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This is a question Addicted

Cigarettes, gambling, porn and booze. What's your addiction? How low have you sunk and how have you tried to beat it?

Thanks to big-girl's-blouse for the suggestion

(, Thu 18 Dec 2008, 16:42)
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Buying designer clothes...
I just can't stop.. I just get impulses to purchase :( I won't buy things in sales, or in TK Maxx, it's got to be fresh this-season kit. Today I declined buying a D&G shirt simply because a salesperson pointed out that there would be new season shirts in very shortly..

And worse of all, as I climb the payscale, I'm developing more expensive tastes, so I purchase ever more pricey items :/

I'm a good little consumer!
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 21:35, 1 reply)
I'm probably not the first one to say this...
Coca Cola.

I can go through 2 litres a day. It's the classic soft drink, years old and yet still on top. No other brand of cola will do. Nothing else has the same clarity. Nothing else leaves the tongue the same way. Nothing else has that real coke taste, the black acid that's pumped into plastic bottles and pumped back out into my digestive system.

I'm not a completely lost cause. I'm still young, my teeth are still okay... there's still time to turn back.

It's just that I don't want to.

Cherry coke in particular. I'm at the dangerous stage where it doesn't have to be cold to taste good. It's the first thing to get rid of morning breath, and it's the last thing to set my mouth for sleep.

I pray that it's not too late... diabetes and tooth decay may be just around the corner...

... but it just tastes so damn good.

(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 21:20, 5 replies)
An un-named DJ in a large hip-hop group I had the pleasure of working with last summer drank such heroic amounts of booze it really beggared belief. One crate of beer on their rider, purely for him. After consuming this he would often be propping up the hotel bar til the early hours, accompanying each beer with a shot of Jamesons.

The man is inhuman.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 21:06, 1 reply)
Out of this world
I'm addicted to this site. I just can't stop. I say to myself, just one more, and then just have to classify about another 50. Every now and then you come across something really stunning and you just keep going.

I can only advise you not to start.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 20:47, 1 reply)
Mars bars
I'm on at least 6 a day
its beyond funny
I have to have one as soon as i wake up
thank god there 5 for £1 at Asda
i suppose its cheaper than heroin
happy days

length? standard
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 20:30, 3 replies)
Fags Booze and Cocaine - not proud
I was always a "all or nothing" kind of person. As well as a closet perfectionist.

Not one for wanting to bore people, here's a quick resume of so far....

Been "depressed" on and off since age 16 - was always life & soul of party on outside. Cliche-tastic.
Started smoking at 15 fascinated by it. Mum and brother did it - what could possibly be bad about it?
Started drinking soon after, then I left home for Uni and I really became good at it.
Spent best part of 10yrs between states of drunk and sober.
Early 2000-2003 found me single, 25, and feeling the need to utilise my youth(!) by clubbing, getting drunk, experimenting with pills, and the demon cocaine. I had a fascination with underground culture.
In 2000-2001 I attempted suicide on 2 occasions. Number 2 ended up in a Mental Institution (not sectioned, though I think if I'd refused entry that'd been the next option). Also diagnosed with Bi-polar Affective Disorder.
Got married to love and saviour of my love. Became Dad. Worked hard. Gave up coke for 2 years.
Then like a twat started doing coke again.

From my therapy and self-analysis I believe I was self-prescribing coke as a substitute for lost "manic" periods (been on lithium and effexor since 2001 which for me as made me bland).

I am (nearly) free of my main demon (the coke). I hope to be completely clean before the new year. I am free of the cigarettes (piece of piss to give up compared to anything else 0 including alcohol) save for the odd one every other month or so. I still drink well above the recommended amount. This is my next demon to conquer.

When I was a kid I was healthy, sporty, loved skateboarding, mountain biking and anything which made your hair stand on end!

At 33 I am overweight, lethargic, and I yearn for my innocence.

