Oh Shit
I regret this last friday night, which started as me and a mate going out for a couple of beers at 4 in the afternoon and ended up with me in A&E at 2.30 saturday morning after a few too many pints and apparently 7 or 8 e's. Which I don't remember taking. And waking up with my brother next to me rather than my mother or father was a godsend. However having to work the next three days for 12 hours a day in a kitchen was less than fun. Calling the boss to say "I can't work, I flipped out on a shit load of sweeties and had a drip before I came to work.." would possibly endanger my licence. Nuff said. I still have needle marks and a hell of a thirst at the moment. Twunt.
(daverule Poobumwobblebottynobnobsex, Tue 20 Dec 2005, 1:08, Reply)

Weirdest. Night. EVAR.
It was the first time I did pills. I was in a club at the time (as one usually is on these occasions), and nothing seemed to be happening for a while, but at some point when the DJ put on a CHOON, I started to go "fackin'... YEAH!!!" like Billy off that Phones 4 U advert¹ and started to bounce around off the walls like a complete tit while waving my arms around and yelling "WOO!!! YEAH!!!!!"

That was only the start of the night (16 hours to be precise) - apart from a dim recollection of enthusing to someone about "negative red" paint, much of what happened in the intervening time is a blur, but some evidence of what I'd done became evident in the following month or so - I got all manner of things through the mail for 'Marcus Brigstoke', who by the looks of things was a happily-married man expecting his first child, looking for new furniture, and holding subscriptions to about half a dozen DeAgostini monthlies.² Strange that he'd lived all this time in my flat without me ever meeting him! Maybe he was hiding in the loft....

But the weirdest thing of all was when I came down the next day; I'd gone, head spinning, into what I thought was a club, was amazed that there was no bouncer on the door (given that I was obviously under 21 and wearing trainers to boot), and had gone into a little cubicle to light up a fag. I didn't have one. Or any tobacco. Or a lighter. Fucksocks! But what there was in that cubicle was a bit of paper with some names and stuff on it; there was also a pen nearby, attached to the wall to stop people nicking it. After unsuccessfully trying to unscrew the pen, in case there was any tobacco inside, I read the names again, and the instructions. I followed the instructions, made my mark on on the paper, dropped it in the collection box outside, and solemnly bid everyone present good night. (It was mid-day.)

A few weeks later, on the news, I see this and think: Jesus H. Christ, I was (partly) responsible for that! I am never doing pills again!

¹ A strange coincidence, seeing as that advert had not been aired at the time. That advert really does give me the fear: I reckon Billy is me, aged 35.
² Not I Love Horses though.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 22:35, Reply)

Be Warned
For all those lovers of the weed out there I feel the need to give you a warning. One of my brother's friends is a heavy user and when my brother moved away he latched onto me. So it was first hand that I have seen his descent from normality into what can only be described as a state of obsessive paranoia plus zero memory. Whenever they talk about the possible long term psychological effects of marajuana on the news I nod knowingly. Mind you this is me, so please don't take this as a lecture because my pity doesn't stretch so far as to not laugh at his condition. Over the years I have witnessed the following things:

1. Me and a few friends went back to his house. On discovering that he had lost his keys he immediately indentified one of my friends as the culprit and informed me that my mate had stolen the keys to give to a mystery man he'd once met in a pub so he could burgle him. He also informed me that in retaliation for this he would stab him in the head with a carving knife. In reality, he'd dropped his keys himself down the side of his couch when he'd sat down.

2. We live close by so he rang me one night to tell me he'd seen someone strange hanging around one of our neighbours houses. We both rushed out in case something dodgy was going on and no one was there. Apparently he'd seen him go in the door. "Go in the door as if he lives there?" I asked. He went a bit quiet. "Well I reckon we can call off the police search." I joked to lighten the mood. "Yeah," he replied, "I should probably ring them back and tell them not to bother turning up after all." I made him knock on the door and apologise to the owner's nephew he'd just called the police on.

3. Whenever we're inside and he hears a whistle (or just thinks he might have heard one) then everyone must be quiet and everything must be turned off to remove extraneous noise. He will then sit at the window for at least five minutes listening for the burglars who are definitely there.

