My mom has always been a super hippy. She was known for making some of the strongest edibles for me and my friends when we were in college. A college friend of mine (we’ll call him Kevin) lived with me for a couple of years after we graduated. One week, we decided to defrost the special brownies we had in the freezer, and spend our Friday night eating burgers, drinking milkshakes, and watching Breakfast At Tiffany’s, high as fuck, away from the New York City nightlife.
The night started out well and good, stuffing our faces with the best onion rings in Brooklyn. But, the night quickly went downhill; Kevin, who has never had a good or calm reaction to edibles, locked himself in the bathroom, and was afraid to come out. I was stoned out of my mind, and put on my best sober act to try to lure him out. He repeatedly screamed at me to call 911. Eventually, I talked him down, and he let me in the bathroom. As soon as I entered, he projectile-vomited all over our beautifully decorated driftwood-style bathroom. I rubbed his back, unsure of what to do, but then I had to leave because I couldn’t stop laughing.
After Kevin got sick, he took a shower, and I sat in the living room listening to him try to talk himself down, and then yelling at himself while getting clean. He finally came out of the bathroom in his towel, but immediately shot back in there to throw up in the bathtub…he didn’t want to miss any spots, I guess. Our bathroom was covered in half-digested fast food from Burger UrWay. When he finally finished making a mess, he went to bed and told me I wasn’t allowed to go pee for the rest of the night because he was too high to clean. I am never sharing my edibles with Kevin again.
— Laurie Riihimaki