Apologies for lack of humour. I've always joked too much anyhow.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 19:50, 1 reply)
Crappy TV Shows
Nothing to Declare (an oz drama about customs/immigration) and airport (the old one at heathrow) have occupied many a morning/evening of mine.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 18:56, 1 reply)
Wrath of Khan
When my father died I suddenly felt very alone in the world. I didn't see him too often anyway working away in Amsterdam all the time, and him back home in Oklahoma really put too much distance between us. In Oklahoma there are two things to do in your spare time, hunt or fish. Neither my father or myself could bare the idea of hunting and so, whenever I was home, we went fishing.
We'd load up the pickup and head to Pickwick, which is where most of the local guys my dad worked with chose to fish.
The mississippi always reminds me of my dad and I honestly think that my happiest times have been spent with him there.
The most common fish in the rivers is the white bass, beatiful fish they are, a little too oily to eat but great to catch and release.

We used to sit in our boat with an old stereo playing country songs and fish all night. Slowing drinking the beers my dad always sneaked past my mother and into the truck.

I'd agreed to make a journey over one weekend in febuary but work suddenly offered me double time to stay the weekend and work. Lovley cash, and i really did need to catch up.
i called my dad and told him that I was working late in transformatorweg, and i wouldn't be able to make the journey.
He sounded ok and i promised that next time we were over we would spend two days out instead of just one.
Later that weekend I got a call from my mother, Dad had been out fishing and not come home, she'd sent his friends out to look for him and when they'd found him he was collapsed in his boat on the shore. He'd had a massive heart attack and later died on his way to the hospital.
I never got to go fishing that last time.
Now i have my own son i go fishing as much as i can with him. My wife complains that it takes up every weekend. we still listen to that old stereo and he's old enough to have a beer or two now.
Inside i always toast to dad.
Two weeks ago my son asked me why i looked sad when we were fishing.
I explained that standing by the stereo I'm feeling so alone
My back against a speaker and I'm moving on my own
Surrounded by so many and they're staring at my face
They're picking up my problem

I'm totally addicted to bass
Wow woah ho
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 18:29, 4 replies)
...Bargain Hunt and the Antiques Roadshow.
Mind you, this addiction is probably more to do with the utter shite that passes for Australian TV.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 18:12, 2 replies)
...got really bad and I decided to quit when I feared becoming my alcoholic mother.
Have a very understanding employer who supported me heaps and arranged some counselling for me.
I bought him a bottle of wine as a thank you...
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 18:08, Reply)
Lowest Point: Making a joint out of an fine selection of week old dimps, a tiny bud found down the side of the sofa that was more fluff than plant and a mixture of the residue stuck to the sides of the grinder and metal shavings from afformentioned grinder that the knife scraped off.

Highest point? about 5 minutes later...
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 17:45, 1 reply)
South-Central American
When I was a few years younger and more naive than I am now I met a guy in a pub. He offered this white powder and said something to me, but I couldn't understand what he was saying. Then my friend told me that the guy's family were from South-Central America. Suddenly it became clear why his speech was so hard to follow: it was Maya diction...
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 16:55, 2 replies)
The usual
I was addicted to many great and destructive things in my youth.

The worst however, got me into the deep end for some nasty dealings in my past. Starting with the need to steal for fun. I'd break in to houses, not for need or want, but the thrill of smashing someones treasured sanctuary. I made some great friends with like minded people, which took us on many a great journey.
However, one particular house we were particuarly off our heads, my so called 'friends' turned on me by leaving me trapped in the home.
Unfortunate for me, it transpired the homeowner was also there, but was seriously hurt - I was blamed and imprisoned for some time. Not fun for someone in his mid-teens!

Years later the partner of said homeowner caught me as I walked past, offered for a chat - I was a changed man, though skint and homeless and he seemed genuine, so I obliged at the offer, who could say no to some food at the expense of grovelling.
However, It later turned out that vengance wasn't out of the question when I was shut away after using the facilities.
I was absolutely bottling it, I had been duped. I had killed this poor blokes wife, paid my time, now living as a bum and now he still wants to make me pay after all this time.
I didn't want to chance this mans idea of whatever torture I had to endure.
Since the mishap, I began to feel very low in myself. I can't see much in the future, and I felt that any second something terrible is going to happen to me.

