This is BALLS DEEP With Big Daddy Drew (Balls® is a registered trademark and has been used with the expressed written consent of AJ Daulerio). It's gonna be like an SI Point After column, only with dick jokes. You can email him here.

I don't smoke much weed anymore. The rare times I go out these days are for social occasions like dinners and weddings and shit like that. And I can't get high for those types of things. Because, when I'm high, I turn into a complete fucking zombie. I stare at the TV until I can see through it. Failing that, I put on "Loveless" by My Bloody Valentine, tear off all my clothes and hump the carpet until my dick bleeds. Needless to say, I can't really do such things in polite company.

Furthermore, the quality of my high is directly proportional to the environment I find myself in. There's a reason people in Jamaica smoke weed all the time. It's a warm, sunny place, where you have just an 85 percent chance of getting hacked to death by an angry goat merchant. No one's working. Music is playing. Everyone is scantily clad. You get high there, you're gonna feel relaxed. Until the police show up and throw you in their "holding pit."

Change that environment to something ideal, and my high gets thrown off. The last time I got high was in New York with this idiot. Ever wait 30 minutes for a subway at night while you're high? Don't. I nearly walked into the fucking tunnel so I could go find the train and ask what the fucking holdup was. I went to the bar and ended up staring at one of the light fixtures for 80 minutes.

This was because I oversmoked, which is a classic mistake I always make. I wish I had the willpower to just smoke enough so that I get a very light high, so that I feel like I'm walking on a moon bounce all the time. That would be delightful. But nooooooo. Someone sparks up that pipe, and I gotta suck on it like I'm John Travolta at a cock party. Then my eyes glaze over, and I spend the next four hours trying to bake cookies, only to realize I'm making pancakes.

I was even the victim of gay bashing one time in my life after smoking weed. No joke. No, I'm not gay. Honest injun. I don't even like sucking on a Sugar Daddy. It makes me feel uncomfortable and wrong.

But I was persecuted for being perceived as a gay. How, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. A few years back, a friend of mine picked up tickets for a Pearl Jam concert at Jones Beach. It was in the middle of summer. So I grabbed a couple joints and hopped on the train with my friends. Our seats for the show weren't all together in the same row. There were two isolated seats over in the next section. I didn't give a shit about where I sat, since all the seats were located at the far back of the ampitheatre. In fact, I think they may have been located in the terminal at LaGuardia airport.

So I volunteered, as did my friend Fred (not his real name), to sit in the two seats. Fred, at the time, was a part time actor and model. It's just like my life to befriend a professional model, only said model is a dude. He's half-Asian, half-Sicilian. Very exotic looking. (Yet everyone mistakes him for a Mexican. One time, the cops at a Jersey Shore bar planted his face in the driveway because a white girl accused him of pinching her ass.)

I was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt. (Big Daddy Berman?) In retrospect, I suppose, we looked like the perfect gay couple.

At least we did to the hicks sitting behind us. Fifteen minutes into the show, I had smoked both joints and had started doing the Stoned White Person Dance. I think you know the dance I speak of. Head cocked to the side. Eyes closed. Hands in the air. Singing along to the music, not at all on key, getting the lyrics wrong ("EEEEEVEN FLOOOOW! Toss some blow into my eyes yeeeeah!!!!") No movement of the feet whatsoever. Oh yeah, I was a stoned white person.

Soon, two guys behind me started yelling shit like, "Why don'tcha sit down, faggot! You and your faggot buddy!" Well, I had never been so offended. If anyone's gonna make fun of people for being gay, it's gonna be ME! I turned to both men and said they would never be invited to any of our future garden parties. That didn't seem to help. They kept harassing us until we had to change seats. And my buzz had been totally harshed! No fair!

So, when I get high, I'm extremely sensitive about the environment in which I reside. That's why I usually stay in when I'm high. If I'm watching TV, I can control the whole feng shui of my shit. I can watch "Sunrise Earth" and just chill the fuck out.

Or, I can watch sports. Sports, in general, make for excellent stoned viewing. Particularly during this time of year, which is my casual basketball/hockey/golf/tennis/bikini phase of the year. I can't watch the NFL while stoned, because I get distracted too easily on pot. I need to focus on the game, but I end up thinking about hot dogs. Can't do that. But during a Lakers/Nuggets blowout? Why, it's perfectly acceptable. In fact, I'd argue the more casual a fan you are of a sport, the more likely you are to enjoy it while high. You come into that shit with an open mind.

Personally, I prefer boxing and pro wrestling while stoned. (Mario Golf on N64 doesn't count.) It's easy to focus on a boxing match because there's only two dudes. And I don't need to know much about what happened earlier in the match. That helps simplify things for my retarded stoner ass. There's also that moment during every match that I think is really deep but actually isn't, where I say to myself, "Holy shit, man. These guys are, like, fucking ROMAN GLADIATORS, man. This is living history and shit!" That's always a nice bonus.

And pro wrestling? Well, we all know pro wrestling is fake. But when I'm stoned, it's far, far easier to suspend my disbelief. "Man, that guy fucking HATES that guy! He's not joking around!"

But I am just one man. There are all kinds of sports fans out there, and all kinds of weed smokers as well. So I put the question to a few folks, BECAUSE I AM HARD-CORE, FULLY CREDENTIALED JOURNALIST: What's your favorite sport to watch while stoned? Here were their responses:

Leitch: Football. Without question. Everything's VERY important.

Unsilent Majority: Well, for starters, I love boxing, but also because the action is confined to such a specific space. When I watch basketball I'm constantly focusing on the defensive rotation and what's going on away from the ball. (NOTE: Maj is just like an extra coach out there!) It's the same with football, really. Boxing is so much easier to focus on. Plus slow-motion punches to the jaw are fucking awesome.

Peter Schrager: ESPN used to have this show called "Amazing Games." They had some Chris Connely-ish host who would go to foreign lands and do a report on "sports" being played in small villages in exotic locales. Well, one time they did a thing on a sport called "Elephant Soccer," which , believe it or not, was exactly that — elephants playing soccer.
E-60 should do something on elephant soccer instead of sending Jeremy Schapp to Silicon Valley to talk to guys who smash keyboards against each other's faces. But yea, watching that stoned was some hell of a trip. Much cooler than watching the triangle offense or a sacrifice bunt in an altered state.

Michael "Christmas Ape" Tunison: Baseball is good. It's relatively slow with short bursts of activity and the field is nice to look at.

Daulerio: Oh, Outdoor Games is the shit. Dog jumping, log-rolling, wood chopping — it's amazing just how into it you get when you're completely stoned. But you have to be, like, drooling-moron stoned. It's still not as entertaining if you just take a few puffs off a joint. I mean, you have to be high, like, "oh my god, I think my hair is totally wasted" high. But once you get to that point, there isn't anything in the world you'd rather be watching while in that condition.

Buzz Bissinger: Pot?! What are you, some kind of hippie?! YOU'RE WHAT'S WRONG WITH AMERICA TODAY, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE.

But this is just a smattering of the world's pot smoking population. What about you, fair readers? You blog folk who are tearing down Western civilization as we know it? What's your construda-addled sport of choice?