Pineapple Express

So, being a partaker of fine herb, I was so excited to see the trailer to Pineapple Express back in May. I waited all summer posting little notes that said " ___ Days to Pineapple Express" and drawing little pineapples on my calendar. I even made a Pineapple Upside Down Cake (with infused butter if you know what I mean) for the occasion. Friday night, the movie is at 10:20. A little after 9, two of my husbands co-workers come over to smoke a little before we go to the movie. You can't go see a stoner movie all clear-eyed and shit! It's just not right.

So we're chillin and talking, and one of the coworkers asks if his friend can join us. Normally we'd discourage outsiders tagging along, but we had met this kid and he was nice and more importantly packed his own goods. Kid comes over, we continue our rotation, everything is fine. I'm getting ready to serve my PU cake and I notice our little friend with his head in his hands...I'm laughing inside thinking "Light weight, you don't even belong here." Seriously, this kid had like 10 year old lungs. 10 o'clock, everyone is cleaning up their cake dishes and we're getting ready to leave when all of a sudden.....BLUUUUGHHHH!!!! Kid pukes all over my fucking carpet and a little on my couch.



Here we are, minutes away from seeing the movie I've waited ALL SUMMER to see and now I have to deal with a puke pile in the middle of my living room. For a couple seconds we all sat around wondering if that had really happened. I grab a few towels, run them under water and hand them to someone else. I didn’t invite this kid, I don’t know him, I sure as hell didn’t give birth to him, so I’m not cleaning his ass up.

Soooo…..rather than be rushed and miss the first part of the movie, we decide to go to the 11:30. That gave me enough time to run to Vons for some Woolite and Febreeze. At this point, I don’t even want to go anymore. I didn’t want to be cunt about it, well no, I DID want to be a cunt about it, but instead I just said “It’s okay, we can clean the rug, blah blah blah…” when I really want to say “Are you fucking serious?! Two hits and you puke on my rug? You couldn’t tell it was going to happen? What are you, like 5? Jesus H!”

We went to the later showing and left him sleeping on my other couch that he didn’t puke on which now smells like puke because HE smelled like puke. Sigh…..so the whole rest of my weekend was shot because we couldn’t for the life of us get rid of the puke smell completely. I mean, the kid puked like 3 feet away from where we EAT EVERY DAY!! I wonder if he even realizes how much trouble he was. “Sorry for the rug.” Well buddy, how about my couch? My weekend? My future meals? Are you sorry for ruining those too? I won’t even mention what a bad name he gives our counter-cultural lifestyle… This kid’s license to bong has been officially revoked.