Daily Dabble: “Blow My High” — Songs That Are Mood Killers

There’s a fragile beauty to a good high. You set the scene: dim lights, comfy couch, maybe a bag of pretzels within reach. Music’s playing, and you’re syncing up with the universe like Wi-Fi. Then it happens — the wrong song comes on. And in that moment, your cosmic connection drops like AOL in ’98.

TikTok’s running with Dee Mula’s track “Blow My High” right now, turning it into a meme about ruined vibes. But stoners? We’ve been documenting this since Walkmans. If weed has taught me anything, it’s that music can elevate you to another plane — or it can take a perfectly good buzz, roll it up, and ash it out in a truck stop bathroom.

So here’s the official catalog — decades of stoner trauma — songs that don’t just miss the vibe, but actively assassinate it.

Exhibit A: Jingle Hell (The Corporate Buzzkill)

Forget horror movies — jingles are the real psychological warfare. You’re high, floating on Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here, when suddenly your brain coughs up:

• “1-877-Kars-4-Kids, donate your car today!”
• “Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there!”
• “Hot Pockets!”

That last one is the nuclear option. Once, after a particularly potent brownie, the Farmers Insurance jingle (“bum ba-dum bum bum bum bum”) looped in my head for hours. I’d change albums — Marley, Tool, Radiohead — didn’t matter. Farmers was always there. At one point, I actually said out loud, “Fine, insure the damn crops, just let me smoke in peace!”

Jingles don’t just blow your high. They hijack it. They grab the aux cord in your brain and refuse to leave.

Exhibit B: The Party Misfire (DJ Buzzkill Strikes Again)

Every smoke circle has a self-appointed DJ. And every circle eventually regrets it. Picture this: dorm room, 1999. We’ve got Dre’s The Chronic spinning, smoke so thick the RA’s probably calling the fire department. The vibe is immaculate. Then some genius hijacks the CD changer and hits play on:

• “Mambo No. 5” – Lou Bega
• “Tubthumping” – Chumbawamba
• “Macarena” – Los Del Rio

Look — I’m not saying these songs are bad. They had their moment. But when you’re mid-edible, trying to transcend, the last thing you need is a novelty dance track reminding you of your aunt’s wedding reception.

Another night, Sublime was cruising, smooth as butter, when someone queued “Blue (Da Ba Dee)” by Eiffel 65. My high didn’t just fade. It packed its bags, filed for separation, and left me with neon aliens chanting “I’m blue da ba dee da ba di” for the rest of eternity.

Exhibit C: The Trauma Shuffle (Flashbacks You Didn’t Ask For)

Spotify and shuffle are traitors. One second, you’re basking in Thievery Corporation, eyes melting into the carpet. The next — bam — you’re emotionally teleported to the worst breakup of your life.

Case study: “Tears in Heaven” – Eric Clapton. I was baked, staring at my ceiling fan, when this hit. Suddenly, I wasn’t in my living room anymore. I was in a mental montage of funerals, lost pets, and bad haircuts. My nachos got soggy with tears.

Other offenders:

• “Everybody Hurts” – R.E.M. (yeah, thanks, I noticed)
• “Nothing Compares 2 U” – Sinead O’Connor (ugly crying, guaranteed)
• “End of the Road” – Boyz II Men (beautiful sober, devastating high)
• “Cats in the Cradle” – Harry Chapin (that one makes you want to call your dad immediately, which is a big mood clash if you’re also holding a bong)

The thing about trauma shuffle songs is you don’t choose them. They choose you. They’re emotional landmines hidden in your playlists.

Exhibit D: The Silent Assassins (Wrong Tempo, Wrong Time)

Not every mood killer is obvious. Some songs lurk in the shadows, waiting for the worst possible moment.

Example: I was soaring to Dark Side of the Moon, candles flickering, everything perfect. Then — “Yakety Sax.” The Benny Hill chase theme. My brain went from cosmic to cartoon in 0.2 seconds. Instead of contemplating the universe, I felt like I was being chased around by British cops with batons.

Other assassins:

• “Informer” – Snow (try decoding patois at THC Level 9, I dare you)
• “Cotton Eyed Joe” – triggered an edible-induced hoedown that nearly broke my ankle
• “Crazy Frog” – if aliens exist, this is the sound they’ll use to torture us

And don’t even get me started on songs with fake sirens or doorbells. One night I heard a doorbell sample, panicked, and sprinted to the door. Nobody there. Came back. Bong water everywhere. That rug never recovered.

Exhibit E: Buzzkill Ballads (The Emotional Overload)

Ballads are sneaky. They creep in slow, then hit you with the emotional equivalent of a freight train.

Case study: “Wind of Change” – Scorpions. I love the fall of the Berlin Wall as much as anyone, but I didn’t need Klaus Meine’s whistle solo reminding me of geopolitics while I was three bowls deep into a quesadilla.

Other offenders:

• “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” – Poison (mid-high? Thorn right in the soul)
• “Total Eclipse of the Heart” – Bonnie Tyler (edibles can’t handle power crescendos like that)
• “November Rain” – Guns N’ Roses (11 minutes is too long to be trapped in feelings I didn’t order)

These songs don’t ruin you because they’re bad. They ruin you because they’re too good — emotionally devastating when you’re just trying to eat Goldfish crackers in peace.

Exhibit F: The Unskippables (Social Traps)

Sometimes the vibe-killer isn’t the song itself. It’s the social politics around it. You’re at a party, baked out of your skull, and somebody plays Nickelback. You want to skip it, but everyone else is vibing. So you sit there, high and helpless, while Chad Kroeger narrates your existential despair with “Look at this photograph.”

Other social landmines:

• The guy who insists on playing his SoundCloud rap mid-sesh.
• Jam-band enthusiasts who drop 27-minute Phish bootlegs. Respect, but no thanks.
• Surprise Happy Birthday for nobody in the room. Pure chaos.

High obliterated. Smile plastered. Soul screaming.

Exhibit G: The Time-Travelers (Songs That Age Like Milk When You’re High)

Some songs were fun in the moment, but now they’re landmines. They bring back too much, too fast.

• “Who Let the Dogs Out” – Baha Men. Harmless sober, paranoia fuel when high. You start wondering… who did let the dogs out? And why?
• “Barbie Girl” – Aqua. At 2PM in 1997, it was funny. At 2AM on an edible, it’s a fever dream.
• “MMM Bop” – Hanson. If this pops up mid-bong rip, your brain will either implode or start harmonizing against your will.

Bud’s Final Puff of Wisdom

Music is the steering wheel of your high. Get it right, and you’re cruising on an open highway under neon stars. Get it wrong, and you’re stranded in a Walmart parking lot with Lou Bega counting girlfriends in your ear.

So here’s the deal: curate like your high depends on it — because it does. Guard your queue. Set boundaries. If you hear the opening notes of Cotton Eyed Joe, skip before it’s too late. Because nothing — and I mean nothing — blows a high harder than Nickelback ambushing you during a cosmic journey.