You blacked out with them while eating bacon. You tagged along on their harrowing journey through Murray Hell. You even endured their awful lunch at the Village Craphouse. Now, follow Colin and Angela as they embark on a series of challenges designed to enlighten and inspire them. And hopefully create some funny writing material. 

In their first official challenge, C & A have agreed to put the peace pipes away in search of an all-natural high for a whole seven days. Both daily weed smokers, this will be a true test of their willpower. But who will stand strong while the other is left behind in a cloud of smoke? Read the second and final installment in this scintillating series to find out. (Miss part 1? Get it here!)

January 9

ANGELA: So I smoked. I took a bong hit, OK? Oddly it happened on a day that my roommate wasn’t even here smoking it in front of me, so I have nobody to blame but myself. Well, maybe I blame my boyfriend a little bit because he kept telling me to do it. I think he likes me better when I’m high. And as much as I hate to admit it, by the evening of day four I was noticing myself becoming a bit irritable and cranky. The craziest part about finally taking the hit? It wasn’t even that good. Like, I didn’t even like it that much. I just started getting racing anxious thoughts and then unnecessarily snacked for the rest of the night. Granted it was on mostly fruit and leafy greens, but still! I wasn’t hungry, goddammit.

COLIN: I knew I was going to smoke today. Johnny and I were having friends over who wanted to buy some weed, and so ALL OF THE SUDDEN, there was weed in the house again, and there I was with three other people, thinking, “Pass the bowl, pass the bowl, ugh I wish I got the green, I’m just smoking ashes, this isn’t even getting me high, it’s just smoke inhalation.” Does this even count as smoking pot? I’m gonna give myself a pass on this one.

January 10

ANGELA: Obviously since I smoked Thursday night it was on like donkey kong for the weekend. I mean, not full Donkey. Maybe more like Diddy. Cause I didn’t smoke until after I had gotten home from a Dinner Date with Dan and had to help settle my stomach after a plate full of bison tips. Mmmm, bison. And then at a concert I smoked wax from my pen throughout the night which was glorious. But, I only had three drinks the entire evening, so it’s like whatever. Who’s the real enemy here? Being high at the show definitely prevented me from drinking more, which is way healthier. Why are we doing this challenge again?

COLIN: So Johnny and I went to a birthday party in the afternoon, and as we were leaving around 7:30pm, Johnny said, “All I want to do is get high, make chips and watch The Poseidon Adventure with you.”  So I got down on one knee and proposed to him rationalized that it was the weekend, I didn’t want to be hungover from the drinking we were doing, and that I’d really wanted to watch The Poseidon Adventure stoned as well, because it was my favorite movie as a kid so I thought it would be trippy to watch in an altered state, and then I could pick up on all of the religious allegory and have an intellectual viewing of the movie. (Hoo sed weed maykes u dumm?) We agreed that it would just be a weekend thing, and then I’d lock it up during the week and leave the key at work. So we dashed home to call the dealer.

January 11

ANGELA: It was a Sunday, I had smoked all weekend. What do you want from me, world? I’m not shooting heroin, OK? I’m smoking two-month-old shake. We should’ve made this challenge five days. That way I would’ve at least lasted more than half of the time.

COLIN: Wake and bake. The rest is history.

Closing Thoughts:

ANGELA: So, in the end, I guess we’re just a couple of pathetic stoners. I feel a little disappointed in myself… I guess? Eh, not really. I think I had a hard time with this challenge, not because I am physically addicted to weed, but because I don’t think there is anything wrong with smoking weed everyday.

My issue with pot is not in the pot itself, it’s in how I respond to it when I smoke it. At a concert it’s primo– you don’t drink as much, you are more in tune with the music, and it’s fun. Before a shitty commute or long bus ride or a trip to the grocery store? Even better! During holidays or before you go to the movies or before a date or after the movies and after the date and before you go for a run and when you get home from said run and basically anytime you’re going to be out in public. Superb! At home on a Tuesday night? Eh, as much as I’d like to argue that it curbs my anxiety, in fact it often heightens it, plus facilitates uncontrollable, unbridled snacking that leads to negative self-talk on my part. Never good.

The two things I am super focused on right now are writing more and getting a six-pack for summer (life goals everybody, life goals).

In reality, I should put the weed away for a little while and only bust it out on special occasions. But I won’t. Because as much as it can turn me into a Frito-munching slug, it has become a part of my identity. My comfort at the end of a long day. My crutch. And in reality, there could be much worse crutches to have. #Jahearth.

COLIN: You bring up a really important question: Do I even like weed? It does me about 35% good and 65% no good. But that 35% is incredibly valuable. It’s MOST valuable, though, when I smoke sparingly. The problem with Sunday nights, for example, if I’ve been smoking all weekend, is that I’m officially at a point of diminished returns. My cannabinoid receptors are bloated with THC at that point, and that part of my brain that remembers how good the first hit is keeps saying, “Well, I mean, what if you smoke just a LITTLE bit more, we can get that feeling back…”

The weed is now locked up, and yesterday was a totally smoke free/temptation free day. I was jonesing for it when I got home from work, but instead I played with the cat and did the dishes and poured myself a glass of wine that I then dumped out (red wine is no substitute for weed), and basically did a lot of the stuff I’d do when I smoked, but sober. I’m luckily busy the rest of the week after work, which will help. And is important. Because when you’ve got shit going on, the idea of smoking can feel legitimately bad. And I’m comforted by the fact that I can recognize that.

Also, I woke up this morning without a weed hangover, which I’ve just kind of accepted for however long I’ve been smoking this much (short term memory, where you at, girl?). It was like, “Oh yeah, I forgot how good it felt to wake up like this.” Plus, my dreams should be super vivid this week now that I’m abstaining, which is a huge plus.

This may sound like a rationalization, but I think of the relationship so many people have with alcohol, the importance of bars and happy hours and boozy brunches, the need to socialize with a drink. And the incredibly toxic effect alcohol has on your body.

I’m not knocking drinking–do whatever you want–but weed has never left me wanting to die in the shower the next morning. Weed has never made me want to fight someone.

There’d have to be a really adverse reaction–or, more likely, drinking first–for me to vomit in public from smoking. The worst thing weed ever made me do is relax too much. (Angela: The worst thing weed ever did is make me eat to the point of vomiting. Twice.)

Does it make me less productive? Does it impair my writing? Does it KILL my motivation? Yes, yes, YES. Does it help me gain perspective on the things I’m anxious about? Does it make music sound heavenly and food taste like it was prepared by God himself? Has it helped facilitate meaningful conversations with my boyfriend, my friends, even my brother on Thanksgiving? Absolutely.

35% good, 65% no good. I own that ratio. And I own the personal responsibility of making sure that I nurture that 35% by not making weed a 100% activity. But like every asshole who insists legalizing it will only harm our communities and our poor precious children, and then gets tanked away on Tanqueray and thinks they can maneuver their SUV home without a hitch, I sometimes throw moderation to the birds. But at least the worst harm I can do is putting away a pepperoni pizza without help even on the crusts (Angela: Pizza bones! Colin: YASSSSSS, PIZZA BONES!), and then passing out on my bed to YouTube documentaries on ayahuasca.

(By the way…when are we doing the ayahuasca challenge? Cause the vine and I gotta chat.)

The End.

(Main page photo courtesy Torben Hansen via Flickr.)