4. If the hard drive light on the front of your computer blinks more than ten times in a minute then you have a virus.

5. He once had a go at me in a pub for coming onto his girlfriend. Turns out my being a blatant homosexual is just a cover story. Fancy that! You would have thought I would have noticed.

6. We play poker quite often and it was only the threat of excommunication from the games that forced him to stop either; a) spending five minutes putting his cards and his chips in his pockets every time he needed a drink or a piss, or b) leaving them there and then picking someone random every single time he returned and shouting at them for looking at his cards/fixing the deck/stealing his chips. This has lead to some fun petty revenge though because now he'll be banned if he accuses anyone else. Therefore when he leaves for a moment I'll restack his chips in a different way (he'll count them before he leaves, come back knowing that no one's stolen anything but knowing they've been touched) or I'll slightly move his cards (he'll place them deliberately on the table so he can mark their position using the pattern on the back) and now I get to sit smugly watching him seethe.

7. Saving the best for last he once went away for a weekend and was convinced he would be burgled for his x-box (obviously). So to annoy his burglers he removed the controller connectors and hid them. On his return (to his unburgled house) his weed-addled memory meant he couldn't remember where he hid them so he couldn't play his beloved x-box for two weeks until he accidentally came across them.

So remember, just because you're paranoid probably does mean they're not really after you. But you may very well be after yourself.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Mon 19 Dec 2005, 21:54, Reply)

Too many Mushrooms!
A load of friends and little old me were at a free party in an old church, which ended up being shite. So one of the guys said "I've got a little bag of mushrooms at home, if anyone fancies it". Which of course, everyone did.

We all bundled into the back of a dodgy old van and drove for what felt like forever, in the dark, with only a tiny, tinny stereo to save us. Eventually the van stopped and we bundled out.

Looking around I could see we were out in the countri, but I had no idea where and frankly, didn't care. I was eager to get to the lovely lovely fungus within. We all jumped out and the decks were erected so we could party - we were in the middle of nowhere at the fella's lovely little cottage in the woods. There was noone around for miles. The music went on and everyone started to party. True enough, the fella brought down a bag of mushrooms. We were then introduced to three huge dogs which proceeded to wreck the place.

The bag was about the size of an A4 sheet of paper and was full to about half way up - and bulging out at the sides. A little bag? Mrs Muhnquai leapt up and volunteered to play cook as she was the only person, other than the designated driver, that wasn't pissed. She cooked up enough for everyone, I think 12 of us, in 3 dose cups, 1 to be shared between 3 people. It barely dented the bag.

Now, Mrs Muhnquai's simple recipe is this: LOTS of magic mushrooms. I mean LOTS. Heroic doses. A few vege Oxo cubes and water. That's it. Beatiful, tasty mushroom soup. Everyone shared the cups out (or so we thought) equally. One girl, who had been one-ear-in-headphones-on-the-decks when I gave her the cup and explained the dosage, suddenly wandered in and said "Have you got anymore of that soup?", spotted a mug on the side, and downed the lot.

SO that was enough for 6 people.

I sat her down and her boyfriend came over and asked where his cup was - he hadn't had any yet. So I went into the kitchen and poured out a single dose for him. As I handed it to him he said "I need milk and sugar in mine". I explained it was soup and not tea, but for twenty minutes, he refused to take it without milk and sugar. I eventually caved in and gave it to him with milk and sigar, grudgingly. As he drank it, he wretched and had to reswallow the lot. He was not a happy bunny. His missus was at this point flidding on the sofa like a retarded sea-lion. The only word she had said for half an hour was "Rainbow" then appeared to pop invisible bubbles.

I noticed my dose was kicking in and that the sun was coming up and said I was up for a walk in the woods. Me and Mrs M and another friend went out into the woods, under strict instructions to bring back a bear. It was a week later that I found out we had been in the hundred acre wood that inspired Winny the Pooh. Didn't see him, though I wouldn't be surprised if he saw me.

When we came down a bit, we went out to the pub. The wretching boyfriend had rather foolishly taken some ketamine on top of his mushys and was an absolute mess. His ketamine friend had thought it would be a great idea to take the three large dogs out with us on the walk through the woods to the pub. Not such a great idea on the walk back to the house.

