I've only smoked weed a handful of times years ago, and it must not have been very good weed because it made me nervous as hell. Every little fucking thing would sidetrack me too, I would try to concentrate on something only to have some other fucking thing get my attention, try to concentrate on that, get sidetracked, so on and so forth. For example, I took a hit on my way home from work early one Sunday morning, before the bats came back to the belfry, as it were, it was right at dawn and I had thirty miles of pretty much empty open road ahead of me. I fired up before I got out of the parking lot and I could see myself take off and disappear behind the trees around the corner, that made me kind of anxious wondering where the hell I went so I figured I should probably follow myself. Anyway, as I was trying to track myself down I figured some fresh air and music might help alleviate some of the anxiety I was feeling, but for some reason I could only do one, and not the other. I turned the radio on and I recognized the song and was all like, "yeah, that's good, I like this song", but all of a sudden I could only hear the drums. I was like, "wtf is wrong with my goddamn radio??". I have no idea who was driving for the five minutes it took me to give up and turn the damn radio off, it went from just a drum track to only guitars, no damn singing at all, then a bass line, fuck it. Anyway, so after that ordeal I figured the fresh air was probably still a good idea. But for some reason the damn window didn't want to roll down. The motherfucker was crawling down, like at a millimeter every five seconds. That kind of pissed me off, but at the same time I was nervous because I had just bought the car off a friend of mine and started wondering what the fuck else was going to go wrong with it. Anyway, I finally remembered that I needed to hurry up and catch myself, I mean damn, I was probably already at home sitting in the driveway smoking some more of this shit and I didn't want to miss that, so I punched the accelerator and flew down the road, it felt like I was driving 110 mph, but when I looked down at the speedometer I was only going like 45, and I'm thinking damn, this fucking car has some serious issues. I never did catch up to myself and I don't remember much else about the trip, but I did finally make it home. I was fucking starving for some reason, I never did figure that out because I had taken a late lunch break that night/morning. I had a few other experiences with weed, one involved Forrest Gump, and another some fucking dinosaur that turned out to be a fucking clump of azaleas, I figured that shit just wasn't right for me.