This was it.

It was then I had a realisation, I knew what I had to do, and what I had wanted to do, and that was to do myself in; to snuff it, to blast off for ever out of this wicked, cruel world. One moment of pain perhaps and, then, sleep forever, and ever and ever. I threw myself out of the upstairs window.

I didn't remember much after that, apart from the ground. I hit it hard.
It was a while, but I found myself waking up in a hospital bed. Relieved it wasn't in a sack or... back in that room.

I've still had the craving... the want for that rush I had those years back. Yet I can never face going through with it, for you see my friends, I've been cured.

I was cured, all right!
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 16:36, 5 replies)
I find it hard to sleep
Without having either the TV or radio playing in the background. It's horrible, silence actually keeps me wide awake
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 16:14, 5 replies)
Can't sleep without the Smiths
I suffer with insomnia. When I say insomnia, I’m not one of these deluded people who think that only sleeping for five hours a night warrants the term ‘insomnia sufferer.’ I literally sleep one hour a night maximum. It’s fucking horrible, and after a while it’s hard to distinguish what is real and what is not real. For instance, I started writing stuff down as a bit of an insomnia diary, and had to stop because what I was reading the following day was so fucked up. ‘Can’t have a kidney transplant in England because I’m half Welsh,’ ‘Everytime I look in the mirror I see Aphex Twin,’ ‘someone must have put speed in my horlicks because I’m buzzing my fucking tits off.’

Just a few examples. Also, I’m not sure if anyone experiences something similar, but the for at least 8 hours of my day I have the Flintstones theme tune spinning round my head! It drives me fucking nuts.

Anyway, About two months ago I found a remedy. The Smiths track ‘Asleep.’ I whack this on, and granted it don’t guarantee me a great sleep, but it at least gets me to nod off.

I stayed at my sisters last week, and forgot said track. I literally sat down stairs for the two nights i was there, with the Flinstones tune going round my head. My sister gets up occasionally in the night, and everytime she did, I was just sitting on the sofa probably looking like a serial killer. She now thinks I’m weird.

So I guess I can’t sleep without The Smiths.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 15:51, 3 replies)
No, I'm not addicted to hands. That would be weird.

Anyway, I always have to have something in my hands. It's started this year, actually. And happens mainly when I'm with friends. Bottles are the best things to hold. :)

I guess I'm probably nervous or something.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 15:28, 2 replies)
i should also mention
i'm utterly addicted to classical music.quite why this should be is a mystery.
however,i think it's based on my greater addiction to victoriana.
If there's a higher addiction than sitting in a collection of victorian finery,including weskit,stiff-collar shirt,and fine trousers,drinking a cup of Earl Grey tea,smoking a fine old pipe and listening to Bruch's Violin Concerto in G Minor,then I don't know what it is.
Some people like coke,some people like weed...i like pretending I'm a throwback.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 15:18, 1 reply)
I used to have a bit of a problem with speed
until eventually my friends did an 'intervention'.

It was rubbish. The women weren't even all dressed the same.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 15:07, Reply)
Solitaire and Minesweeper...
Apologies if this has been done earlier but i had to come clean to my addiction and I know I'm not alone.

To date, since getting my shiny new laptop last christmas, Vista claims that I have played nearly 8,000 games of solitaire over the year - working out to about 21 games per day. Needless to say, I've played a lot.

My A-levels suffered because of this in the summer and I didnt revise nearly enough as I could have due to me playing that magical, wonderful, distracting game. My degree will probably start to go the same way; the constant distraction of the game calling me in, stopping me writing my essays.

Minesweeper is the same. I feel a strange moral obligation to clear as many "fields" from mines as possible so that the little people in computer world can play safely without threat of being blown up.

