¶ Welcome to 4/20 Themed Minisode
Hello, welcome to my favorite murder, the Mini.
So that's right, we read you your stories, your emails.
This is the first time we've ever done this, so just stay patient with us, Just stay in here with us.
It's only even what ten years, just ten in a row. Oh and this is themed. I think this is the first time we've done this. This is four twenty themes because it's coming out on four twenty.
That's right. I love that we want to celebrate the crime stories, the personal stories, the grandma stories that also involve marijuana.
Yeah. I don't even smoke it, but I fucking love that this is a thing.
So listen. You don't have to smoke it to enjoy. Other people smoke it. It's kind of the best part of pot. Write other people's horrible stories about pot. I have one that involves California adventure. Is it because you ate a cookie and then decided you needed another cookie? Because that's every pot story I've ever heard in my.
Life something like that, And I freaked the fuck out.
You go first, not unlike the time you did it at the Tom Petty concert.
No, that was mushrooms, I think, Oh was it? Yeah, Okay, we'll do it.
Different.
We'll do it on mushroom Day. I get mushroom Day.
¶ Grandpa's Close Call with Bundy
Yeah, okay, you want me to go first? The subject line perfectly kicking this off of this email is an infamous killer, a grandpa and illegal weed. Hello, Karen Georgia Pets an exactly right crew. I first listened to your podcast in twenty twenty and have only become a bigger fan with every listen. I have a story I think
is worthy of writing in, so here we go. In nineteen seventy seven, my grandpa was working as a truck driver and one day he had some time to kill, so he decided to spend the rest of the day and night with old friend that lived near Aspen, Colorado. He headed that way into a night of catching up, drinking, smoking, and having absolutely no clue how different that day could have ended up for him. The day he just so happened to have extra time was the day Ted Bundy
jumped out of the courthouse window in Aspen. What remember that part of that insane journey. The Aspen police stopped and searched every vehicle going in and out of town, and considering that my grandpa was driving a truck full of illegal weed, you can understand how much of a lucky coincidence this was. Oh no, my dad was born just two years later, and considering my grandpa would have been incarcerated, arrested, or dumped by my nana, my dad
or I would have never been born. I never even knew my grandpa until the twenty tens, when he sent my dad a letter in the mail explaining that he was his father.
Wait, so he got caught with the illegal weed because they were searching for.
He didn't get caught because they were looking for Ted Bundy. Oh so, but there was like they set up the point, the checkpoint, but they weren't looking for They weren't there to search people's stuff. They were looking for Ted Bundy. So they're they're like, go on, go ahead, sir, you're not a serial killer. Oh my god, my weed. And I thank you. My family and myself had the great pleasure of getting to hear all his crazy stories like this one for a couple of years before he died.
I think about him often, and I'm so grateful I got to know him, even just for a little while. Thank you for your podcast and all that you do. Stay sexy and visit an old friend when you have some time Brindley.
Wow, what a trip to just have a parent and.
Not know them right, and then they come into your life when you're an adult, right, so you have a whole new, weird relationship and the issues that come with us.
It's so many things to process.
But more than that, that guy must have like pulled over after he got through that stopping point or whatever, or gone to the first bar and ben like down to your wedding. I mean a truck filled with week seventies.
Especially that's prison for a long fucking time. Straight to prison, straight to prison. Okay, straight to jail, ud arm, that
¶ Neighbor Break-in and Bong Scare
was good. Someone in my house that shouldn't be. Hello, darlings. It's two thousand and three. I'm twenty three years old, newly married, and my husband and I are renting a house in a quaint Saint Louis neighborhood. We'd become friends with our neighbor across the street named Joe and his roommate Darryl. Joe Darrel older guys did odd job, so
they were home a lot. But we're overall friendly and helpful, like when my crappy ass card needed to jump in the morning, Joe would be walking over to help me within minutes of me realizing my car was dead. Multiple times, I thought, naively, what a great neighbor. I worked my first office job then, and it was ten minutes from home, so every day I'd come home to eat lunch and feed our dog and maybe smoke some weed. Says this
comes into play. One day, I head back to work after said lunch break, and about ten minutes later, I get a call on my desk phone. We didn't have cell phones then, asking if my name was x y Z and if I lived at x y Z. I'm like, uh, yeah it It was a local police. They said someone had broken into my home. I was a little stone, so I was like, oh, I was home just ten minutes ago for a lunch break. It was just me, and they said, ma'am, you need to come home. We
caught a man coming out of your house. Oh, and then the shocked emoji. I raced home when you guessed it, my neighbor Joe is handcuffed and sitting on the side of my driveway. Turns out, after I left to go back to work, our neighbor next door heard our dog barking his ass off and saw Joe sneak into our backyard and into our back door, so she called the
cops because she knew it was weird. Cops arrived catch him coming out the back door and search him and ladies, all he had on him was a dirty pair of my underwear and a walkie talkie. Oh yes, a walkie talkie. I was in shock. So then the cops say, let's go inside to see if anything else is missing. I panicked. The bong I had smoked from during lunch break and the bag of weed was on our living room table.
