It’s not you. It’s not me. It’s this fucking planet.


It all started with an isolated incident. A couple months back I was in the process of getting everything ready for my wedding. My mom met me in the dress boutique. As I slipped into my gown my mom casually mentions that my aunt and her boyfriend are joining us for dinner. I stared at my mother for a moment before reluctantly nodding my head.

We met them at restaurant right off Miracle Mile in Coral Gables where they already had a table reserved. We went over small talk. Questions like, “how’s the wedding planning?” or, “how’s your fiancé doing at work?”

I briefly responded to each question while scanning the menu. I kept glancing at my phone as my attention went in and out of the conversation. My mother turned to aunt and asked her how my cousin was doing, She leaned back in her seat and looked at her boyfriend for a minute.

“Her and her boyfriend are moving into my house this week,” she said.

I couldn’t really believe it since her and my cousin, Lex, always had a volatile relationship. I pretended not to listen and continued to eat shit on my phone. She went on about how they were looking to save money and really buckle down on school. My mom nodded her head and said it would definitely help them. My aunt stared down at the table for a moment while nodding her head.

“I did tell them that they are not allow to smoke weed while they live in my house,” she said sternly.

I remember letting out an audible chuckle before meeting the eyes of everyone at the table. Now this reaction may not have been appropriate but there are a few things you have to understand:

First is that the last time I had seen my cousin was a couple months back when she was torching the nail on her rig so I could do a fat dab at her place. Second, my aunt has been a chain cigarette smoker my entire existence and in that particular moment continued to smoke knowing it could trigger an aneurism.

“She’s twenty-two years old!” I said.

My aunt looked pissed while her boyfriend looked visibly uncomfortable.

“If she’s living in my house, she’s going to live by my rules,” she said with her arms crossed on the table.

I paused for a moment then said, “No, I understand if don’t want her to smoke in your home but she’s going to smoke somewhere. She just quit cigarettes, which are cancer sticks. That is something you should forbid in your home.”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Weed is illegal and is a drug.”

At this point in the conversation to say my mother was giving me the death look is an understatement. My mom has always known and has grown to accept the reality of my relationship with cannabis.

I threw both hands up while sinking into my seat and said, ”I’m just saying that I’d rather my daughter smoke cannabis than have her smoke cigarettes.”

I didn’t say anything else for the rest of the lunch. I just sat while they filled the silence until the waiter arrived with the check. We said our goodbyes and parted ways.

When I got home I sat on couch and turned on the TV. I searched my through DVR as I lit the joint that was in the ashtray on the coffee table. I put on Happyish and settled deeper into my couch. In episode four of it’s debut season, the main characters ask a question I have found myself asking everyday ever since: “Is everything on this planet ass fucking backwards?”