while stoned one time
I gladly accepted a peice of greenish cake made with 'special butter' which turned out to give me one of the worst migraines i've ever had, and left me half stoned / half dead for the next 3 days. I'm not sure what was in it but it certainly wasn't a legal recipie
( Frumbert has no sig, Sat 17 Dec 2005, 11:14, Reply)

Once, drunk, I improvised and recorded a song
called "Fuck shit fuck fuck shit fuck".

The words went something along the lines of: "I met a girl who was crazy about me, she had long blond hair and blue eyes, but she also had tourette's syndrome. She didn't know anyone but fuck shit, she had a fuck shit car and a fuck shit house, and she lived on fuck shit street. She was a fuck wit in her own self-proclaimed words, she liked to fuck shit fuck shit fuck, but that was alright with me - that was alright with me. Hahahaha."

Of course, while still considerably drunk I MSN'd it to one of my friends, who thought it would be funny to leak it onto the internet. I stuck my name on the id3 tag. Somehow it made its way onto the UC intranet (University of Canterbury, Christchurch, New Zealand), and now it's quite freely downloadable from most reputable DC++ hubs. I discovered this about two months after drunkenly dismissing it as gone forever, when a friend who wasn't even aware I could play guitar started singing it one lunch time. I veritably shook with rage. Actually I didn't.



But, of course, you'll want to listen to it so who am I to stop you? Save yourself the search.


Spose 'alcohol' isn't strictly 'drugs' though, meh, I have a very long penis.
(brazzin, Sat 17 Dec 2005, 10:49, Reply)

Unfortunately unable to remember my drug stories one about my brother
Must have been about 2 years ago now and my brother decided to start experimenting with drugs like his not so much wiser big sister and got hold of some acid. Now my parents were away leave me and my three brothers to look after the house. A few hours into my shift my mobile starts ringing and it's my brother, screaming down the phone he needs me to come home. So I see about leaving as I am needed at home, unfortunately I worked and still work in a call centre and wasn't able to take any leave. In a moment's desparation I had to tell one of the managers my brother had taken acid and was home alone- never quite been the same with me since.

So when outside rang my boyfriend at the time to pick me up so i could go home and see to him - armed with orange juice i found him pale as a sheet on the landing muttering something about skeleton coming out of his curtains

After cartons of orange juice and me trying not to laugh the story unfolded.

The muppet had taken half decided it wasn't doing anything and then decided to take another one and a half on his first time, realising he was going down a very bad trip in his room because of the skeletons coming out of the curtains he decided to sleep it off in my room in which in his words "there was a party going on and I wasn't invited"

He hasn't touched them since but he has a suprise for xmas i've got him two as a xmas present because that's what big sisters are for
(thesickandwrong, Sat 17 Dec 2005, 10:03, Reply)

Do you drive better stoned?
I was doing so well driving back from a mate's house one night. My lightning reactions meant I avoided the idiot who pulled out right in front of me. And I didn't run that bloke over either, he must've been pissed, walking out in the road like that.

Then I turned my lights on.
(dustydisturbed, Sat 17 Dec 2005, 9:59, Reply)

My first gig
I was barely 17, and we'd just done the sound check in the afternoon. Round the back of the venue someone had blocked off the door with a pile of chairs, so I leapt over them, smacked my head on the lintel and went off to hospital pouring with blood.

A kindly doctor, who explained he had once been in the music biz himself, plucked me out of the queue, stitched my head and gave me an unidentified injection to 'help me through the gig'.

We were on stage for about an hour and a half but it seemed to last about 7 minutes and I can't remember a thing about it. I am told it was a good show though, and my haircut went down well too - from where the doc had shaved me to do the stitches, I looked like I had had a cunt transplant on the top of my head.
(><(((">, Sat 17 Dec 2005, 9:30, Reply)

The ULTIMATE get rich scheme
One evening, back in my acid-taking days, we were all sitting around talking shit when one of us came out with the following theory:

On average, every human weighs around 50 kg, and there are 6 billion of us, meaning about 30 billion kilograms of human on the planet. Given that the human population is increasing, this means that the earth is getting heavier. The heavier the planet gets, the harder it will swing around the sun, meaning that our orbit will slowly become wider and wider, leading us into a new ice-age. To combat this, once every hundred years we will need to rally hundreds of millions of people to a particular spot, so that they can simulatenously jump at the right moment and push the earth back towards the sun. If we were to start a business that could orchestrate these jumps now, we would have a monopoly that would make our families rich for generations to come.

