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OK, you guys will have to forgive the super-stoner-paranoia that this story contains. However it was very real to me at the beginning of my smoking career. I’d basically never smoked in my LIFE (honest). And I was 21. In college, and I sort of “pretended” like I’d tried it before or whatever, because I was lame and thought that it would make me seem cooler. I actually DID want to try it though, because I’d always been interested in it (and other unmentionables that are consciousness-expanding). So I ask a friend and she’s like, oh hey, guess what, my roommate just started selling. I was like, wow, this must be a sign. So I’m like, how much do I get. So I go over there and I’m like, yeah, I’ll just get like a half. And he’s like a half a gram? And I’m like no bro a half an ounce. And he looks at me weird (which I now realize why, since he apparently heard I’d never smoked before and thus WTF why was I getting a shit-ton) but is like hmmm…and I’m like “Is it cool do you have that much and stuff?” And he’s like oh yeah, haha, we have that much. I was like cool man. So I had brought a backpack over to carry the weed home in but I didn’t bring a mason jar or anything, and this was some DANK stuff, so it smelled a LOT. But I didn’t realize that at the time until it was in my backpack and I was sitting on the bus with the backpack in my lap. And I was just riding along on the bus and was like DAMN what’s that smell? And this is during the winter so there’s heat on the bus which doesn’t help to minimize this smell-spreading. And then I was like. IT’S THE WEED So I’m nervously eyeing everyone on the bus, being like “OMG I wonder if he/she/they smell that.” I know, probably unwarranted paranoia, but these days I carry a mason jar with me and stash that shit so nothing smells. So I get home without any difficulties and then go to hide my stash until I can smoke it that weekend (it’s the middle of the week). I put that bag in a cardboard box and stuff the box full of drier sheets, then I put that cardboard box inside a tupperware container and bury it in kitty litter and more drier sheets, then I seal the container and put it in the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard. I know, right? But then as the week went on, I’d go to the cupboard and “check” to see if I could smell it, and I SWEAR that I could. Even though it was all mental, I was like “WHAT IF THEY CAN SMELL IT IN THE HALLWAY? IT’S THE WEED !” Finally I just got SO paranoid about it that I was like, you know what? This was a bad idea. I don’t really want to smoke this. I can’t get caught with this. It’s not worth it. So then I resolved to throw it away. But I had to hide it first before I could just throw it in the big dumpster outside, right? Because what if some K-9 dog was just lazing along by the dumpster and alerted on the dumpster and the cop dug through the dumpster and found the trash bag and took it back for fingerprinting and then fingerprinted everyone who lives on my block until they found out whose it was ?!?!?!?1 Paranoia level: Orange. So, I take a half-eaten can of Ragu tomato sauce, remove the ziplock baggie from it’s hiding place, and throw that shit into the tomato sauce. Then I stuff a bunch of drier sheets INTO the jar of tomato sauce, seal it up, and then like bag it in 7 or 8 trash bags with layers of drier sheets in between each one. Then I take that thing out to the dumpster and I throw it away. Then I go back inside and sit down and I’m like *phew* now I have no more guilt about getting caught and don’t have to worry. But then I’m like. The fuck, mang? You just threw away $200 of weed! Beers were consumed as I debated with myself. It was then that I realized that I needed to get the weed back. I waited until very early in the morning, perhaps around 2 or 3am, when the majority of people would be asleep. Out I go to the dumpster with a hoodie, a flashlight, and a big-ass piece of wood to try to get that thing out of there. (Yes, the fact that THIS was 10x more sketchy than just, you know, smoking weed in one’s apartment wasn’t really on my mind at the time). But the piece of wood, despite its big ass, was NOT able to reach the little plastic handle of the garbage bag, since people had come since then and thrown some stuff on top of it, and I’d purposefully buried it in a corner so that others wouldn’t discover it. So I was like. ANSDGJLNSFKGLNSDFKGLSNDFG. Then I was like…damn it…I’M GOING IN. So yeah, I jumped inside the dumpster outside of my apartment at 3am and started rummaging through the trash until I found the bag. I hopped out, looked around, and no one seemed to have saw me, so I took the trash bag back inside with me. I recovered the weed once again. I hid the weed once again. And that weekend I got high! And the thought of throwing away even the tiniest amount of weed now makes my skin crawl. Also, it cured my paranoia, but for those of you who also suffer, I think there are far easier ways. You know, like, counting to 10. Or breathing slowly. Anyway, just thought I’d share with you guys.