The Misadventures of Dope

I'm having a large bout of insomnia right now and one of the recommended techniques for getting drowsy is writing out everything you're thinking about at the time in order to cleanse your mind of anything that might be bothering it. So I'm going to do some free-association.

One of my friends is all messed up on hash brownies and won't answer any of my messages. I hope this person is not dead or injured. I'm probably killing his buzz. Before tonight I underestimated the power of weed. In high school the worst it did to me was make me time travel. And that was only the PCP *in* the pot, not the pot itself. Ahhh "the misadventures of dope." I think I want to tell all these stories now and get them off my chest. This is going to be a really long blog.

Ok so one time V bought this bag of pot from a raver chick at school. We had smoked plenty of times before and were experts at rigging up bongs out of anything we could find around the house. Bet you didn't know that about me in highschool, did you? I'm not proud of it, except when I'm reminiscing. Anyhow, I went to V's house one afternoon after school and we made a bong out of a two liter bottle and other found objects to smoke this new pack. I smoked some and almost immediately after I started getting tunnel vision really bad. I felt like I went through the tunnel and ended up somewhere else. I got really scared and started screaming. V tried to shut me up because her mom was in the front room and would hear me freaking out. I walked backwards from the bathroom into her bedroom and threw myself down on the bed. I was still screaming and couldn't control the volume of anything I said. By now my vision was blurred and doing that crappy delay effect from Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody video. "I've time-travelled back to the '80s!" I screamed. V looked at my eyes and said they were completely black. She thought I was going to die. I'm not sure how long I lay there on the bed but eventually I recovered and we ended up downing Slim Fast and then I got on an exercise bike and pedalled for like two hours before my high eventually wore off. I'm not sure which substance was responsible for that, but it couldn't have been weed.

We didn't always get high at V's house. In fact, the first time I introduced V to weed was at my house when my parents were gone for the weekend. It was April 20th (retarded, I know) and someone had given me a free joint. This was the first time I ever had a joint in my posession and I wasn't completely sure how to act with it. I put it in my pocket and got really paranoid that cops could just sniff it out or that my grandma could tell I had it when she picked me up that day. I smuggled it safely to my empty house and called V over right away. I didn't tell her what I had until about an hour after she got there. I told her to come see what I had in the bathroom and she was reluctant because she thought I was going to show her a turd or something. Then I pulled out the joint and she got really nervous. I think at that point she was very anti-drugs and didn't know how to react to her best friend shoving a joint in her face. She hid those feelings well whenever I said I would just throw it away. "Oh no, don't waste it!" So we smoked it. By the end of the time, she had a pair of tweezers in her hand trying to get every last puff. We thought we might be high and that we should watch BET because the black comedians would be funnier while we were high. No such luck. The only thing that happened was V ate a whole bag of chips and the rest of the ice cream from the freezer, which pretty much wiped out the snack stash in the pantry. I had a tough time explaining that one when my parents came back.

Then there was the time V came over and we smoked while my grandma babysat my baby sister in the next room. We blew the smoke out the window screen but I'm sure she had to have smelled it. Then I made it even more obvious by running up to her with a fistful of wadded up cash and asked, between cackles of laughter, if she could order me a pizza. And even still after the pizza came, V and I were looking through an Oriental Trading magazine and when we came across a lady wearing a flag vest and top hat, we broke out into a stirring rendition of "You're a Grand Old Flag."

A few days after, an armadillo set up shop outside my window. I don't know if those two events are related, but I'd like to think so.

Then there was the time we got caught. I won't go into all the details of that, but let's just say we got a cat high and he ended up ratting us out by opening the door while the vent was on full blast and the smell of smoke wafted out. One of V's parents knew what was going on and the other was totally clueless and thought we might have been lezzing out in the bathroom or something. I'm still puzzled by that.

This blog has served its purpose as I am now very drowsy. I might come back and delete all this because it would be just my luck for someone undesirable to find it. Enjoy it while it's here, kiddies.

Nighty night.