Your Crazy Life.....Tell us a story of a crazy experience youve had cuz of drugs

[Lawrence Arms]

srsly dude? thats takin it to the extreme man. don't be ridiculous.

 

[Frank Zito]

srsly dude? thats takin it to the extreme man. don't be ridiculous.

RIDICULOUS?!? Take a few steps with my feet. Given away by Moms when I was 6 months old. Thinking she was my sister all the way up until I was told the truth at the age of 13. Being shielded from splattered brains and skull frags by my "sister" as my "brother" (uncle) proceeded to blow my sister's abusive boyfriend's cabbage all over the "living" room walls as I was being held in my big "sis's" arms. Living with my abusive, O.C.D. driven "father" (grandfather) who REPEATEDLY beat and verbally tortured me. I was locked in my bedroom through out the night and was given an ice cream bucket to serve as a toilet. Testing on 3 separate occasions and 3 different test models as having a genius level I.Q. and being kicked out of school by the time I was 11. I was an ART prodigy. I had an ALMOST FREE ride to one of the WORLD'S premier private ARTS schools, INTERLOCHEN. I got to miss out on that cause GRAMPS was too lazy and STINGY. FUCK, I don't know. I had a point with this shit but I don't feel like putting the effort into taking this where it rightfully belongs. I spent 10 years in prison and 3 more in juvie halls and I just turned 30 last Nov. I'm not trying to garner any sympathy or anything but I have had a fairly TRAGIC life. I'm doing OKAY right now though. GOOD job, SELF EMPLOYED. Bomb ass crib.Nice ride. LOVING GIRL. Been out of PRISON for at least 3 years now. Damn, though. Just cause the MONKEY is off of my back doesn't mean the CIRCUS left town. FUCK. This post REALLY don't even come close to scratching the surface...I 'unno.

 

[stonedsublime]

Juxtaposed from another post on another website...

SO YEAH, I decided to say FUCK IT! and just get WASTED in the true sense of the word. Set a bunch of shit up. ALL GOOD TO GO. Right?

WRONG...!!! BLOWN TIRES, bounced checks...RUNNIN' outta' gas. The PACKAGE got all fucked up because of some no account, piece of shit, retarded ghetto trash, wanna' be boss that couldn't get his shit straight. SHIT WAS SUPPOSED to be straight before I DROVE for 3 FUCKING HOURS. HAD to wait around in a crack shack for 3 more UNPRODUCTIVE hours while I had to listen to some idiot mumble about losing a quarter OUNCE of ROCKS before eventually being accused of taking them.

If I woulda' rode DIRTY I woulda' left them FAGGOTS VENTILATED and the carpet soaked in BRAINS. I SHOULDA' stomped DUDE out at least so I coulda' got some measure of satisfaction out of the deal, AND I WOULDA' got the best of the whole situation. BELIEVE that.

I know this is the PISS AND MOAN and maybe this sounds a little extreme but that's how I'm FEELIN'. FOR REAL.

At least me and my passenger got a couple of laughs riding down the shoulder of the not-so-"HIGH"way on a RIM at 10 miles an hour.

So we get to the supposed "spot" after some wanna' be McGuyver shit. YOU KNOW..."I'll take you over here to my man's n' shit, then we be goin' here. Yo, can we hit the Licka' STOE'? Got a cigarette?" All that shit that comes with the TERRITORY.

So...House totally empty except for a sweat stained mattress and some bullshit velvet painting of the Jackson 5 on the wall. Get the whole "I just moved into this joint, SORRY about not having shit for you to sit on DAWG..." schpiel from DUDES DAD...Whos a Boss PLAYA', NOT A CRACKHEAD...UHHHH...OBVIOUS smmmoooo-KER!! Glance into the room and peep the beached whale smoked out on another dirty ass, stained up mattress. ALOT of unsavory CRACK action jumping off. But we cool. I BEEN to worse and I'm comfortable ANYWHERE. Not STRAPPED cause I dint' see the need. Prolly' good that I wasn't. Shit can get DUMB when people start accusing you of stealing their CRACK and I can IGNORANT as a Mu'Fucka'. Shit was supposed to be good, YA KNOW?

