Stoners, though an affable bunch, have regrettable taste in just about everything. It's a trope as old as thyme rolled in cigarette paper and sold as a joint, and it's true: the outside world only knows about drug rugs, mushroom posters, and the Disco Biscuits because poor weed-smoking saps actually buy into those things. How are you supposed to get your blazed-out buddies gifts befitting reasonable adult humans this holiday season without totally alienating them?
An unfortunate reality of the holiday season is that one must obtain gifts for those they don't necessarily like. One might even hate these people. For example, Uncle Tim's new wife Shea's daughter Melody, who once said you would be pretty if you had bangs. Or your boss, Mr. Man, who has never paid you back for the all lattes you have purchased for him. Or your ex-boyfriend, Carl, whose stunted progress on his novel—about you!—ended your relationship.
We all know someone who needs to relax. Whether they need to "relax" in the sense that they just need to chill out already, damn, or they need to "relax" in the sense that they truly deserve a break; be they a blogger who feels a base level of purposeless anxiety pretty much nonstop, or someone who has an actual reason to feel stressed. They are in our lives, my friends, and they need gifts.