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This is a question Drugs

Tell us your pharmaceutically-influenced anecdotes, legal or otherwise. We promise not to dob you in to The Man.

Thanks to sanityclause for the suggestion

(, Thu 16 Sep 2010, 13:30)
Pages: Latest, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, ... 1

This question is now closed.

(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 14:31, Reply)
I'm a bit of a twit on drugs.
My leaving do from uni was no exception- baker's dozen of shots, a dirty pint, lots of beer and enough dope to make a Gregg's pastie look edible. Someone kindly decided to film me, and then put the results on the internet.

Don't do drugs (in excess) kids.

Here's the video.
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 14:23, 10 replies)
My mate got stuck in the ceiling of Bristol academy. Literally.

(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 14:11, 3 replies)
Hindsight can be a terrible thing.
Off my neck on a very strong pill, and someone asks me if I fancy doing some poppers, to which I agree.

My head nearly came off, and my heart was going faster than your mum chasing a Gregg's van.

Remembering having done so the next day, I broke out in a cold sweat, realising the only reason I'd agreed was because I was on drugs that had stopped me considering the consequences.
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 13:04, Reply)
massive drugs...hmmmmmm
*****wavy lines*****

18 months ago this story took place, and what a torrid time it was too!!

I had backache, and a lump on my right bollock, and nothing eased the pain (the doctors were failing to diagnose me properly but that stories been done) i started with paracetamol, no change, codiene, nothing, Tramadol, nada, zilch zero nothing. Then came the eventual diagnosis....a rather nasty and aggressive dose of cancer....fucksocks!! Well it turned out the backache was caused by the spread of the cancer into my lymph nodes in my abdomen which in turn were pressing on my spine, causing said pain. Anyway, to combat the pain I was introduced to Morphine, both slow release 12hr tablets with oramorph liquid in between as top ups. Now one of the side effects of morphine in the quantities i was taking, apart from being totally spaced out and seeing things, was constipation.....proper didnt shit for 3 weeks constipation....and the more i didnt shit, the more my bowel grew, pressing further on the tumours, in turn pressing harder on my spine, increasing the pain and taking more morphine to combat it...ad infinitum....see a pattern emerging here??

Eventually the doctors listened to me and gave me an examination properly, fecal impaction with 2 possible outcomes.

1. Take a shit and feel better
2. Dont take a shit, burst my bowel, become badly infected and probably die

I decided that dropping the kids off at the pool was probably a good idea but i just couldnt go..at all....i was blocked solid....enter my friend the anal suppository! (inserted by a rather attractive nurse i must add). What followed stripped me of any semblance of dignity i may of been holding onto during the build up to chemo. Suppository inserted with instructions to hold on at least 5 minutes before visiting the hospital bathroom 30 yards down the hall (did i mention i hadnt checked where the toilet was beforehand, or whether it was free?). So i laid in my hospital bed and waited :-

one minute....a little light gurgling in my anal tract
two minutes....this gurgling is intense (nurse returns with small cardoard tray that sits inside the toilet for me to shit into so they can check what i have passed)
Three minutes....toes curling, chocolate starfish in spasm
Four minutes....gotta get to toilet....quick...fucking quick!!
Five minutes....race down hall in blind panic trying to find an empty room for a shit...luck is on my side as the second one is free, i hurl myself in throwing the cardboard thing in the pan ready as my arse dances the foxtrot and my guts spasm, finally i turn to seat myself but not quick enough.....VESUVIUS erupts out of my arse at mach 10 and three weeks worth of food sprays forth as i lower myself. the first blast sprays the toilet cistern, the wall and most of the back of my legs. the second convulsive expulsion makes it into the cardoard tray only to bounce back out and spray me up the back and cover what is left of the toilet room!
I sat there for what felt like 20 minutes endlessly shitting and gone past caring where it was going before ringing the bell and requesting some nurse assistance. The attractive nurse came back! the shame was written on my face (well the bits of my face that werent covered in liquid shit)....her face was covered in shock, shock and awe that one person could cause so much damage and degredation with just one shit!
I was helped into an adjacent cubicle and showered off for half an hour and in the meantime a cleaning crew were called (after "biohazard" tapes were put up stopping entry into the toilet).
The last thing i saw before sleep mercifully took me in its warm embrace was a team of 3 cleaners in chemical suits and face masks entering the toilet...poor fuckers.