On the way home, the guy with the dogs managed to get pulled along and way ahead of all of us and disappeared off into the night. We all got back to the house and he was nowhere to be seen. A few of us went out with torches to look for him, but after a few hours, we found nothing. We needed to get back into town and were all feeling a bit worse for wear, what with the booze, mushys and sleep deprivation (by this point nearly 48 hours awake).

We dismantled the decks and loaded them back into the van and drove back in the dark, minus one stoner and three dogs. We slept.

The next day, we phoned the guy out at the cottage to ask about dog man - apparently while we were driving back in the van, he had woken up in a ditch, under the three dogs, with blood on his face. He doesn't even remember taking the mushrooms, to this day. He had gone back to the house and broken, gone to bed in the cottage owners bed and woke up when they returned from dropping us off. He was OK, but he had a nasty cut on his head.

There are many many details of this adveture that I could bore you with but frankly, teh werds teh werds. My arms ache. I'm still looking for Winny the Pooh.
( Bud Muhnquai Update your profile or fuck off, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 20:33, Reply)

I'm so so so sorry jesus
god bless nativity plays

He won't bless me or my mate though

we found a lifesize nativity play when our minds were pickled in alcohol :) cue posing mary and joseph in the "while your down there" pose, and stealing the baby jesus

oh how we laughed nervously the next morning
(psych, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 18:13, Reply)

Never come late
After a shift working in a pub i scooted over to my buddy's house where I found about 12 people all monged to Hades.

"What's going on?" I say.

"Eat the cake" comes the unanimous reply.

"Anything good?"

"EAT THE CAKE!"

Oh..kay. Having only had a stolen brandy I was fresh and willing to join the 'party'. I had some of the hash cake lovingly prepared by the magnificent baker but non-junky girlfriend of said buddy. Trying to impress, she'd thrown in a quarter of the squidgy black stuff we all love and killed everybody. But I didn't know. I had some cake. There was a third left. I thought I had some catching up to do so I had all the cake. Shitneedles. But before the effects..

"Who wants a spliff?" say I.

"Absolutely FUCKING NOT!" say all, obviously all tripping their tits off. "How much did you eat?"

"All of it"

"Shit. Bye bye, man. You'd better go throw it up"

"Nah, I'll be fine"

Nothing happening so i have a couple of biftas. An hour in, watching an Eddie Izzard video I start laughing (which is odd in itself) because I think i'm full of wriggling feathers. Then half way through a bag of crisps they change into lightbulbs and my mouths bleeding all over my hands and legs and I have a good ole scream and chunder like a bastard all over the place. Then a bit of healthy blackness, which i'm greatful for as I don't want to remember how i ended up naked wrapped in a transparent shower curtain unconscious on the bathroom floor being kicked by sober and distressed pretty women.

Never again. Unless you're paying.
(bendyness shows you on the brick where he licked her, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 18:10, Reply)

God demands a sacrifice!
Back in the bad old days, I'd do stuff under the influence that would eat me up with guilt.

In a fit of hung-over remorse, I decided that to atone for my sins, God would want a sacrifice from me. Being that I was drunk when I did this (probably involving someone else's girlfriend), God would want a sacrifice of booze. And of course He wouldn't want me to quit drinking and keep my hands to myself, oh no. Just a sacrifice and He'll call it even. Not a whole lot of booze, I figured. Just enough that I wouldn't miss.

So I poured a shot glass of what I had available, and tried to throw it out the window. I'd wind up for the throw, but no no nonono, wait and stop myself. Wind up again... Aaagghhh! Just... can't...pour...it...out!!!

