If I have extra OC, ummm… yeah, so… in the realm of pure fantasy. No actually, at times I have had enough OC to waste on snorting. I grew up with poor depression-minded family and to waste is a sin and all that. Despite the fact that that outlook is irritating if you're making enough money to not be desperate about things, the philosophy sticks and can be extraordinarily useful.
It just gets annoying when you've escaped dead poverty and your family is still stealing sugar packets off the table at the cheapest possible restaurants. It gets really ugly when you live with alcoholic parents who managed to get middle-class and have a little dough to spare and they're still buying wino vodka. Fer crissakes, stop buying Popov unless utterly necessary. wtf? "Well, anyone who thinks they need to spend extra money on fancy labels is just showing off." Umm, yeah, ok mom.
Anyway, I would parachute in the morning (160-200 when I was doing too much), then gift myself little lines throughout the day. So I got the baseline high in the morning that would keep me super productive, and the nice little pick-me-up of the lines when the effects from the parachuted amount started to abate.
Lines were particularly helpful when I had to hang out with friends in the evening and I was feeling burnt-out after my morning dose had subsided. I hate drinking on opiates so I couldn't use booze as a pick-me-up. So I'd rail a 40 or 80 to get going again, then surreptitiously (sp?) do lines throughout the night. I had a Coricidin bottle from the old days that I put my ground OC in. My grandmother was a nurse in the 50s and she kept all those glass Coricidin bottles that slide guitar players use for slides. They made better pill bottles then. And the glass rigs…*shudder* I still haven't been desperate enough to use those.
My method for parachuting was just to grind the pill with a hose clamp, dump separate batches into several rolling papers and down the hatch. I've never liked parachuting with toilet "tissue," as the polite like to refer to it. I hate the feeling of toilet paper in my mouth. Fuck Freud and I don't give a shit. I just hate that soft, dissolving, powderey, sticky toilet paper. Makes me gag. I'm surprised that people can get it to work unless they're using Eastern European toilet paper, that stuff that's like the paper they use for toilet seat covers.
In short (right), I like the power and duration of the parachuted dose but I like the bumps/lines for the burst of energy they provide.
I guess I should add that when I was traveling with what amounted to a huge vial of white powder, I was always walking to a bar in the neighborhood and I stood very little chance of being searched. If I was going to a big party or rave, I'd just crotch it.