Thankfully the cancer was treated well and i am now in remission. and thats my story of the horrors of morphine!!!

Length?? none whatsoever, it was all liquid!
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 12:10, 12 replies)
My sis went to a party on a beach in Tenerife
Where they smoked a bit of green (as kids do).

What she hadn't anticipated, however, is that there was somehow PCP in those joints. She took two tokes on the thing, felt severely unwell, and promptly fitted on the beach.

Needless to say she isn't really an advocate of drugs anymore.
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 11:48, 8 replies)
Anyone else take Lamotrigine?
If so what side effects do you experience?
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 10:36, 12 replies)
Bennet the Bearded Narcoleptic Fool.
That's how my dear departed pal Mike Vortex referred to his flat-mate and considering the facts of the case it's no wonder.
This all happened in '91-'93 around Lark Lane in Liverpool.
Bennet was a proper waster, hippy, low-level hash dealer, incompetent idiot.
One time he was carrying a 9-bar he'd got on tick from some big, scarey Rasta-Gangsters in Toxteth and he got the fear. Convinced he was being followed he ducked into Peter Kavanagh's, headed straight for the bogs and stashed his stash in the high-level cistern in one of the cubicles. He slunk out of the gents and passed the bar without buying a drink, right under the eyes of the rightly suspicious barman.
Surprise-surprise the stash had vanished when he went back for it the following day.
So Bennet is now down a 9-bar and in hock to the dealers.
He hatches a plan, a cunning plan.
A plan so cunning etc.
He gets another 9-bar from a different dealer, this time a Scally from Speke if I remember correctly.
Back at the Hargreaves Road flat he prepares to hack up the block into short 1/4's and 1/2's in an attempt to cover his debt to both dealers. He pops the un-wrapped bar on top of the High Speed-G gas fire to soften it sufficiently and retires to the sofa for a pipe to take the edge off the anxiety he is feeling.
About six hours later Mike and I get back to Liverpool from Manchester (we had been doing projections at Life at Bowlers, Trafford Park) to discover an unconscious Bennet in a flat full of hash smoke.
Doped up fool had fallen asleep and the 9-bar was history, having melted and flowed down into the innards of the fire where the volatiles vaporised.
And that was the moment Mike came out with the phrase "Bennet, you bearded narcoleptic fool".
Talk about stoned, we were off our scones just from standing in the hallway.
Bennet left town soon after that, leaving two lots of drug debt and two lots of angry dealers in his wake.
No idea what happened to him, never heard of him since.
And i bet that flat still stinks to high heaven.
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 10:02, 1 reply)
Heaven in a Wild Flower

I had a MARVELLOUS time with some "oong" on Koh Phan Yang (back before it had roads) - it was my 23rd birthday, and a cup of the local mushroom tea was in order. So with a couple of friends, I scarved down about half a pint of dirty grey liquid, and ate all the slug-like lumps at the bottom. Nothing happened.

After about 10 minutes, I had a bit of a tummy ache. In fact, all of us did, so we staggered to the beach to watch the sunset. This was a secluded spot, the only slight distraction being some German tourists - too far to be visible, but just within earshot as the sound travelled across still evening wires. The sun went down, and I slowly realised that I could understand what they were saying, only now, they seemed to be in a bubble. So on my left was German world, entirely separate from the rest of my psyche. Strange things were happening in front, too. The sunset, molten lava to the sea, was as spectacular as every night, possibly more so this evening, but now dusk had settled, what was that on the waves? Cortex brain said "It's a boat, and the lights you can see are from the portholes, reflecting on the water.". The rest of my brain decided it was the most splendid creature, strutting proudly across the sea on orange carrot legs. I asked my comrades and they agreed. I asked the Germans, and they too concurred, despite the distance.

A sober friend, who had warned of perils and pitfalls, had joined us, not wanting to see us drown I guess, but he was putting a real downer on the experience. So much so, in fact, that his face would stretch, lit with the neon lines of a Looney Toons cartoon, and every expression would be magnified into Elmer Fudd. Enough. He was consigned to a private world, a bubble, like the Germans, but a dark one. I would try not to look there.

