Your Valtrex Doesn’t Scare Me

Our first date was one of the most awkward and uncomfortable experience of my dating life.  We had been set up by a mutual friend.  My humor and charm were completely lost on her.

We had gone to a party together and barely spoke.  I couldn’t wait for the night to be over.  Yet at the end of it she still wanted a second date.  As dull and dreadful as I found her personality, her physical appearance made me want to give it another shot as well.

Her life was a bit complicated.  She was living with her husband awaiting a divorce after she had caught him cheating.  My sick attraction to that kind of chaos weighed heavily on my decision to see her again.  I was drawn to the drama.

A couple of weeks later we agreed to meet at a new Mexican restaurant for dinner.  I arrived on time, as I always try to be punctual.  She had texted me and told me she was running a little late because she had to stop at CVS to pick up a prescription.

The food at dinner was amazing.  Our conversation was better than the previous date.  However, it still felt forced and awkward.  I asked her questions about her life and job in hopes that she would open up, but most her responses were one word answers.

With dinner winding down I asked if she wanted to come back to my place afterwards.  Without hesitating she said yes.  As I paid for the bill she opened her handbag at the table to get some lipgloss out.  when she reached into her bag her prescription she had picked up at CVS fell out onto the table.

valtrex8lcI looked at the bottle and in big bold words it read, Valacyclovir.  I recognized the label from commercials.  It was the generic form of Valtrex.  My face dropped as I saw her slowly put the bottle back in her bag.  She saw my face, but never said a word about the fact that I saw her herpes medication fall out onto the table.

I decided at that point to make this date an experiment.  I was going to take her home and see how far she would let me take things before she either A) told me to stop or B) told me she had herpes.  As we hooked up I kept waiting for her to say something, but she never did.  She just allowed things to progress more and more.

Right before I was going to seal the deal I stopped myself.  In my mind all I kept thinking was, “this dirty bitch really isn’t going to stop me or tell me.”  I couldn’t do it knowing that getting herpes was a possibility.  I had made it that far in my life without catching anything that wasn’t curable and I wanted to keep it that way.

Sadly enough it took me a third time of hanging out with her before I could cut it off.  She came to my house and brought her dog along.  She babied him the whole time and wouldn’t let him play with my dog.  At one point she even let her dog lick the inside of her mouth repeatedly.  That made me a little uncomfortable.

The trifecta of her boring personality, making out with her dog and the possibility that she had herpes proved too much even for me.  I couldn’t hack it anymore and never saw her again.  Apparently she’s married with children now.  As I look at it as we both won.  She has her family and I don’t have herpes.


Everyday Skills I Struggle With as a Human Being


Today I met my writing coach for the first time.  My therapist recommended her when I mentioned I was starting a blog.  I figured if I was going to put my thoughts down for the world to see, I should at least try to make them comprehensible .  So I made a little investment in myself and sought out her help.

We met at Starbucks and made our introductions. She provided me with several writing assignments;  seventeen of them to be exact.  This was one of the exercises she asked me to write.

Everyday skills I struggle with as a human being:

