Awright, lobster shift here. Got up just before 3AM. <--Prepare your minds, chillun -- this shit happens when you are 82.
Don't get me wrong -- I went to bed at 8PM. <-- Prepare your minds, chillun -- etc, etc.
Anyway, wuz out trying to find Andromeda, but between clouds and the moon I couldn't locate a thing.
That left me with one thing: So I James Bondly stoked up one of those glassy-tubey four-inch thingies with Boo's Finest and decided to discipline myself to get a true baseline for how many actual, inhales-exhales you can get from a pea-sized bud -- each one counted by smoke going by the desk lamp from a complete exhale.
Using, of course, The Sneakydicker Technique.
This may be as hard to swallow as a Vaseline sandwich, but it came to 61 visible smoke complete exhales over the period of one hour. <-- I claim a world record.
But, lo! Cast thine eyes (eewww) upon the secondary, unexpected result: Hadda put the fargin glassy-tubey thing down even though it was not used up. Why? 'Cause here is Unca Waltie looking down at Lady Liberty's tits.
What little hair I have on my head has been calamistrated. My tongue is asleep. I haven't been this high since... well, ever.
My name will go down as the savior of humanity when this Procedure is adopted worldwide.
