We here at How to Get Rid of Weed Smell, of course, do not promote illegal activities. However, there are now so many jurisdictions in the U.S. in which pot has been decriminalized, either for medical or even recreational purposes, that a concern with getting rid of the rather distinctive odor is just a matter of good decorum.
A dinner invitation to your employer, a next door neighbor, or your in-laws, shouldn't be an aromatically awkward occasion. It doesn't matter if it's legal; some people just remain uncomfortable, for whatever reason, with marijuana smoking. At that point, the choices are trying to change other people's values and preferences to your own - an undertaking equally as notable for its futility as for its vanity - or you can just exercise a little discretion.
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.
On this one occasion I recall with amusement, my parents were away for several days. I had my girlfriend of the time, Kimmy (ah, Kimberley, the stories I could tell, but let's not digress) and my good, but rather permanently pot addled pal Dave over. We were sitting in the living room. This incidentally was one of those living rooms from the mid to late 20th century in where the furniture was all covered in plastic. I don't know if younger people today can imagine such a thing. Surely no one today does that. If you know of anyone who still has a living room that is treated as a museum and has all the soft furniture covered in plastic, do let me know in the comments section. I'd be fascinated to hear.
Anyway, so the three of us had recently imbibed and were lounging on the plastic - actually we may have lifted it off. I don't recall. Suddenly we heard keys prodding at the lock of the front door. I was rather dazed and confused, and Dave was inching toward comatose, but old Kimmy was ever the superstar. Like a coiled cat she leapt to her feet and flew across the room where, with arm speed that blurred before our eyes, she tossed open all the windows, before flying back across the room and in a mind numbing flourish scooped up Dave's various weed paraphernalia off the coffee table and stuffed it all inside the jacket he was wearing.
Now, I'm not sure about this part, but I seem to recall that she then darted to the other end of the room and proceeded to exhale great gusts of blown air across the living room, sweeping the lingering weed odor out the gaping windows. Well, believe it or not, by the time the parents had made their way to the living room the three of us were standing in a row, with slightly improbable grins, something like the service staff of a mansion waiting to greet the new lady of the house upon her arrival.
Make no mistake, my parents were not cool and most certainly would have not been cool about me smoking weed, anywhere, much less in the house. And yet, somehow, nothing came of it. It was a more innocent time; is it possible they just didn't know the smell of weed? One way or another the occasion passed without incident. The only real perturbation seemed to be the prospect of us scuzzy loafers sprawling our disheveled selves over their plastic covered furniture. So, I can't say with any certainty if they just didn't recognize the weed odor or if, in fact, Kimmy superstar girlfriend of all time, did indeed save the day with her magical powers and somehow get rid of the weed smell.
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.
A dinner invitation to your employer, a next door neighbor, or your in-laws, shouldn't be an aromatically awkward occasion. It doesn't matter if it's legal; some people just remain uncomfortable, for whatever reason, with marijuana smoking. At that point, the choices are trying to change other people's values and preferences to your own - an undertaking equally as notable for its futility as for its vanity - or you can just exercise a little discretion.
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.
On this one occasion I recall with amusement, my parents were away for several days. I had my girlfriend of the time, Kimmy (ah, Kimberley, the stories I could tell, but let's not digress) and my good, but rather permanently pot addled pal Dave over. We were sitting in the living room. This incidentally was one of those living rooms from the mid to late 20th century in where the furniture was all covered in plastic. I don't know if younger people today can imagine such a thing. Surely no one today does that. If you know of anyone who still has a living room that is treated as a museum and has all the soft furniture covered in plastic, do let me know in the comments section. I'd be fascinated to hear.
Anyway, so the three of us had recently imbibed and were lounging on the plastic - actually we may have lifted it off. I don't recall. Suddenly we heard keys prodding at the lock of the front door. I was rather dazed and confused, and Dave was inching toward comatose, but old Kimmy was ever the superstar. Like a coiled cat she leapt to her feet and flew across the room where, with arm speed that blurred before our eyes, she tossed open all the windows, before flying back across the room and in a mind numbing flourish scooped up Dave's various weed paraphernalia off the coffee table and stuffed it all inside the jacket he was wearing.
Now, I'm not sure about this part, but I seem to recall that she then darted to the other end of the room and proceeded to exhale great gusts of blown air across the living room, sweeping the lingering weed odor out the gaping windows. Well, believe it or not, by the time the parents had made their way to the living room the three of us were standing in a row, with slightly improbable grins, something like the service staff of a mansion waiting to greet the new lady of the house upon her arrival.
Make no mistake, my parents were not cool and most certainly would have not been cool about me smoking weed, anywhere, much less in the house. And yet, somehow, nothing came of it. It was a more innocent time; is it possible they just didn't know the smell of weed? One way or another the occasion passed without incident. The only real perturbation seemed to be the prospect of us scuzzy loafers sprawling our disheveled selves over their plastic covered furniture. So, I can't say with any certainty if they just didn't recognize the weed odor or if, in fact, Kimmy superstar girlfriend of all time, did indeed save the day with her magical powers and somehow get rid of the weed smell.
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.
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