To my right, everything was happy. Like looking through the clearest crystal, the beach was pristine, pin sharp, perfect. The few beach shacks looked so inviting, there was music playing and all was well in the world.

But what is this? My legs are lengthening before my very eyes! Stop it! Cortex takes over and says "it's the oong, relax" and they return to normal size. But not for long. There they go again. They will be in the sea soon! Every time cortex shrinks them, they sneakily stretch out. I can stride across the ocean! Well, if I could stand up.

And what am I lying on? great boulders, shards of jagged rock. I can feel every one, touching every nerve. If Blake could see the world in a grain of sand, I'm lying on the Universe. Oh hell, I've somehow tried to eat the beach and now my mouth is full of giant rocks. I can feel the sides of each cube with my tongue. I am one with the sand.

My legs have returned, and thick, arterial blood is oozing from between my toes. Luckily, swarms of insects have appeared to devour it, I let them, because cortex can make them disappear.

And so the evening passed into night, and the three of us lay there sharing visions, listening to the waves that broke only for us and occasionally laughing at some German joke which would drift in on the wind.

Enough, the Germans are incomprehensible. Elmer has returned to the hut, my worlds are no longer compartmentalised and I badly need to pee. Legs, recognisable, but still not my own, make their way to the bushes and the night draws to the end.

It was so perfect that I've never had the inclination to repeat it.
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 9:02, Reply)
Cautious and vicarious.
I'd gone through my life as a naive little munchkin; didn't get pissed until I was 18. I never did the whole "LET'S DRINK FROSTY JACKS IN THE PARK" thing. That's not to say I disapprove; I just didn't do it.

The first time I got stoned was round the back of a train station before I went to see Skinnyman, a UK Rapman, at my local SU. I just felt a little floaty. My mate, who had provided the drugarette, had been made very agressive by the drug and couldn't speak to anyone inside without fear of punching them.

So I smoked some more weed as I got older; after a night out or at a festival. I picked up a twenty bag once and got very paranoid as I walked through Reading train station with it in my bag en-route to the festivus.

But over Christmas, I was introduced to naughtier drugs. One night, after going to see Top Shelf Jazz (wonderful modern swing), we planned to go to my ffrindiau's pad and do some Charlie. Waaaaay lads. I did my first line and felt nothing but dry mouth. I thought "this is shit" and didn't fancy anymore. Half an hour later, I've got the note up my nostril and a second line is down. More of an effect; a bit alert and more dry mouth. My friend talked at me for 2 hours, as he had taken three pills, and I went home with a numb face.

I rode the MCAT wave all the way into 2010. A mate at work revealed a wrap and stuck two piles of the stuff on the corner of a debit card for me to inhale. Buzzzed like a madman. Couldn't sit down, fell in love with a mate who came up at the same time as me, and consequently had the best hour ever. Fell off a stage and almost impaled my arm; didn't bother me in the slightest. It also meant I could drink several cans of Strongbow and almost a bottle of rum. Wowzers.

MDMA almost made me cry whilst I watched LCD Soundsystem play All My Friends and then made me sketch the fuck out at a rave. There's a monthly rave in a disused Bank Vault and we went and did a bunch of MDMA and I couldn't hack it. I felt claustrophobic (because of the warmth) and the awful minimal techno which built up to nothing for an hour. All I wanted was to smoke outside and chat with friends. Came up in the car to my parents the next day; fun times.

I've seen my mate chew his lips to bleeding on MCAT; he didn't at all look suspicious.

Apologies for my dull drug stories, I'm just a dull person!
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 2:22, Reply)
Being the kid that only drinks..
Has ironically given me a few stories of other chemical enhancers ive come across. (Yes, I used to use them at a young age - but no more.) Unless circumstances like the following arise -

Im spiked at a friends party.
I spend the time moving from unbelievably happy to lower than a tramp whos been kicked out of his box. I also remember picking a migraine up along the line, but I dont know where in the timeline of the party that came.
I phoned the then bit fluff, thought it was a decent conversation - but we'll come back to this when I discuss the aftermath.
I smoked a cigarette (Alright, Rolly.) for the first time since I quit 2 years ago.
Upon arriving home because id had 2 bottles and was absolutely shitfaced, I couldnt touch sleep until 5:30Am.
A good 3 or 4 hours of my memory are absolute black holes, and what I do remember is skewered to pieces.