Okay, I'll just leave it on the windowsill and God will take it when he wants it. So on the windowsill it goes, and I try to watch TV. Five minutes later, I look out. Still there. Try to watch more TV, but can't stop wondering if God's taken the booze yet. Look again, nope, still there. More TV. Look again. Maybe I should try to burn it? Nope, it doesn't light. Only 80 proof, need at least 100 to burn reliably. More TV. Look again. Gosh, the shot glass looks pretty lonely out there. Oh, why oh why won't He take it? By now it has some black floaties in it. Maybe he doesn't want it? Maybe he doesn't want me to be wasteful? That's it, he doesn't want me to be wasteful. So I reach out, rescue the poor, cold, lonely shot glass, oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Shot, were you scared? I'm sorry, I won't do that to you again. Bad, bad God for not taking you! Ungrateful bastard! Come here, Shot, I'll treat you right...*gulp*

Then I treated the rest of the bottle right...
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 17:47, Reply)

Martians are evil
Had a bit of a big night out a few years ago. Went clubbing, took a few disco biscuits with my friend, ended up in a party in an architects lounge, bought some more disco treats. Got back to my flat and found we had run out of said treats. It's at this point I remember my friend gave me a bag of base, warning me that it was rough stuff and she'd spent 12 hours shaking after it. So we dabbed, and dabbed and dabbed...

It was great until the pills wore off and we became rather agitated.

Imagine waking up one morning to find your flatmate and friend pacing the entire circumference of the flat, following the skirting boards with an intent look on our faces, mumbling about our heartrates and when how long it takes speed to leave your system.

My poor flatmate then proceeded to leave the flat and come back on 2 seperate occasions to find myself and friend in the same position on the setee, looking rather confused and agitated.

My flatmate also had a 2 foot model of Marvin the Martian. Not only did we have to turn him to face the wall but we had to cover him with a curtain as his cold black eyes were penetrating our very souls. Think we eventually got to sleep at about 10pm Sunday night. Happy times...
(kendoddsdadsdogsdead, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 17:42, Reply)

Awake and bored - a bad combo!
Being awake and bored was all the excuse I needed to get drunk. I'd do a lot to either not be awake or not be bored.

Being the merry pranksters we fancied ourselves, two friends and I decided to play a trick on some farmers. I'd found one of those charts that tells where the cuts of meat come from on the cow. Wouldn't that just freak people out to wake up to the cows having that chart spray painted on them?

I learned a number of things that night. One, cows are WAY BIGGER up close than they are from the road. Second, cows are not the peaceable docile creatures the cartoons would have you believe. Thirdly, three drunk guys cannot sneak up on a herd of cattle in a dry corn field, especially when one of them has a spray can going "clickety clickety clickety."
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 17:28, Reply)

druqgs
The first time I took enough mushrooms to actually trip, I found myself lying prone on the floor listening to my own, disjointed thoughts, and coming to the conclusion that I had discovered the meaning of life... the room had melted, cars outside sounded like spaceships zooming past. I later spent a good while (I cannot tell how long as time was going backwards) musing on how on Earth salt and pepper shakers worked. I also saw cows where there were none and watched a game of football on my schoolbag-screen.
(riuhiru, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 16:48, Reply)

I can't remember.
That's probably because of the drugs though.
( Lightguy hail satan, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 16:45, Reply)

Superhuman drinking powers
Right, 16yrs old, just finished in the supermarket on a saturday evening, me and Stumpy - wages in pocket, acid scored and dropped before we left the building...dealer worked in the bakery....straight to the pub ( we knew the landlord so he used to let us drink knowing full well we were under age )Utterly spanked on LSD, 60 fags, 13 pints and 9 double vodkas - impossible for me without the acid to keep me alive,I saw jesus necking tomato juice at the bar - and because of the bar lighting I still swear he had a halo - quite freaked me out ....ahh good times. LSD is good for getting rid of colds too - you may not feel like taking it, but after coming down off a good strong trip you won't have the cold no more....works for me anyways.....
(silencio ....Fetch the Big Net...., Mon 19 Dec 2005, 16:17, Reply)

shrooms
First real time on mushrooms - took too many - room full of people. All of whom are smokin away...time passes... world dumps on me in a bad way. Stagger off bed start pointing at a girl in the corner, who was minding her own stoned little world - proclaiming that her breasts had turned paisley. must have really freaked her out.
(alex the ghost, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 16:08, Reply)

Drugging dreams
I've been 100% clean and sober for a number of years now, but that doesn't mean I'm normal. I sometimes have incredibly vivid drinking and using dreams. Sometimes I'm halfway through breakfast before I realize that it was only a dream.

In one, I was huffing magic markers to get high, and I was running around with my hand over my face to hide the blue ink all over my nostrils.

