stay away from the dirty wonder weed. That was until it was gifted to me, not by some shady dealer in a dark alley, but by my future sister-in-law.
She handed me the little bags, off what looked like moldy herbs, and then began to recite her drug Ted Talk about, what strain it was, where and how it was grown and on and on.
She had obviously assumed that, I had puffed my way through adolescence.
As we pulled into the gate of the little cottage where I was staying, I thanked her for the present, and the ride home.
"Have a good time", she laughed.
"Okay, how to I roll it?" I replied sheepishly.
The look on her face was priceless. She'd just spent the last 45 minutes, giving her sermon on Weed to someone who, had no fucking clue what she was talking about.
The drivers door flung open and out strode a rather determined looking SIL.
"Okay, I am going to roll you a J", she exclaimed.
Ten minutes, and a whole lot of cutting, crushing and rolling, later, there she proudly presented a fat white joint, about half the width of my little finger and the length of my palm.
She beamed with pride as she looked upon her little creation.
She looked up at me, probably expecting me to be in awe and wonder at what she'd done.
Clearly, my face did not adequately convey the awe and wonder she was hoping for.
It was at that point, we she'd decided that, her little work of art was far to good to simply leave in the hands of a heathen like me.
She casually placed the little cylindrical package between her lips and lit up.
Seating her self on my ugly green couch, she pulled in before exhaling a huge cloud of musty smoke.