So out of the fish greased up stench that was the BLACK HOLE of the kitchen ambles this old ass black lady with ONE ARM. She's rocking a FOUR FINGER RING and other assorted bling on her good hand. "What up?" she says offering her iced out mit. So we each take it in turn introducing ourselves and saying "Nice to meet you."

To our "Nice to meet you's" she hits us with "How do you know, I might be CRAZY?", to which I PROMPTLY snipe back with, "You're CRAZY? Look where the FUCK we ARE?" To that She snickered at us and shuffled off. Coolest part of the trip. Except the RIDIN' RIMzzz dealy. LOLz.

...and yeah, the whole ride was for NADA. At least I caught a nice one yesterday. Original Gangster 80's. My boy went out of his way to GET for me 'cause he knew how irritated I was. Good friends...

Im sure it'd be alrite if someone was verbally telling a story like that, but to see it written like that is completley asinine

 

[stonedsublime]

I saw someone try to ride out a staph infected miss with crack cocaine. On the 7th day people MADE him go to the E.R. He woulda' died within 6 to 12 hours. He had EXTENSIVE disfiguring surgery. He still SHOOTS dope.

I saw a girl eat dog shit for CRACK. I saw a guy lick a PITBULLS anus for CRACK.

I have SHARED needles, Luckily by the grace of GOD I am disease free. I've seen other people SHARE needles. I WITNESSED someone pull a half PLUNGED RIG out of an UNKNOWN persons arm that was O.D.ed and PROCEED to shoot the bloody MESS into their own bloodstream.

All of above is truly sad, bro.

 

[untaMe]

Well you know what, by makin the original post, *I* kinda asked for his life story. Thats what the threads about. Tellin crazy stories. If you dont wanna read it, dont read that shit. Aint nobody asked your ass to come up into this forum and post here. I dont see nobody with gats aimed at your head forcin you to read. Dont try and make somebody else feel like shit just for tellin a story. If nobody wants to hear it they wont hear it. but it aint up to you to decide that. Shit was mad disrespectful to Frank Z. Dont be postin shit like that in here yo.

lacey

 

[BlessedAnomaly]

^that's cool.

 

[psychetool]

Sorry, I don't have much to add I just had to bump this thread because it rules and I know some of you got some crazy new-years stories or something.

 

[JV]

^^nice bump psychetool! such a great thread. its great to read peoples stories.

i unfortunately dont have anything i can think of to contribute right now, my new years was pretty boring actually but maybe ill have a good story after this wkend since ill be outta town gettin drunk. :D

 

[christianh]

...

 

[pennywise]

Huh?

 

[christianh]

....

 

[pennywise]

maybe if you added some sense of narrative or stuck to one line of thought even briefly it would be a start.

 

[swifty]

most of the crazy shit I've done on drugs I don't really remember, but I'll have a crack:

The craziest shit I've ever done involved MDMA caps and some cruisy girls in a dingey Night Club, so me and some friends a shmooozing with these girls and the club shuts, they invite us back to their apartment a couple of blocks away, needing more drugs we go to our dealers house first instead of walking with the girls, we get what we need and head to the address they wrote down for us, anyway we're all fucked up ig time and roll on down the road, get to the place we think is theirs and as we're walking in two girls walk out of the security gate, we slip past them.

we walk up the stairs and some other girls beckon us in
"Jackpot" we're thinking right about now, a house filled with loose women, we walk in sit down, spark up some friendly convo's and chill, not really registering that the original girls from the club are no where to be seen.

