Dinner with parents. For some, a fate worse than sitting through Andrew Lloyd Weber’s “Cats.” But fear not, with the help of sweet, sweet marijuana this does not have to be the case!
The catch is that dinner with family is oftentimes a marathon and not a sprint. Imbibe too much of that beautiful flower and your personal ghosts will be sure to join you at the table. Goldilocks that shit, however, and get the mix juuuuuust right? You’ll be feeling like you could take on a feast with every single one of your ancestors and your in-laws too.
The Overture
Remember the age old tale: Weed Before Dinner, Trauma Ever Thinner. Weed After Food, Surely Better Mood. Now of course, you’ll be wanting a little sip before you arrive. Who wants to have dinner with their parents sober? That being said, experts recommend your pre-dinner ritual to be the size of an amuse-bouche. No need to start re-hashing your high school graduation dinner this early in the night.
The Intermission
So you’re sitting at the table, cocktail in hand, trying to push away thoughts of the massive blowout that was Passover ‘13. The server just cleaned up the apps and you have a feeling it’s going to be a while until the entrees arrive. This is the perfect time to excuse yourself with your siblings to “check out the restaurant.” Act like it’s the most beautiful museum you’ve ever seen and your parents will be so touched by this sibling activity they won’t notice you sneak out for a little “walk.”
The Entr’acte
You’ve made it through dinner without thinking about how you and everyone you’ve ever loved are all going to die one day! You deserve a little palate cleanser. Now’s a good moment to excuse yourself to the bathroom for a little private time with that new pen your brother just got. If you’re lucky, you’ll time it just right and come out exactly as dessert hits the table. Everyone will be so charmed by your special talent that they won’t notice the fact you’ve gone nonverbal!
The Soliloquy
And you’ve made it. You say your way-too-long goodbyes to your parents and bury the rest of your childhood trauma until tomorrow. Might as well go hotbox your sister’s car and debrief before munchie pangs send you to the bar down the street for Second Dinner.