Oh come on.
I haven’t had neck bolts for years.
OMG, that reminds me of when I was around 13 and it seemed like all the cool kids were lighting incense and talking about it and so I thought it’d be cool too. It always just smelled like burning and flowers, so I gave up quickly. I just totally forgot about this phase and because no one does it anymore I never made the incense/pot connection until this post.
Now I know why Mom wasn’t keen on the idea of me using incense in my room. I was so naive, I just went down the list of ‘cool’ kids in my head and yeah they were all totally pot smokers.
I’m so happy PSXeris here now to re-route the totally innocent and unworldly vibe off of me.
Well, to be fair your mom may have been worried more about you burning the house down. 
Funny story though =)
My mother had a hilarious story of pot-smoking innocence - she was a ceramic artist in the early 70’s, and probably the only one who didn’t smoke pot - she had a booth on the Yonge St. Pedestrian Mall, which was a major hippie hangout. Her neighbour was a guy who went by the name of “Mr. Together Leather” (me made leather goods), and he ordered a big order of several hundred “beads” of a particular size from my mom …
… which, as it turned out, were tokestones. She did not figure this out until many years later.
Oh, here comes Dio’s #1 Fan. Hentor, last time I checked, he’s married.
And if I didn’t post links, you’d tell me I was full of shit and ask for cites. In this case, he’s not exactly an unbiased source.
I endured that, plus crack or some other chemical that burned my eyes, complained to the property mgmt (owners of hundreds of large apt. complexes like mine). They said they could do nothing unless they had evidence.
They plugged pipe holes in the wall between our and their kitchens (brand new building!) and they had their pinochle rent-a-cops search the smoker’s pad, finding “no evidence”, after the 3rd complaint. They reeked of pot smoke when they knocked on my door late one night (after my last complaint) so I knew I would get nowhere with that. (They searched my place when I was not there, too.)
Five years ago, after 6 years there, I moved out on the same day that the neighbor got evicted after being arrested for dealing. I’m now in a detached single-family house 1.2 miles from work and only the hay fever and pine pollen bother me now. Move to a non-shared dwelling.
That’s the American Dream for many, and unattainable for many as well. Me included. (Not the OP here but just saying, if someone is living in an apartment building it’s generally because it’s the cheapest way to live, not because they prefer it).
(Because neighbors fucking suck! Even if they’re not rude potheads)
eGads, don’t come to San Francisco. This whole city reeks of pot-smoke.
I am so glad the law didn’t pass but those abusing the medical marijuana law in this state is rampant (I know that for a fact).
Look, just because I predict that those suffering from Diogenes Derangement Syndrome will make pathetic and juvenile taunts of homosexual sex and love when someone doesn’t agree with them doesn’t mean you actually have to do them. Or maybe you do. Such is the grip of your mania, I suppose, Guinastalker.
Gee, really? And here I thought California was ground zero for an epidemic of contagious glaucoma.
I do not have glaucoma. I attribute this happy state of wel-being to a strict regimen of preventive care that I have rigorously adhered to for more than forty years. And if I could find my car keys, I would view them in sharp contrast and crystalline clarity. But I don’t really need to go anywhere, got cookies. Kid is going to work, Black Ops is out, eight hours of uninterrupted X-Box, pizza joint right across the street…
What? Oh, yeah, glaucoma. Don’t have it. Nosir!
I understand it’s useful for PMS too. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but I say: why take chances?
If you’re a tenant and you have a problem with your living conditions you need to call your land lord. If your land lord won’t fix the problem, you either need to move or look at other options.
In this case, where we’re talking about a college town that has a police force that is mostly occupied by arresting unruly drunk frat boys the police may be a very viable option for dealing with something like this. In my experience police in those towns love pot busts, because it’s like an episode of NYPD Blue compared to the more boring stuff they’re usually dealing with.
Plus, my experience is police in those towns are always gunning for the chance to bust some petty pot dealers.
Landlord-tenant relations and the laws behind them are one of those things that are widely different from state to state. However, in some states that I’m familiar with if your land lord was inclined to fix the problem it would be very easy. In many states land lords can enter any rental unit without notice, and in many state you can stipulate in the lease that any illegal drugs or drug related activity in a rental unit is grounds for eviction. So if you had a diligent land lord and are in a state where what I just described is permissible it’d be very easy to start eviction proceedings against the people in question.
A lot of land lords suck and don’t care about anything other than getting their monthly rent payment. If you have that situation and the police are unconcerned, then just move. Don’t worry about breaking the lease, unless you’re really anal retentive about your credit report the land lord is essentially powerless to do anything to you in retaliation for breaking a lease.
At first I thought you made a mistake and meant to quote yourself.
LMOA very funny
My neighbors scream, beat each other, pull knives out on each other, have five pit bulls that bark all the livelong day and night, let their dogs run loose and shit in front of my door, and threaten me if I complain, along with many, many other annoying, illegal, and uncomfortable things. I wish that my neighbor problems consisted of them just smoking pot, and I will trade the OP in a hot second. And then I will go smoke pot with his (my new) neighbors.
What the hell is a tokestone?
I know people who live in apartments because we prefer it–myself included.
Oh yeah? Well my neighbors killed my mom, and my dad, and my brother, and my husband, and my baby, and punched me in the abdomen until I miscarried the other baby I was pregnant with. One-up that.
It’s like a cigarette holder, only for a joint. They look sort of like very fat beads.
The amusing part is that she had no idea she was making a big order of druggy supplies.
Nice. I’ve always wished my Pet Rock could get high with me.