It’s Friday, 4/20, and that means your day plans are:
a. getting stoned
b. getting trashed
c. all of the above
d. i’m above the influence
If you’re all about the D, then proceed to read and laugh at us.
& if you’re any of the rest- this miiiight sound a little familiar.
We had a little post about Persian girls & weed awhile ago, click here to refresh your memory, but today we’re gonna take some time to tell you azizJOOONs about our experience with Persian Parents & Stoner Adventures.
Picture Christmas, in Vegas. Yes, the usual time when Persians flood the strip like there’s a sale at Nordstrom.
My brother and I dreaded this vacation- In fact, growing up for us, XMAS was a time for snow, Central Park, and Home Alone movies.
A roadtrip to Vegas with half the family sounded like a butchering of everything that was sacred.
So we decided to bring along some goodies– some Ganja Goodies, to be exact. Our plan was to get the whole family high, and make it the most epic Persian FamilyTime that would be known to mankind. & I know it sounds bad to fool people into eating edibles (IRRESPONSIBLE SAAGHI) but just imagine, my uptight Persian Dad just a LITTLE high (just a little).
He’d say “Is dis real life?” while stroking the Bellagio Christmas Penguins.
It would be AHmaaaaazing.
So my bro and I went apeshit– all diff cookies and brownies we could get our hands on, in case some relative had a preference. We’d treat them to it Christmas Eve, so they could eventually sleep it off. After all the calculations and anticipation, the light bulb went off:
How do we know how much to give them if we haven’t tried it?
These edibles are tricky- different ‘alleged’ doses, but you really gotta test it to know. So DAY ONE of EPIC ROAD TRIP, we volunteer ourselves as ginny pigs, each consuming one dose edibles– (chocCHIPcookie YO.)
I have never been so stoned, I was actually out of my mind. Vegas, with its lights…costumed freaks…overall, FLASHINESS– was not the place to get this high. My brother and I did not say a word to each other throughout the 6 hours we endured this, we were consumed by the alternate reality we were witnessing and the PARANOIA that one of our aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc would figure the situation out.
At dinner, we ordered half the menu, from appetizer to dessert, all at the same time. My dad tried to calm me down,
“Saaghi, we vill be here a few more days, you don’t have to eat everyting today”
My brother devoured my five year old cousin’s chicken strips, as my aunt looked on horrified. I really had to restrain myself from laughing uncontrollably at everything. My mother asked if my eyes were red because I was crying over a guy. My grandpa asked if we had smoked ‘grass’.
It was all around a mess. Obviously, we didn’t end up giving them to our family because imaging my Irooni father high as f#ck and paranoid in Vegas, did NOT seem like something my brother and I wanted to deal with.
I’m not as bad ass as Saaghi here, I could never give my Persian father an edible or even CONSIDER it. Even the thought literally makes me cringe with fear. But you see, my mother on the hand… she was always the one who made me do the most embarrassing things growing up. Break dance class? Done. Do the worm at the next mehmooni? CHECK. It was definitely time for my revenge.
A few years ago, I was visiting my family from college. Jam in six family members into a day and a half = stress and constant lecturing from both parents on how to TAKE NOTES IN CLASS (thank you, Captain Obvious) and be a better student. To help me get through the weekend, one of my friends in high school decided to help … take the edge off by providing me with a special brownie.
On my last night before returning to school, I decided to share the brownie with my crazy, Persian mother… All I told her: “My friend made these awesome brownies, they are delicious… you HAVE to split this with me.” Being a chocolate nut (though she will NEVER admit it), my mother said okay. So, we sat on the porch and split a delicious, STRONG (thank God, she didn’t notice) brownie.
Anyway, after we finished- I went inside the house and finished packing. An hour later, I felt high as a kite and decided I should probably go and check on my mother. She was sitting in the exact same spot I had left her, staring up at the sky… without blinking (it was slightly scary).
I sat next to her and we were talking when OUT OF NO WHERE, she started crying. And not just little tears here and there, but bawling… hysterically. She started talking about her family in Iran and how she misses them, she reminisced about my childhood…
Obviously, it didn’t solve my maman’s problems.
Of course, I will NEVER tell my maman what I did because let’s be real, even in my mid-20s, she scares the shit out of me. Until the day she finds out, I’ll just know that I got my revenge.
So what about you joonies? Any ridiculous smoked out Persian parents stories? Don’t lie, how many of them tried to call the cops because they didn’t know what was going on?
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