Your good friends at How to Get Rid of Weed Smell, we hope you know, would never advocate any form of illegal activity. One can hardly but notice, though, that these days, such a large number of American (and other) jurisdictions have marijuana decriminalized. Whether the explanation is medical or recreational, a concern with getting rid of weed's distinctive odor nowadays is just good housekeeping. You'd think Martha Stewart would be covering this stuff!
Let's face it; you may want to invite for dinner your boss or your next door neighbor, or even your in-laws. If you smoke pot, though, you don't want to create any awkward moments to spoil your dinner party. The truth is lots of people remain uncomfortable with marijuana smoking, regardless of its legality. At that point you can choose to undertake a moral crusade to win them to your side or just skip the whole futile and somewhat vainglorious undertaking and just make an effort to keep your home smelling pleasant for all visitors.
I say, if it happens in personal space let it stays in personal space. After all, that's really what personal space is all about, right?
The irony though is that many of us today who are conscientious about the virtue of aromatic discretion had our first experience with such matters under quite different circumstances. In my youth, and my hometown, pot was certainly illegal, though, through the perhaps somewhat rose colored glasses of recollection, there seems to have been a bit more of an innocence about it than there is today. Still, it wasn't on.
In any event, this story begins with my parents being away for a few days. My girlfriend at the time, the dishy (and otherwise amazing) Kimberley, was sort of staying with me in the parents' absence and my pal, the more or less perpetually pot addled Dave, had dropped by. We were hanging out in the living room, which was one of those icons of the mid to late 20th century, where the furniture was all covered in fitted plastic. It had a bit of a space station feel to it. Weirdly, for a while there, this was a popular choice for living room decor. The antiseptic look, you might call it.
Alas, despite my best efforts, I digress. Well, there we are, the three of us, having only just recently imbibed from Dave's perpetual stash, splayed in our teenage languish over the plastic furniture. Then, horror of horrors, the distinctive sound of keys prodding at the front door lock shocked us out of our reveries. Well, all but Dave, in a state of infinite reverie, I expect. Even I though, taken off guard, was rather dazed and confused. Good old Kimmy, though, was her usual rockstar in action. Like a coiled cat she sprung from the couch and dashed the length of the living room, like some kind of crazy wizard, her arms flayed about with mystical speed, throwing open all the living room windows. She then flew like the wind back across the room, where, in a death-defying flourish, in one fell sweep, she scooped up Dave's various weed paraphernalia off the coffee table, proceeding to stick it inside his jacket.
Now, I know that some of you are going to doubt the veracity of this next part. I confess I can't be completely sure of it myself, but what I recollect was that at this point Kimmy darted to the distant end of the room and proceeded to expel tempestuous gusts of exhalation right across the living room, blasting all lingering odor of recent weed straight out of the gaping windows at the other end of the room. All to say that, amazingly, when my parents stepped into the living room, there we three were, queued up with Cheshire cat grins, like the servants of an aristocratic home attending the arrival of the new lady of the house.
Look, my parents weren't exactly cool in any sense. I don't think they ever smoked pot and I'm certain they would have been more than a little disapproving of me doing so. One way or another, though, all this passed without great incident. If anything, they were distressed at the prospect of such a gaggle of scruffy teenagers lounging over their plastic covered furniture. So, looking back on the incident, I can't really say if it was just that they didn't recognize the smell of weed or if indeed superstar girlfriend Kimmy did exert a bit of her magic to miraculously rid the living room of the odor of culpability.
However, it's unlikely that you know Kimmy (but if you do, drop me a line and let me know, I'd love to catch up with her again), so in all likelihood you are going to need less magical means for weed odor abatement. That's why we're here at How to Get Rid of Weed Smell. We've got the lowdown for you on the gold standard of aromatic discretion.
Let's face it; you may want to invite for dinner your boss or your next door neighbor, or even your in-laws. If you smoke pot, though, you don't want to create any awkward moments to spoil your dinner party. The truth is lots of people remain uncomfortable with marijuana smoking, regardless of its legality. At that point you can choose to undertake a moral crusade to win them to your side or just skip the whole futile and somewhat vainglorious undertaking and just make an effort to keep your home smelling pleasant for all visitors.
I say, if it happens in personal space let it stays in personal space. After all, that's really what personal space is all about, right?
The irony though is that many of us today who are conscientious about the virtue of aromatic discretion had our first experience with such matters under quite different circumstances. In my youth, and my hometown, pot was certainly illegal, though, through the perhaps somewhat rose colored glasses of recollection, there seems to have been a bit more of an innocence about it than there is today. Still, it wasn't on.
In any event, this story begins with my parents being away for a few days. My girlfriend at the time, the dishy (and otherwise amazing) Kimberley, was sort of staying with me in the parents' absence and my pal, the more or less perpetually pot addled Dave, had dropped by. We were hanging out in the living room, which was one of those icons of the mid to late 20th century, where the furniture was all covered in fitted plastic. It had a bit of a space station feel to it. Weirdly, for a while there, this was a popular choice for living room decor. The antiseptic look, you might call it.
Alas, despite my best efforts, I digress. Well, there we are, the three of us, having only just recently imbibed from Dave's perpetual stash, splayed in our teenage languish over the plastic furniture. Then, horror of horrors, the distinctive sound of keys prodding at the front door lock shocked us out of our reveries. Well, all but Dave, in a state of infinite reverie, I expect. Even I though, taken off guard, was rather dazed and confused. Good old Kimmy, though, was her usual rockstar in action. Like a coiled cat she sprung from the couch and dashed the length of the living room, like some kind of crazy wizard, her arms flayed about with mystical speed, throwing open all the living room windows. She then flew like the wind back across the room, where, in a death-defying flourish, in one fell sweep, she scooped up Dave's various weed paraphernalia off the coffee table, proceeding to stick it inside his jacket.
Now, I know that some of you are going to doubt the veracity of this next part. I confess I can't be completely sure of it myself, but what I recollect was that at this point Kimmy darted to the distant end of the room and proceeded to expel tempestuous gusts of exhalation right across the living room, blasting all lingering odor of recent weed straight out of the gaping windows at the other end of the room. All to say that, amazingly, when my parents stepped into the living room, there we three were, queued up with Cheshire cat grins, like the servants of an aristocratic home attending the arrival of the new lady of the house.
Look, my parents weren't exactly cool in any sense. I don't think they ever smoked pot and I'm certain they would have been more than a little disapproving of me doing so. One way or another, though, all this passed without great incident. If anything, they were distressed at the prospect of such a gaggle of scruffy teenagers lounging over their plastic covered furniture. So, looking back on the incident, I can't really say if it was just that they didn't recognize the smell of weed or if indeed superstar girlfriend Kimmy did exert a bit of her magic to miraculously rid the living room of the odor of culpability.
However, it's unlikely that you know Kimmy (but if you do, drop me a line and let me know, I'd love to catch up with her again), so in all likelihood you are going to need less magical means for weed odor abatement. That's why we're here at How to Get Rid of Weed Smell. We've got the lowdown for you on the gold standard of aromatic discretion.
About the Author:
Mickey Jhonny also writes for the Walking Dead celebration cite, Pretty Much Dead Already. His hit post on The Walking Dead Fanfiction is a must read.
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