So we've been there for about an hour or so when a dude walks out from a bedroom and goes right, so have you got what we asked for, Puzzled looks all round,
"What do you mean I ask?"
"The 8-ball, those two girls who walked out as you walked in they said you're their dealer and you were bringing an 8 ball"
More puzzled looks.
"Umm..." i say "think there's been a mix up here, what's this address"
"85 such and such street, apt 56 (or whatever) why?"
"Fuck we got that completly wrong man, guess we should be on our way now"
" yeah I guess so he says"
We exit with red faces, as we hit street level again my phone rings
"are you guys coming or what?" the girl who's house we're sposed to be asks
"We're on our way, plus you're not gonna believe what just happened, be there in 5"

Anyway she didn't really believe us, she just thought we were trying to bullshit our way out of taking so long at the dealers house - go figure - wouldn't I just say I got held up at the dealers house...

Then there was the time I met Zephyr for the first time...

 

[christianh]

...

 

[alasdairm]

This is a story thread peeps.
...
Part 1 is, Do you think that you would have as much "colorful" experiences and people that you know if it wasnt for drugs? Do you feel like that enriched your life, and see all those tales from the hood/pipe/needle/bong as chapters in your life that you will tell and re tell like a old war vet? Or do you feel like the strange things you done and seen have took away from the normality of your life?

drug-related experiences have caused me grief and problems, for sure, but, moreso, they have enriched my life in ways i can't begin to explain. example:

the story of magicglasses

The summer of 1991 in London was long and hot. The days were dry and sunny and the nights were balmy. I was working for a computer company in north London and established a hook-up for acid at work. I had little experience of acid – I had tried it once or twice at college and perhaps once in London and on none of those occasions – in retrospect – did I experience anything which could compare to later, full-on trips.

The acid I was getting from my hookup at work was inexpensive and good – perhaps 2 ukp a hit and it was, compared to my previous experiences, strong – nice visuals, lots of introspection and lots of wonderful shared laughs and ESP-like experiences with fellow trippers. The trips, in some cases would last a full 12 hours.

A group of friends and I got in the habit of meeting at our friends’ Eddie and & Rona’s house in Golders Green North London where we would drop acid and then head out for an adventure on Hampstead Heath in London.

Hampstead Heath is a huge park in London – it covers 800 acres and it’s beautiful. It is always full of people, walking, playing, sitting, and feels safe even when you follow your whim down a little used dirt path. There are a number of lakes and pools in which people swim and it’s possible to feel quite lost in the countryside even though you are in the middle of one of the largest cities in Europe.

In the middle of the Heath is Kenwood House – a neoclassical mansion that houses a stunning art collection. In the summer, concerts and fireworks take place in the bowl by the lake.

We would normally meet on Saturday and drop around noon – which gave a convenient starting point for recording the progress of the trip if nothing else. High noon seems as good a time to start a 12-hour long acid trip as any.

It took about 15 minutes to walk to the margins of the Heath and about 30 minutes to get right in the thick of it. The walk to the heath was always interesting as the houses were typical of those found in any North London suburb – middle class but with a streak of what can only be described as white-trash straining to get out. Some gardens features plastic animals – frogs, flamingos, etc. which always took on a comical look as we made our way to the Heath and the drugs were coming on.

Needless to say, by the time we got to the middle of the Heath, we’d all be tripping pretty hard and there was plenty to do just sitting on a blanket on the grass and watching the trees and birds, the clouds rolling by and people playing soccer, flying kites, etc. We would take little forays into the trees to get closer to mother nature in our acid-addled state. One time, there was a classical music concert at Kenwood House and it was pure heaven standing in the trees, with the sunlight and the music, drifting across our eyes and ears.

Occasionally, the tranquility would be interrupted by an encounter with a stranger – a tourist simply asking us to take their picture or whatever. Always a challenge interacting with the straight people.

After one particularly long, warm and trippy afternoon we started to head home about sundown. Present that day were Ali (me), Sian, Mark, Esther, Eddie, Rona, Jane, Keith and Heather. The last part of the Heath to be crossed before we emerged back into city streets was a long, sloping meadow which faced west. We emerged out of the trees and arrived at the top of this meadow just as the sun was going down over the rooftops in the distance. The sky was blazing every shade of red and it was a glorious sight the way sometimes only a sunset can be. Let alone a sunset while tripping on acid. We decided to sit for a little while at the top of the meadow and enjoy the sunset.

