Friday, October 13, 2006
Being really, really, super cool
When we were kids, we watched a lot of TV, and learned all about smoking grass. Or so we thought. Whenever we felt the need to be really, really super cool, we'd get on our little bikes (I remember mine was pink) and go down to a field by the river, where a local farmer grew his crop. Large trees surrounded it, making it a perfect hiding place.
A tiny, borderline chubby kid with blonde, spiky hair - let's just call him Bo - was responsible for bringing matches. The ground was always more or less muddy, so we'd all lay our bikes down in a circle and sit on the frames. Then we'd cut straws into longish bits, light them and smoke it. I guess we didn't quite grasp the concept of smoking grass as well as we thought, huh? We all felt terribly grown-up.
Despite this, we turned out alright. Well, all of us, except Bo. He was younger than us, and we lost touch. I heard that he did grasp the concept eventually, moved on to bigger things and died a few years back. Weird how things turn out.
I have a friend in Canada, by the way, who insists that she makes the best potbrownies in the whole, wide world. And that they go well with milk. Very childlike and very teen-rebellion all at the same time. I’ve never actually tried a potbrownie (or a pot-anything, for that matter) so I won’t argue with her.