Sure.
I was like, oh, it's okay, Yeah, we don't need to go inside. I'm sure all he took was my underwear, and the mail cop leans over to me and says, ma'am, I looked in the window and saw the weed. You're not the one in trouble today.
Where has this cop been in everyone's life?
Seriously? Yeah? So here I was walking into my house followed by cops walking past my bong and weed in a tray, acting like none of us see it while we look around and make sure nothing else was missing. Joe got arrested, but thanks to lax laws, he bonded out about four hours later. That's a whole other story involving finding out Joe had been stalking me, my husband, his BFF, and a guitar smashing into Joe's forehead and more cops and us moving shortly after. I think that's the story.
Oh, I get it.
So when you say stay safe and don't get murdered, trust me, I take that shit seriously. Okay, love you by Kim By Kim By Kim Kim.
I'm sorry that happened to you, but it's stay sexy, don't I'm just kidding. We hope you say say yeah, we assume that you are already doing right. That's awful and crazy and so hard.
To have a neighbor like that that you just like, are constantly in fear of.
Now you've probably heard of this for other things, but wouldn't it be cool if there was a service. We're very enlarge and intimidating looking biker type men would be there when he bonded out standing on his lawn, so that the message from the neighborhood is how about you fuck off and get out of here? Right?
We have protection? Now?
Yeah, that that should be a thing.
Should be I think you just invented it.
I think poor man's copyright.
I don't call it Hell's Angels, but it's your just face going like this, is that a name?
Can we trademark that no one's ever done Hell's Angels before? Right? Knock knock knock.
I know.
¶ Bong Mistaken for Pipe Bomb
I'm not going to redo the subject line of this one, but similar beloved MFM. I briefly dated this guy in high school who was the walking cliche of an early aughts teenage stoner image faded metal band, T shirt, baggy jeans with wallet chains without a wallet, and sideshow bob hair. One day, he and a buddy skip school to smoke weed on his roof. One of them had built a bong out of white PVC pipe. Oh, I have done that, like a big, long, huge one.
We'd go on the top of my bunk bed.
To smoke from it off so you could get high enough into Jesus.
Which is like, oh, microplastics, I'm worried about fucking tupperware now, but I used to smoke fucking PBC and tinfoil.
The good news is that you inhanaling that PVC actually coated all of your organs. No other microplastics could get in that's great.
It's almost like I laminated my organs.
That's right, great, little it's your own VIP pass to yourself.
Okay.
So I'm sure it was absolutely foul to smoke out of approved or confirmed, because one of them threw it off the roof and never thought about it again. That afternoon, their whole neighborhood was blocked off, cop cars everywhere, state police, unmarked vans, crime scene tape, you know the drill. That's when the bomb squad showed up. These boys were so quick to discard their blackened, plastic monstrosity of a bong that they didn't notice it roll into the middle of
their suburban street. A neighbor must have walked by and thought it looked like a pipe bomb, so they did their civic duty and reported it to the police. It was quickly determined to not be an explosive pipe bomb, but a pipe bong.
Love it. That's tough.
No one knew it was them, and even if it was collected for evidence, they were miners and surprisingly didn't have criminal records, no one was the wiser. A real stone or miracle, I guess, stay sexy and don't call the bomb squad on the Bong Squad. Thank you for all you do. With so much love, Katie from Bloomington, one of my favorite cities.
Remember, we didn't have a pipe, So you take a fucking coke can and and poke holes in it and then light it on fucking fire, and we'd inhale. Yeah what were we inhaling?
Tiny pieces of aluminium?
Yeah?
Love.
Now I won't even like, I won't even take the receipt at a fucking convenience store because it's toxic. You know, it's toxic. That's why supposed to touch them. But it's like we used to fucking I used to smoke math out a fucking tinfoil.
You know. Listen, we have to build our lives from something. And if it's gonna be if it's gonna be a diet PEPSI can with a thumb, yeah, you know, dent in it.
Yeah, then that's.
What we we do, what we must.
At least we're not okay.
At least where we're cycling.
Yeah, uh no, I'm not going to reach the subject line.