Al that day, I had been wearing a pair of inexpensive sunglasses – I had bought them for about $15 and they did not – at the time – seem like anything particularly special. The frames were brown plastic and the lenses matched. Over the course of the day, I had discovered that these sunglasses had a secret. I have no idea what or why, but the lenses did the most amazing thing to the color red. Anything red took on a new level of brilliance and vibrancy. I’m sure the drugs were involved too but there must have been something about the makeup of the lenses which did something to red light. I had noticed it subtly at first looking at red cars and red front doors as the acid was coming on, during our walk to the Heath. Now I was faced with this blazing sunset and the sunglasses (and drugs) were taking me to new levels of amazement and wonder.

I passed the sunglasses to somebody else and their reaction was “You’ve been wearing these all day and you didn’t tell anybody!”

We sat watching the sun go down, passing the sunglasses along the line so everybody could enjoy the effect. Somebody said “Ali’s got magic glasses” and a seed was planted.

We headed home to watch cartoons, eat bagels and do all the comedown things one does when coming down.

There were a few more Hampstead Heath trips that summer – all fun and balmy and part of what seemed like an endless summer. The magic glasses were lost at one point but I managed to find another pair exactly the same at the place where I bought them so they were not gone for long. That was 1991.

Fast forward. It was 31st December 1998 and I was supposed to be going to Seattle for New Year. My plans changed abruptly and I found myself going to a dance music party in some warehouse way down off Third Street. I was over at Mark and Esther’s house getting ready. I had done Ecstasy once before – at 1015 a month earlier. Needless to say, I was keen to try again. Trance was new and good too. So there we are applying glitter and bindis, making sure everything in cargo pants pockets is in the right place, packing gum flavors, etc.

I look across and see Mark filling a ziplock bag with Gummi Worms. I asked him what on earth he was doing and he explained that our friend Curtis likes Gummi worms so Mark is going to wait until he’s good and messed up on E at 3.00am and then present Curtis with this mouthwatering treat as a surprise on the dance floor. I had never heard of the idea of a rave-treat but I could not wait to see the look on Curtis’ face.

We headed off to the warehouse and dropped E. It was a magical night in many ways. I’m pretty sure that was the first time I met Lael. It was definitely the first time I met Stephen and Ali and it was the night that Ali Wender told me “A little bit of love goes a long way”.

I’m not sure exactly what time it was but Mark grabbed Esther, Curtis and me and delved into one of his many pockets, presenting Curt with a mouthful of Gummi Worms. If you have ever had candy on E at 3.00am, I don’t need to explain what a feeling that is.

Then Mark said to Esther and me that he had a present for us too. How exciting. At that point I would have been pretty happy with a mouthful of Gummi Worms too. He delved into his cargo pants again and handed us each a flimsy pair of cardboard glasses with funny lenses. We put them on and the cool lenses – which we have subsequently learned are called “holographic diffraction grating” – turned the lights in the warehouse into a shower of fireworks and trippy visuals. We were, needless to say, entranced. Then Mark dropped his bomb. “You know what they are, right?” I think Esther and I were too high to converse. “I got you both a pair of magic glasses!” It took a second to sink in but, in an instant, we were no longer on a dance floor in a warehouse in San Francisco, 1999 but were sitting at the top of a meadow on Hampstead Heath 8 years earlier arguing over who’s turn it was to watch the sunset through a cheap pair of sunglasses. If you had told us then what we were doing now, I expect we would not have believed you.

The magicglasses were fun at that party – we would hand them to trance heads who looked like they could not be more messed up, only to see a whole new look of delight on their faces as they looked around the room.

It turns out Mark had picked up the magicglasses at a head shop on Haight Street (where else?) for the princely sum of about $1.50 a pair! Over the next few weeks, we would buy a few pairs, then more pairs to take out to various dance parties. It was always wonderful to be able to give a pair to a stranger and, when they offered to return them, say “Why don’t you keep them”.

