Posts Tagged ‘drugs’

For those of you who have accomplished nothing with their lives and remember my old post New Experiences, you may remember me promising I would have more new experiences. I have. Not too many worth writing about. Since that post I have read a book, I have cleaned my toilet, and I have found a strange bruise on my leg twice. Today is different. Today I present to you another new experience I had on a Saturday night.

Normally my Saturday nights are spent listening to a baseball game on the radio, working on writing something, and subconsciously hoping a stray bullet lands in my jugular. I had been text messaging with old friends with high school the last few months. All of us lie about how busy our schedules are to make ourselves seem like we’re important and hanging out never happened. I put my foot down and agreed on this Saturday in particular I would hang out with at least one of my old friends. Now all I had to do was find an official NASA polo shirt to keep the lie going that I am an astronaut.

(I wonder what’s wrong with this chick’s face)

The plan was originally for my good friend Rob and me to go over to our old friend Mickey’s house. Mickey was the ultimate prankster in high school. Actually prankster seems like too weak a word. Troublemaker, nuisance, annoyance, and sillygoose are more accurate. I think my favorite “prank” we would play was on the campus security guard who was basically a hall monitor with a walkie-talkie. We called him Frankie P. as his name was Franklin Palzone and this was the most obnoxious thing to call him. Each day during study hall we would take a piece of paper, write “Reserved for Frankie P” on the paper, tape it to a chair, then place the chair in the path he always took to the teacher’s lounge. One day he snapped and some Egyptian dweeb ratted us out. We all denied it. Frankie P thought he scared us good until one morning he woke up with the same chair from the cafeteria sitting on the front stoop of his home with a “Reserved for Frankie P” sign taped to it. I think his power trip ended after that.

Our plan changed this Saturday night and instead we were invited to the one place I feel most out of my element, a church. It was described to me as a “gathering of 20-something year olds for fun and games.” I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect. Normally when you put 20-something year olds in a room together a bong and lost dreams appear. Since this would be taking place in a church basement I had assumed the only thing to appear would be Jesus’s face in a grilled cheese sandwich.

After some catching up at Mickey’s house after not seeing each other for 6 years, we headed out to the church. We got there and were some of the first few to arrive. Most people present I had never seen before. They were good church folk who for some strange reason smoked, cursed, and brought up marijuana way too often. I was introduced to everyone as they came. Two girls touched my hand. One seemed eager to do so. The second seemed like she had to because Jesus would have wanted her to be nice to someone of lesser value. There were two Indian kids. For a while I thought there was only one Indian kid. I’m not even sure which one of them I had a long conversation with. When each told me their names I said “What?” twice to try to get a clearer understanding. My asking “What?” is limited to twice. After that I pretend I understand.

(If the British understood a damn thing he said maybe they would have given him what he wanted and Gandhi wouldn’t have been so hungry)

I was a little worried a Bible might be brought out as this was an event for people from a Bible Study Group. Whenever I’m at a church function I never know how to behave. I believe in the values they teach, I just don’t think it’s necessary to worship someone else. I want to be a good person because being a good person is the right thing to do. I shouldn’t be kind to others because I’m afraid of burning in hell. Anything nice I ever do is never because someone died for my sins. I do it because I want life to be something worth living. Surrounding myself with kindness does not need a commitment to a church or anything at all. I forget where I was going with this, but this is the basis for the doctrine I’m writing for the cult I have decided to start.

(The costume is alright but it’s a little too baggy. I like to at least try to show off that I have much wider shoulders than I do a waist and this outfit would totally clash with what I want)

The only religion that was brought into the evening was before eating. We were asked to pray. I looked to Rob as neither of us were sure whether or not to fake it. I would never want a girl to fake an orgasm with me. I don’t think they would because no girl could ever possibly get pleasure from 15 seconds of my fury. I put my hands together anyway and said my own prayer:

Hey God, this is kind of awkward. It’s like we’re two old pals who have to work together to do an art project together. Uhhh thanks for the food and such. The pizza smells good. I think I’ll grab a slice with pineapple on it even though I don’t like pineapple much. But I’m trying to do new things and it would fit in with my blog post. Do you read my blog? Of course you do. You’re God. You’ve got all day Sunday to rest and surf the web. I don’t know why you’d be listening to me now. You never really listened to me before. But hey, that’s alright. Maybe I didn’t need that GI Joe fortress I always wanted. Maybe I deserved to grow up hating myself. Maybe asking for happiness for myself and those around me was asking too much. I forgive you. I can do this on myself now. Maybe your plan all along was to teach me to help myself. You know, that was probably it. You’re quite a card God. Amen.