We spent the rest of the night (6 of us) simultaneously running through the house (west to east) and hitting the wall at the end, to make the night last longer.

Yes, we felt like twats in the morning.
( gronkpan @vomitinglarry.bsky.social, Sat 17 Dec 2005, 3:00, Reply)

Paranoid Driving
I kept telling myself "Your stoned! Watch out for the traffic lights. Don't forget to stop for the traffic lights!"

So what do I do? I stop far short of the traffic light. People are looking at me, idling in the middle of the street. What do they want? I stopped, didn't I?
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Sat 17 Dec 2005, 1:32, Reply)

Only this Wednesday
I went to a party at a friend's student flat. Drank a lot of beer and was quite tipsy.

I then smoked a lot of weed. Strong weed. And got stoned. Very stoned.

So, I'm about to be sick and my friend Turner has an ingenius plan. Instead of getting sick all over me, he hands me an empty box of beer and lets me sick in that.

Which, due to the small hole in the bottom of it, funnels all the vomit straight onto my groin.

Thank you Turner!
(wonderbrawl was pronounced dead on, Sat 17 Dec 2005, 1:30, Reply)

Not me, but my neighbour
I was at my next door neighbour's house and we were all quite stoned and he turns around and says, in the most serious way possible "Hey Twizt, did you know that black people absorb light." Which had us rolling around on the floor laughing so much that it woke up his housemate... a black bodybuilder, who didnt take too kindly to the rest of the things my neighbour chose to say about his race... :S
(I R Advertiser How can you live like this you're out of control?, Sat 17 Dec 2005, 0:07, Reply)

Solvents and jaggers
Sitting in my folks house at about 15 buzzing lighter gas in my room. Sid Vicious started talking to me from one of my Sex Pistols posters. He told me that Margaret Thatcher had died and I was the new PM and that my can of gas was a magic wand. Came out of the buzz to find myself hanging out of my open window waving a can of lighter gas at passing strangers and shouting at them that they were all free now.

Fast forward about 2 years. Heavily into acid but older mates all injecting either speed or downers or both, before they all became smack addicts. Sitting in flat, about 7 of us, me on two and a half purple circles watching half the room inject speed while the other half injected downers they'd got when raiding the local chemist. Watching fountains of blood squirt out of veins and someone on downers fell onto someone injecting, embedding needle completely into arm. Not the ideal tripping enviroment.
(albinomeatpod, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 23:11, Reply)

A couple friends randomly decided to get stoned
when I was with them at the bowling alley one day. I left them for a minute, and, not surprisingly, when I came back they were gone. So I went to find them.
And there they were at the fast food restaurant next door, jumping up and down on the car-sensing thingamajig for the (thankfully empty)drive-through.
"Yes, I'd like two Big Macs..and..uhh..fries.."
No reply.
"No, seriously, I'm hungry! hello?!"
Nope.
"DAMN YOU!"
And so on. Eventually I suggested they go inside and ordered properly. So they did. And the employees didn't appear to suspect a thing.
( trintrin has jam for blood, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 23:09, Reply)

chocolate coated coffe beans
are, it seems, a fairly equal replacement for speed, as I found out one night after wolfing down the whole packet. I was running around Brixham (Brixham?) 'till about 4am
(teasus likes tea, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 22:10, Reply)

I have a vague memory of sitting in a hedge
with my mate, singing "when you're strange" by the doors very loudly after a smoke.
(teasus likes tea, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 22:09, Reply)

A while ago..
I smoked some particularly strong dope in the grounds of Hertford Castle. I started halucinating and talking eighteen to the dozen.
On the ground I saw either a banger (of the firework kind) which I thought was a tube of glue, or vice versa. I bent down to talk to it and when I stood up...the high was gone. Suddenly, totally, inexplicably, I was as straight as a god-botherer at a vatican tea-party.
A bit of a bummer, I thought.
(Razors, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 22:06, Reply)

Drugs are bad
While attending one of the Last Greatful Dead shows back in the mid 90's I ingested around 6 or 7 hits of acid. After many long hours of intense visuals I realized I had to pee. I found my way into the middle of a large group of trees, whipped out my cock and merrily started pissing. About 5 seconds into it, I start to hear voices. Then I notice the trees are moving around an awful lot for trees. Suddenly I had the horrific realization that I was standing in the middle of a crowd of fellow concert goers, wang in hand peeing without a care in the world. People were just staring at me.
(scarsfromknives, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 21:55, Reply)

Neighbours ...
One fine summer weekend my associates and I decided to go to a campsite on the shores of Lake Huron (Ontario, Canada).

