It's not me, it's the drugs talking
They make you do stupid stuff and say stupid stuff. Drugs ROCK! Old-time B3ta person Fraser says, "I remember turning to a flatmate once, after getting stoned and sitting through an episode of Casualty, and proclaiming "Wow! Those actors are *so* talented!". And really meaning it."
What do you regret doing under the influence?
( , Thu 15 Dec 2005, 11:19)
They make you do stupid stuff and say stupid stuff. Drugs ROCK! Old-time B3ta person Fraser says, "I remember turning to a flatmate once, after getting stoned and sitting through an episode of Casualty, and proclaiming "Wow! Those actors are *so* talented!". And really meaning it."
What do you regret doing under the influence?
( , Thu 15 Dec 2005, 11:19)
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I am too stupid to be allowed to live
Too much hash at a party and a nagging worry that I'd dissed some guy's bike: Then the paranoia really kicked in and I hallucinated that the guy was threatening to stick a knife in me. I was so terrified I felt my bowels give way with a crashing splutter so I beat a retreat to the bog. Once safely locked inside, I was greatly confused to find my undergarments unsoiled ( how do you hallucinate crapping yourself? I'd literally felt liquid shit running down my leg, for Christ's sakes)
Of course the evil narcotic was still spinning its magic; I could hear the bike owner talking to the party host and in my delerium I imagined he was threatening everyone at the house. Then I remembered that the host was a gun collector and kept an ex-army SLR in his closet ... I seriously pondered the practicalities of piling into the living room and pumping the biker full of 7.62mm rounds and yelling "it's OK folks, you're safe now" which would have made for interesting headlines the next day but fortunately a tiny little voice of reason kept me in the bog until the twitchiness subsided ...
( , Fri 16 Dec 2005, 7:35, Reply)
Too much hash at a party and a nagging worry that I'd dissed some guy's bike: Then the paranoia really kicked in and I hallucinated that the guy was threatening to stick a knife in me. I was so terrified I felt my bowels give way with a crashing splutter so I beat a retreat to the bog. Once safely locked inside, I was greatly confused to find my undergarments unsoiled ( how do you hallucinate crapping yourself? I'd literally felt liquid shit running down my leg, for Christ's sakes)
Of course the evil narcotic was still spinning its magic; I could hear the bike owner talking to the party host and in my delerium I imagined he was threatening everyone at the house. Then I remembered that the host was a gun collector and kept an ex-army SLR in his closet ... I seriously pondered the practicalities of piling into the living room and pumping the biker full of 7.62mm rounds and yelling "it's OK folks, you're safe now" which would have made for interesting headlines the next day but fortunately a tiny little voice of reason kept me in the bog until the twitchiness subsided ...
( , Fri 16 Dec 2005, 7:35, Reply)
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