The night continued. We ate, we reminisced, we played some games, and I guess we did what people with morals do on a Saturday night. I drank about 7 bottles of water and heard someone yell, “What happened to all of the water?” I slowly slid my empty bottles under one of the fat twin’s chairs to avoid a fight. Before we knew it 4 hours had gone by. We had only intended on staying maybe 2 at the most, but the power of Christ/the brownies compelled us to stay.

(I was a very good boy and avoided any dessert foods. The key to avoiding sugary homemade snacks is to look at the person who made them. I usually get disgusted thinking their gross hands touched my food)

I did not have any brownies though. I was a very good boy. Enough people told me I looked good. None had seen me since high school. The last time a person who I had not seen in years told me I looked good I ate 6 donuts in one sitting. This time I knew better. I knew to revel in the glory. It’s not even so much I’m happy to make them jealous. It’s more they can see through me they can accomplish great things too. It’s not only my appearance that has changed. My attitude has as well. I am a more confident person. I’m more understanding than ever before about everything. I also know when some fat twin goes on too long about some person I don’t care about from high school that it’s time to get up and take a piss.

We left the church without saying goodbye to anyone. I’m hoping they thought the rapture had begun. I could tell Rob didn’t have as good of a night as I did so we dropped him off at his house before going to Mickey’s dads to chill a little bit more. Big mistake Rob. As soon as we got there Victoria Justice showed up. She was looking for you. She settled for me because I knew the most facts about your life. When I banged her against an armoire she made me name your relatives, hobbies, and favorite childhood memories. That actually didn’t happen. Everybody did things they would never do at a church then I went home with a new experience under my belt.

This is a story about coming of age. It was actually published in the children’s book series THE ADVENTURES OF TOOTSIE WOO!!! If you haven’t read it, you should check it out. It’s about a ghost who travels around with a carnival doing sexual favors for miners. And you thought Casper was friendly!

After reading this entry (or entrée if you figuratively eat words) you will think of me differently. I won’t be that cool guy you all aspire to be like. You’ll see me as a square. An awkward square. Such an awkward square that I’ve become a rhombus. That’s what I am. The biggest rhombus in the world.

I’ve only ever witnessed somebody do cocaine once in my life. It was scary. I was in the home of a stranger and there was a 5’4 guy there with a very round hat. A 4’10 girl that seemed to have an attitude problem came up to me and said that I didn’t have to be scared. Then a knife fell out of her pocket and I turned away, scared and scarred. How did I know how tall everyone was? There was a growth chart in the room!

What mistakes did I make in my life that led me to this place? How did I get here? (CUE: The Talking Heads)

I had been visiting a friend for the evening. The night started off normally. Girls were ignoring me, bartenders looked at me like I had no idea what I was doing (which I didn’t), and my allergies were bad. My allergies are always bad. Even in a bar filled with fag-hags. Maybe I’m allergic to a good time. Or more accurately, an over-hyped not as spectacular as I had imagined it would be time. Lets go with that second one.

I remember locking eyes with one fag-hag in particular. My eyes said “Let me come over there” and her eyes said “Is he looking at me or the window behind my face?” The answer was both, but I didn’t know how to properly respond with just eye signals. I hung out near the cigarette machine which still exist. That 4’10 girl came over and basically shoved me out-of-the-way. I was really turned on by this. She looked like she was 16 and was in a bar, pushing adults to the side, drunk and high on everything she could get. I should have married her right then and there. That way I’d know that my life would end up like crap and I would never get my hopes up.

My friend and I left the bar and found somewhere more quiet. A random woman sat in his chair and she left her cell phone there. He told me that her boyfriend was a douche bag. I continued to cock block him completely by talking to the girl in a friendly way instead of doing what I should have done, ignore her completely. I was young, I learned. If you want a girl to talk to you the last thing you should do is talk to her. Life is complicated and makes no sense like that.

We then went in search of another bar that he said was down the street. It apparently didn’t exist. I found this odd because he lived 5 minutes away and claimed that it was indeed there yesterday. This is why I don’t have trust others or believe what a GPS tells me. Buildings don’t just get up and walk away. Unless you live in Alabama where homes do it all the time. We returned to the first bar only to find that everyone was leaving. “House party!” someone shouted. So, we went.