We assembled two vans, one car, ten guys, ten cases of beer, a pound of local stuff, and a loaf of bread. Didn't need tents - we had vans.

Arrive, build a fire, roll a few, smoke'em, and crank up the tunes on the van sound systems. Sit down with cold ones and feel the bliss rolling on.

Police arrive, see a case of beer, decide spontaneously that it is illegal and confiscate it. One of our entourage goes for a walk in the dunes and happens across the two constables finishing off the case. Oh well.

Break out some more beer, smoke a few more, cavort on the beach. Dusk falls, stoke up the fire, and start visiting the neighbours, all friendly like. Big mistake. All families with kids and station wagons. After a few introductions, the police re-appear, and inform us that we must leave.

We take all of the unopened beer, throw it in the back seats of the various vehicles, and try to find our way back to our home town.

I can still remember the highway numbers, so am elected to act as wagonmaster, and lead the convoy home. We stop at strategic points along the way, reinforce the buzz, and strike out again. At the city limits we wave goodbye, and hit our favourite tavern for nightcaps and more weed.

At least we didn't have to waste the weekend getting sand in our shorts.
(Just a stub, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 20:55, Reply)

Hilarious!
Me and my cousin used to smoke skunk in the shrubs at the back of my aunt and uncle's garden when the family got together. We always used to laugh at how paranoid he got when stoned.

Now he's been diagnosed with severe schizophrenia, needs 24 hour care, and will never be able to earn a living. Fucking hilarious, oh how we laughed.
( Peregr1n @peregr1n, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 20:21, Reply)

Argument.
After buying a couple of acid tabs off a dodgy bloke upstairs at Burger King in Leicester Square, whilst a naive student about 10 years ago, the placebo effect obviously kicked in. This led to a very long and heated argument with my College pal, Richard Ashcroft, then lead singer in the popular beat combo the Verve, as to whether the ripped up corners of a box of Swan Vesta matches had indeed had any psychedelic side effects.
(gravy1235, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 20:09, Reply)

And another thing..
I recall the one and only time I took shrooms.

In halls years ago, I chipped in for some Mexicanas, and we boiled them up into a foul foul brew, which I had trouble keeping down for about 2 hours.

Then I and a friend (M from the dexys story) went to the club night at our student union. He sober (ish) and I shrooming like a twat. Bad bad bad bad bad idea.. I wore sunglasses in the hope that people wouldn't see the state of my eyes, but a mate stole them and ran off.

I spent about 45 minutes asking everyone I recognised if they'd seen a guy with sunglasses on, as I had by this point become almost umbilically attached to them, and depended on them for my wellbeing (as far as being well is possible on mushrooms).

They were eventually restored to me, and I retreated to a corner fending off any attempts at socialising from anyone with whom I wouldn't trust my life (ie: pretty much everyone).

The lesson learned that night was mushrooms + clubs = NO!
( Quiver Search for FATALISTS on Spotify, Amazon, Apple, &c, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 20:04, Reply)

Dexy's Midnight Runners
While I confess to being found in a variety of states after a variety of different substances, one particular episode stands out:

I had met up with a group of friends at our student union one afternoon, with the intention of drinking the time away until a friend of a friend's band was due to play. Now, this particular friend, M, is a bit of a goth, not excessively so - being posessed of a remarkably positive outlook - but knows some absolute space aliens, to put it in the most generous terms..

Anyhoo, said band play (not too brilliantly as I recall), and post-gig drinking ensues, to the point where M made the call for an afterparty at his. Great! More drinking! Let's go! The goth band came too, as did several of their entourage. Amongst which was this guy (who's name I forget), who as it turned out at a later stage that night, suffered from ADHD, and had his whole prescription of Dexedrine with him, something like 500-odd pills in vibrant blue blister packs - a rucksack full basically.

