I can think of no finer way to immortalize your favourite hippie-friend/weed-source than to cut off their dreads and fashion a bracelet out of them. Because if there's one thing I want touching my skin at all times, it's the slowly-rotting, severed, follicled remains of a hippie who hadn't washed their hair for so long it eventually fused together. I can almost smell the coconut oil and stale bong water from here.
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