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Cake day: 2026年2月4日

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  • Back in college I bought weed from a townie. Starting January 1st anytime you bought from him he would include a raffle ticket in your bag of weed. On 4/20 he threw a big 420 party in a public park which was my dealer and all his other customers, which was a lot of other townies and a handful of smaller dealers that source from him. He had a bunch of games and stuff organized and everyone was smoking weed just out in public (this was well before weed was legalized in most places).

    This one guy who I think was a dealer introduced himself as “Uncle Eddie,” which sounds like the name of your weird relative that nobody lets near the kids at Thanksgiving, but I digress. He had the words “PUNK” and “ROCK” tattooed on the knuckles of each of his hands. Randomly throughout the conversation he’d tell you to pound it and offer a fist. After awhile I figured out that if he liked or respected something you said, he’d let you pound the “ROCK” fist, if he didn’t like it he’d have you pound the “PUNK” fist. I did not feel comfortable at any point during our conversation.

    Anyway, the last event was the raffle and me and my roommates won the prize of a quarter pound of weed. I distinctly remember my dealer handing it to me and saying “congratulations now you’re a felon, man.” It was the dirtiest, reggiest, seed-filled bag of weed I’d ever seen in my life. If I had to guess it was probably about 50% seeds by weight. We tried to smoke some when we got home but it was so awful. It made some pretty decent brownies though.