  1. Waking up and getting out of bed — It’s a struggle daily
  2. Falling asleep — I can’t remember the last time I went to sleep without sleep aids.
  3. doing my hair — This is the bane of my existence. My hair is thin and keeps getting thinner. It never looks as cool as other peoples.
  4. Making small talk with strangers — I either dominate the conversation or I ask so many questions that I come off creepy
  5. Approaching women and striking up conversations — I’m never sure what to say. I always have this plan to say something smooth or endearing. Instead it usually leads to them looking for their pepper spray.
  6. Making decisions with my time — No matter what decision I make I often second guess if it was the most efficient or effective use of my time
  7. Getting of my phone — I hate the fucking thing. Putting it down for an hour seems nearly impossible
  8. Talking to friends and family on the phone — apparently no one can hear me because I mumble
  9. Staying on task — What was I working on again?
  10. Making reasonable assumptions on the time it will take me to complete a task — I feel that things often take twice as long as they should.
  11. Rushing to nowhere — Im getting better at this but I tend to rush through things just so I can wait somewhere else
  12. Waiting in lines or in traffic — I tend to lose my mind
  13. Driving — Friends that follow me have often asked if I am drunk
  14. Folding laundry — I hang all of my shirts for this reason
  15. Decorating —I’ve never had anything on the walls of the place I’ve lived alone.
  16. Owning Comforters — I haven’t own a comforter in over five years. I don’t know why, I just never use one.
  17. Buying basic adult necessities — utensils, bed sheets, useful things for the bathroom and kitchen. I haven’t owned a kitchen table in almost a year.
  18. Getting to the point of a story — I’m very long winded and get sidetracked. From what I hear talking to me can be exhausting.
  19. Ironing — I don’t own an iron at this point
  20. Matching colors — I am never quite sure what goes together.
  21. Ending bad relationships — I struggle with walking away, even after I know I need too. I keep them going until it becomes so unhealthy that we can no longer speak
  22. Responding to niceties — I skip past the fun part of conversations or emails and jump right into the heart of the matter. At times people find this very off-putting. By the way, off-putting is probably my least favorite word. Hearing it makes my skin crawl. However, it was the most accurate adjective I could think of.
  23. Buying furniture — Thinking about doing this gives me anxiety. I live way below my means. In my apartment I have a bed, a dresser, a couch and a TV that I have sitting on top of an ottoman.
  24. Finding my keys — I always think they are in my pocket. They never are.
  25. I don’t own a wallet — I go with my cash, ID and credit cards wrapped up in a rubber band.
  26. Reading comprehension — I have to reread things numerous times to understand what I have read.
  27. Peeing into the toilet — I spray everywhere and make an awful mess. Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night I pee in my sink or out my back door to avoid this happening.
  28. Putting toilet paper on the roll the “right way.” — Apparently the roll should face a certain direction. My ex used to tell me I always put it on backwards
  29. Dealing with boredom — My mind drifts and goes to bad places when I don’t put it to work
  30. Controlling my sweat — Its just what I do. My chest, back and armpits just drip even when I’m not hot. I can’t wear certain color shirts or leave the house without a wife beater on underneath my outfit.

I’m sure I could go on with this list forever. But I wont. This is just a small taste of my daily struggle


I Can’t Write With My Dick In My Hand

“I should probably beat off. ”  I’m not sure why, but that’s the first thing that pops into my mind when I’m writing and get the slightest bit stuck.   I literally catch myself inching my hand off the keyboard and moving it towards my dick when the words aren’t flowing the way I want.  It’s this subconscious mechanism in my brain that tells me “This is hard work; jerking off would really help this process.”

american_reunionEven though I love writing and it makes me happy, I seem to love masturbation more.  I’m rarely disappointed when I finish masturbating.  Plus I always know the outcome and it takes much less effort.   With writing, sometimes I turn out junk that’s completely unusable and it takes me quite a long time.  Advantage, masturbation.

Some days I spend so much time going back in forth in my head about whether or not I should take a break to jerk off that I forget what I’m writing about.  It starts to consume me.  My focus becomes less on what I’m writing and more about why I shouldn’t masturbate.  I spend hours staring at my computer screen having this internal battle.

Then I start to lie to myself.  I manipulate my brain into believing that if I get this pent up feeling out, it will clear my head and I will be able to focus on my work. That’s usually the furthest thing from the truth.  As soon as I cum I don’t want to write or create.  All I usually want to do is eat some food, relax and maybe read or listen to some music.

Often I cave in to my urge.  It starts with me opening a new browser and pulling up one of my favorite sites.  I peruse a bit and get a little taste of what’s out there for me to watch.  I’ll start texting girls.  Maybe send out a couple dick pics, see if I can strike up some sex talk and possibly get them to send me some naked pictures.  It all devolves from there.