Soon we discovered the company that printed them and started buying them online much cheaper (50 pairs minimum order at $0.50 a pair). We started to blanket dance parties in magicglasses and people seemed to love it. In the summer of 1999 I registered www.magicglasses.com and we thought it would be fun to take pictures of people wearing the glasses and publish them on the site – it’s always fun giving somebody a pair of magicglasses and taking their picture because the flash always impresses when seen through magicglasses.

One thing lead to another and Burning Man 1999 was looming. It was to be my first Burning Man and I was really excited about going. One night, Mark, Esther and I were talking about theme camp ideas and came up with the idea of building a tunnel of lights and handing out glasses so people could walk through. Seemed simple enough. We registered as an official Theme Camp and, to our surprise, we landed a primo spot right on the esplanade at about 9.00pm. We had no idea then what level of foot traffic we would see but the response was huge, wonderful, welcoming and loving. The tunnel was shit – it was built by a very stoned Mark, Jane and Ali and it looked like it had been dragged through a bush. It was about 15 feet long and contained about 20 or 30 sets of lights. We also had no idea, that first year, whether the generator we had brought would be big enough to power the tunnel and the gigantic magicglasses sign which Jamie made for camp. But sun went down that first night and we crossed our fingers and started the generator. The tunnel and sign coughed into action and, as is always the case, our ugly duckling of tunnel became a beautiful thing in the Burning Man darkness. We even got magicglasses printed up with our website address so people could send us pictures and stuff.

There are a million stories the tunnel can tell – Perry Farrell danced in the tunnel one night. Everybody has a magic story to tell about the magicglasses tunnel. We have a huge dome now, and a banging sound system and a larger family. It might be a bit longer now (the current tunnel is 40 feet long) but put on a pair of magicglasses and walk through it and it never fails to deliver. As Keith once famously observed: “Be careful with the glasses, they really are magic”. He’s right of course.

The magicglasses tunnel in its natural environment of Black Rock City, NV could not be further removed from a summer night long ago on Hampstead Heath but it’s funny how things work out.

Part 2 is, just tell a short story or anecdote about a time u had, related to getting/doing/gettin robbed for/crazy adventures you have went on for drugs, u get the idea. Everyone got at least one story like that but some of us got hundreds.

this is a little shorter

one time - pre-burningman - i was picking up about 200 mdma capsules from a friend. i met him at his house and we went to see his guy who lived in hunter's point in san francisco - not the most salubrious part of town.

we arrived at the house and the guy wasn't there. it's a very un-white part of town and my friend and i stuck out like a couple of very white guys. we hung around waiting for the friend to show but no sign. we walked to the corner store to buy a beer and drew a lot of strange looks. we headed back to his place and still no sign. i had to get this stuff as many people were depending on it and time was short. after waiting for what seemed like a couple of hours, we started to get worried. the guy lived on the second floor and we noticed that his living room window - which faced the street - was open a crack. i backed my car up to the front of the building and my friend climbed up on the roof, and from there to the ledge and started working the window open. we basically broke into his house in broad daylight. at one point a neighbour left his house and said, jokingly, as he went by, "you're not breaking in there are you?". we got in and retrieved the stuff and everybody was happy. god only knows what would have happened if a cop had driven by or somebody had called.

alasdair

 

[Damien]

^ Well written and engrossing story is well written and engrossing.

“You know what they are, right?” I think Esther and I were too high to converse. “I got you both a pair of magic glasses!” It took a second to sink in but, in an instant, we were no longer on a dance floor in a warehouse in San Francisco, 1999 but were sitting at the top of a meadow on Hampstead Heath 8 years earlier arguing over who’s turn it was to watch the sunset through a cheap pair of sunglasses.

That part brought a tear to my eye.

 

[Damien]

Does this thread have to be on the second page already? No more stories?

