Reblogging this thing not because I find it really cool but because I find the guy in the picture (the author) really hot. haha. Sorry, female hormone.
I was wondering why my mom was calling me until I realized I had accidentally sent her this picture of me:
Her concern was stemming from the particular cigarette in my mouth, and didn’t represent a broader surprise in regards to smoking, but rather what she thought was rolled in it. It is surprising that after all these years Afroditi hasn’t figured out weed is not my jam, nor ever really was. The reason I was trying to smoke self-produced cigarettes was that I was out of mine. The tobacco and filters fell on my lap, and I decided to let my entrepreneurial nature fail me once again.
It has always amazed me the way certain elements speak to different people, especially when these elements deviate from what speaks to hoi polloi. I consider the Internet fully responsible for the brand of selectivity it enables, or at least facilitates. Providing…
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