In another, I was gulping down coffee flavorings and wondering if it counted as a "slip."

When I was 14, I had a using dream about cocaine, and it was wonderful! I'd never had any before, and still to this day have not, so it baffles me how I can have a dream about it.

My mind is not my friend.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 15:41, Reply)

on my lonesome!
Going to the dam on your own can be fun. Earlier this year, I went out there on my todd for a cheeky chill out weekend. Off the train station I decided to head for a coffee shop (still with holdall) and find my hotel later. Bit of a mistke as after a lot of weed, and stepping of a fairground ride in dam square, I toddled off realising I didn’t have a clue where I was, where my hotel was, the name of it or anything. Sitting on a wall for an hour trying to solve this conundrum, severe paranoia set in and I think I began to sob.
(Baron T, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 15:26, Reply)

Trollyhead
I remember being so out of it I forgot my sexuality. Hmmm.
(louche_boy, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 15:01, Reply)

crippleland was born
Many moons ago, a few fellows trotted round to mine for some shrooms. Twas all good, especially as in my house, my step father is in a wheelchair (him not being their) and my house has all manor of gadgets to facilitate a good acid trip. Including the electric wheelchair which took massive chunks out of the wall, and the ultimate; a stair lift. My house was a theme park for the evening named ‘crippleland’ and tripping out going up and down on a stair lift was awesome. So awesome that my friend was on it at one point, dropped his fag and set himself on fire. Yet the ride was so good, he refused to move out of the chair! Needless to say the next day I spent some time clearing up the damage and re-wiring an almost burnt out stairlift.
(Baron T, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 14:59, Reply)

If You Go Down To The Woods Today...
On the way back from a night on the town my brother and his mate (aged around 17 at the time), being suitably drunk and drugged, did what all good stoners do occasionally and decided to take a shortcut through the woods, back to the housing estate, and look for mushrooms on the way. The fact that neither of them could stand up and it was pitch black didn't dampen their enthusiasm and so, they peeled off the road, headed through the trees, skirted a few buildings and aimed for the perimeter of the golf course that comprised the aforementioned quick route. Almost as soon as their trek had begun the mate stopped my brother and shushed him. "Did you head that noise?" He whispered urgently in the dark, the weed paranoia kicking in nicely. My brother stopped studying the grass and looked up at him doubtfully. Just as he was about to call him an idiot he heard it. A faint whum whum whum came from ahead of them. They both froze in terror. For five minutes they stood stock still until they both eagerly agreed it must have been a car or something and continued, albeit a little cautiously, on their way.

Fifteen minutes later and their altered mental condition had allowed them to forget about the noise entirely. They had continued merrily homewards, or so they thought. Suddenly the mate brought my brother to a halt with a cry of triumph. He had spotted something in the undergrowth. Luckily my brother stopped him before he picked up his find as it turned out, on closer inspection, to be a used condom. They both stood up laughing like loons when suddenly their glee was cut short by a noise.

WHUM! WHUM! WHUM! Deafening and directly in front of them.

The wind suddenly whipped up, seeming to push them backwards. They both screamed like little girls, again frozen to the spot and grabbing at each other for comfort, staring into the terrifying and absolute darkness in front of them. Suddenly a blazing light blinded them both and they screamed again, falling to the ground and covering their eyes whimpering. A few seconds passed and the sound of voices made my brother look up. Directly at the police helicopter pilot who was now staring at them, clearly unamused. In the pitch black hunt for mushrooms they'd lost their direction and instead of wandering towards the estate had wandered towards the police headquartes on the other side of the golf course. According to the pilot he hadn't heard them approaching and when he hit the lights to see two teenagers practically nose to nose with the helicopter he said it was a toss up as to who was more scared.

He says that but my money's on my brothers mate on the grounds he pissed himself.

