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Juul, the most efficient and maligned vaporizer on the market falls into the category of vapes that causes me much distress. To someone who reviews vapes on the regular and has a pile of them stacked somewhere in this office, there are two kinds of vapes — those with standard USB-C or USB-Micro and those with annoying proprietary chargers. Juul falls into the second category.
While there are some 3rd party chargers on the market for your Juul, it still requires its own charger that you will probably lose, break, watch an animal chew up or in the case of Trevor, leave at your apartment in NYC when you head off to visit your parents, who don’t understand your vaping habit and constantly ask why your jeans are so tight. They are skinny jeans mom, back off.
After hanging the stockings, then puking the first round of dad’s dark liquor into the fireplace when nobody was looking, Trevor reached into his pocket — a task of questionable difficulty due to the recent increased thickness of his palms versus the relative tightness of his jeans — to get a sweet hit of that nicotine-laced mango vapor that is the coal to his steam engine. To his mild surprise, the burning sensation in his throat was replaced with the gulping, breathless thickness of fear as he realized that like his shitty Christmas gifts wrapped with recklessness, sadness and duct tape — his Juul was without life.
Stuck at his parents’ house with no car and no desire to wait for a delivery, Trevor headed into the garage to put his inner electrician to work (like his inner plumber, it could only be activated by an emergency spurred by bodily functions). All he needed was a USB cable, a wire-cutter and seven hours of YouTube tutorials on how to cut a wire. Twelve hours and several cans of Coors Light later, Trevor had come up with a solution. Cutting open a USB cable (with an X-ACTO knife and not a wire-cutter) and separating the positive and negative leads, he simply taped everything down on a table and patiently waited for his Juul to charge, licking an ashtray and chewing wet leather in order to satiate his nicotine cravings.
“I feel a little disgusted that the prospect of not getting my nicotine fix drove me to such a janky solution,” Trevor tells me via messenger bird. “But it works. No current plans for further fixes but will inevitably be called upon to make remote controls work.”
Once the Juul was charged, Trevor quickly tweeted the image and then like a meth head in a swimming pool full of, well, meth, Trevor ran around the house, sucking on his Juul and spitting clouds in the faces of his family. Running outside, he declared himself a tech genius, slapped the mailbox off its post and headed down the street, half drunk, 100% stoned and growing increasingly colder. It did not matter. He had done it. He had charged his Juul without its proprietary charger. For now, he was a god.
“Trevor Moore is really good at electronic mail and pretty much nothing else,” says Trevor’s confidant and occasional Backgammon partner Kevin Raposo, displaying a surprising lack of faith in Trevor’s electrician abilities, “I didn’t realize he had the brain capacity to be the Elon Musk of Juul chargers. But hey, I guess everyone gets their day in the sun. He totally fucks.”
Trevor totally fucks.
Or does he? Let us know your thoughts on Trevor down below in the comments or carry the discussion over to our Twitter or Facebook.
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