However, There are occasions when I get to the point of no return and stop.   I get all worked up and ready to go and then I tell myself, “No,  I have to focus on writing and get this post done.”  I make a deals in my head that as soon as I’m finished I can reward myself by jerking off.

At 35 it’s a daily struggle to do real work without ending up with my dick in my hand.  I’m starting to wonder if this is something I should just commit to before I start writing.  Take care of business beforehand so that it’s no longer an issue while I’m writing.  Looking at it with the same mindset of not going out on a date with a loaded gun.  Making sure I have clean pipes so I can think straight and my conversation doesn’t seem to desperate or eager.

Maybe that needs to be my new ritual.  It will be an experiment moving forward.  With my mind clear of these thoughts it’s possible the words will flow better and my posts will improve.  Life’s all about trial and error in order to learn and get better at you what do.

As a reader you can take comfort in knowing that I did not masturbate while writing this post.  You’re welcome.


Holy Shit I Talk Too Much


Sometimes I can’t shut the fuck up.  I get so excited about the words that are about to come out of my mouth that I can’t hold onto them any longer.  I just blurt them out.  Sometimes in the middle of what someone else is saying.   It’s rude and inconsiderate, I realize that.  However, sometimes I can’t help myself.

My story telling skills can be maddening.  Brevity is not one of my strong points.  It’s something I struggle with in my writing as well.  I feel like every little nuance and detail is germane to the story and I have to explain them thoroughly.  But most people would be happier with the cliff notes.

Diarrhea of the mouth has actually caused me talk my way out of getting laid.  Sometimes I oversell way too hard.  I have to get another story in and keep pushing the envelope of what I can get away with a woman.  I feel its part of my charm.  I’ve had numerous women beg me not to talk so much.  They have literally told me I would be better off  sitting there and looking pretty.

I have a tendency to want to dominate my interactions with others.  I always have such amazing and interesting content to add to every conversation.  At least I think so.  The reality is I need to shut up and listen more often than not.

I can learn so much more by listening to others and what they have to  offer.  When I’m in a conversation and I hear something I feel I know a lot about, I tend to interject before they finish to make myself seem more intelligent or witty.

In the past I have been very opinionated and judgmental.  I have been trying to keep those opinions to myself lately.  Unless someone really asks for it.  Then they will get an earful they may not have planned for.

I’m the type of person who is rarely at a lack of words when it comes to dishing out advice.  I’ll give you more than you ever imagined.  I don’t realize that so often people just need to vent and get it all out.  They aren’t looking for my thoughts on the issue.  They only want me to listen.  I mean really listen.  Not just keep quiet long enough for them to finish their sentence just so I can speak again.

Listening is the most important skill for building all relationships.  People want to know they are being heard and understood.  It’s the basis for Sales 101.  Understanding the customers needs.  Any idiot can ramble on, talking to hear themselves speak.

Truly listening and appreciating the wants and needs of the person you are interacting with is priceless.  The more I work on this skill, the more I create fruitful and long lasting relationships in all aspects of my life.  Which is a key to creating a fulfilling, meaningful existence.

Why Everyone Should Experience College


Whatever happened to “go to school and get an education?”  Lately I hear so many people trying to influence kids NOT to go to college.  When I was growing up it was the complete opposite. The arguments I hear most often for not going to college:

  1. Huge Student loans
  2. Anything you learn in college you can learn on your own
  3. Opportunity cost of time spent in college vs. time spent working
  4. Kids are coming out of college struggling to find jobs because they majored in fields that are outdated or no longer exist

I’ve been in conversations where I’ve said I could’ve used the five  years I spent in school better by learning and building a business on my own.  But that’s not reality, at least for me.  I’m thankful I went to college.  If I could go back and change my decision I wouldn’t.  I’m not saying I learned a whole lot of useful information in the classroom that bettered my life, but I will say that the experience was invaluable.

I’m not going to argue the financial, or timeline, benefits or detriments of going to college.  I don’t have the facts and figure to write and intelligent and well thought out post based on those topics.  More so, I don’t care to argue those points.  I find them to be boring.  My argument is based solely on the value of my life experience in college.

