I am probable cause. By the definition of my very existence.
If a cop pulled me over in my VW Bus going 10 mph on the highway (that's max speed), he would definitely assume I was blazed.
I'm a Colorado native. In Boulder, specifically. The most stoned place on Earth. That's probable cause enough right there. But to add to it, I also do yoga and meditate. I smell like ylang ylang essential oil. I drink things called "elixirs." I overuse "dude." I know these are all stereotypes. And that's my very point.
I don't care about recreational marijuana. Not even a little bit.
I feel as if I should.
In the name of all bad marijuana stereotypes, in the name of my Colorado heritage, in the name of historical significance, my soul is crying out to light it up. But I don't.
My husband and I keep talking about how we could go get high if we wanted. We totally could. Dude.
My out-of-state friends keep calling me. The voice message (because I never pick up my phone because I'm a hippie and I don't want the radioactive toxin -- blah blah -- to ruin my Zen) always starts the same: "Duuuuuddddddeeeeee. Are you so stoned right now or what?" (Yes, they talk like that. Yes, judge them.)
Uh. Nah. I'm too lazy to figure out how to get high legally.
I don't want to buy a pipe just to take one hit. I don't know how to roll a joint. I'm not gangster enough to consider a blunt. I don't eat gluten or sugar, so brownies are out of the digestive question. And I don't care enough to exert any more effort. I'm already exhausted, just thinking about it.
The rest of America seems more excited -- or panicked -- about this legalization thing than any of my Colorado crew. That's because everyone who is taking advantage of the new laws have already used cannabis. Many before medical licenses. And the rest of us couldn't give a roach about it.
Every night since Jan. 1, my husband and I have had a wild and heated debate about the topic. Here's how it always goes down:
We should go get some weed, er, cannabis. Whatever it's called now.
Yeah. We should.
I mean, it's a monumental historical event.
It's pretty much our duty as Colorado natives.
Let's go find the nearest weed factory.
OK, but first I need to stop by the liquor store.
Oh, good, I'm out of vodka. Well, I will be after you pour me that last bit.
I hear legal weed's expensive.
Vodka's on sale right now at the drive-in liquor store.
Love that place.
Love it.
There are so many different types of marijuana. Back before it was legal, there was just weed or weed.
It's overwhelming. Like Walmart on Black Friday.
I hear your boss can still fire you if you smoke.
You can't get fired for drinking a glass of vodka.
True. (Opens a bag of chips.) I don't get it. So, seriously, pot is legal? I don't believe it. Seems like a conspiracy. Makes me feel a little paranoid, like The Man is setting us up or something.
Probably. (Chomp, chomp.) OK, we'll totally go to the candy shop after I finish this beer and this bag of chips. Want to watch Pineapple Express again?
Totally.
If only I could get off this couch, I swear I would totally go get high. Probably.
No, you wouldn't.
Nah. I wouldn't.
You know why? Because we don't have time for that crap. Who has time to get all screwed up and sit around on the couch all night eating junk food and watching bad movies?
Not us. Nope. We got things to do.
After "Pineapple Express," though.
Dude. Duh.