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I Started Vaping And Now I Can’t Stop Getting Laid

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While walking down the street in my Jango Fett costume after just having my brain brutally bum-banged by Star Wars: The Force Awakens, a trifling sight did I see: smoke coming off the body of a fellow pedestrian.

Using the same quick thinking that led to Jango earning his reputation as the best bounty hunter in all the galaxy, I sprinted over (my jetpack was only a prop, sadly, or I would have used that) and poured the remainder of my movie theater Icee on the man’s head in an attempt to douse the flames. “It’s not time to collect the bounty on this man’s head just yet, God!” I shouted as I carried out this valiant task.

Much to my surprise, the man whose body I had just covered in half-frozen sugar water had not been on fire at all. As he looked back at me in shock, dripping so much sticky red liquid that a few errant bees had begun making their way over to him for an early dinner, I could think only one thing.

This is the coolest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

The whole time he stood there berating me for being such a “mindless numbskull” and “a disgrace to the Sith Lord Darth Tyranus,” I couldn’t get my eyes off his mouth. Or, more aptly, what was in his mouth. It was this sleek and shiny stick with a cute little button on it and some clear liquid sloshing around inside.

“Sir,” I interrupted him. “What is that glorious device?”

“It’s my EGO II Twist vape pen, bro,” he said.

“C…Can I try it out?” I said, fully expecting a response in the negative.

“For sure, my man. Anything for a fellow vaper.”

After quickly deciding that letting this gentleman know that I was a vape virgin would most likely result in the withdrawal of his generous offer, I let out a “thanks,” took the vape, and completely guessed how to use it. Lucky for me, his pen was incredibly intuitive, and quickly after taking it from him my lungs were full of sweet, delicious blueberry vapor. It warmed my respiratory system, my body, and my mind. I was hooked.

I don’t just want to vape, I need to vape. All I can think about is “vape, vape, vape.” Rooms I enter wind up looking like goddamn saunas. I don’t cook pasta anymore because it’s become too cumbersome to check if the water is boiling or not, the tell-tale steam that would normally tip me off blending in with my cloudy airborne excrement. My mouth constantly tastes like watermelon, the flavor I chose as my ADV (that stands for all-day vape, the liquid flavor that I choose as my day-to-day vaping standard, for all you noobs out there). All of that, and I’m still all-in on vaping. Life is VapeDonalds, and “I’m lovin’ it.”

Am I a stealth vaper? God no. I want everyone within at least a ten-mile radius to witness the fruit of my exhalation. They call people like me a “cloud-chaser,” because it’s our one mission in life to maximize the size of each batch of vapor we release. One time I vaped an entire vape in one vape. True story. The subsequent cloud that I unleashed was so big that the local Air Force base scrambled the jets because they thought an H-bomb went off. They actually declared THREATCON DELTA, which is the threat level given to situations in which a localized terrorist attack has occurred. I found that denotation pretty accurate, because I did use my Delta 9 vape pen, and there was a 100-percent chance that, after such an astounding feat, I was going to terrorize some vaper groupie chick’s puss.

Usually when I get this obsessed with something, it causes my sex life, along with most other useful inter-human relationships, to crumble. Not vaping, though. Ever since I started vaping, I’ve been on more dimes than Franklin D. Roosevelt, and he’s been on every dime that’s been minted since 1946. You do the math.

Picture this: I inhale, I blow out a cloud. By the time that cloud dissipates and my crotch region becomes visible to me again, there’s already a chick down there blowing me. I take another drag, I exhale. By the time that vapor clears, there’s a different chick down there giving me the business. I take a third puff. I decide to hold it in for a minute to impress her. She begins to get concerned. I still don’t exhale. I pass out from the lack of oxygen. I wake up surrounded by three completely different girls, who then proceed to run a train on me. Such is the vape life.

Of course vaping has garnered me some haters. That’s to be expected. Not everyone has what it takes, and when you feel excluded, you lash out. It’s sad, but that’s just how the world works, I guess. Some people can’t handle other people being happy, attractive, and wildly successful. Why such negativity exists in this world is a foreign concept to me, remaining more shrouded in mystery than the first names of the legions of women I plow through on a daily basis as a direct result of my vaping.

How do I respond to my haters? The following silences them every time:

If you’re ever looking for a guy who’s banging exponentially more beav than you, just check under the nearest vape cloud.

That’s where I’ll be.

Image via Shutterstock

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Jared Borislow

Jared Borislow (né The DeVry Guy) is a Senior Writer for Grandex Inc and a 2015 graduate of the University of Wisconsin.

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