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Ah, for the love of animals ... sneaking pot
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<blockquote data-quote="TerryJ2" data-source="post: 652826" data-attributes="member: 3419"><p>Just a little more drama ...</p><p>Stopped by a hookah shop.</p><p>Asked the guy at the front counter if he could ID something for me.</p><p>He was white, in his 20-s, neat dreadlocks to his shoulders, pale blue dress shirt, multiple small piercings.</p><p>He said, "Like what?"</p><p>"I need to know if something I have is blend."</p><p>"A blend of what?"</p><p>"Pot."</p><p>'Here?"</p><p>"Yes." I lifted up my little Starbucks paper bag and smiled.</p><p>"YOU CANT' DO THAT. IT'S ILLEGAL! YOU CAN'T BE IN HERE!!!!"</p><p>"So can you meet me out on the sidewalk?"</p><p>He shook his head, no.</p><p>"Well, I can't just ask some random person on the sidewalk at the apartments out back (bad neighborhood.) Where do I go? Please."</p><p>"What is this for? Why?"</p><p>"My son is 18 and out of control. He has bipolar and Asperger's and is on lithium and methylphenidate. He cannot smoke pot when he is on those."</p><p>"What happens?"</p><p>"He's like Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde. Gets in my face and uses the F-word, gets violent. He could have a stroke."</p><p></p><p>"Oh, all right." He gave me a hangdog look and his shoulders slumped.</p><p>I had it double bagged in small Ziplocks because the smell was so strong.</p><p>He asked if he could break it open.</p><p>Yes.</p><p>He smelled it.</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>"Do you want me to throw it away for you?"</p><p>"No thank you. I have an idea."</p><p></p><p>(ahahahahaaaa! Throw it away? If <em>anyone</em> smokes it, it will be Cousin P, and we'll get ourselves arrested but she's always in pain. And she has less than 6 mo's to live.)</p><p></p><p></p><p>husband was out of town and then went straight back to work.</p><p>Once again, I am the Single Mom dealing with-difficult child.</p><p>I confronted difficult child in the kitchen about the pot and said I was turning off the phone, and he was leaving the house. Now.</p><p>"Like, you're kicking me out?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>He had a total. Complete. Absolute. Meltdown.</p><p>For whatever reason, he believed me ... his reaction said it all.</p><p>He yelled, screamed in my face, used the F-word more than enough times for a lifetime, and when he got to the point of backing me up against the kitchen counter, I started to scream. Kept it up for5 min. straight.</p><p>Didn't know what else to do.</p><p>He freaked. Burst into tears, apologized, babbled.</p><p>"I can't live on the street! I have nowhere to go!"</p><p>THAT certainly cleared that air.</p><p>Told him that if E or K come near the house, or if he hangs with-them at school, or if he goes to the other city, phone goes off. He agreed. I am not calling them by their names. They are officially Pothead Friends.</p><p>"I HAVE NO FRIENDS," he sobbed. (Ya think?)</p><p></p><p>"You call those people friends? When they come into your house, sit at your kitchen table, have your mother serve them a home cooked meal, and then they steal from her, and sell you pot? And teach you to be a liar and thief? Those are FRIENDS? They're criminals!"</p><p></p><p>We were both crying and eventually cooled off.</p><p></p><p>Not an hr later, we all got msgs from Verizon that he had used up 100% of our data plan. Turns out he was using the Internet to look up stuff at school for homework. I told him to USE THE BOOK. And he also left on his music search and didn't synch it to your home WiFi. Uh-DUH. He has to work it off today doing chores.</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, he did errands with-me last night, helped me carry things. went to apply for a job (they were closed), and went to one of my friend's birthday dinners and sat a a diff table.</p><p>He knows that I have a photo of the blunt. I had him take photos of me today in a faux fur coat of Cousin P's for an ebay sale, and when he checked the photos, he saw that one. <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /> <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /> <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /></p><p>I reminded him I haven't called the police. Yet.