Smoking some Lavender is a bit like owning the nicest Toyota Camry on the block. Sure, it's shiny and detailed and the paint job is immaculate, but it's still a fucking Camry. And there's nothing inherently wrong with that. Camrys are affordable and reliable; Lavender is $10 a gram weed (sometimes less) and it'll getcha high. But Camrys are a commuter car and Lavender produces a commuter high -- it doesn't take you anywhere exciting and the place it does take you you've been a thousand times before. Sure, maybe that's exactly the place you want to go, but for the same price, you can go rocket-shipping with some White Russian or float down the river with some Snoop's Dream. In my ever-so-humble opinion, partaking of some cannabis ought to have some "weekend" to it. It should be a treat that reminds you of fun times. Lavender feels like opening the door at 6:30pm on a Tuesday night and announcing "Hi, Honey, I'm home -- oh, are those Lima beans in kale?". So you're sitting there picking at your Lima beans while Snoop's all 'BITCHES AND HOS!!' while White Russian is screaming "I'M ZOOMIN'! I'M ZOOMIN'!" and you're all stuck with buyer's remorse and kale. Sure, you can mutter, "But it smells like lemon candy and the nugs are super tight and it hits super-smooth . . ." but it won't change the fact it's no-blowjobs Tuesday, you're eating food that was previously used to punish disobedient sheep in the Scottish highlands, and you own the nicest Camry on a block full of Ferraris.
Had to share
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