Millennial dinner party bores 1

“Erm, no, not really. Not since I was a teenager.

I don’t think it really agrees with me. A couple of glasses of wine suits me fine, anyway. So, how do you know Rosie? I never knew she was such an amazing cook!”

“Hah. Wine will kill you. Trust me: it’s not that weed doesn’t agree with you. You just haven’t found the right strain. What were you smoking? Lemon Haze? Pink Kush? Broken Britain? I bet it was Chernobyl, that stuff was going around a lot when we were kids. Apparently, it was just one sheep farmer in Dingle.”

“Oh. I’m not su—”

“Did it make you feel, like, paranoid, or more like your legs were made of spiders? Anyway.

The problem isn’t the weed, it’s these unethical dealers, like people just in it for the money. My dealer is amaaaaaazing, such a sweetheart. He cycles everywhere, and uses those tiny jars you get marmalade in at hotel breakfasts, to cut down on single-use plastic. I save all my jars for him now — apart from those tall, thin caper ones; won’t make that mistake twice. God, when I think of all the baggies I’ve used over the years, it makes me feel sooooo guilty. Anyway, he’s not like a drug-dealer drugdealer; he does it for the love of it, he went to Clongowes!”

“Ah! I went on a Tinder date with a Clongowes guy the other week. Nightmare, before we even sat down. He —”

“And did you know it’s literally impossible to get addicted to weed. Like, you don’t get physiologically addicted like with cocaine or whatever; Christ, I wouldn’t touch that stuff

— did you read that Vice article about, like, murder in Columbia? I’ve got high every day for three years now, and I’m still not addicted! No one’s ever died of a cannabis overdose. Fact.

“I —”

“Steve Jobs did it!

Bill Gates. Barack Obama! Jennifer Aniston, Rihanna, Lady Gaga. I wish people would just shut up about it.”