Hey guys, you know what? I'm glad you got your pot law. I've got nothing against a nice, harmless high. In fact, probably 75 percent of the people I know are big ol' potheads, including my boss. So I'm really happy for you that you get to have your high without getting in trouble. Here's the catch, though. I'm sitting in the row behind you at the concert with my newly pregnant best friend. She's right at that stage where she can't even go in the kitchen without the food smells making her want to puke. And me, well, I just don't like pot. Sorry. It gives me a headache and makes my eyes itch. And you guys are lighting up like twice a set. You're kind of ruining the whole "Why should anyone care if I want to get high on my own time?" argument when five rows around you are covered with your stinky pot haze. So yeah, cool, toke it up—just don't force me to get high with you. Also, be expecting pregnant-lady puke down your backs any second now. It's comin'.