
My sister, Madeline, and I have a theory when it comes to pot smokers, we say that, unless someone smokes weed everyday, then you’re not a real pothead. I mean, you can still smoke weed n shit, but me and Nena won’t call you one of us. Potheads, real potheads, smoke weed everyday. And if potheads don’t have weed to smoke, then they’ll get weed or else they’ll smoke weed-like shit, for example, resin. Real weed smokers take their stolen gold bracelets, t.v.’s, and expensive ass cameras to the pawn shop on First in Yakima and pawn it until payday next month.
But maybe that’s just us.
I know people who are daily smokers and I love getting high with other daily smokers. They understand me. They know who I am. Daily smokers know the pure intense pleasure of sparking up a fresh bowl of green in the morning and inhaling the first thick, white, cloud of mmmmm. Not all potheads are wake n bakers, I mean, up until six or seven months ago, I wasn’t either. It was when a co-worker of ours, C*****, started giving Nena rides to work and thus introducing my sister to her morning habit of smoking a bowl on the way to work. Pretty soon, I was pushing the kids in the car at home and pulling them out at the Panda Bear Daycare and then relishing the smooth 15 minute drive to work by smoking a bowl with the windows rolled down at seven-thirty in the damn morning just too cut down on the mota smell. When I’d roll into the elementary school parking lot, I’d always drop 2 drops in each eye of extra strength allergy relieving moisture drops and give myself a quick once over with a pprrrrttt (the sound) of Fabreez (Paradise Fruit scent).
It's the wake n bakin' I look forward to each morning...
~L (Chola Photographer Extrordinaire)