The house party was at the home of the cocaine girl. She had a giant dog crate in the corner and a bird-cage. Both of them were empty. A tall man and a girl went into the bathroom and came out a half hour later. The fat guy there had to pee on a fence. Nobody really talked to me. One guy who seemed to also not know anyone stood near me and I asked him a few questions that strangers might ask. He lived about 10 minutes away and his favorite color was blue. I quickly ran out of questions and he left. Then a woman with a pixie haircut started talking to me. She had an overweight boyfriend who would scrunch his eyes like he was trying to shit whenever he would talk to me. He’d puff out his cheeks and nod during my responses to his questions about where I lived and what my favorite colors were. The house party stunk.

Someone informed us that the party was moving somewhere else. We all walked about 10 minutes to a bigger home, that of an overweight woman. There’s no reason to point out that she was overweight. Really, there’s no reason to write any of this. I already gave away the ending. A girl does cocaine and I get scared. But to sound smart and artistic, I will describe what was wrong with people who I encountered. The owner of this home’s problem, being a gigantic scary creature.

The “party” continued and I stood around awkwardly. Then I sat around awkwardly. Then everyone who was sitting got up and stood some more. I ran out of things to do. Sitting and standing are my go-to motions. I couldn’t lie down. That’s a real party faux pas.

I went outside and stood there for a bit. Then everyone went inside and I had to knock on the door because they had locked me outside. Hey it happens. Not the first and wasn’t the last that I was completely ignored. I came inside and saw the girl I wanted to have sex with. That’s kind of always what I do when I enter a room, leave a room, enter a car, leave a car, enter a stadium, leave a stadium, etc. She had marijuana eyes and I think it’s because she was on marijuana. She mentioned how she thought one of the guys at the party was cute and his name was Dan. I tried smiling at her and she left the room.

My awkward standing continued and that’s when I saw cocaine girl. She was sitting at a table bitching to a friend. “How am I ever going to find a guy that loves me? I can’t even drink. And that means he can’t drink because when he kisses me I’ll be able to taste it on his lips.” No. She wasn’t being a self-righteous prude. She had that medical condition where alcohol makes you sick. I think we all have that condition. She has it worse. She’ll die if she drinks a beer. We’ll put on a goofy hat and embarrass ourselves. I’m still undecided on which is worse.

Cocaine girl took a bag out from her pocket and then pulled over a magazine from the table. It was something about fishing. Or maybe it was a Playboy. I’m not sure. I couldn’t tell if the man in the picture was wearing a bucket or a cowboy hat. Cokey emptied her bag onto the magazine and without thinking twice closed up her one nostril and snorted with the other. All done! She cleaned up that cocaine like she was an anteater cleaning up whatever it is that those creatures eat.

I didn’t know what had just happened. I had seen cocaine done in movies. Never in person. This must be like when you give birth to a baby. You can know exactly what it looks like yet until it happens to you, you don’t know how to react or how it feels. I was flabbergasted. I wanted to leave. I felt uncomfortable that a woman who thinks a guy won’t date her because she can’t drink beer solves her problems by snorting cocaine. That’s a much bigger deal breaker. Cocaine involves bad tempers and Scarface references. She was a good-looking girl and I would have raised my eyebrows for her until I witnessed her commit a crime. She missed out. She broke our unsaid deal.

Now for the rest of my life I will be prepared for when I see someone snort cocaine. I hope you don’t have to go through the fear and confusion that I did. Cocaine is a dangerous drug. It blows your chances at taking a ride on the wild side with me. What’s scarier than that?

“I love the Cocaine.” – Buckcherry, a band who might have more than 2 hits if they laid off the hard stuff

Question: Why is alcohol legal and marijuana is not?

Answer: Drunk girls are more willing to have sex with a guy than a girl high on marijuana would be. Alcohol makes girls horny, delirious, and deliriously horny, finding just about every guy they see attractive, even if he clearly is a douche.

Marijuana makes girls lazy, hungry, and mean. It turns women into men and if you have sex with a girl high on weed then you are technically gay. At least that’s what the Constitution says. Article 9, Line 17. Look it up.

That’s how the government works. What’s best for those in power is best for the rest of us. Even Senators need to get laid somehow.

Alcohol, giving men without looks or personality, but with power, companionship.


