HI! My name is Bob Foster and what you can see above is my brain on drugs. I have been sober for a year and two months. It is a great feeling and I now have a job and a life and my moods are under control and my personal relationships are better and blah blah. Anyhoo, there’s not a day goes by that I don’t think about the fun times I had when I was doing drugs, here are the bits I miss most:
When the drug dealer leaves your house
It’s pretty convenient when you get a guy to come over to drop stuff off, you just have to call him up, say a dumb code word for whatever drugs he sells and then wait for him to turn up really late. The problem is he arrives and wants to hang out and smoke a joint or do a line and talk about his record label, how he looks after his little cousin or how he’s ‘upscaling his operation’ or whatever. This is a massive ball-ache and usually happens for about half an hour, during which time you and your buddy have to feign interest and agree with everything he says because he’s a career criminal and he’s in your fucking house.
All of the above is really horrible to deal with, but when that idiot walks out the door it’s the greatest feeling ever -like a lonely, boring and slightly menacing weight has been lifted from your shoulders and it’s just you, your buddy and the drugs. The whole experience of dealing with the sociopath for an awkwardly long period of time brings you and your buddy closer together and the first few lines/joints of the evening are made all the sweeter by making fun of his stupid voice, his silly political views or his shitty rap demo he left with you to check out.
Seeing someone from your temp work at a rave
Temping a shitty office job is weird because it’s so uptight and serious the whole day that you never really check in mentally, so you never bother to get to know anyone properly. Sometimes there are other guys your age in equally ill-fitting suits struggling with the fax machine and doing menial tasks like you- you might exchange a few words during the day but you eat lunch on your own and get the fuck out at 5.30pm. So, no connections get made, you go see your real friends and go to a club where you take loads of exstacy, forget about filing and sending out invoices and then there he is! In normal clothes and everything! And he’s really high like you are!
In this situation you’re totally within your rights to grab him by the shoulder, spin him round and hug him, because he wants it too. You can then spend twenty minutes talking about the fat bitch secretary (“Oh man, have you smelt her fucking perfume?”) and it turns out he hates working shit jobs too! On Monday the office is a million times more bearable because you’ve got a drug buddy and you can smirk at each other when the fat bitch secretary asks how your weekends where.
Vomiting on demand
You know how long it is since I vomited? A year and two months exactly, that’s because vomiting when you’re sober only happens when you’re really ill with stomach problems, and I eat pretty well and never go to foreign countries, so it never happens. Vomiting because you’re all partied out is amazing, if you start feeling queasy and you know it’ll happen sooner or later, just take yourself aside at a party and pre-empt nature by delicately placing two fingers on the back of your throat and pushing.
It feels like being turned inside out really, really quickly, which I guess is uncomfortable for a moment, but, just like anal sex, if you go with it and let it over take you it can be enormously pleasurable. Then afterwards, there’s a wonderful shimmering glow and a feeling of calm that is like returning to the womb which feels just…. swell. It’s like pressing a reset button, the whole process is so neat and controlled that it’s like pumping a chemical toilet (which is almost what you are at this point).
Being in a group of people doing drugs at a formal event full of people who don’t do drugs
Have you ever been to a wedding or some kind of party in a marquee with tuxs, but gone with your shitty friends from the city instead of your family? It’s just the best. All the slipping out between speeches for joints and passing wraps under the table makes you feel like you’re Hunter S Thompson when he met the president or the Beatles when they smoked weed in Buckingham Palace.
All the squares and people with real life jobs and families don’t really get what’s made your table loosen their bowties so early and why none of you shaved for the occasion, but yoooou guys know what’s up. You’re going to the portable toilets in threes and the grandmother of the bride shook her head when you laughed too hard and aggressively when the waiter dropped a tray of glasses. You guys are totally there to show these uptight losers how to party and when you shake hands with the hosts as you leave none of them look you in the eye, you total fucking badasses.
Watching porn stoned
I hate smoking weed with people because you never know where it’s going to take your mood. You could be with your best friends in the world and suddenly think everyone hates your stupid laugh, or be with a bunch of dicks you barely know and be overtaken with the desire to tell them about your grandmother’s cancer (stoned TMI is the wooooorst). The only time I’ve ever really been comfortable smoking weed is in front of the internet, because you can get streaming Family Guy and, obviously, there is every type of sexual act in the whole world available to view on demand.
The best thing about porn when you’re blunted is not only does everything feel nicer, but it’s way easier (thanks to a little hallucinogen called THC) to project yourself into the situation you’re watching, and maybe even project the faces of girls you know onto the girls in the situation. Everything you think about becomes incredibly vivid to the point that you’ve convinced yourself this shit is really going down. Your mental inhibitions seem a little lower too so you end up thinking about girls you wouldn’t usually deem appropriate, like ugly girls or your tubby housemate, the most unspeakable acts occur and you end up cumming so hard your taint hurts and you think you might have broken your dick.
There are a million reasons to love drugs but this is just one blog post. Honorable mentions go to: riding shotgun in cars when tripping, saying unspeakable things during sex on coke, trying to make sense of a piece of technology on mushrooms, talking about your parents’ divorce on MDMA, sitting in a bath on any drug(“Aggh! Don’t turn the tap on! Oh no we’re all wet ahahahaha!”), and just plain old being really high.
SIMULTANEOUSLY POSTED ON STREET CARNAGE.
