In 1967, when we started smoking too much pot, my best buddy was a guy named Chuck. We (in the style of many others) would head to his bedroom most nights, stuff a towel under the door, put on The Doors or whatever (that’s another story), light up, and pretend his mother didn’t know what we were doing.
This Pasta Has Been My Escape Since 1967
In 1967, when we started smoking too much pot, my best buddy was a guy named Chuck. We (in the style of many others) would head to his bedroom most nights, stuff a towel under the door, put on The Doors or whatever (that’s another story), light up, and pretend his mother didn’t know what we were doing.