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When I was your age, you packed a tiny bowl with awful weed, singed your face trying to spark it, breathed in ashy resin that got all over your tongue, and got only moderately high for about 5 seconds.
And it was the best.
You spoiled brats don’t understand. You have all kinds of edibles and pre-rolled joints and vape cartridges. And it’s all legal.
My generation had to go meet a sketchy dude in the driveway, sit in his car while he weighed out the weed because for some reason he didn’t weigh it out ahead of time, then sneakily smoke in the backyard.
My generation had weed that was cut with who even knows what, littered with dirt and sticks, and was so harsh you’d get a sore throat for days after one smoke.
And you should be jealous of all that.
Back when I was your age if we wanted edibles we had to make them ourselves. And none of us knew how. There was that one dude we went to high school with and hadn’t talked to in 5 years that came over and claimed to know how to make weed brownies but actually just made regular brownies and sprinkled weed on top at the last second. They were disgusting. You were literally just eating a handful of weed and a brownie separately.
And I would do it all again!
There was always that friend that claimed to roll the best blunts… he would leave cigar guts in your parents’ guest bathroom, then hand you this soggy, dilapidated blunt that the weed falls out of.
And then even if you somehow passed all these hurdles and managed to efficiently smoke the weed of the day, it didn’t matter.
Because the weed sucked.
And we loved it.
Cameron Foley is a comedian and writer. He’d prefer you call him Cam.
