Monday, August 08, 2005

Stoned

Excuse me, guys, but allow me to let you in on a little secret: I had my first pot last week. For years, I resisted the temptation to smoke it because I was afraid of what my mother always told us: Don't take drugs, because you'll regret it.

But, against my mother's wishes (and I'd like to think I'm old enough to fuck with my life), I took a few drags one night last week, in between sips of my favorite red wine. You see, my friends were quite, uh, encouraging.

And guess what? Pot is overrated. I expected nirvana but I was told my "trip" was weird. I talked all the time, they say. My feelings were ambivalent. I was told by my friends, for example, that I had told them that I -- and excuse me for the language here -- felt horny but was complaining that I didn't have a hard-on to back it up!

Worse, the morning after, I was flatulent the whole freaking time!

This was what my mother warned me against!? Of course, It was just pot, not LSD nor meth nor shabu. But I should have listened to her!

And I'm getting myself new friends.

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