This is a real addiction with no real way of getting out of the habit. Stop using my computer, my work will suffer. Continue using my computer I will get distracted by the games and my work will suffer. It's the worst catch 22 situation ever.

Im considering setting up my own support group. Anyone care to join?
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 15:07, 8 replies)
Anorexia and Bulimia
I was addicted to both a mixture of food and starvation over the course of around 6 years. It took nearly dying due to kidney failure and starvation to knock some kind of sense into me. I still struggle with it on almost a daily basis but now I am finally at an almost healthy place.

Diets are bad m'kay kids?... Kidney failure HURTS. More than anything you can ever imagine. Now lil girls, is that really worth fitting into that size 0 skirt for? IME, no. I get every cold and flu coming at me, I have a small heart, weak muscles, and developed bipolar disorder from my eating disorders. I wish I was addicted to coke instead. At least there's decent help out there for coke addicts.

Length? 5 feet 4 inches, and 85lbs the last time I saw the scale. Currently a healthy 115lbs with my newfound addiction of mood stabilizers and antidepressants. Oh and my fantastic and almost equally as messed up boyfriend who without him, I have no idea where'd I'd be.

It ain't worth it kids.

Edit: Oh and I forgot the self injury. If you want a leg that looks like you were involved in a housefire due to the amount of scars, then go ahead and avoid seeking help. Those little emo kids sporting cat scratches down their arms have no idea what they've gotten themselves into. It's addictive. It's primitive - all animals injure themselves as a way to vent extreme emotion - and once you've found it, it's hard to stop. That's 11 years and counting on that one.
One ticket for Hull please, via the Loony Bin. It's an open return.

Apologies for lack of funny.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 14:11, 2 replies)
I am addicted to steal crappy stuff while drunk on the streets.

Thing include, but are not limited to:

- A black cocker spaniel, that I called "There you are, once"
- A bicycle from barcelona's public transportation system (bicing.com)
- A samsonite luggage, 1 meter high.
- A sony tv. 29". Still works.
- Three refrigerators. One is chilling my beer right now.
- Two matresses for 2 people, one for one person, an iron bed, and an Ikea bed for 2.
- A tombstone. Never knew where it came from.
- A jacket. My friend is using it.
- A grunge shirt, from a beggar in san francisco.
- A vw's clutch, to fry shrimp. It did make sense at the time,
- Two chickens, in curitiba, brazil. Some biker's father did an amazing soup.
- The Kozmik Blues trumpetman's bike. He was VERY upset.
- A suzuki bandit 1200. I knew the gate's password, and I always left the key on it. Gave it back later.
- My school's van. Several times.
- The confession's chair in a church in ribeirão preto, brazil.
- A fucking whole tuna.
- A whalehunter boat. 30 feet. Quite didn't work (the steal, not the boat).
- Several canoes.
- A honda shadow. Woke up 150km far from where I was supposed to be.
- A christmas tree. It was july.
- A dead tree. It's five feet now, and it's beautiful!
- A barrel.
- Some traffic sign. Not the obvious ones. This had 1.60 meters and couldn't fit inside my car.
- A road sign written "Salvador de Bahia 900km". No idea how I managed to take this to my house - which was in salvador indeed. The sign had about 3 meters.
- Two human femur, and a human skull.
- One bucket full of live crabs.
- A minnie mouse hanger, where you can measure yourself, up to 1,20m. I am 1,84.
- The "yield" road sign, WITH THE POLE! No idea how I managed to carry it in my motorcycle. When I tried to throw it away, two guys were required in order to carry the whole bang.
- Drugs, from the hospital, when I was doing med school.
- A horse's saddle. I tied it to my bike, and went to some friend's house screaming HHHHHHHHHHEEEYYYYYY HORSEYY
- 50 (yea, fifty) green coconuts.
- A 9ft wide parabollic antenna. It's in my beach's house.
- 1kg of marijuana some bloke left on the school. I gave it back later (slightly lighter I confess)
- Some cow's skull. I replaced some parts of the bike with it.
- A gas' cylinder from some street food vendor. Still dunno why.
- A cone. Well, ok. The problem was that the cone had a policeman holding it. And we were at 70km/h. My friend almost broke his arm.
- Mirrors, some many mirros. One from an elevator.
- A public telephone, cashewnut-shaped.
- An ice cream from the trashbin. There was some girl who had a crush on me, so I gave her. When she went to my sister to tell her, my sister just said "throw this shit away at once! My brother would NEVER give something to anyone that wasn't from the trash!". Don't know why the girl never spoke to me again.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 13:49, 9 replies)
Used to have four cans of cheap supermarket own brand energy drink before breakfast, then as much as I could during the day. This was back in school and so I'd be buzzed in the morning, not-hungry for lunch and I'd sleep in my afternoon lessons sometimes. It made me angry and thin.

