Daily Dabble: Blow My High

Daily Dabble: Blow My High


(A Closet Stoner’s Guide to Vibe Assassins, Buzz Killers, and Mood Murders)

🎬 Intro: The Sacred High

There are two types of people in this world: those who can light up, float into a vibe, and just ride it undisturbed like a gondola in Venice… and those cursed souls like me, a closet stoner, who live in constant fear of the buzz assassins. It starts so perfectly. The room is dim, Kushie’s curled up at my feet, I’ve got King of the Hill reruns queued, and a fresh bowl of garlic knots on the counter waiting like a post-session reward. One slow pull from the vape pen, one lazy exhale, and—BOOM. Life comes crashing in like an uninvited neighbor.

Someone knocks. Kushie barks. Mary Jane yells from the other room: “Why does it smell weird in here?” And just like that…My high is blown. Not faded. Not gently interrupted. Straight-up murdered. Like it never even had a chance to grow into the symphony it was meant to be. And that’s the thing: stoners don’t get high; we curate vibes. And when you blow the vibe? That’s stoner homicide.

🚬 What Blowing a High Really Means

Here’s the thing most normies don’t understand: blowing a high isn’t just losing a buzz. It’s killing the momentum of a perfectly balanced mood state. It’s when the universe finally tunes your brain to the right frequency — only for some idiot to unplug the radio. It’s getting to the front of the line for Space Mountain, then someone yells, “Ride’s closed.” It’s like you’re mid–Pink Floyd solo, eyes closed, floating… and Nickelback starts blasting through your AirPods. And listen, this isn’t about weed etiquette. This is about universal mood physics. The fragility of a vibe. A good high is like Italian focaccia fresh out of the oven — hot, delicate, infused with rosemary magic. One wrong move and poof — it collapses.

🐶 The Stoner Spectrum of Vibe Killers

Closet stoners know the list by heart:

  • The Dog Alarm. Kushie means well, but when she points at the pizza delivery guy like he’s a cartel hitman, my chest caves in.
  • The Mary Jane Interrogation. That dreaded: “Why are your eyes red? Why are you giggling? Why does it smell weird in here?” Pure vibe obliteration.
  • The Netflix Betrayal. You were locked into Sopranos reruns, but autoplay hits you with a romcom trailer. Boom. Mood gone.
  • The Existential Thought. “What if I’ve been dead since 2012?” … Congrats, you’re pacing the hallway, sober by panic.
  • The Random Knock. Every sound after 10 p.m. is automatically DEA.

Each of these is a bullet in the chamber of vibe roulette. Pull the trigger enough, and eventually, your night’s smoked.

📺 Pop Culture’s Pantheon of Blown Highs

Think this is all in my head? Nope. Pop culture proves it:

  • Tony Soprano’s panic attacks. Nothing like trying to chill to gabagool mafia vibes only for HBO to remind you, “Hey, mortality is terrifying.” High blown.
  • Stranger Things cliffhangers. You’re vibing with synthwave nostalgia when suddenly a demogorgon eats a child. Mood vaporized.
  • Spotify ads. Imagine being mid–Dark Side of the Moon and suddenly: “GEICO can save you 15%…” Vibe-killer of the century.
  • Video game updates. You’re ready to fight Bowser, but Nintendo says: “Please wait while downloading patch 12.7.” High blown, Mario.


Even legends aren’t safe. Keith Richards? Still touring. Probably immortal. But if you’ve ever listened to a Rolling Stones track get interrupted by an Apple Watch notification? That’s vibe slaughter.

🎶 TikTok Trend Tie-In: #BlowMyHigh

The kids have it right: Dee Mula’s track “Blow My High” is going viral, and it’s basically a closet stoner anthem. But instead of flexing or dancing, I see it differently.

Imagine TikToks of the Hall of Shame moments:

  • Bud mid-hit, Kushie barking like a DEA snitch.
  • A phone buzzing: “Boss wants to hop on a call.”
  • Mary Jane walking in just as the smoke hits the ceiling.


Caption: #BlowMyHigh and you’ve got a closet stoner viral pipeline.

🚪 The Closet Stoner Hall of Shame

Here it is. My personal haunted house of vibe-killers.

You don’t buy tickets. You don’t line up. You just take one edible too many, hear the floor creak, and suddenly you’re a guest of honor in the Closet Stoner Hall of Shame.


First stop: The Animatronic Mary Jane Jump Scare. She kicks the door open mid-session like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. Her line? Always: “Why does it smell weird in here?” Every time she says it, my bloodstream flushes THC in sheer panic.


Second: The Wheel of Misfortune Texts. Glowing letters spin: BOSS. MOM. IRS. It always lands on “Mom,” and she always somehow knows you’ve been up to something.


Third: The Canine Alarm Exhibit. Animatronic Kushie barking at squirrels, shadows, ghosts of Bob Marley — doesn’t matter. Each bark is a vibe exorcism.


Finally: The Mirror of Paranoia. You look in and see yourself: sweaty, guilty, maybe 20 years older. The mirror whispers excuses: “It’s incense. It’s allergies. It’s oregano.” The high? Gone. Exit through the gift shop. All they sell are broken lighters, expired gummies, and leftover anxiety.

🛠 How to Salvage a High

The good news? A blown high isn’t the end. You can salvage the vibe — if you know the tricks:

  • Re-light, Re-set. Spark again. Sometimes a fresh bowl is all it takes.
  • Change the soundtrack. Skip from Pink Floyd to Eros Ramazzotti, or even Mario Kart OST.
  • Go analog. Put down the phone. Vinyl, sketchpad, guitar riffs — analog vibes resist high-blowing.
  • Lean into chaos. Sometimes the blown high is the story. A DEA-sounding knock becomes a joke, not a nightmare.


It’s like pasta water — you don’t throw it out when it boils over. You add salt, stir it back, and keep cooking.

📚 Final Puff of Wisdom


At the end of the day, protecting your high is protecting your peace. The world’s full of high assassins, vibe killers, and buzz mercenaries. But the truth? Sometimes a blown high just means you’re supposed to roll another, laugh about it, and get back on the gondola. Because if stoner life has one eternal truth, it’s this: Every vibe deserves a second chance