True creeper weed. Any stories? Any modern strain anyone run across? The first and only time I recall true creeper weed was on a road trip to NYC many years ago.No bud left anywhere in town... finally found a source, hippy chick actually. Last bags in town... didn’t look all that great so I picked up a quarter. After a while my lady friend passenger rolled up a joint. Passed it around and consensus was not the best weed so one more j. Finished second and was ok for a while. At some point I was quite suddenly so fucked I needed a rest stop. Incredible weed and incredible unique effect.
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Creeper weed stories
- Thread starter blondie
- Start date
Sorry, no creeper weed stories Blondie, but I do remember plenty of end-of-summer, 'Last bags in town' before the annual Fall drought set in.
But you're right, it was many years ago, so I'm thinking it musta been Mexican.
But you're right, it was many years ago, so I'm thinking it musta been Mexican.
we called it "indian weed" because it would sneak up on you, lol. some pot, i can get a buzz lighting a joint or bowl. some of it i smoke & go "tasted good, not much high though." and that thought would stick with me for about ten minutes...
SUPRISE!
SUPRISE!
44:86N
Active member
Creeper weed, to me, is getting some results you really weren't expecting, especially from a small amount, and there is plenty of that to go around.
Here's a story from back in my day, like early '89, I call it "The Bong Buddies."
Wednesday nights in Columbia MO. is Blue Note Dance Party night. After one such night, my good friend, Scot, comes back into the Blue Note right before close and tells me he just scored a bag of Panama Red from some dude he's never seen before out in the parking lot. I grab our friend Devona, and we head back to my flat on College Ave. and settle down in the living room, with MTV on in the background. It's like 1:30am. The 24" Graphix Bong comes out, the kind with the soup can for a base. Scot gets out the weed, and it is truly red-pistil-mamma, like nothing I've ever seen. The bong makes the rounds, and soon we are cracking each other up.
At one point, I double over in laughter and feel/hear a "click" in my solar plexus, I stop laughing and sit up. The ambiance of the room has changed, it's a little darker, there is a party going on in the background, and two dudes are sitting right across from me and Scot. I've been holding the bong, and the dude right across from me goes, "You gonna camp on that all night, or pass it over here?" I stammer a sorry and pass him a loaded bong, which then goes back to Scot for reloading, and then to the next guy. Then the bong makes the rounds again with all five of us.
For some reason I start laughing again, double back over, hear that click again, and when I sit back up, the lights are bright and everyone is kind of quiet. Then Scot stands up, kind of looks around, and in one motion, rubs his hands downward across the tops of his thighs, looking kind of confused, and goes, "Where'd all the people go?" Which totally freaks Devona out, who proceeds to leave very quickly, and I was way too stoned to even care.
A day or two later I bump into Scot on campus, and he's like, "Do you remember pulling bongs with those two dudes who weren't really there the other night?" And I was like, "Oh shit, I do!"
Here's a story from back in my day, like early '89, I call it "The Bong Buddies."
Wednesday nights in Columbia MO. is Blue Note Dance Party night. After one such night, my good friend, Scot, comes back into the Blue Note right before close and tells me he just scored a bag of Panama Red from some dude he's never seen before out in the parking lot. I grab our friend Devona, and we head back to my flat on College Ave. and settle down in the living room, with MTV on in the background. It's like 1:30am. The 24" Graphix Bong comes out, the kind with the soup can for a base. Scot gets out the weed, and it is truly red-pistil-mamma, like nothing I've ever seen. The bong makes the rounds, and soon we are cracking each other up.
At one point, I double over in laughter and feel/hear a "click" in my solar plexus, I stop laughing and sit up. The ambiance of the room has changed, it's a little darker, there is a party going on in the background, and two dudes are sitting right across from me and Scot. I've been holding the bong, and the dude right across from me goes, "You gonna camp on that all night, or pass it over here?" I stammer a sorry and pass him a loaded bong, which then goes back to Scot for reloading, and then to the next guy. Then the bong makes the rounds again with all five of us.
For some reason I start laughing again, double back over, hear that click again, and when I sit back up, the lights are bright and everyone is kind of quiet. Then Scot stands up, kind of looks around, and in one motion, rubs his hands downward across the tops of his thighs, looking kind of confused, and goes, "Where'd all the people go?" Which totally freaks Devona out, who proceeds to leave very quickly, and I was way too stoned to even care.
A day or two later I bump into Scot on campus, and he's like, "Do you remember pulling bongs with those two dudes who weren't really there the other night?" And I was like, "Oh shit, I do!"
