Sunday, January 15, 2006

the professor

It's been my roommate's birthday for the couple days. In this town, birthdays seem to last more than one day. Sometimes they span entire weekends, and other times, as was the case with my most recent birthday, they can last upwards of a week or more.

The last two days, we've been celebrating my roommate's birthday, and it's been a lot of fun. Thankfully, it's been a lot easier on the liver than the 10-day bender I went on for my big two-nine, though yesterday, we did get a good drink on. She played her weekly soccer game at this indoor place over by the neighborhood park, and we sat in the bleachers and drank from thermoses of rum and coke. Afterwards, we went to the punky biker bar for a couple of drinks and some shuffleboard before returning home to after party it up and watch the special edition of Office Space, which is a sadly accurate depiction of modern day America--and also one of my favorite movies.

Tonight was very mellow. One of her friends came in from out of town and they spent most of the day out. I sat in my room and tidied it up. My parents bought me a pillow bed and some kind of memory foam cushion, so I washed my sheets and turned my ratty twin bed into a tiny little piece of heaven for these tired old bones. I also watched some movies and played some video games and washed the dishes, I think, but that was about all the excitement I could really muster. They went out to dinner, and I took a long hot shower while blasting Takk... and, coupled with the smell of fresh Irish Spring soap, was transported to a magical and steamy place. I felt like I might want to go out, but I wasn't entirely sure. I had to return a movie anyway, so I took a walk downtown and figured I'd reach a decision before I got there. I didn't...and then I just ended up walking home. My roommate had returned with a couple more friends, including an older gentleman who I thought must have been a professor at the university or something. He had that kinda look.

And they were all really stoned. They all looked like they were moving in slow motion and their eyes were pink and squinted. Everyone was smiling and holding glasses of wine, and I got a seasonal beer out of the fridge and injected myself into the gathering. I noticed there was a metallic apparatus on my kitchen table.

"Did you see the Volcano?" my roommate's boyfriend asked me.

"I was wondering what that was," I said. "What is it?"

I was told it was a vaporizer. I used to be a pothead myself, and I've lived with potheads ever since I moved out here, so I knew what that was, but I'd never seen such an elaborate one. The Volcano belonged to the professor.

He saw me looking it over, and he said, "here, let me show you." Then, he launched into his dissertation. I don't remember it word for word, but it went something like this:

"You turn it on and then wait for the light to go on. When it does, then you attach this little recepticle with the marijuana inside, screw it on tight and then there's this bag thing attached to the other end of the recepticle that fills up with smoke. When the bag is full, you detatch the bag and recepticle and then attach this valve-like thing that allows you to take hits off the bag of smoke. The Volcano is hot enough to burn up the THC, but not hot enough to burn the leafy material so you get 95 percent of the THC without all the carbon and other stuff, which means you get 50 percnet more of the THC which is the stuff that gets you all high and what not, with out all the lung-blackening other stuff. It's the best way to smoke, man."

He also explained why it's good to have papers to prove you need medical marijuana, but I kinda knew that already. In California, he said, you're allowed to carry up to a pound--a fucking POUND--if you have one of those medical marijuana cards.

I have been getting migranes lately...

Anyway, I enjoyed the informative little lecture. I never did catch what the man did for a living, but I'd still like to think he was the Stone-y Professor. Stoners, I've noticed, always throw percentages around when talking about ways to increase your high. I never had a problem with increasing my high when I smoked weed. That stuff made me batty, and I loved it. We used to have a friend who went up to SUNY Albany, which is a notorious partying school. He was into the percentages, too. He'd say things like, "coughing increases your high by five percent, because it opens up your lungs more," or "smoking cigarettes increases your high by 15 percent." I don't know where he got those figures from; I think they came from ripping too many bong hits with his RA or something. One time, he was going to come down from the dorms to visit, and he told us he'd be able to score us some LSD, which I hadn't done before. I was a little wary about doing it, but I figured, what the fuck. Beforehand he kept trying to give us the rundown of what supplemental materials we should have to help us along on our trip. He said to get extra cigarettes because we'd end up going through a lot of them and that "drinking orange juice would increase our high by 22 percent, because of the vitamin C," or whatever.

I didn't drink any orange juice, but he was right about the cigarettes. I'd light them up, forget about them and then start another without even noticing.

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