It happened. We legalized it! Pot is going to be the next great consumer product. Or so we all sort of believe. To commemorate, GQ’s critical shopper (marijuana division) travels to the most weed-friendly states in the union and offers GQ readers the first-ever authoritative guide to the lingo, the rules, the shops, and of course the many, many methods (lollipops! honey! wax! magical microwave popcorn! something called “dabs”?!) of getting high-legally! kind of!—in these United States.
Why on earth would someone pay hundreds of dollars to fly halfway across the country for the pleasure of being abducted by thugs, handcuffed in a basement for hours, and forced to pee into a Gatorade bottle? GQ made Drew Magary go find out. (Sorry, Drew)
When someone throws cold water on you, it makes you miserable for hours. I hadn’t thought about cold water before this. I had thought about guns and billy clubs and knives. It never occurred to me how desperately I would want to stay dry. Now I would have gladly taken another jolt from the stun gun in exchange for a fresh T-shirt.
“I know this was originally meant to be a fake kidnapping,” the voice said.
“And I know that you guys did your homework on me, and that you know I went to prison for a while.”
I do know that.
“But there are other things about me that you don’t know, Drew. And the reason you don’t know them is because you never asked.”
That was the moment it felt real. That was the moment I was paying for.
The sitcom stereotype goes like this: Guy is always horny, guy tries to have sex with girl, girl shoots him down. But as Siobhan Rosen tells it, the script’s been flipped. And now there’s an awful lot of young, perfectly sex-capable dudes who won’t get off their asses to, well, get some.
- “What’s crazy about this is I don’t even LIKE Jews.”
- “Sorry it took me so long to get up here! I had a boner and I had to wait for it to go down.”
- “Now I can trade in my wife for KATHRYN BIGELOW!”
- “Suck it, Quvenzhané Wallis!”
- “Who has two thumbs and is doing coke off a hooker’s ass tonight? THIS GUY!”
- “And thank you to the Ayatollah Khomeini for inspiring this film.”
- “I kind of feel bad that this award didn’t go to the old lady.”
- “And thank you to Osama bin Laden for inspiring this film.”
- “Talk about torture! That tribute to Jerry Weintraub—just waterboard me!”
- “And thank you to destitute French whores for inspiring this film.”
- “Speak American you snobby assholes: It’s LAY MIZ.”
At this point, dude, you’ve probably got to face the fact that you’re going to be alone on Valentine’s Day. But hey, that doesn’t mean you can’t make a night out of it! Here, a helpful step-by-step checklist.
My parents have been married for thirty-five years, and not once have they celebrated Valentine’s Day. I didn’t come upon this fact until last year when I stopped by their house to say hello and asked my dad what his plans were for February 14th. “Probably take the dog for a walk,” he responded as he stood in the kitchen, surgically preparing an orange for eating.
“You’re not gonna do anything with mom?” I asked.
“She might come on the walk. Although lately the dog’s had the shits and she ain’t a fan, so it might be a solo endeavor.”
“So you’re not going to dinner or anything?” I asked.
“Yeah, I get it. It’s a made up holiday anyway,” I replied.
“They’re all made up holidays, genius. You think Easter sprouted up from the fucking ground? No. Somebody had to say, ‘I’m a big fan of Jesus and I got a ham and some time to kill on a Sunday.’ “
“But you celebrate Easter,” I said as I grabbed an orange slice he handed me.
“I like ham,” he replied as he grabbed his plate full of fruit and moved into the dining room.
“So then why don’t you celebrate Valentine’s day? I don’t care. I’m just curious,” I pushed.
“That’s the definition of caring, dum-dum. You know why human beings are here on earth? To fuck each other, make babies, then take care of those babies just long enough so that those babies are able to grow up and fuck each other and make more babies. That’s it. That’s our purpose in life. And if you don’t believe me, take a good look at yourself in the mirror right after you’re done jerking off next time and try to come up with a good reason as to why in the hell you just spent fifteen minutes doing that.”
“I would rather not do that.”