Bit fluff calls me -
"err, still abit drunk (Which continued all day) but yeah.."
"You had half a breakdown on the phone. You said you thought you were going to die."
"Oh, well 'eh. That didnt happen, so were good."

I go to friends house to pick up my hoody id left because I was so hot -
*bredstkcriminal knocks on door*
*friend opens, massive black eye*
"Alright mate, the -censored- happened to your eye?!"
"Err, y'dont remember?"
"I came clean about spiking you because you couldnt understand why you were so wrecked. You punched me."

The result?

Ive never been spiked since.
Drugs are horrible..
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 1:14, 3 replies)
Same tale different poster
Whilst in Oz with a camper van for a couple of months, we visited the lovely little town of Nimbin.
First question we are asked by the owner of the hostel as we arrive:
"have you scored yet?"
I've quickly decided I might like it here, as a regular partaker of the herb back then.
Our stay involves the inevitable purchases and excesses (and one of the scariest sights I have ever born witness to, that words just don't do justice. More the human embodiment of reasons not to mess with drugs), and we head on our merry way to Brisbane.
I have some stash to get by with, and we have bought a bag of 'hashcakes' (melting moments no less) to play with, which we do one sunny afternoon in Brisbane.
I've eaten weed plenty of times before, my friend, less so (no I've not eaten her at all, that I'm admitting to), so I'm aware of the delay between ingestion and absorption.
So we play it safe, half a cookie each and see how it goes. We're feeling nothing for at least 2 hours afterwards, so we're thinking we've been ripped off. Another cookie between us, then fuck it, might as well finish them. They're tasty and if they're just cakes . . .

Can't remember how much later, but the cakes inevitably kick in and obliterate us. Our other friend has to get us back to the hostel . . . I can't even work out how to cross the road. My memory is of standing at a pedestrian crossing not having the ability to switch attentional sets between the traffic lights and remember which light is doing what. Never mind waiting for the green man.

Back at the hostel, I know whats happened, I can rationalise that we've eaten drugs and probably too much, and that we need to just wait it out in a low-stimulating environment and come down and it will be ok. Stay in bed, in the dark, don't speak to anyone.
My friend is a paranoid mess, lying in bed shaking, worried that she'll never be straight again. I remember lying there listening to monks chanting out side the window and all the ambient noises making a soundtrack of life - that was quite cool.

Pretty boring story I guess, but wtf, I rarely have a topic here to add to, so screw it, I will! And I guess its a kind of warning to give it a while when eating weed, even if you think you know your stuff. This experience definitely was not fun and in hindsight, would not have ate more than one.

And I read further back someone's experience with mushrooms and 3D . . . I had that, coming down from acid years back.
I had this poster of a Native American on the wall (Athena special, remember that shop?!) and lying there looking at it coming out of the wall all 3D. Everything in the room that was white was glowing ultraviolet too. The odd thing is, I was definitely awake and thinking 'rationally', and relatively 'down' (about 8 hours after ingestion) but the perception was still off-kilter.

Awww good old days of memory intactus
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 1:09, Reply)
don't do E, kids (unless you really want to, obviously)
a quick pearoast for relevance.

I was seeing a girl (we will call her S). I say seeing, I mean we were in a total clusterfuck of a relationship in which we only ever saw each other at one particular club on a Friday night (Escape in Swansea for anyone who cares), but talked on MSN all through the week. I had asked her out and she had said no, but kept stringing me along. Bullshit things like "I just want to be single for the moment but I really like you so let's keep doing what we're doing" and other things like that. It was really screwing my head up and I was starting to act like a real arsehole when drunk. This, funnily enough, also coincided with the short period I experimented with ecstasy.

This had been a good week (despite it following her kissing another guy the week before), and we were going to meet each other in the club. I went out with friends beforehand and got uproariously drunk and otherwise intoxicated, proceeding to tell the landlady of my local and her daughter that they were both horrible people and should be ashamed of themselves (they'd sacked a friend of mine for not working hard enough when she'd been in a car accident three days beforehand and was in a neck brace).

In short, I was pissed off and it was all coming out.

We went to the club about 11. I went inside, entirely off my face but still conscious. I looked around but couldn't find S.