</p><p>And I haven't told husband. Yet.</p><p>The Sword of Damocles.</p><p></p><p>He said it would be hard to prove that it was his blunt, by the way, especially since I had it in my car now. So it's in MY Possession. Clever boy.</p><p>But he's been very subdued and has been doing chores, and is doing homework right now.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="TerryJ2, post: 652826, member: 3419"] Just a little more drama ... Stopped by a hookah shop. Asked the guy at the front counter if he could ID something for me. He was white, in his 20-s, neat dreadlocks to his shoulders, pale blue dress shirt, multiple small piercings. He said, "Like what?" "I need to know if something I have is blend." "A blend of what?" "Pot." 'Here?" "Yes." I lifted up my little Starbucks paper bag and smiled. "YOU CANT' DO THAT. IT'S ILLEGAL! YOU CAN'T BE IN HERE!!!!" "So can you meet me out on the sidewalk?" He shook his head, no. "Well, I can't just ask some random person on the sidewalk at the apartments out back (bad neighborhood.) Where do I go? Please." "What is this for? Why?" "My son is 18 and out of control. He has bipolar and Asperger's and is on lithium and methylphenidate. He cannot smoke pot when he is on those." "What happens?" "He's like Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde. Gets in my face and uses the F-word, gets violent. He could have a stroke." "Oh, all right." He gave me a hangdog look and his shoulders slumped. I had it double bagged in small Ziplocks because the smell was so strong. He asked if he could break it open. Yes. He smelled it. "Thank you." "Do you want me to throw it away for you?" "No thank you. I have an idea." (ahahahahaaaa! Throw it away? If [I]anyone[/I] smokes it, it will be Cousin P, and we'll get ourselves arrested but she's always in pain. And she has less than 6 mo's to live.) husband was out of town and then went straight back to work. Once again, I am the Single Mom dealing with-difficult child. I confronted difficult child in the kitchen about the pot and said I was turning off the phone, and he was leaving the house. Now. "Like, you're kicking me out?" "Yes." He had a total. Complete. Absolute. Meltdown. For whatever reason, he believed me ... his reaction said it all. He yelled, screamed in my face, used the F-word more than enough times for a lifetime, and when he got to the point of backing me up against the kitchen counter, I started to scream. Kept it up for5 min. straight. Didn't know what else to do. He freaked. Burst into tears, apologized, babbled. "I can't live on the street! I have nowhere to go!" THAT certainly cleared that air. Told him that if E or K come near the house, or if he hangs with-them at school, or if he goes to the other city, phone goes off. He agreed. I am not calling them by their names. They are officially Pothead Friends. "I HAVE NO FRIENDS," he sobbed. (Ya think?) "You call those people friends? When they come into your house, sit at your kitchen table, have your mother serve them a home cooked meal, and then they steal from her, and sell you pot? And teach you to be a liar and thief? Those are FRIENDS? They're criminals!" We were both crying and eventually cooled off. Not an hr later, we all got msgs from Verizon that he had used up 100% of our data plan. Turns out he was using the Internet to look up stuff at school for homework. I told him to USE THE BOOK. And he also left on his music search and didn't synch it to your home WiFi. Uh-DUH. He has to work it off today doing chores. Meanwhile, he did errands with-me last night, helped me carry things. went to apply for a job (they were closed), and went to one of my friend's birthday dinners and sat a a diff table. He knows that I have a photo of the blunt. I had him take photos of me today in a faux fur coat of Cousin P's for an ebay sale, and when he checked the photos, he saw that one. :) :) :) I reminded him I haven't called the police. Yet. And I haven't told husband. Yet. The Sword of Damocles. He said it would be hard to prove that it was his blunt, by the way, especially since I had it in my car now. So it's in MY Possession. Clever boy. But he's been very subdued and has been doing chores, and is doing homework right now. [/QUOTE]
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