"Danger is a biologic necessity, like dreams." - William Burroughs
Dabbing is a stupid and dangerous sort of fun, I don’t suggest it to anyone, but if you’re going to try it, try it naked, and be aware of the following:
1. The Inevitable Drip
Whether you’re a low-heat dabber or a full-throttle stoner, the inevitable drip is a thing to be feared, naked or not. This dipshit move is a fairly severe punishment when applied directly to the naked skin. I mean, those nails can reach temperatures of over 1,200 degrees Fahrenheit for Christ’s sake! Imagine, if you will, how ridiculously HOT your dab gets before it travels inward as an intoxicating mist, or (enter the danger) downward as an immediate, screaming reminder to your delicate inner thigh that pain is real.
My advice is this: try to master the drip-free dab in a way that doesn’t cause pain. On second thought, that’s dumb advice and probably not possible, so I’ll take it back. Practice makes perfect and chicks dig scars, right? You may need to recruit a spotter to help you dab until your tolerance is built up and/or your basic motor skills return, and those elusive little bastards will return eventually.
The good news is this: once the pain is gone and the stain fades away, you will most likely never get skin cancer in that particular spot.
2. Throwing Up and Throwing Down
I’ve been dabbing for nearly a year now and I rarely throw up after a massive rip these days. I’m not sure if people sometimes throw up because of a misstep with the temperature of the nail, or I guess it could be the quality of the shatter, maybe the cleanliness of the piece, who knows? I know you’ll never catch me dabbing reclaim because I don’t like throwing up. Well, I guess that’s not true. I do like throwing up, from mushrooms, but I digress. I don’t usually like throwing up. I do, however, hold a certain fondness for throwing down, which, like the drip, is inevitable if I’m dabbing naked, especially when my new spotter is looking at me like my body is some sort of divine pleasure trip.
Throwing up is gross, but it happens.
My advice is this: stock new toothbrushes and mouthwash in your stoner-guest throw-up bathroom. The throwing up will usually delay the throwing down for about an hour, but don’t worry. Brush twice, gargle once, splatter check, smile at your sexy stoner mug in the mirror, think only about the immediate future, drink some water, and move on.
The good news is this: if the offending rip was outrageous enough to cause vomit, you’re going to feel like a fucking ninja as soon as you’re done puking, but only if you can emerge from the bathroom in an upright position.
Good luck! And don’t forget the candles and mood music. Oh, and this is important, if your phone rings audibly while you’re dabbing naked, whether you answer it or not, you’re an asshole.
Jennifer Knight is a Colorado-based freelance writer and editorial consultant. She studied Rhetoric and Writing at the University of Colorado, Colorado Springs where she inadvertently became hooked on literature, music, cinema and weed. Jennifer is also an ordained Dudeist priest. Knight can be reached by talk, text, email, or astral projection. She prefers astral projection.