All that makes up all that you are—your body, your mind, your personality and all the rest of it is encoded by your genes. Like viruses, these genes want nothing more than to be copied and disseminated, and have programmed you to behave in ways that are not in your own interest, but will promote their desired ends. Behaviors such as caring about your appearance, and striving to "get ahead" at work, "be successful," and ultimately find a mate and have children (as prime examples). One way to counter these sinister urges is to scramble the DNA that comprises these genes by consuming large quantities of mutagenic carcinogens.
Doing drugs is a fun way to spend your spare time. Between my aversion for reality and my laymen's science background, experimenting with new combinations of psychoative substances is something I both enjoy and excel at. As a guide, the following is a personal record of some of my more notable experienes:
(It should also be noted that if you've recently lost your job, the government will not only pay for your drugs in the form of "unemployment insurance," but will deliver them to your home via the US Postal Service)
November 2012: Half a bottle of Jagermeister, 3M Dust Remover, cat tranquilizer. This little doozy began with me slugging back the Jager while watching LSU, I had $100 on the moneyline to make $15. After about 5 or 6 healthy slugs and a Tiger interception thrown into triple coverage, I got the idea to take the cat tranquilizer, which had been a stocking stuffer from my brother. Which is to say he'd stolen from a vet clinic by shoving it in his sock.
After about an hour, I noticed the world had slowed down to a crawl, was highly pixilated, and my high school shop teacher was on television trying to sell me a Cuisinart stainless steel pressure cooker. That's when I started in with the dust remover. It was sitting by the computer within arm's reach after all.
First my arms went numb, followed by my entire body. The world, still pixilated, began to ripple like a puddle plunked by a pebble. My high school shop teacher was still on TV, but I could no longer make out what he was saying—his voice made incomprehensible by a wa-wa wammy bar effect. After the worst of this immediate weirdness subsided, I gravitated to the bathroom mirror to inspect my face. My eyebrows immediately caught my attention. What is the deal with these two fuzzy little caterpillars crawling across my forehead? Had I not noticed them before? I contemplated the matter as I stroked them with the tips of my index fingers for an indeterminate period of time. Then I remembered. Oh yes, eyebrows. They help keep sweat out of your eyes. No big deal. My arms, on the other hand, had to go.
So I headed out to the garage, came back into the bathroom, and I had just gotten the chainsaw running with my girlfriend barged in. I think she shouted something along the lines of "what the hell do you think you're doing?" to which I replied that I was cutting my arms off with a chainsaw. A sort of struggle ensued, which I lost due to my highly intoxicated state, and I returned to the couch in time to watch LSU's running back fumble the ball in the 4th quarter. It was probably the best afternoon of my life.
July-August 2009: Paxil (crushed), cocoa pebbles. Unbeknownst to me, my girlfriend slipped crushed anti-depressants in my breakfast for nearly two months in 2009. She told me later I was "starting to scare her." This was probably the worst 7 months of my life. I was motivated, energetic, positive about my present, and optimistic for my future. I figured something was wrong when I actually started paying attention during work instead of replaying old Bugs Bunny cartoons in my head, and the girlfriend confessed to me under interrogation. Funny, I wasn't too upset about it at the time.
Circa 2004: Mucous. I tried smoking my boogers. They didn't get me high, which is a shame because if they did I figure I could have made a lot of cash.
February 2013: Oxycodone, ethyl-alcohol, Buprenorphine, Codeine, Dihydrocodone, cannabis, Tramadol, Zolpidem, Citolopam, Flurazepam, Mirtazapine, Sumatriptan, Temazepam, Trazadone, acetaminophen, melatonin, Methadone, TMA2, 2ct121 and caffeine. Other than a vague memory of floating, and a soft white light, I can't recount much from this particular occasion. The medical staff classified it as a suicide attempt, but how can they explain the cannabis in my system? Makes no sense. I don't even know how I got my hands on all of that stuff. I can't say what I was thinking though, because other than the light and floating, my memory of that day and most of the month preceding it is pretty much shot.
Every day household highs:
Circa 2005: Nutmeg (2 tablespoons). Did you know that nutmeg can get you high? If you live in the smothering overly-involved age of parenting I do as I'm writing this, you've likely seen or read some sort of feature in the media alerting folks of the creeping scourge that exists in their spice cabinets. But I don't need that level of coverage to be induced to try it. Some friend of mine one day said to me, "hey, did you know nutmeg can get you high?" So I ate a bunch of nutmeg.
And waited. And waited. And waited.
And then, after 4 or 5 hours I felt a little high. Or at least different. It felt like a mild marijuana high minus the euphoria that makes you laugh at stupid things you might not usually laugh at. I also noticed some slight hallucinatory effects when I closed my eyes (swirling eyelid glow), and I believe my dreams were a bit funkier than usual that night.
What really makes this drug (spice) not worth it, and therefor no danger of turning little Jayden Connor into a raving nutmeg addict, is the hangover the next day. Think 24 hour flu-like symptoms, only substitute nausea with not being able to pee. Not much fun.
Circa 2004: Banana peels. I scraped the inside of the peel and dried the mush out of it in the oven, then smoked it in a bong. And nothing happened.
Later, I found out there is a compound in banana peels that will get you high, but you need to scrape a crapload of it and spend about 3 days performing a series of steps involving various solvents to extract it into a consumable form. No thanks.
And remember kids, your parents lie. Your teachers lie. Police officers lie. DARE lies. They'll say anything to keep you from ever trying drugs. That being said, even though I haven't dabbled much in what you'd call "serious" drugs like heroin and meth, and do believe some of their horror stories about skin bugs and various other miseries...hey—it still beats the hell out of a long, boring, sober existence. Have a little fun once in a while.