College is this amazing experiment.  You take all these different people and jam them together in this social/educational setting and see what happens.  Undoubtedly a cluster fuck ensues.  People lose themselves, find themselves, lose their minds, create amazing relationships and end up becoming someone very different than who they started out as.

I’ve heard people say anything you learn in college you can learn on your own.  I agree with this to an extent.  But The fact is most people won’t learn on there own.  They want to be taught.  Its easier to have someone teach you.  People love the easy way.

The majority of people don’t have the drive or know-how to effectively teach themselves new ideas.  Having a teacher helps validate what you have learned.  It’s a structure we have become accustomed to as a culture.  I’m not saying its right or wrong I’m just stating how I see it.

College was five of the best years of my life.  I didn’t always realize it then, but my life was amazing.  I floated through college.  It was a joke for the most part.  I even tried to fail a class during my MBA so I didn’t have to leave.  I wasn’t ready to move on.  Life was too good.

There are lessons you learn in college that I know I would have never learned anywhere else.  I’m not talk about physics or accounting.  I mean amazing and irreplaceable life lessons.  Had I not gone to college I may have never: gotten stabbed, contracted the clap, gotten my car stolen,  gone to terrible frat parties, been known as Naked Guy or met the incredible people who have impacted my life many years in the future.

I learned how to act in uncomfortable social situations.  There’s not much worse than being stuck in a smoldering hot basement with 200 co-eds rubbing sweaty elbows, drinking warm beer and trying to act cool in front of girls.

I learned how to not do wash for weeks on end and still have “clean” clothes.  I learned how to live with the craziest menagerie of people and co-exist.  I learned that with $40 bucks in your pocket you are set for the weekend.  I learned that people love really shitty music, like Phish.

I learned how to sneak 30 packs and beer balls into a dorm at a dry campus.  I learned how much fun $12 worth of shitty alcohol could buy for me and a couple friends.  I learned what the freshman 15 was (The 15 lbs. people tend to gain their first year of college).

I learned how to play Rugby.  I learned Grain makes delicious jungle juice, but shooting it is asking to go to the hospital.  I learned to always wear flip flops into any public shower.  I learned people can actually live off Ramen Noodles and Spam.  I learned Kool Aid and purple drink are mainly sugar.  I learned its incredibly to tell someone to ‘go fuck themselves and their knife’ before you are about to get into a fight with them.  More than likely you will end up getting stabbed, at least in my case.

I wouldn’t give up my college experience for anything.  The actual education I received in the classroom is pretty much worthless.  But my memories are priceless.

I’m not saying everyone needs to graduate college.  But I am saying everyone should go for the experience


Getting High and Swimming With Sharks

In hindsight getting high and swimming with sharks may not have been the best idea.  I was bored and by myself while visiting Adelaide, Australia.  So I decided to get high and go to SeaWorld for the day.  It seemed like an exciting trip and I always enjoyed aquariums, especially stoned.

I walked around marveling at the aquatic life and taking pictures.  The shark tanks were the main attraction for me.   I noticed they had a sign posted by the tanks that said “swim with the sharks.” I quickly signed up to for the next available time and paid my fees and was ready for my adventure.  I had never swam in a shark tank so I was pretty stoked to do it.

The SeaWorld employees took a group of us back inside the inner workings of the aquarium.  They gave us our scuba gear and went over the types of sharks and sea life we would be swimming with.  The staff went over the ground rules of we could and couldn’t do in while in the tank with the sharks.  There weren’t too many rules to follow to be honest.  The main rule, and most obvious, was that touching the sea life was strictly prohibited.

None of the sharks in the tank were considered aggressive.  Which I found unfortunate at the time.  For some reason knowing that took away some of the excitement from the experience.  I’m not sure why the thought of possibly getting eaten was more appealing.  Probably because I was high and having some odd delusions of grandeur of fighting off a shark attack.