Now, I hear Dexedrine is what they give to fighter pilots to keep them frosty, and most GIs in WW2 had a ration. It's also violently addictive. This I had to discover for myself. This guy was just going round handing out the pills free, so of course I helped myself to one. 'Prescription speed', I thought, 'worth a squirt..' And yes, it was much like speed, but total front-brain wiring hardcore violent speed! Harsher than base! So off I went, jabbering for minutes on end to a variety of different people, mainly about egocentric topics, I even think I summarised my entire life story complete with dramatic highs and lows to one poor girl..

Thing is, with the availability being what it was, it wasn't long before most of the gathered 20-odd people were speeding their tits off on this satan's concoction. This basically meant that the party lasted well into the next day, until around 8pm-ish, by which point I must have gobbled in excess of 20 pills. Remember what I said about these things being addictive? Once ths guy had finally left we decided to head to the student union again to booze away the comedown. I dunno about you guys but that never works for me, as confirmed by this particular trip. As we were sat there, the comedown took full effect, and I sat in a cold sweat feeling more and more agitated. Thing is, some fellas had come over and were chatting to us on our table, in retrospect decent lads who were being sociable, but at the time all I could do was mumble pleasantries and stare into my pint. Moreover I was convinced, 100% CONVINCED, that these were plainclothes detectives trying to collar us for our night of gratuitous excess! It was all I could do to gibber that I wanted to go home, so we headed out. The rest buggered off and I had to wait for a bus into Peckham (an unnerving enterprise at the best of times), feeling actually afraid of the buses, the cars the pedestrians, EVERYTHING!

So remember kids, if someone offers you free pills, no matter how official they look, politely decline. It's in your own interest.

I'd apologise for length, but I've been told it's perfectly proportioned...
( Quiver Search for FATALISTS on Spotify, Amazon, Apple, &c, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 19:50, Reply)

not me, but a mate ( I promise)
A mate of mine (who we shall refer to as Lucy, because that is her name) has been convinced of the following things while stoned:
1. It is 1994 again, as the clocks have been turned back so much (she got all upset because she realised kurt cobain was dead).
2. She is married to Marilyn Manson, who is waiting for her in the toilet.
3. Potatoes have syphilis....that's what the green bits are. Don't eat the green crisps!
4. There are gremlins coming to get us.
I'm sure there are more.....but I haven't seen her for a while.
(Ryuken-Kai, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 19:30, Reply)

Stoned in Marchmont
While at Uni in Edinburgh, I lived over a chippie. The great thing about Scottish chippies is they sell fags and skins; cue me or a flatmate regularly ordering 10 Silk Cut and a pack of green Rizzies in the early sfternoon, only to reappear in the evening demanding 3 fish suppers, 2 battered sausages, 3 bags of chips and a Snickers...

Anyway, one evening we're all chilling out with some soap bar when a hot rock falls out of the spliff, onto my belly and burns through the shirt onto my bare skin. "Owowowowowowowow!" sez I, jumping out of the armchair and causing said rock (still burning, this one was more like a boulder) to fall down into my loose fitting boxer shorts. "OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWWWWW!" I say even louder, slapping my groin hard to put the bastard out (the fire that is). Flatmates just looked at me and told me I was "doing their heads in". Bastards.

Maybe it was God's way of telling me not to smoke crap hash.
(lolwhites, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 19:10, Reply)

Whilst under the influence
I believed that The Matrix made sense and so did the wallpaper.
( in vino veritas, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 19:08, Reply)

sorry for namedropping...
... but it's the only thing that makes this story funny.

The Scene: In Alan McGee's club in days of old when Mani was a regular patron.

I'm leaning against a wall, rather drunk and tired. Mani stumbles by and slams into the wall next to me, propped up only by said wall. The following exchange took place (NB: I don't know Mani)

Me: Alright Mani?
Mani: Yeh, man... I'm on the fooking launchpad!
Me: Haha. Excellent.
Mani: On the launchpad and cleared for take-off.

At this point, Mani didn't "take off", but instead slid further towards the floor.
(Tarka_the_Frotter, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 17:28, Reply)

Space raiders
Pickled onion flavour.
me and a mate ate pretty much a full box of these 10p delights between us.
I dont tend to do drugs but these things were insane. I think we OD'd as I started getting spinny head (no alcohol involved) and my mate was highly energetic with some various other simptons of being muntered.

