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when i was in college, i remember reading an interview of jenny shimuzu, 
, who, like me, is a tough asian homo who wears calvin klein underwear, where she described the last time she smoked pot. she said that she walked onto a runway and thought to herself, why am i a little bee walking on this stage? and then she never got stoned again. a party i went to this weekend was like that. as soon as i walked in, i went to put my coat in the bedroom and the lovely host was in there and offered me a toke. i always have timing this good. one hitone muthafcukin' hit!and i'm so baked that i almost fall down and/or throw up. and then i was so paranoid that i spent the rest of the evening trying to hold back tears that my boyfriend was mad at me. i was so stoned that i couldn't keep my eyes all the way open. i was so stoned that every moment stretched into long, interminable moments. i was so stoned that i would say something, immediately think that it was the stupidest thing i'd ever said, and then forget what i'd just said. when we were headed home in a (thankfully) cab, all i remember was resting my head on neil's shoulder and creating, all on the inside, a movie or comic book character named c'randy, who was a black tranny drag queen whose parents couldn't decide whether to name her/him candy or randy at birth. never again will i smoke pot in front of other people.
more reasons to be a couch potato shut-in: