Above image is some dank ass weed imported from Colorado.
This is an article by our new Colorado Medical Corespondent, Colorado High. She will be providing an up and close perspective on the state of medical marijuana in one of the most progressive states. Enjoy
I’ve been around weed and its many forms for the majority of my life. One of my earliest memories is of seeing my folks smoking hash the old fashioned way – stuck on a pin through a piece of cardboard, light it up and put a glass over it then fill up the lungs after filling up the glass. There are family photos with us all standing next to plants…a bonus to living in the country.
For the longest time growing up, I thought I was immune since I was around it all the time. People would offer and I’d say no, thinking I’d just be wasting it. Turns out I just wasn’t doing it right and I didn’t figure it out until I was in my 20s. But before then, I became known as the <insert junior high name here> Connection. You see, back in those tender junior high years, I had an acquaintance who wanted a little something fun for a birthday party. Now, we had it everywhere so I figured the little bit that she was asking for wouldn’t be missed. Everything would’ve gone great except that person brought it to school and someone else ratted. Filthy, filthy and stupid. Small town and a small school means everyone knew what was going on before I even got back to class after getting called to the office. I don’t think we made it to the end of the class before I was given my nickname. Thank goodness for me grabbing some real schwag that tested as if it were nearly nothing.
For a long time after that, I left it alone for a long time. Until……One night, I was at a friend’s house where we all gathered before hitting up the bar. As the bowl was passed around and I passed, everyone wanted to know why I never joined the party. This particular group was not going to let me get by without one more shot. So it was then that I got my first real lesson in smoking which also included accidentally catching one of my acrylics on fire. After narrowly missing having to call the fire department (no, not really), we all stepped out to the bar. I think we had been there about 10 minutes before I found myself standing by myself in a corner, stuck in place. I somehow managed to unroot myself from the spot and locate my friends. They took one look at me and knew even before I managed to spit out, “My arms. Are. So. HEAVY!”
Sidebar: How appropriate that the word count at the end of that last sentence was 420.
I dabbled here and there, not really knowing differences between anything other than “you can smoke this over here, but don’t take what’s over the stove.” Know what happens when you smoke what’s over the stove? Call it a day. Just watch some tv.
For the next, oh, let’s say five years or so, I was a smoker of opportunity. If the opportunity arose, I would smoke. Usually, I was just being social. Then I started to realize how much better stuff tasted when I was high. And I found Ben & Jerry’s. My roommate at that time and I would easily put down a pint of B&J’s each in one sitting…a couple times a week. High conversations usually went something like this:
Both of us eating ice cream.
Me: Does this ice cream taste funny to you?
Him: (tastes ice cream and laughs)
Me: Well, does it?
Him: (tastes ice cream again, laughs, and just looks at me)
Me: Are you gonna answer me or are you just gonna be a dick?
Him: (tastes ice cream, laughs, and looks at me hard)
Me: (light bulb goes on) Oh. Haha, jerk. Ice cream makes me smile but it doesn’t make me laugh so no, it doesn’t taste funny.
It wasn’t until about 5 years ago that I started actually paying attention to what I was smoking. Learning the difference between indicas and sativas and which one I liked better. Actually recognizing the subtle flavors in the different strains. And then I came to Colorado.
JACKPOT! Pun totally intended.
I called up an old injury that was causing me pain and took myself to get an MMJ card. A doctor visit, some paperwork, some cash, and 3 weeks later, THE CARD. Let me just tell you that it doesn’t get much better than this. Some dispensaries are nicer than others; some look like a friggin weed mall and I have access to all of them. Join me on my journey through the CO dispensaries and all of the treats contained within.
Up next: Strawberry Cough
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