¶ Weed-Induced Fire and Guardian Angel
Hayas in episode four forty four and Georgia talks about the third man, and I realized I had a third man run in that I am forever grateful for. Remember third man syndrome. I was in my late twenties, living away from my parents for the first time, and had just had a lovely night out dancing with my friends. Came home nicely buzzed and feeling pretty delightful with myself,
and I remembered I had some shitty weed. So I lit some candles, texted my friend what I was doing, and leaned out the window to smoke a badly rolled joint. My friend texted back as I was about to drop off, don't forget to blow out the candles. And I did blow them out except for one. Like I said, I was a little drunk, I was a little stone. I was pretty much passed out, all cozy in my bed when I felt a nudge on my shoulder. I ignored. Then I got a thump on my back and that
whirled me over. I woke up to see the chair beside my bed on fire. Yes, and then it's the emoji, the smiley emoji, but it's melting into.
The literally melting.
Yeah. My first reaction was to try to blow it out because drunk, but because they saw my two glasses of water on the floor. I had brought up with me, so I smart two glasses, hid rate drunk, I know, And after a few minutes of panicked but discreete running from my room to the bathroom to refill the glasses, the fire was out. My roommates were none the wiser, quietly running so they don't like them on that sad I'm like my heart was something my brain reeling from.
How the actual fuck did I wake up? And who punched me? I figured it was one of my grandparents' angels and eventually went to sleep. Love you ladies, stay sexy and blow out all of the candles or pass on the shitty weed. Frankie, she her, Frankie. I got to tell you home.
Jim would be very upset if you heard this. Hometown. This is the thing that he would harangue me about on the phone, like when I was college age.
The candles.
He really really doesn't like candles because it's you. Of course, you like candles when you're high or drunk, you know.
I Vince forgot to blow one out the other night when he left that I had lit because he never lights them right, So he was like I didn't, but I was like, you should. I should always look for candle.
Right, maybe you guys need a little like a candle whiteboard. You have to go down and be like Jack lit it in the conservatory. Please put it out. I love that thing where like you come in hours later and it's all and you're to liquid and you're just like, don't explode.
I am so lucky.
Yes, oh my god, Okay, this is a weed story made for me. I won't reach you. The subject line it says evening ladies at all. I love the podcast and your consistent advocacy for mental health awareness. My name is Emily. You can use it now now that the pleasantries are over.
¶ Sinkhole While High on Spice
Buckle up.
It's twenty eighteen. I was nineteen years old and working at an outlet mall. And then in parentheses it says tangier outlets because the name of your personal outlet mall really matters, does matter in my home state of Pennsylvania. I'm giving you this piece of information because you can easily look this fact up. Oh yeah, this shift isn't a normal shift because about two nights before I was hanging out smoking weed with a now ex friend.
She must specify.
I took some home and I smoked more of it turns out they gave me bad spice. What's that synthetic pot K two?
They call it? Oh my god, Okay, that's why it's next friend.
Yeah, believe me when I say bad, I mean bad. I was messed up for about three days. And then in parentheses it says time was a blur and says fish bowl vision shakes everything. So this is a real Has.
This happened to me then? Because I've gotten so fucked up on weed that it didn't make any sense.
Yes, that somebody may have accidentally or whatever you got synthetic weed or create there's a weird name for it right where you're like, way beyond fucked up.
I feel like I've.
Had Okay, Yeah, explains a lot.
Do you need to call it twice? This is a fever dream.
It's explained how we got here right now exactly? Okay, it says. Anyways, being a resilient teenager, I still went to work for some reason. Later in the shift, I was handing out price charts for a sale and I looked down to pick something up, and that's when I feel the rumble and hear the screaming. I look up and on day two of a three day high, mind you, the ground was gone.
What.
I look at one of the other potheads that worked in the store and I asked, did you see that too? He slowly nodded yes. Then the moment was still until a riptide of action began. Six cars went down and a woman went with them. So basically, a sinkhole while you're high, high on a drug that's kept you high for days, so you don't know what's real.
Oh my god.
She was apparently loading bags into her trunk and the ground just gave out.
Oh honey.
People outside were able to get her out safely. Yea. Everybody in the store just walked out, and I moved my car as it was only about ten yards from the edge of the sinkle. What yep, operate that view? Oh that was sarcasm, And I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no. We didn't get to leave work early. As my manager put it, the store is still standing. Watch hum as my manager slash franchise owner.
Yeah, exactly.
This is the time I witnessed a sinkhole open in a parking lot while I was stoned out of my mind. Thank you for all your time, And if there's a lesson to take from this it's to not fuck with Mother Earth and legalize recreational cannabis. I disagree, sound like it? Uh yours truly, Emily.