Secondary school was quite shit.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 12:58, 8 replies)
I'm addicted to rubber bands..
As far as I can remember it all started when I was about 5 or 6, I used to pick them up from the street, steal them from shops, I'd get them from anywhere I could. I used to have piles of the things, filthy, dirty old rubber bands. My mother used to detest it and one of my earliest memories is her shouting "that's filthy, leave it where it is!". I cried for what felt like days.

Twenty years later and I'm still obssessed, it's got to the point where I have actually been threatened disciplinary action at work because of my rubber band consumption (let me make it clear that I dont physically consume them in anyway.....that's just odd). My new phase is the rubber band ball. I always have one on the go, always in my left coat pocket, sometimes I just need to touch it to make sure it's still there, I'm a mess if I leave it anywhere. After my colleagues physically locked the bands away from me because I was using a months supply in a week, I made frequent trips to admn to steal theirs. After that I broke into the cupboard and stole all of the bands. My colleagues thought they'd be horrible to me and carefully dissassembled the ball one band at a time. I pretended that I was really annoyed, inside I was dancing with glee at the prospect of rebuilding it from scratch. My friends have tried buying me ready made balls to try and stop me but to no avail, I just take them apart and rebuild them.

I have truly become a master of making the perfect sphere and can blend the colours together beautifully. In a 7 hour shift I can make a ball the size of a tennis ball whilst carrying out my work duties. I love the damn things.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 12:52, 4 replies)
I think I'm hooked on this one for life...
If I don't get my fix on a regular basis I turn into a total vegetable. Every time I try to go cold turkey I experience horrible withdrawal symptoms, I feel lightheaded, turn funny colours and my vision starts to white out, I hear this echoing ringing in my ears and finally I can't take it anymore and I just give in.

Most of the time I don't even think about it, it's reflexive, it's just part of my life - sometimes, though, I realise what I'm doing and I try to at least pay attention to my habit, try to regulate it a bit more, but that takes all of my concentration and I can't do anything else. I suppose I'm better off than people with other addictions - long as I don't try to quit, it doesn't really have any adverse effects, although my supply isn't very pure and sometimes I start to cough... I do worry that those impurities are shortening my lifespan, but getting rid of them is practically impossible. I suppose I could break into a hospital and steal some of the pure stuff, but never enough to keep me going for any decent amount of time, so it wouldn't really be worth the risk of prosecution. Even the fact that I had that thought makes me worried that I'm going to turn to a life of crime to support my habit! It's got to stop!

But how can I quit when it is literally all around me? I blame the suppliers - those bastards just keep pumping the stuff out.

And that's why I am strongly in favour of logging and deforestation.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 12:46, 1 reply)
Tim has always been a bit too fond of his drugs. Not content with snorting heroin, he regularly inhales burning rubber and rubs lucozade powder into his gums, all of that dangerous stuff. Last year I caught him milking my rabbit for it's "hallucinogenic venom", and he eats copies of NME, because apparantly there's 0.0001 mg of LSD used in the ink, and if he consumes enough of the paper it'll make him trip. He's taken to IV'ing brake fluid now. I tried to explain the dangers to him but the poor bugger won't listen. It's sad to watch, really.