Space raiders. They aint for kids.
( Nostrebor can't be everything all the time., Fri 16 Dec 2005, 17:25, Reply)

Shroom mania
Seriously into mushrooms mid/late 80s. 10 of us went picking near a distillery and got 10,000. Brewed up half of them when home. 5 total casualties. One guy went off to the kitchen and emerged with a knife and bottle and looking very dangerous. Disarmed him and sent him to his room to chill with some Bob Dylan, so we thought. Another friend came out with a cup of water to throw over someone as a joke. An English girl who was staying saw this, instinctively threw her hand up, hit the cup, which hit friend in face and opened large cut. English girl completely freaked and locked herself in toilet. The five remaining thought we were well 'ard for not freaking and in the height of our wisdom boiled up the other 5000 shrooms. Cue the closest I've been to cartoon land. During this we realised the English girl hadn't come out the toilet for quite some time. A friend peeked through a hole in the door and said 'there's someone lying in the bath and they're not moving'. It's hard to explain but something went round the five of us, realisation that we were all on a 4 figure amount of shrooms and that this girl had topped herself in the toilet. Total panic, kicked in door, found her lying on floor, tears streaming, arms wrapped tightly round bottom of toilet pan. Cue huge sense of relief, left her to it, went back and realised that it wasn't Dylan we'd been listening to but Slayer-Hell Awaits which had accidentaly been put on knife guys stereo. Found pots of paints and went into his room and painted huge sheep etc on his walls as he lay there quietly freaking. Then proceeded to have a pool tournament in his room.
(albinomeatpod, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 17:13, Reply)

Whitey Action
What is it about the smallest spliff that can tip you into a white-out after a certain amount of booze?

One night, back when I was a wee scamp (20) we's been out sampling the best that Reading had to offer, and after about 8 pints and sundry shorts proceeded to take the half hour walk into Caversham where our billets were, but cunningly decided to smoke a few bifters on the way. We sat on a park bench and puffed away - my two mates were fine, but I slipped into W/Out, moaning and unable to move without a terrible onset of helicopters - I was ina real shit state, when I noticed that it had all gone quiet - my mates had scarpered and a Police car was just pulling up to the bench.

I sat up and just as an officer approached I unloaded 8 pints and a fish supper all over his shoes.

Now the remarkable thing about chundering in this situation is you feel like a million dollars afterwards, and with yorp dripping down my chin I gave the officer the Junior Peaceman salute and was off into the Caversham back streets before they could react :-D
(Jay Tea, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 17:03, Reply)

Too many to tell...
Too too many to tell.. and a lot I just couldn't reveal..!

Mostly, it's a case of me thinking shite music is good... but that's on Class A's only..
(MsRosalita, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 16:46, Reply)

I'll tell you tomorrow morning





I do have plenty of stories already, but I can't be arsed right now
( useful_idiot, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 16:45, Reply)

The Fear
Last time I smoked was in Amsterdam in 2001. Having been there a couple of days my mate, his mrs and I decide to participate in some coffee shop action. When in Rome and all that.

Anyway, not being too professional at the skinning up part (and because we'd been drinking Amstel all afternoon) we asked the chap behind the desk for some WEAK pre-rolled doobies.

3 tokes in and I'm starting to get a bit fidgety. My brain felt like it was melting. I proceed to tell my mate I'm whiting out, to which he responded with a rendition of 'White Out' by Killing Joke. He thought it was hilarious. I, on the other hand, decided I needed fresh air before that bloke in the corner knifed me one for being such a woos.

So out I go onto the streets of Amsterdam utterly mashed out of my skull with the intent of going back to the hotel and dying.

An hour later I end up outside the coffee shop again wondering where the fuck I am and how could I have missed a bloody great train station. I pluck up the courage to ask someone, knowing full well I'm not in control of any part of my face and knowing the person I ask will be mafia and will take exception.

'ENGLISH? TRAIN STATION.' is all I could muster to some poor bloke. He pointed toward somewhere and off I staggered, a man on a mission.

Finally arrive at the Centraal station where I attempt to read the timetables. 15 minutes I was stood there trying to fathom which platform I needed when my mate and his Mrs appear. We'd missed the last train back apparently so needed to get a taxi.

What sort of taxi driver has a really clean, shiny Merc? He must be a copper I thought to myself. Fucking filth everywhere. Waiting. Preying on pissheads sampling the delights of their infamous coffee shops.

I just sat quietly on the short journey back to the hotel, my brain melting all the way.

Next morning, I found we had one doobie left. I left it for the cleaners.

Not smoked since!
( Mr Spleen Can do better. C-, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 16:21, Reply)