I mean, it's don't smoke synthetic cannabis is the lesson.
It's illegalized synthetic cannabis, yes and yes, and illegalized fucked up friends that would drug you.
Oh my god, fuck you. Yeah. Okay, it's all coming. It's all making sense now. Yeah, I'm doing one of those Okay.
You're remembering exactly who you smoked that pop.
With us triangulating. Okay, this one is about about getting
¶ Dad's Accidental THC Trip
your dad high. You'd figure that out anyway, so I'm just going to reach it. Oh mean no, it's a spoiler high ladies. First time writer and newbie listener as of this year, I recently went to Europe for a work trip that extended into vacation, so I was away for almost three weeks. Since my dad lives fifteen minutes away, I asked him to stop by occasionally to check my mail, check on Kevin, not my kiddy, but an orange kitty who lives in the garage, and just generally make sure
my house wasn't going to fall down. While I was gone Style. About two weeks into my trip, I got the longest text message from my dad. I'm pretty sure he has ever typed a little background here. Like many boomer parents, my dad is a man of few words and is known to very abruptly end phone conversations with some sort of variation of well, I'm done talking.
I respect that a lot.
My brother and I have even taken to sharing our call logs to see who can have the longer conversation with him. Anything past ten minutes is a miracle. Back to the text I received, it was a book about how he had spent some time at my house the previous day, and while he was there, he did the following things. Checked my mail, but then noticed my mailbox was a bit wobbly, so he made a plan for repair. Watched a Netflix movie while eating leftover food in my fridge.
Noticed my car's registration sticker was on the couch and not on my car, so he fixed that problem, set the clocks on my microwave an oven, made sure Kevin had food and water. God Dad, Yeah, besides finding this text a little out of the ordinary, I didn't think much about it. He's a dad, and actions are his love language, so I thought he was just enjoying being
at my house. That is until I came home and saw the remnants of two THCHC containing strawberry lemonade drinks in my recycled bin that definitely were not there before. As a former hippie, my dad isn't unfamiliar with partaking in certain recreational habits, but we haven't exactly discussed what those habits are with one another. Such a dad thing. I have so many questions and very few answers now, though no wonder he ate all my snacks and zoned
out out in the living room. Had paranoia kicked in when he realized he didn't know what time it was. Did I get the strain of thch that made him super productive? And DELI had twice the suggested serving size. I'll see him here in a couple of weeks, and I'm still considering my approach. Do I ask him directly if you knew what he drank? Or do I ask a series of leading questions to try to discern how high he actually was. The latter part sounds more fun
at least. Thanks for all you ladies. Do you make my Monday, Wednesday, and Friday drives to work quite enjoyable. I'll be working on breaking that top ten percent next year. Stay sexy and keep hiding your weed from your parents. Even as a thirty eight year old Emily.
Wait, So Emily's saying that those weren't her pot drinks.
It sounds like they were. Oh they were. Yeah, they were in her fridge and her dad went in a fridge to like.
Get she was saying they weren't in the garbage before she left, right, Oh got It got her because I was like, is he did he just come to the house and sneak his own weed drinks? But he thought he was having a nice soda.
I think, so, oh shit, I know I was. I'm talking about. Yeah, they weren't the recycling, but they were in the fridge.
I mean, all of those pieces. It's so funny. Whereas like he sat and watched a Netflix movie in eight Leftovers.
Yeah, sir, and then did the weirdest thing, which is text her the longest fucking text message about everything he did, which is like.
Here's what I'm doing. But also, if you were super high and you didn't understand why it would feel really good to be like, hey, Georgia, Yeah, I'm I'm just sitting here and everything's normal and petting the dogs a little bit. I'm watching a movie. I'm mighty some popcorn. Yeah, and then you you answering me, would be like, and you're still on.
Earth right and everything is still fine.
¶ Closing Remarks and Podcast Info
You're fine it I think that's it. God, that went fast. That was delight Yeah.
Please send those and maybe we'll do another high one just for the fun of it. It doesn't have to be four twenty to celebrate all your fucked up stories about getting high.
And you don't have to take your clothes off to have a good time. So don't feel pressured about this episode that you're supposed to like drugs. You're not supposed.
To drugs now. We highly recommend you don't know like them. But send your emails to my favorite murder at Gmail and stay sexy, don't get murdered. Goodbye, Elvis, Do you want to cookie?
This has been an exactly right production.
Our senior producer is Molly Smith and our associate producer is Tessa Hughes.
Our editor is Aristotle Ascevedo.
This episode was mixed by Leona Squalacci.
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