» It's not me, it's the drugs talking

Rez Crew
i am 13, dolled up to the nines, and in my friend Ians Blue Escort (I should say at this point Ian's dad is a high ranking copper and he has brought his old mans police jacket to wear at the rave - our ian is a lovely chap but a bit thick). Also in the car is my boyfriend, Flump and Dinsey. We are on our way to the Rez, smoking joints and downing cider to get us started.

Going down the motorway, we overtake a bus load of Rezzers and wave and tooting of horns commences, then, suddenly the bonnet of the escort flips up and sticks to the windscreen. FUCK! Flump is the best driver so as calmly as he can he instructs ian to put his hazards on while slowing down and pull into the hard shoulder.

We manage it. We are all recovering at the road side with loads of cars going past jeering cos we've broke down and Ian says... "Oh, I can't have shut the bunnet right. I put my bag of pills under there before i left."

"Wha?"

The car was fucked. Ian was going nuts kicking it and then started jumping up and down on it and by jees, you know - he fixed it! His bunnet was a fucking right off and the windscreen was cracked but at least we made it to the Rez!

It was the last Rez I went to. 12 hours of Rotterdam head fuck.

Ach well, at least we weren't all killed.
(Wed 21st Dec 2005, 13:35, More)

» It's not me, it's the drugs talking

sightseeing
Before I became a respectable housewife and mother, I used to enjoy gubbing pills all weekend.

It was the Edinburgh Festival and the street we lived on was hoaching with tourists, sipping their lattes at the little cafes. I walk down MY STREET and take off my leather coat as it's so hot. I'm only wearing a beat up pair of addidas, blue rugby socks, a pair of pants, and a rather dashing number one haircut. I lie down on the pavement beside some tourists and declare "Nice weather we're having".

My boyfriend (now husband) quickly bundles me up the stairs to a well deserved double vodka and sleep.
(Tue 20th Dec 2005, 11:48, More)

» It's not me, it's the drugs talking

a la kate moss
after a three day coke binge, i was utterly psychotic. had images of me running through windows and the like so, i got myself admitted to the local loony bin, thinking i could chill out, get some space, come down and get nice nurses to bring me cups of tea and magazines.

WRONG. So very very wrong.

After three days in said institution I wrote a very long essay and presented it to a panel so I could get the hell outta there.

Real mental people and addicts are not fun, though i had some interesting conversations (read:lobbed a lot os smokes) with a 6ft half cast girl with an afro who ripped herself with razor blades and thought she was Bjork... etc etc etc
(Wed 21st Dec 2005, 8:34, More)

» It's not me, it's the drugs talking

insane - aint got no brain
tipex thinner was bad enough, but me and K used to buzz cans of anti-perspirant out of a plastic bag til we had white moustaches from the shit. is this illegal?

Man, were we dumb.
(Tue 20th Dec 2005, 14:19, More)

» It's not me, it's the drugs talking

hungry?
I had a bit of mars bar in my mouth for half an hour whilst on a penguin before spitting it out.
(Tue 20th Dec 2005, 11:14, More)