He swears he can stop at any time.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 12:44, Reply)
Green. I'm addicted to green.
Or maybe it's a fetish, or an obsession...

Whatever. About 10 years ago I suddenly realised that I love green. This explained a lot about my life, such as why I'd done my best to decorate every house and flat I've lived in with that colour.

I'd occasionally spend money I didn't have on something that I didn't need - much against my normally cautious nature - and still feel happy about it.

All these impulse buys were of goods of the green persuasion, I now know. These days if I suddenly fancy something with an almost morbid passion I look again and ask myself, if it were red or purple would I want it as much? The answer's usually 'no'.

I'm still caught out on a daily basis. I'll choose groceries in green packaging rather than any other colour and am always drawn to green-looking displays.

Most of my cars have been green. When I needed a new one a few months back, I hurriedly bought one of those dodgy street-wrecks with a cardboard 'for sale' sign in the windscreen.

Hah! I thought. Beat you, green obsession!
I was wrong. It looks deep grey from a distance, although every panel has been badly sprayed with slightly different shades of - dark green.

If Mr Quar wishes to give me a gift, he always searches out the green model, for extra kudos. He recently gave me a pale metallic green iPod Shuffle. I spend a lot of time at the gym staring in awe at its beauty.

Goes without saying that I wear green clothes as often as possible.
When the former Mr Quar was ejected from the matrimonial home a few years ago, he cruelly took away my favourite green hooded sweatshirt. That hurt more than all the years of 'unreasonable conduct'.

What can I say? I love green.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 12:32, 4 replies)
Maybe I've got an excuse.....
..... as I'm 10 days away from having a baby, but my addiction/craving/reason for waking up is milk. I can't get enough of the stuff. Cravendale Semi-Skimmed is like gold-plated heroin and at the moment I'm getting through 4 pints a day.

... Just typing that makes me want some more and I've just had 3 glasses already.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 12:24, 3 replies)
I funking love my BlackBerry. It's bloody brillieerrrnt. In fact, I'm so far gone with my addiction that I'm using it to write this post...

The first thing I do every morning is check my emails and then the following sites in the following order :-

BBC Sport
BBC News

Its normally at this point that I realise I'm horribly late for work, but ho hum.

Not for me the poncy touchscreen banality of the iPhone or the appalling uncouthness of the Nokia N95 (gaaaahh...), give me my QWERTY keyed hetero life partner any day of the week.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 10:50, 3 replies)
Salt and Vinegar Strokes.
I don't really like crisps. I am aware of their existance as a snacking option, but would normally bypass them for either a non potato-based savoury alternative or maybe a bit of chocolate. Normally, they just passed me by.

Anyhoo, one day whilst living in student halls I decided to "make my way to Billy Mill roundabout". To "groom the wookie". To "take the one eyed snake for a walk". And after that, if I had time, I thought I'd have a wank as well.

Anyway after I coughed my filthy yoghurt, I had an urge for a post masturbationary snack. This being student accomodation, my options were limited to the snack machine in the common room. As I craved a savoury product, the only options available to me were either nuts (instant, painful death) or salt and vinegar crisps by a well known manufacturer advertised by a jug eared ex footballer.

I purchased said crisps and returned to my room, where I fell upon them like a beast. I don't know whether it was due to my post -fwapping glow or a major electrolyte imbalance, but these crisps were the BEST I ever tasted. I finished the bag and lay back with a satisfied sigh. Since then, no episode of self-love is complete without a bag of Mr Walker's salted snacks. Aeven the sight of the packet gives me the horn.

Ahh...and I'm spent.

Length? Shorter if you get salt on it.
(, Sat 20 Dec 2008, 8:48, 4 replies)

This question is now closed.

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