So instead, I went onto the dancefloor, looked at the first attractive girl I saw, went over and pulled her. I am a cocky bastard when off my face (see previous dice story for evidence). I can't remember what I said but in my hazy memory it seemed to take about ten seconds between introduction and first kiss, which is possible if I was being a real fucking arsehole.

I stopped kissing her (possibly due to resistance) and turned around to see S, looking directly at me, shaking her head sadly. I did a kind of Fonzie "Heeeeeeeeeeeeey" at her, as if to indicate "Yeah, I'm a cunt, but whatcha gonna do?" She turned around and walked away.

I cannot remember any more of the night. I have in fact always told S that I can't remember any of the night at all, but I certainly remember that first part. The rest of the night included kissing up to four other girls, including S, who seemed to have a remarkable tolerance of my utterly ridiculous and cuntish antics and in fact told me of them the next morning. But then maybe she realised I really was off my face when I kissed a guy as well.

PS: I'm the slightly manlier-looking one on the right.
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 0:59, 9 replies)
you be trippin'
Psilocybe mexicana, otherwise known as mexican truffle mushrooms. Myself and a few friends used to make a night of them with a few smokes and a couple of games of Halo 2. Amazing fun, amazing times, amazing nights! We even videoed a couple of them, and watched them back a couple of years later.

Turns out watching yourself sit in a beanbag unable to get up for an hour is spectacularly boring. Who knew?
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 0:42, 1 reply)
Amsterdam, early evening. I am ravenously hungry, and so we dart into a curry house and gobble down a veritable feast of assorted curries. Back on the street, I am struck down by a terrible thirst and a feeling of strangeness. I open my mouth to express this, and chunder flies from my mouth. Dutch people tut.

That happened on the way to the coffeeshop.

The curry was a bit too creamy.
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 0:30, Reply)
Sadly/luckily none of the stories are about myself
as most of my drug experiences only include weed and and a bit of coke here and there. For which most nights ended with either; "man I'm stoned, I'm going to bed" or "man I'm high, I wish I could go to bed"

However, I know a few friends that like to try things out on my behalf.

One of my fondest drug related story was a chap that came down with a friend of mine to our yearly visit to Santa Pod. This was basically an excuse for a weekend away from the daily chores and moans of home.

Anyway, most of us met up at our pre-approved petrol station and stocked up on twiglets, pringles, a warehouse supply of B&H and a 4 pack of Red Bull (beer had already been purchased). We was now prepared and ready for departure. Our next meeting point was outside the main gates, where we met up with our last mate and his 'tag-along' friend.

We picked a decent sized plot for all our tents. I proudly errected my castle in a record time of 2 hours, 3 beers and one tentpeg punctured finger. It was when I stood back to admire my handywork that I noticed this one, small, yorshire terrier sized tent. "we expecting a midget" I laughed whilst pointing. Turned out both lads were meant to be sharing, but I think my mate had known what his other room mate was like

We sat down for a quick beer and said our hello's to everyone. This is where We were briefly introduced to 'Scouser Steve' who pulled a bottle of rum from nowhere and seemed to have, in his mind, formed a mini racetrack around our tents and proceeded to 'race'. He must of been winning because he looked pretty happy with himself.

I'm not sure exactly what he was on and would be amazed if even he did. We lost him 30 minutes later after he needed to "have a word with the plants" and wondered off. He turned up a day later still clutching his now empty rum bottle. Apparently he had been in a cornfield all night fighting Michael Jackson and dancing with the badgers. He was a legend in his own right.

Oh and Then there was 'peanut man'. We had a small fire going and he just fluttered up like a moth attracted to the light. We was all too stoned and drunk to care who he was and he just sat there eating his peanuts. Although he had decided he could only do so with a strict one-for-me-one-for-you policy, which meant one (and only one) of us had to accept a peanut everytime he ate he one. We liked him.
(, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 0:18, Reply)
there are lots of methods of getting drugs into your system.
take e for instance. in pill form you can ingest it (tame), crush and insufflate it (for fast acting sobriety relief) and i've even seen people smoke them in bongs (though i'm not sure how effective that is).

also a guy i know put an ecky up his bottom once and said he had a thoroughly enjoyable experience, with the initial effect starting in his posterior and making it's way up his spine.

but it turns out (and if i hadn't been in the bog at the time of my mate doing this i would have pointed it out) that putting crushed e in your eye isn't the most comfy way to go about getting your gurn on.

from the nick of him and his wittering i'd say that you definitely get pretty wasted but there is the double drawback of what appeared to be an awful lot of pain and some fairly anxiety provoking temporary blindness.
(, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 23:55, 6 replies)
Pearoasts with additions
Have posted a couple of drug related stories on here before.
If you can be arsed to read them.



