Rock Star I am not.
Back in the day I used to drink lots of beer and smoke a fair amount of weed. But even that’s something I’ve had to leave behind thanks to having a real job and needing to get stuff accomplished.
I frequently reminisce my drunken janitor days. I was an anxious, depressed, narcissistic shitbird, but didn't have any real tangible problems. I could get drunk as fuck every night and not have to worry about sleeping in or being too hungover to work because it wasn't possible for me to be too hungover to work: I mopped floors for a living.
Plus, I knew a chick who worked at a coffee stand who would make me a free 24 ounce super latte mocha seven shots coffee drink. That always did the trick.
I would then scrub shit for a few hours and eventually sneak out with my buddies to smoke a joint and drink a few beers before finishing all the shit on my list. I would then go to a bar or go home to do bong hits. Life was good, I was just too self absorbed to realize it.
I used to pop shrooms from time to time. I knew a guy who would make them into chocolate truffles. The whole psychedelic experience is a must in my opinion, it really helps gain perspective in things. But I have nothing genuine to add to the dialogue.
Many people with quite a bit more hallucinogenic drug experience have already written on the subject, so I'll have to defer to them. I would probably detract from the already tired and trite genre.
Contrary to my partner in this blog--which neither of us have contributed to for over a year--I've never once insufflated a drug.
I've never used cocaine or methamphetamine--intentionally. Once I smoked from a hash pipe that was used to smoke crack or crank, not sure which one. I was up until noon and it was terrible, but that doesn't count.
I used to clean a tavern for a friend. He'd pay me by rolling fat joints and giving me free reign to the bar--basically, I could drink whatever the fuck I wanted. He'd also offer me fat lines of blow. I never took up his offer of party sugar, but I watched him and the other guys around huff up snowy piles of fun while I chugged beers and took out the trash.
Time after time, they'd offer me fat lines of snow and I'd always just waive my hand and watch them blast off to Mars via insufflation off the Pinball Machine.
Needless to say, I’ve never been too much of a substance abuser. My fellow blog mate, Kentucky Mudknuckle, has a legendary history of imbibing powdery substances. But I’ve always been too much of a pussy to say yes to yayo. This is as much to my detriment as it is an advantage. I feel like my hard drug devoid life has deprived me of interesting stories.
This is how awesome my life could've been had I said "Yes" to Blow.
Never once did I board the Booger Sugar express. Sometimes I look back and wonder how much more fun these sessions could have been had I not been such a chickenshit. Probably wouldn't have gone out and done anything interesting, but it would feel like I did.
There are some that believe that hard drugs are a necessary rite of passage for American Youth.
My only experience with pharmaceutical opiates was this one time a buddy of mine shared a bottle of vicodin with me. We washed it down with a big plastic jug of Seagrams 7. We got fucked up as hell at my place, spinning records and somehow ended up at his apartment playing Connect 4 for hours and hours.
The only thing I remember is waiting until 7 AM to roll around so we could stumble into the Plaid Pantry and buy 40's. We stayed up until eleven o c'lock or so, continuing our Connect 4 tournament.
This is what I think of when someone says the word "Hydrocodone."
I don't remember coming home, but I remember waking up in my bed 17 hours later. My head was spinning like a blender. I urinated in the bath tub, stumbled back into bed and slept for another 12 hours. I was on staycation. I had taken a few days off, so I had the luxury of not needing to know what day it was, at least for a while. I was bed ridden for two days.
Lucky for me, pills are not my friend.
Years ago, I knew a Mexican guy who lived in half finished house and drove a banged up Saab. We were going to start up a business together but not surprisingly, it fell through.
This guy had a lot of great weed connections, mostly growers, but a few times, we picked up extra goodies from additional sources.
One time we got Ketamine from some girl he was banging at a veterinary clinic, and it was fantastic.
It was as if I was watching my self on grainy security camera with a purple tinted lens. Was a pretty cool experience. We went into his house and he put on a Richard Simmons exercise record and put it on slow motion. It faded out pretty quick and I was left drowsy as fuck.
We also once bought a sack of raw opium. It was okay, I guess, tasted like dirt and made me tired. He then tried to convince me to help him put up drywall in the "living room" while I was sitting there with half ton eyelids.
We never did either drug again, and anyhow, he ended up going to jail for stabbing someone so it's not as if this is an avenue I could go down again.
The only other club drug I used was MDMA, and that was only once. I was very young, gullible, cuckable. I ended up making my girlfriend at the time cry by implying that she was getting fat.
The biggest mistake of that part of my life I made wasn't telling her this, it was saying sorry afterwards.
It's kind of funny, because as I'm writing this, I realize that it's been forever since I last got high or gotten drunk. I then realize that I stopped both habits right when I last posted to this blog or posted to anything for that matter. Funny how that works out.
Maybe I should do more drugs so I can get back to actually getting stuff accomplished on the internet rather than real life.
If I had the ambition, I would start up a side job travelling from high school to high school teaching kids about the dangers of abstaining from hard drugs, how staying away from bad decisions will make you a boring adult, how the phrase "I have no regrets" only really has meaning if you've made a ton of stupid mistakes.
But that's the sort of thing that only former hard drug users have the motivation for.