EDIT: I don't know if this phenomena is some kind of communicable disease but a few years later a friend of mine was mushroom hunting (more intelligently in the daylight). He walked, head down, peering at the ground for any funghi, straight into a chainlink fence and fell over backwards. Sitting up with a suitably comic look of surprise he saw two soldiers laughing at him from the safety of the army base. He didn't stick around to explain what he was doing there.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Mon 19 Dec 2005, 14:57, Reply)

ah yes, and this....
Deciding to have a sesh on some shrooms one night, I decided to step it up a notch and gets some uber strong shit. It was pretty naughty as not only did I not know my own name, I physically couldn’t speak at most times. Anyway, someone suggested, do not know who, to go into town. So here I am at 11oclock at night in Canterbury town centre (full of pissed students) staggering around trying to make sense of it all. After a small discussion with the packets of crisps in a nearby off licence about the economy, I wandered out into the main road mesmerised by the lights, and welcoming the friendly cars who were either swerving around me or making use of their car horns. Somehow managed to get back where I proceeded to stare at a blank monitor with ought blinking for about 2 hours. Good shit I tells ya.
(Baron T, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 14:31, Reply)

Vomit guitar
MMM MMMM this is a lovely memory.
I was about 14 / 15 I'd drank a bottle of thunderbird with my friend before
we went to an 'older boys' party, where I proceeded consume rather a large
amount of shrooms and jack daniels, no real memory of anything that happened
at the party ...anyway....i managed to make it the 9 or so miles back home
on my bike, to find that the room moved A LOT if I lay on the bed, so much
so that a tidal wave of vomit was about to hit...not wanting to upset my
parents with my wretching and puking, I decided to keep the event to my
bedroom.

By my bed I discovered a guitar case, which I promptly opened and filled
with Jack Daniels, mushroom and thunderbird soup.

Next afternoon I find the case has gone,

Hmm yes, the guitar case belonged to a friend of my mums, a highly respected
guitarist who was storing instruments at our house before a gig in
Manchester.

I never asked at what point the contents were discovered, but I sorta hope
it was on stage...ahhhhhh
(saucykipper, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 14:27, Reply)

self-control freak
which means it's not just that I don't, it's also that I can't do drugs. I deliberately have never attempted anything stronger than a joint (I was sick and paranoid) as I'd know I'd have a bad time. And I don't really drink, so this question's a bit pointless for me. However, I am living proof a good time can be had without these things, so I'm not bitter.

However, it's worth telling this story.

A friend of mine was on pills for stomach pain, which increased the effect of alcohol x3. So he combined a series of shnapps shots with a discrete pill of some description and what we ended up with was a man on the train to bristol telling the female ticket inspector she looked like a lobster.
He then went on to start a fight in a pre-club pub with a man who was clearly dodgy who then went on to produce a gun. Another friend talked him down from using it and bought him a pint.
He then picked a fight with the bouncer of the pub on the way out. Who then walked across the road to the club we were about to go into, and told the club's bouncer not to let him in.
By this point I was happy to see the back of said mate, and would happily have left him to whatever Bristol had to offer him, preferably along the same lines he'd found so far. However, my other friends were feeling a bit more generous and reluctantly got a taxi with him, whilst I went into the club, drank lemonade all night and kept getting asked what I was on.
My friends, however, were stuck trying to get my mate to come down off whatever cloud he'd taken up residence on, and trying to gtet him to behave sensibly and stop shouting about "truth".
(niceandwarmandhot vive la résistance, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 14:17, Reply)

Oh my god that's so funny...
Cypress Hill - Insane In The BRAIN just came on the radio... I shit you not!

Sorry, I'll go now
(Pharma, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 14:10, Reply)

this is a list...
1. last friday, i dont remember... maybe its politically safe and for my own welfare that i dont... (boozeahol)
2.One very lucky expedition to the 'dam with my bf a few months back, we decided it was a-time to go a-shrooming once more so we purchased some, and went bk to the hotel and ate...once we found ourselves staring at the carpet being very amused by the dots on carpet, we though it would be appropriate to go outside...apart from the fact we were giggling everywhere, managed to walk into a shop where the man pointed to me my fly was down, so i ran away, we wandered for over two hours in blatant awe of absolutely everything before we started to lose our minds and decide that it would be best to go back to the hotel.. but we were lost!! walking for 2 hours in a random city is not good for the sense of direction...so we sat down and pondered our fate...i turned round and the hotel was right behind me... so that was lucky, we went back and sat and yakked for 5 hours (trying to establish what the time was, as the clocks were wrong...).. the only picture i have of this trip is of my bf laying on the bed in the same position as he had been for 5 hours.. i insisted i took it coz he looked comfy.. ^_^
3.Last time i did e i vaguely remember going to the local park and hanging upside down off anything that would take my weight...
4.one time i did shrooms i decided to draw all over my friends wall...i read it the next day and it was complete and utter bollocks!
5. there is a picture of me with makeshift minnie mouse ears thet i created with rice biscuits whilst stoned.. who took the picture? my mother.. :D

