I, my friends, am high. And this time I’m not referring to altitude or proximity to paint fumes. I’m high on the wacky weed. Mary Jane. The reefer. Ganja. The smokey pony. The gummy they DON’T sell at QuikTrip. (At least until you go around to the back.)
I, my friends, am high. And this time I’m not referring to altitude or proximity to paint fumes. I’m high on the wacky weed. Mary Jane. The reefer. Ganja. The smokey pony. The gummy they DON’T sell at QuikTrip. (At least until you go around to the back.) Read More