Being a lightweight when it comes to drugs Ive never done anything more heavy than dope and shrooms, Chemically produced highs just dont interest me, although ive spent many a happy time watching the antics of those on them.
And strangely finding myself having odd piggybacking experiences.
At a pagan wedding where I did not imbibe anything either booze or drug related, the happy couple drank a pot of shroom tea, followed by several tokes, then an acid tab, followed by a snort of coke an hour or so later.
Walking behind them to the pub later I got totally lost in watching an empty crisp packet dancing along the gutter on little stubby legs.
The crisp packet had a smily face and stopped to poke its tongue out at me several times, which had me bent over giggling.
I guess I'm a cheap date, everyone else gets stoned and i pick up on it.
The last time i ever ate shrooms, a mere 10, I went nuclear about the walls closing in on me and realised i couldnt get home
Slept on the floor of a friends bedsit, and kept her awake for hours with my cries of the triffids were going to eat me.
she later told me she had been tempted to try them herself but after seeing me on a bad trip decided against it

Got a couple more sad drug related stories but this post is too long enough already
(, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 23:35, Reply)
Do you remember that brief around 2005 when mushrooms were legal?
I do, I'm not much of a drug taker never taken any pills, just a bit of weed and a few mushrooms. Anyway in July 2005 they closed the loophole in the law (something to do with natural occurring unaltered produce cannot be prohibited for sale in the EU), and they became illegal again. During that period a number of small shops selling mushrooms and related paraphernalia had cropped up, naturally they had to close. What happens when shops close down? That's right a closing down sale, so instead of the usual 10 grams of Mexican shrooms, we bought about 50g of some really weird looking blue Amazonian thingies for the same price.

Being the sensible sorts we decided to try and eat them all in one night. Queue much fun and hilarity as 2 of us got pleasantly mashed on our own. Then we made a big mistake, we left the house to meet our, relatively, sober friends who had gone down to the local park to have a bbq and some beers. It turns out I wasn't quite in the right frame of mind for this. I should have guessed it was a bad idea when my mate started talking to a rabbit about me and making me really paranoid.

This was nothing compared to the levels of paranoia that were induced by trying to talk to my normal sober friends sitting around a fire, not helped by each sip of beer threatening to turn me into ice, and getting hit the face by someone collecting firewood and thinking I was going to turn into a tree. By the time one of my friends had become a fire demon and was dancing round the fire beckoning me to join him, I decided it was time to leave.

Walking home on my own in the dark Sheffield streets was a horrible experience peering round each corner hoping to not see anyone or anything that might talk to me in this state. I eventually made it home still in a horrible way and wanting to make it stop. I couldn't sleep or watch TV (over stimulation I remember flicking it on to Big Brother and seeing people screaming running round the BB house and having to switch it off and leave the room). I ended up sitting in the garden in my boxers feeling like a right dick. In the end I passed the time watching golf (the least stimulating thing I could find), and being becalmed by the soothing voice of Gary Linekar and sleeping in my housemates room because it was white and calmer.

I don't know how much we ate in the end, but my friend's housemate came back that night and polished off what was left and he said he got trapped in 2D and didn't like it very much.

Took me a good few days to recover, I've never touched shrooms or any other hallucinogenics since, it put my off smoking weed for a long time. It made me realise that there is a reason why they are illegal.

(Apologies for length etc. This is my first post on QOTW after a few years of hanging round here, so be nice)
(, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 23:32, 1 reply)

(, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 22:58, Reply)
The Joys Of Solvent Abuse
or, What Fucking Timing
or, I just Hurled My Ring Into The Front Garden

Have you ever come across turbo lighters? Awesome little things. They take normal lighter gas, but they pressurise it differently or adjust the air mix or something, so you get a powerful little hissing blue flame rather than the wavy orange licking flame of normal ones. Exactly like the difference between the two settings on the Bunsen burners you use at school.
They tend to cack out after a few months, but lighting your cigarette with a miniature blowtorch is pretty fucking cool, so I persist in buying them.