I cant be bothered to think of any more, i dont take them very often (bar twee and beer) because i am ... a nutter :D... im off for two weeks though soon... ;-)
(Salbo_baggins, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 14:00, Reply)

Boss' House Warming + Drugs = Bad. But not for me...
My workmate boshed over half a gram of (damn high quality) MDMA in a pint of water one night at our boss' house warming party...

Three high points of the evening...

1)Her ripping the shower curtain (and the rail) down, wrapping it around her and proclaiming to everyone she was the queen. She was quite upset we didn't bow to her. Quite scared by her brandishing the toilet brush as a sceptre.

2)She disappeared into the cellar... And hour later we find her dancing down there. She then asks why no one else is in the ball room. Cobwebs were then mistaken for chandeliers... yadayadayada...

3)She becomes a sweating mess and decides fresh air is needed. She starts smashing her face into a closed window, attempting to get outside into the "jungle" for 5 minutes...

Poor lass. She was the butt of jokes for weeks.
(blackfacedfightinggibbon, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 13:57, Reply)

Double Stamped Red HQ
Best QOTW ever and I've been lurking and skiving so long I've read every page of every one.

I've done the one I regret (below) so here's one of my best...

Must be nearly three years ago now when I had my best drug experience, which was the double-stamped red HQ.

I had never had, and have never had since, a FULL body rush. (MDA?)

When I finally decided I had to piss I had to lift both legs, one at a time with my arms, off the dancefloor to get to the men's room.

When I finally got there the room tilted 90 degrees and to get to the urinals I had to lean against the wall and crawl all the way around. It took fucken ages and I got more than a few strange looks!

An hour later I was back on the dance-floor and picked up a work colleague of my other best mate and took her back to my place.

Now, this drug was so good that it doesn't even matter that a) she was ginger and b) I didn't even manage to penetrate through the matted nest of ginger pubes to put her away.

Ahh, the good old days...

I actually hate drugs but they seem to have a bit of a thing for me!
(Pharma, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 13:45, Reply)

A couple...
I'd just moved into a house for the second year of uni. Not being much of a stoner (at the time), and my new flatmates being a right pair of caners seriously took its toll, especially on the first night when, having consumed a fair few pints of Guiness and some "silly cigars" my brain decided it had had enough and I whitied out.

According to my flat mate I went as pale as a sheet before turning to him and uttering the unforgettable words:

"YOU LOOK LIKE A GAY DENTIST."

Suffice to say, new flatmate, who I was trying to impress, was not impressed. I went straight to bed after that.

Also, being a bored teenager living in a tiny village I looked on the internet to find ways to get high on stuff you find lying round the house. I read that nutmeg had similar effects to LSD. So I raided the larder and ate about five nutmeg "nuts". It produced a mildly nice euphoria for the evening, and then I went into a monged semi-comatose state for THREE WHOLE FUCKING DAYS. Do not ever eat nutmeg.
( krang, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 13:40, Reply)

Just remembered another acid experience...
...with a different group of lads from the other one I posted - fell out of touch with pretty much all the scallies I ran with (except my brother lol) but this lot remain firm friends of mine even today.