Posted: September 29, 2011 in September 2011
Tags: , , , , , ,

I am an addict. I am addicted to drugs. I am addicted to alcohol. I am addicted to food. I am addicted to love. I am addicted to sex. I am addicted to TV. I am addicted to self-improvement. I am addicted to pain. I am addicted to getting tattoos. I am addicted to sports. I am addicted to candy. I am addicted to killing others.

All of the above is true. I don’t do a lot of them. But that doesn’t mean they’re not true. I know myself well enough by now that I am addicted to everything that I try. It doesn’t matter what it is. Even if science has proven that it does not cause addiction my mind and body will find a way to become addicted to it. I defy science. I’m like Superman or one of them Creationists except, sane. Superman must be the most insane superhero of them all. He was the strongest and nearly invincible and never wore a mask. NEVER! Even on Halloween he’d just hold up one of those gay rich people masks. La’Tee’Da Clarke. A superhero is only as good as his mask and villains. The only nemesis of Superman is a bald high school pal. It’d be like me having a war with that cancer kid from 10th grade geometry that stole my protractor.

I do my best to avoid everything that I could see myself potentially getting addicted to. I don’t do drugs and I don’t drink much at all anymore. I know that if I did then that’s all I would do. Instead of sitting in my apartment alone in the dark looking at blank Word Documents (Works Documents to be exact, for some reason I never get computers with Word, just Works) I’d be sitting there shoving beer and heroin down my throat. I know you don’t eat heroin, but I have an oral fixation and would need to at least attempt to chew on it.

My way of coping with addiction is to not do something I don’t think I’d be willing to do all the time at all. The best way to not become an alcoholic, don’t drink ever. The best way to not become addicted to sugar, avoid sugary snacks all the time. The best way to avoid becoming addicted to fun, don’t drink or eat sugary foods. Maybe my way isn’t the best or healthiest approach, but it keeps me on track. I can’t remember the last real dessert I ate and I’ve only had alcohol once in the last two years and that was because I was on vacation. There was a time when I tried to avoid sugar all together. That lasted 4 days and I began to binge on sugary foods whenever I could. Now I don’t worry about sugar. It’s in everything. Even the broccoli in my freezer has sugar in it. Broc-fucking-colli! The vegetable that I constantly trick myself into thinking I don’t mind only to fix myself a plate and feel like vomiting. Sugar is unavoidable and that’s fine. Why deprive myself completely of something that I can’t avoid? Every meal can’t be chicken and brown rice. Fuck. Even the chicken has some sugar in it. No wonder so many people have diabetes.

Food is easily mine and a lot of people’s biggest addiction. It’s something we all need. I can’t avoid it at all costs like I can do with drugs and alcohol. That’s why so many fat people exist. They use the same plan that I do. We’re all addicted to those tasty treats. Theme parks are named after foods that will kill us! Imagine that. Hershey’s chocolates have probably helped lead to the deaths of many people yet they get their own roller coasters and mascots dressed up as giant pieces of candy. I’m waiting for Red Meat Wet and Wild Water Kingdom to open up soon. Ride a steak through your own arteries trying not to get stuck.

The Internet is another thing that may fall into the same category as food when addiction is considered. It’s hard not to use the Internet. Everyone I know uses it. I’m sure some old-timers don’t and that’s probably because they haven’t discovered how many naked women are on there. Once they do, the top searches on Yahoo will be “Bingo”, “Matlock”, and “5 Cent Movie Tickets.” From the porn to the social networking websites to this very blog (there HAS to be someone out there that’s addicted to reading what I write, eventually at least) the Internet is a dangerous place full of procrastination. And isn’t that what’s so bad about addiction anyway? Because it stops you from doing stuff you really should be doing like showing up to work on time and respecting yourself.

The best advice I can give on addiction is that you should try to get as addicted to certain things as you can. I’ve never had a horrible addiction like some people unfortunately have, but I don’t think my advice has any less merit. Try finding things that will make you a better person. More importantly, things that will make you a happier person. I know drinking and drugging and fucking random people may make you feel good temporarily, but I’ve never heard a story about any of them that ends with a smile. Use our addictive natures to help others and to help yourself. Become addicted to cleaning up trash. Lose sleep over the need to help out at a soup kitchen. I know those are corny, but give me a break. I’d never do either of those two unless I was addicted to them. Addiction doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It’s what you’re addicted to that makes the difference.