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I took 100mg of WEED tonight

Inspired by this thread, I doubled my typical Saturday night edible dosage over the weekend.

Woke up with a panic attack and racing heart at 2:30 a.m. and tripped over something in the hallway.

DAMN YOU MCLOVIN! DAMN YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL!

Now, I too, am a soon-to-be-homeless addict. :oops:

From 10 to 20mg?
 
Inspired by this thread, I doubled my typical Saturday night edible dosage over the weekend.

Woke up with a panic attack and racing heart at 2:30 a.m. and tripped over something in the hallway.

DAMN YOU MCLOVIN! DAMN YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL!

Now, I too, am a soon-to-be-homeless addict. :oops:
Well, this works for everything else in the world that is bad.....thoughts and prayers
 
I’ve done the other way. Vape is tucked away unused. Kids went back to school over the weekend and I rolled some fat jays and wife and I got catatonic Monday night.

If you can't find me just listen for a crinkling bag.

Edited-15-of-88-scaled.jpg
 
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I’ve done the other way. Vape is tucked away unused. Kids went back to school over the weekend and I rolled some fat jays and wife and I got catatonic Monday night.
The joint is the absolute best way to imbibe cannabis, IMO. You can completely control your highness level. Plus, you look cool smoking it ;)
 
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Based on your previous post, I bet your joints are so skinny that you wouldn't have relations with them if they were women.

Boom! Roasted (?baked) !
Oddly, even with high potency flower, I can smoke a shit-ton and not get wigged out.

Edibles just hit me weird. And inconsistently. Sometimes I get just a mild buzz on 10 mg, other times I feel like I just did 5 big bong hits. I don't like that.
 
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Oddly, even with high potency flower, I can smoke a shit-ton and not get wigged out.

Edibles just hit me weird. And inconsistently. Sometimes I get just a mild buzz on 10 mg, other times I feel like I just did 5 big bong hits. I don't like that.
When it comes to edibles with me it always depends on how much food I've got in my stomach. If I just ate dinner and take one, it'll hit me lighter than normal. If I pop the same strength one on an empty stomach, it'll hit me way harder.
 
When it comes to edibles with me it always depends on how much food I've got in my stomach. If I just ate dinner and take one, it'll hit me lighter than normal. If I pop the same strength one on an empty stomach, it'll hit me way harder.
I'll try to keep that in mind. Saturday, I'd eaten early and then munched down the 20 mgs of my chocolate bar kinda late - probably why it hit me so hard.
 
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Some of the hippie noodle dancing was borderline violent like the mosh pit at a Testament concert.
 
I have nothing against DMB, just not a big fan.

I loved to mosh and smash people and jump off the balcony at Gilbert Manor on to my friends
 
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Trey’s thesis brought back to life
Even worse, I have old friends that listen to this Fish band that played a concert on NYE telling a story about dancing lizards looking for a helping, friendly book held by an evil dictator...and they loved it.

I pass on grass because of this.
You sound like Mr. Wilson…
 
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Even worse, I have old friends that listen to this Fish band that played a concert on NYE telling a story about dancing lizards looking for a helping, friendly book held by an evil dictator...and they loved it.

I pass on grass because of this.
Phish. Not one of my favorites. But a good show to catch if you want to stock up on psychedelics.
 
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I like to call myself an elder millennial. I got "raised" like a genXer but can do drugs like a millennial.
Makes absolutely no sense. Millennials aren’t dropping three hits of acid, smoking an eighth of chunk bud, blowing coke and chasing all that with a fifth of Jack at sixteen. Who the hell can’t control their shit on weed? Two hits of of acid and a dab of wax with Pink Floyd’s Dark Dark Side of the Moon playing in the background would make a millennial in a fetal position begging for their genx mother’s tit.
 
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Makes absolutely no sense. Millennials aren’t dropping three hits of acid, smoking an eighth of chunk bud, blowing coke and chasing all that with a fifth of Jack at sixteen. Who the hell can’t control their shit on weed? Two hits of of acid and a dab of wax with Pink Floyd’s Dark Dark Side of the Moon playing in the background would make a millennial in a fetal position begging for their genx mother’s tit.

IDK, we did bath salts and ate our friends faces.
 
I made some butter. I used a qtr and 2 sticks of unsalted butter. Browned weed for 45 min. Melted butter and put weed in. Cooked on low heat for 5 hours. Cooled to room temp and poured it in container then in fridge overnight.

I am very pleased with the results. I want to get away from vaping and smoking and this seems to pack a punch.
 
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A friend of mine was given an edible a few weeks ago not knowing the dosage. To be fair, idk if/what else he took, but it ended up being 400mg. He was technically dead and thankfully was revived. He has a heart condition which likely contributed to the whole ordeal, but what kind of friend gives another friend an edible that potent?
 
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A friend of mine was given an edible a few weeks ago not knowing the dosage. To be fair, idk if/what else he took, but it ended up being 400mg. He was technically dead and thankfully was revived. He has a heart condition which likely contributed to the whole ordeal, but what kind of friend gives another friend an edible that potent?

Can I get your friends #?
 
If you enjoy reading about drug taking experiences, this is an excellent read from The New Yorker:


I had long wanted to see “true” indigo, and thought that drugs might be the way to do this. So one sunny Saturday in 1964 I developed a pharmacologic launchpad consisting of a base of amphetamine (for general arousal), LSD (for hallucinogenic intensity), and a touch of cannabis (for a little added delirium). About twenty minutes after taking this, I faced a white wall and exclaimed, “I want to see indigo now—now!”

And then, as if thrown by a giant paintbrush, there appeared a huge, trembling, pear-shaped blob of the purest indigo. Luminous, numinous, it filled me with rapture: it was the color of heaven, the color, I thought, that Giotto spent a lifetime trying to get but never achieved—never achieved, perhaps, because the color of heaven is not to be seen on earth. But it existed once, I thought—it was the color of the Paleozoic sea, the color the ocean used to be. I leaned toward it in a sort of ecstasy. And then it suddenly disappeared, leaving me with an overwhelming sense of loss and sadness that it had been snatched away. But I consoled myself: yes, indigo exists, and it can be conjured up in the brain.

For months afterward, I searched for indigo. I turned over little stones and rocks near my house. I looked at specimens of azurite in the natural-history museum—but even that was infinitely far from the color I had seen. And then, in 1965, when I had moved to New York, I went to a concert at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. In the first half, a Monteverdi piece was performed, and I was transported. I had taken no drugs, but I felt a glorious river of music, hundreds of years long, flowing from Monteverdi’s mind into my own. In this ecstatic mood, I wandered out during the intermission and looked at the objects on display in the Egyptian galleries—lapis-lazuli amulets, jewelry, and so forth—and I was enchanted to see glints of indigo. I thought, Thank God, it really exists!

 
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