steven weissman

You, in what I imagine was a regrettable error, swapped the "To" and "From" addresses and accidentally mailed a package intended for the Big Easy to me, the random Seattle address you tried to list as the return address. Of course I decided it needed to be opened. What was my address sending people? Weed. About a pound and a half of weed, all nicely vacuum packed, different strains, all labeled. For semi-middle-aged, law-abiding me, it presented quite the conundrum. Everyone in my life is so excited, but no one I know actually smokes that much weed. It will take us forever to get through this. What do I do with all this weed? Become a weed fairy? You get a parking ticket, and I attach a dime bag to the ticket just to make your day a bit nicer. Love that idea, but super illegal. Donate it to cancer patients? Bury it in my backyard and use it as currency during the apocalypse? A weed cooking class? I'm stumped.

—Anonymous



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