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Everyone loves weed. Pretty much everyone has tried it at least once. Think about it. Most of your childhood teachers have smoked weed. Your grandma who’s super pure and snobby probably smoked pounds of weed during her younger years. George Washington actually grew weed in his backyard. (Actually, that’s a myth, but still.)
I enjoy a little bit of pot from time to time. Not often, just on special occasions (big parties, Chinese New Year, when a new Matt Damon movie comes out, etc.). But here’s the main reason why I only hit the devil’s lettuce once in a blue moon: Weed usually makes me paranoid. I don’t know why. Maybe all the reefer I’ve puff puff passed had been too strong. Maybe it interacts weird with the meds I take for bipolar disorder. Or most likely, maybe I’m just a little bitch.
Sometimes it’s all hunky dory, though. Sometimes I smoke just the perfect amount of the perfect weed and get the perfect high. Not too zombie-like, just a bit relaxed, and maybe it’ll help me fall asleep and hopefully have another wet dream about Courtney Cox in Scream 4. But most of the time, when I hit the sticky icky my life turns into a bizarre and poorly written horror flick and it’s quite the unpleasant experience.
When I get too stoned I flip the fuck out and worry about everything. Random things. Is the government watching me? Is it bad that one of my balls is bigger than the other? Why doesn’t Eminem ever have facial hair?
When I’m high, there have been times where I forgot how to breathe normally. Times when all food tasted like corndogs. Times when I could have sworn my farts had anthrax in them.
When these events occur, I usually reflect on them once I finally come down from the high. I’ve studied my experiences enough that I’ve been able to construct a comprehensive guide.
Here is a professional program for all pot pussies. All my fellow human beings who freak out an itty bitty bit too much when you take a hit from a bong.
I present to you: Tips For Calming Down When Weed Makes You Paranoid.
Get in bed or on your mustard stained couch. Lay down, breathe slowly, and close your eyes. Imagine your happy place. Pretend you’re on a beach filled with fluffy puppies, or in an S&M dungeon with a 33-year-old Betty White. Whatever your mental happy place is, jump there in your mind. Remind yourself that everything is okay. Remember that soon you’ll be sober again and you can go back to playing PS4 without fear of your pet gerbil assaulting you.
Drink lots of water.
Tons of water. Really gulp down gallons and gallons. If possible, travel to the Pacific Ocean with a bendy straw, put the straw in the water, and drink all the water. Yes, you’ll kill millions of fishes and underwater creatures, but you need the hydration. You maybe also kill Aquaman, but who gives a fuck? He’s easily the lamest superhero out there. All this water chilling in your bladder will make you have to pee really really bad. But hold that pee in. The experience of holding in that pee will be so stressful that it’ll distract you from the weed.
Yes, get drunk. Drink a shitload of liquor. Your drunkenness will outweigh your highness, and it’ll all balance out and you’ll feel happier. The mixture of the THC and the alcohol will make you extra fucked up but in a very enjoyable way. Actually, this probably doesn’t work. Forget this step.
Don’t watch a Morgan Freeman movie.
I’m serious. Don’t. Don’t watch any of them. Shawshank Redemption, Se7en, Bruce Almighty, Million Dollar Baby, hell, even March Of The Penguins. Avoid all those fucking films. They’ll freak you out. Because Morgan Freeman has ALWAYS looked old. Even when he was young he looked old. Because you’re high, this will distract you and terrify you. You’ll wonder why Morgan Freeman has always been old. You’ll wonder if he’s a vampire. Then you’ll get worried that Morgan Freeman is gonna bite you and suck your blood and that sounds uncomfortable.
For real, though. Call Oprah. She’s the best. Oprah is the friendliest and sweetest person in the world. She’s also the second wisest person in the world, (#1 is Morgan Freeman, but he’s a vampire). Whenever I’m upset, Oprah always calms me down. She gives me an inspirational speech about the power of positive thought. She recommends a good book and even buys me a Lamborghini. Now maybe you’re thinking, but Wally, I don’t know Oprah personally so I can’t call her. I don’t even have her phone number. Well that’s YOUR fault. Go work hard and become successful enough to be friends with Oprah, you lazy piece of shit.
So there you have it. If you’re ever high af and you start to freak the fuck out, try one of these tips. You’ll feel good in no time. You’re welcome. And feel free to leave lots of hostile comments and tell me how much of a pussy I am..
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