Anyway, I was only just getting to know these lads (I was the token scally at the time and they were uni students) and I thought it would be a good idea, whilst one of the lads' folks were away and we were dossing in the house, to introduce them to the 'Saturday Night on Acid' experience, as they had never indulged before*. A score (of paper trips this time - strawberries if memory serves) was procured, and the next two nights were spent under the influence. Obviously, I don't remember all of it clearly but some aspects that stick in the mind include:

* One of the lads getting right-the-fuck-into The Last Emperor which was on TV one of the nights, strongly rebuffing any suggestion to change the channel - 'You can't do that - this is fucking ACE".
* A bucket bong (constructed by yours truly - another first for the lads) running in the garage pretty much from start to finish, a handful of us ensuring that all exhaled smoke was directed toward a frankly huge pair of y-fronts belonging to the host's dad that they'd forgotten to take off the washing line above us - the phrase 'aim for the cacks' is immortal now.
* One poor fucker named Rich ending up feeling totally ostracised and headfucked throughout on account of dropping his stamp about 4 hours after the rest of us, and spending the entirety of his evening with us on a completely different wavelength to well, anyone. My heart still goes out to that lad even today.
* My then-GF developing a strong platonic affection for a whole grapefruit that she'd found in the fridge - she wasn't seen without it for one of the nights entire.
* Some other poor fucker wasting three-quarters of his stash in the most heinously abortive attempt at hash cookies I had ever encountered - completely inedible - not even the sheer amount of material in them was incentive enough to try them more than once, and once required a fair leap of faith in itself.
* One girl who I didn't know at all at the time getting a bit overwhelmed and wandering off into the night. Growing up on a fairly rough estate and not knowing that the one I was on then was infinitely more affluent and stable than mine, I sought out and engaged a volunteer to accompany her. I'd have gone myself, but I suspected that the company of a bug-eyed scally she barely knew the name of would not have bolstered her spirit. Besides, the GF would not have approved in the slightest of me going AWOL for fuck-knows-how-long with this basically stunning young lady, grapefruit or no grapefruit.

There were a few more of those nights, one of the most memorable of which was laughing our tits off whilst watching Flash Gordon The Movie - strongly recommended combination there, kids - go do it ;)

* Just learned from a later post that the correct term for my oversight of the event was 'sheperding' - about right, except where Rich was concerned - he was beyond even my aid.
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 13:36, Reply)

Regrets? I've had a few...
My best friend is my favourite person in the whole world. I love her to death and always will but,unfortunately for me, more than what will ever be reciprocated.

I've come to terms with this now and I even really like her boyfriend but there was a moment last year that makes me cringe thinking about it.

We had spent *about a year or so doing a gram of lou and a few e's each, every weekend, and the "situation" turned to psychosis not long after she made one of her only female **friends.

I got it into my head that the best way to get over the overwhelming feelings I had was to find someone else to focus on, and who better than someone she already got along with, or so my brain told me.

For the next few hours my brain tried to tell this other chick that I wanted to be with her but my heart wouldn't play and kept making me pause after every second word.

It took a good few hours for me to get out the whole sentance, which was to the effect of, "you're... alright... wanna... go... wiv... me?...

All the time my best friend (you know who you are) kept asking me if i was ok and if i wanted to go and have a chat with her, trying to save me from more embarrassment...

Bless...

*more or less, my memory isn't the best!

** she was a slapper that turned into a bunny-boiling PSYCHO!!!

*** DRUGS ARE THE WORK OF THE DEVIL! ACCEPT JEBUS INTO YOUR HEART AND SEND ANY OF THOSE EVIL SUBSTANCES TO PO BOX 666, ORMOND, VICTORIA, AUSTRALIA AND JEBUS AND I WILL DISPOSE OF THEM FOR YOU!!!

**** I have a big fat cock
(Pharma, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 13:26, Reply)

For my friend's 25th birthday
We snorted far too much ketamine (which incidentally we had arranged in the shape of football pitch markings on a mirror), and had a flour and beer fight.
Had i been functioning more fully, i would have remembered that flour, when mixed with water, makes glue.
The carpet had to be ripped up and replaced.
( 100% Cock Raw like carrots., Mon 19 Dec 2005, 13:21, Reply)

Whats that in the bin?
"Whats that in the bin?" was question put to me once.
After many an evening as a teenager returning home with eyes a little reddened (as teenagers do) I would typically open something 'snacky' to cure the munchies. Whether it be a kit kat, mars bar or banana the nutritious part would be thrown into the bin whilst I'm holding the wrapper trying to look intelligent and hold down conversation, obviously not succeeding well and talking bollocks.
Yep the Banana went one night and mum just had to point out in the nicest way - why am I about to eat the skin!
(Picasso, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 12:58, Reply)