Unfortunately, like I say, they tend to cack out pretty quickly. Normally they just give up the ghost but...

I was outside smoking just now, and my turbo lighter decided to misbehave. When I pressed to light it, something went 'crunch' inside, and instead of a delightful little flame and the expected nicotine rush, it shot out a jet of rapidly-evaporating-but-not-rapidly-enough butane.

All over the end of the cigarette.
And damn near straight up my nose.
As I was inhaling to light the cig.

I promptly spewed into the bushes outside my house, and I now have an appalling headrush/headache that I normally expect to get the morning after a dozen shandies. I'm not ruling out throwing up again either.
People do this for fun? What the fuck?
I'm going to stick to my Zippo from now on.
(, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 22:39, 4 replies)
After One
gurning mental squat party night with me tripping
me noddy off at a free party in London, i wandered out the party squinting at the new day with my two mates and had an exquisite breakfast (note greasy shit cafe) and then took
the 9am train back to Brighton.

We were coming down from various nefarious substances
and the sparkly lights were flashing in our eyes and we were acting like loons, the people in the carraige gave us the odd dirty look and pretended to read their metro newspaper.

Suddenly there is a loud bang and the train judders to a stop.

After what seemed like an age the conductors voice came on the speakers saying "Sorry for the delay, but some youths on the side of the track have thrown a brick at the the drivers window and he´s taking a minute to recover and call the police" I look out the window and there is a group of five or six chavs mooning and generally being abusive.

I look around and what looks like a
monster of a woman on a seat on the next row pulls out her mobile phone and dials what i thought was the old bill,
the next minute one of the chavs on the verge pulls out his mobile and his face turns to sheer horror as the monster woman on the train says "so youre
at school are you kevin, you little cunt? You fucking wait till i get hold of ya" Cue me and my mates pissing ourselves.
(, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 22:01, 7 replies)
I am bipolar
weed makes me hear whispers like loudspeakers, so no do weed anymore
(, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 21:24, Reply)
For external use only; avoid on sensitive areas
I've seen and done some pretty real things with drugs in my time... but Deep Heat on the balls has to be the most memorable hit I've ever had
(, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 20:47, 2 replies)
Leeds Love Parade
while at uni, I made a point of not getting to involved with the drugs. This stemmed from the fact that from the age of 14 I'd been a bit of a stoner - my mum's neighbour and I would regularly see our way through an eighth an evening, and I generally had older friends who'd help with my drug education. My mum, although being liberal and in fact being honest enough to talk me through her fairly extensive knowledge and experiences of drugs, didn't know the half of it really... But then it would have been weird if she knew everything, right. Anyway, by the time I was 18 I decided to quit smoking weed - my drug education had been varied and sensible on the whole avoiding most stupid things (except a brief spell of "fun" with lighter gas with some school friends - WTF?!), while my actual education had played second fiddle to, well, almost everything.

So you can imagine the hilarious scenario of everyone trying to look cool at uni, and some of the jibes as my new found friendly housemates smoke their way through the stash of one guys ready-rolled spliffs (courtesy of his brother). Very soon though the box of tricks ran out and sat round, still a bit of an outsider really because my stance on not joining the smoking party, I watched as the "hardcore" nucleus of the group did their best to roll something resembling a joint... And making a worse mess than Abul Hamza. So, quell surprise I ended up rolling them another, and another, and more stil, phat one.

Anyway my abstinence stayed true mostly, occasionally I'd have a bit, but every night I'd return home after a night out and they'd all be red-eyed and happy to see me as although improving in rolling technique, given how stoned they were, the actual rolling process took a small age. They migrated on to chillums, and I remember one morning where the guy who always liked to go that step further did three chillums buckets before we played footbal... Incredibly he didn't really know what was going on.

I didn't care what they did in the slightest, we all got on really well but I just didn't want to end up in the position that sitting around the kitchen table passing spliffs all evening until dawn was going to be my university existence. By the second term they had all migrated onto pills via a little bit of speed, and while they collectively danced like gurning Romanian orphans wanking, when I went with them to Rise (which was always better than Gatecrasher) I'd have a good time with those who either could handle their drugs a little better or abstained from the illegals.

