Half Baked Fully Loaded

I’m a papers guy myself. Blunts, joints, the occasional spliff, bone or nail. I’ve been introduced to the tical, primos, and woolies at a few kickbacks and once woke up in a rice field with a roach of a Thai stick in my hand. Glass pipes and bongs remind me of glass dicks too much to prefer them over a rollie but I wouldn’t be shy when it arrived on my left hand side. Something about lighting up a bong that looks like you’re sucking your own cock in a circle jerk of stoners that really mellows my mellow. Some say burning a J is a waste of weed, but I’d gladly waste an eighth of an eighth to keep my tocker dignity and my chief poca lolo card intact.

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