• Well, my two best friends peer pressured me into smoking marijuana when I was fifteen years old. The same two friends also peer pressured me into drinking beer when I was fifteen years old too, pretty sure both events happened the same night, or both occurred that same weekend,'
• My first experience with cocaine was some stupid, hype fiend who had basically "re-rocked" a bunch of Tylenol with a small portion of legit, fire powder cocaine, then let it sit in the freezer to solidify and sell a gram to us. I'd yet to try it, my girlfriend had only a couple times, when he busted it out, it was a single chunk that weighed right on the money, he had brought a scale. He gave us a decent price, as I was told, at $40. Thing was, the 'white' portion of the chunk that was the obvious cocaine was obviously a different color than the rest of the chunk which was an offwhite color. He chiseled off a piece of the white color, let us each toot a good rail, of course, it was cocaine, fire cocaine. So we were hooked. Too bad there was probably only one line, maybe stretched out to two small lines of real cocaine left in the chunk. It was anywhere from 0.1g/0.2g real cocaine, the remaining 0.8g/0.9g was fake baby aspirin. Learned my lesson there real quick. From then on out, I demanded that I see the product first before buying it, by that I mean holding it in my hand feeling it thru the bag, smelling it thru the bag, opening the bag and smelling inside the bag, doing the "tongue taste"; as well as setting the product on a digital scale, that I bring from my own home so I know they aren't fucking with the numbers. If they use any sort of weird packaging material besides the normal baggies, I know 'baggie type a' weighs 0.1g, I know 'baggie type b; weighs 1.0g. More often than not, speaking for about 80% of the time the product comes in one of these two bags, so its no worries when I put it on the scale. But when people try to give it to me in cellophane, I tell them to fuck off, as cellophane weighs 0.3g, not the 0.1g they swear on their life that it does, and the powder sticks to the cellophane anyways, so you should be hooking me up with an extra point or two of dope just for your own ignorance. In fact, I just got a gram of cocaine handed to me last Saturday that was placed in the center of a Seran wrap, folded over once, then proceeded to tightly roll up until it reached the end where they tied the edges. Now how the fuck am I suppose to weigh the shit out of that. Especially, with me paying $50 for the gram too, I took it anyways, with my older sister and her boyfriend, of six years, reassuring me that it is going to be fine. I ended up putting one fat ass rail of yak, in a spoon, and shooting the shit up to see how pure the shit really is. They keep boasting that its the best they have had in months and months, if not years. And, Holy Shit! They weren't lying. But basically, I started using cocaine, because my girlfriend at the time, was all gung-ho about being able to try cocaine again, as she has only done it once or twice, and I wanted to make her happy so I bout that piece of shit gram. And, it stuck ever since, though the shit just got better and better,
• I started using ecstasy only because my older sister, her boyfriend, and all of their friends, who were the group of people that I kicked it with every single weekend at house parties used the club drug almost every single Friday and Saturday night. I guess I just wanted to fit in, so I decided to pop one myself. I liked them enough, to start working with the main pill guy, and then later the main pill girl of the group (group consisted of about 50 to 150 individuals).
• The only reason I ever tried crack cocaine was I was with a black female, gang banger (sort of) from the West Side of Chicago, who had for the longest time been my key supplier of ecstasy trying to go into the hood to score me some cocaine. I was looking for a quarter-ounce of powder cocaine, just for my girlfriend, best friend and myself it was either some holiday or one of our birthdays or something stupid. Well, I heard her even ask the guy that she did not want the 'hard form', she wanted the 'soft form', and it took several calls to get a hold of someone who had yet to cook it up into that hard shit. So here we go parked, on one of the busiest streets, of this small sized city (35,000+ people) and the guy has his bass bumping so loud that people are opening doors and looking out windows, he has a bottle of E&J in his hand, taking a swig of it as he is pissing on the sidewalk. We make the exchange, we get back to her apartment complex, I drop her off, and as I start to pull out of her parking lot and get on the main street headed back to my house, I realize its not a quarter ounce of powder cocaine, that its a quarter-ounce of crack cocaine. I was wondering why the guy was letting the shit go for $190-$200, which is kind of low around these parts, unless you are really plugged, or your dealer is a friend of yours, or you go thru that kind of weight on a daily basis. Needless to say, I sold a $80 piece to another guy I knew who was a crack dealer, and the other $120 of crack cocaine I smoked with the help of my older sister, who used to be a real bad crack head, and with two of my buddies, who were cousins, and were known to get down on smoking that crack rock, and latter smoking that crystal meth too.
• The only reason that I ever tried crystal meth, was that there was no other drugs that I could get my hands on at the time. My girlfriend and me were in the process of moving from a duplex, to her brother's house about ten minutes away, the landlord was the biggest asshole, in the world, so we were trying to hurry shit up as fast as possible. So I decided to go get us a quarter-gram of this meth, kind of a big mistake, we were up finished packing, stayed up for hours talking, for hours fucking, for hours laying, then hours just waiting, I had work she had court, so we got another quarter-gram and tooted it just so we could each make it thru our own ordeal, and we never have turned back since.
• Prescription pills were never a big thing to me, so I never thought any harm would come from them so I took them with no big consequences,
• After my OxyContin dealer got busted, one of my buddies who I had selflessly given the connection to my OxyContin dealer to repaid the favor, by hooking me up with some heroin. He ended up making three separate trips up to Chicago to get stamped bags, two of the stamps were complete GARBAGE, but the third were black and yellow Batmans, which were AAAMMAZING. For two weeks we used them faithfully, and then they kind of decreased in quality, but we still fucked with them, and then after a month since they first came out we were still using them, however, when one bag used to knock me out on my ass for hours, I now needed at least three bags to get me to that level, not sure if it was the tolerance kicking in or if it was the quality being cut up worse each batch.
Eventually, he got a steady connect of "raw" foils, which by all means could have just been named "stamped" foils, as they were white powder, hardly any chunks, cut to shit with sleepenol and dormit. This is when I started shooting up. I noticed the difference between snorting a full bag and shooting a full bag of his shit. And, oh my fucking god.
Later, my friends introduced me to another dealer, however, who had much better "raw" product. And, by were they right. This dealer came thru no matter what from 9AM to 10PM, seven days a week, he took no breaks for himself. His bags were a bit skimpy than my usual connects bags were, and his bags were almost double the cost of my previous suppliers bags too. However, the quality of these bags made up for it. I would guess one bag of this more expensive dope would probably out beat two bags of the previous dope easily, I wouldn't doubt it was stronger than three bags, maybe pushing the limit and making it four bags. This dealer of mine, had his supplier find the purity of his heroin, and my dealer said that it was only between 10% and 12% purity, too. But, I tell you what, shooting up a bag of 11% pure H all to myself, would get me fucked up, and fucked up rrreeaaalll gooooddd.