This isn't crazy at all really but just for the bump. I remember the first time I bought a couple of ounces of bud. It wasn't great but it was a lot to me. That night we wanted to go to a high school dance that had like a pseudo rave theme that had something to do with the coming millennium. I was getting pissed because the deal was taking so long and I was afraid we would miss the dance. Yes. I am a dork, I liked school dances.
Well anyways it finally went down and we headed to the school dance. Of course we got ripped on the way and were ready to get down. When we walked up they said that they weren't letting anyone else in. We told them that we went and visited a friend in the hospital that had been in a car accident. Stoned impromptu acting ftw. They hesitated as a big crowd came up behind us also looking to get into the dance. They gave the second group the same explanation they gave us and turned them away. After they left they let us in. Now all of this may not seem like a victory, but for me it was. There were all these people around that had no clue about the "other side" of me and now I was relishing in it right in front of them.
There was this girl there that I had been interested in for a long time but she had dissed me several times. She eventually became my wife but that is a different story. Normally it would've been heart breaking to see her with other friends having fun without me but I had ounces in my socks and a big fat smile on my face. It was fun having my secret. The dance went well and I had a lot of fun. I had even more fun after.

 

[jamaica0535]

a few months back my parents decided to trash my room until they found something.... in total they found 1 glass bong, and 2 home made ones... me and my sister were grounded until further notice... my sister being the manipulative little bitch she is, reached total freedom in a week. and my parents being the equal privileged variety, let me go as well...

I had been down at the park for a while and just finished smoking a blunt with a friend of mine and a a girl... when i get a call from my sister and she is screaming "they found your fucking bong, im not taking any blame for this.". and my first reaction was something along the lines of "FUCK!".... After that conversation i get a call from my mom "We decided to go out of town and go skiing, we will be back in a few days... and while we were in the side room, we found your bong... its from the old stuff right?"... seeing the opportunity in this i told her it was... and she apparently believed it or just wanted to hear it even if she knew otherwise...

The parents left my bong just chilling on the floor... soon after getting home my sister walks in bowl in hand with a few of her friends... we smoke a bowl... after that i rolled a blunt of my weed, and then a blunt of hers... one of her friends only made it through the first blunt...

i have a nasty habit of smoking after every time im caught... i never learn....

 

[tekkeN]

took 2 blotters and some Clover pills, headed into town with 2 mates on remembrance Sunday (1 on the same as me, the other just on E).
had a doob, headed into the Museum of Science and Industry. the acid just started kicking in as we were examining these huge moving steam machines, properly kicked in while in the space part of the museum, remember I started laughing at a model of Sputnik 1..

other mate who was on the pills was complaining that he wasent feeling anything, by now me and trip friend could do nothing but laugh, really, talking was pretty much impossible, giggling was all we could manage. he came up as we were leaving the museum, to continue the trip in the city center

now remembering the exact details of an LSD day is difficult, but these I can recall:
having another J in a park and shitting ourselves at a flock of pidgeons
me walking around in a circle because I was following 'something' on the floor
lying down on a bridge over the canal seeing some craaazy stuff
walking down streets that seemed to stretch off into infinite
feeling like our walking was moving the entire Earth around, not our bodies
seeing a huge inflatable santa clause on top of Manchester cathedral
attempting to get into the Hilton hotel, but collapsing laughing first
some twat setting a stinkbomb off on the tram back

suppose its just a trip report, but I felt like writing it. :D

 

[dankstersauce]

So I'm candyflipping on new years eve 2007. I ate 4 hits of acid then about 2 hours later I snorted 200mgs of MDMA.

So I'm fucking wasted. Oh yeah and I was doing balloons of nitrous too. So I was totally geeked. Then a friend of a friend comes over, (I've only met him once prior to this). We're just sittin around talking n what not. I noticed he had a bag of white powder in his hand, and he walks over and throws in my lap and says something like "you'll enjoy this more than me" or something to that effect.

Inside the bag is like 300-400mgs of molly. Then he says "you gotta do that now". I wasn't about to argue with him, so i'm all over that shit and do it in 2 lines.

Crazy shit. Especially because i was already fucked out of my head when he gave it to me. So strange. Probably the most bizarre thing to ever happen to me while tripping.

like who gives out $50+ dollars of MDMA and doesn't ask for anything in return???