Gatecrasher took off and so did the hair on a lot of their heads... Into neat little spikes. Every weekend they pushed the boundaries slightly, and pretty much without fail it was "the best night ever" - although recalling any actual details was beyond anyone.

Deals were done on tick. Money was left outstanding and threats rained in. Fortunately nothing bad ever happened really other than one guy getting caught by the police with about two pills (probably enough to get done for intent to supply - which they charged him with), he was very lucky though because having dropped the drugs one of the arresting officers placed the bags into his, asking "so, what's this" - his brief argued that was where the finger prints came from and case dismissed.

Most were kicked out after our first year. I left and went to a different united as the house I was doing was pointless and I'd banged an attendance of less than 10%... Substantially higher than some of my friends.

I tried my first e in what should have been our second year - now that I wasn't going to be sucked into a regular pattern, I was happy to give it a go. Post uni I had a job where cocaine was easily available... For the same reasons I said no then but tried it after.

Anyway, this was meant to be about Leeds Love parade... But waffle on. I will complete this, but have to get off my train now( and that's not a euphemism)...
(, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 20:44, Reply)
Glastonbury festival
After a rather obnoxious session of all sorts of intoxicants - I at one point asked my girlfriend why they were showing 'strange cartoons in the trees'... at which point she calmly took me to the chai stall for a brew.

A few minutes later i asked her to keep hold of this napkin* ' because there were too many words on it, and they were being written too fast for me to understand'...

And then some golden ants came out of my kneecap.

Slept like a baby afterwards though.


The napkin was later to be discovered to be blank.
(, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 20:26, Reply)
I am very bored by all of the answers to this question
This in no way reflects my opinion of any of you, I'm just not interested in this topic, maybe I need to do some drugs, I haven't gotten high in 8 years, haven't had a drink in one year, don't take any prescription medications, so I just don't give a shit really.

I don't want anyone to think I'm on a high horse here, I'm not better than any of you, some of your stories made me laugh and I have voted several up, but I think I'll stay gone till thursday.

Maybe I'll actually check out /talk...nah, nevermind, I am better than that.
(, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 20:15, 6 replies)
kill kill kill mom mom mom...
My old man started into the drugs and alcohol at a fairly young age. At 17 years old, he and his mates decided to go see a double feature at the cinema. A movie they had been looking forward to for a while, Cheech and Chong's next movie, and some other movie they had never heard of, Friday something or other...
Sure enough, anticipating the next Cheech and Chong, my father and his mates had decided to drop some acid before the movie.

Apparently, Cheech and Chong felt like it lasted a couple of minutes, all a great laugh. Then Friday the 13th started... imagine a small group of teenagers hunched down in their chairs in the middle of a dark cinema, crying. He will not watch that movie again to this day.
(, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 20:13, Reply)
There were 5 of us that used to get wasted every night, without fail
So, in the run to Xmas we decided to do something special to make our Xmas session go with a bang.

We found a huge old demijohn from a homebrew kit, and every time we bought booze or drugs, we put half in the demijohn.

After a few months there was a sludgy mix of Vodka, Jack Daniels, Thunderbird, MadDog 20/20, hash, shrooms, acid and speed swilling about in there. The final touch was a run around our respective houses gathering up any meds we could find and throwing them in the mix too.

Picture the scene on Christmas Eve as we gingerly emptied the foul concoction into pint glasses, downed it and headed off to the pub.

The first casualty was within seconds of leaving the house, the poor bugger puked a small fountain of brown sludge as he tried to light up. He went straight home.

The next victim was in the pub car park as we arrived, barfing nosily and messily beside the taxi, who shot off before we could try to arrange a return trip.

Myself and mate number 4 fared a little better, actually making it to the bar, but then being found unconcious, face down in the ditch at the side of the car park at midnight by mate number 5 who suffered no ill effects what so ever. Bastard!

When I think back to the stuff in that jar, esepcially the random meds it's a wonder we didn't kill ourselves/OD that night.

The demijohn and remaining 'Mega mix' went in the bin on Boxing day.
(, Fri 17 Sep 2010, 20:00, Reply)

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