Once I got into the tank and swam around with these creatures it was a pretty amazing experience.  Having these sharks and other large fish swimming past me just inches from my grasp.  It was amazing to see them breezing through the water with ease as I struggled to get around.

After fifteen minutes of swimming around I noticed the front side of the tank had numerous people congregating at it.  People were watching all of us swimming with the sharks and taking pictures.  I swam up to the the people watching and posed a bit so they could take some pictures.  I was a bit of an attention whore.

I saw the flashes going off from the cameras of people snapping pictures for the photo albums.  I saw this as perfect opportunity for me to have some fun.  I was going to give them a memory they could laugh about and cherish for years.

A Leopard Shark had been resting on the bottom of the tank right in front of the main viewing area.  It had been there for the whole that I was in the water and hadn’t moved an inch.  I floated passed the shark several times grazing it with my hands.

sharkattackI swam up to the Leopard shark, laughing hysterically to myself.  I grabbed its dorsal fin and started to dry hump the back of the shark.  The shark still didn’t move.  The people at the window watched in disgust, while others snapped pictures.  I saw mothers putting their hands over their childrens eyes.  It caused a bit of a commotion.

I felt a hand grab my shoulder.  It was the SeaWorld employee who was in the water with us.  He signaled to me that I needed to leave the tank immediately.

Once I got out of the water I received a fierce reprimanding from the staff.  I was escorted off premises by security.  They told me that I was no longer able to set foot in the park or they would call the authorities.

I had a different view of what was acceptable and funny at 26.  Hell, I still would find it pretty funny today if I saw it happen.  Although, I probably wouldn’t be the guy humping the shark this time.  But honestly, how many people can say they got kicked out of SeaWorld for molesting a shark?!

The Anticipation Is Better Than The Actual Success

I feel like I’m going to explode with excitement as I grind toward my goals.  Then I get there and I think, whats next?  This seems to be the theme of my life on many levels.  Especially when it comes to women and getting laid.  Once I actually get them in bed I’m usually not that into it or them.  My pink cloud disappears quickly.  I came, I conquered.  No pun intended.

I go through phases when I am trying to achieve goals in my life.  They are all marked with there ups and downs.  They are usually pretty easy for identify due to the characteristic I portray in each phase.  For instance when I am trying to get a women I usually go through 6 phases:

  1.  Introductory Phase – We meet – I’m super excited and cant wait to talk to her.  We text all day.
  2. Dating Phase – We go out on 1-2 dates.  I get I start getting to know her or who she is trying to portray.
  3. Get Her In Bed Phase – This is exactly as it sounds.  After a date or two I get her home and we do our thing.  If I really like her and think she has potential, I try to extend this for at least 3-4 dates.  This holds my interest in her longer.
  4. The Numb Phase –  This phase begins a few seconds to minutes after I start having sex with her.  I question why I am even doing this.  Sometimes I question my very existence.  It gets even worse once I cum
  5. The Awkward Phase – Once I have finished and we are laying next to each other my mind starts to race.  I don’t want to really be touched at this point.  Cuddling makes this phase much worse.  I wonder what shes thinking.  I also wonder when shes leaving.
  6. The Insecure Phase – This phase is all about my curiosity of what she’s thinking about.  Was she pleased?  Will this be a repeat customer?  My mind starts going to “I probably could have done better” or “I should have done this or that.”  I say things to the girl that make the situation much more awkward than it needs to be.  It’s obvious to the woman I am insecure; and most likely also an asshole.

The first time I sleep with someone tends to be a bit awkward.  I’m feeling the person out.  Trying to figure out what she likes and doesn’t like.  What limits can I push?  Often I hold back because I’m not quite sure shes into certain things; like a finger in her butt.

I never used to care or think about this type of stuff when I was younger.  #YOLO.   I just wanted to get mine. Now my ego comes into play.  I want to be a sexual dynamo.  If she said or didn’t say certain things during sex I over-think it.

I wonder why she said or didn’t say certain things about my body or my dick?’  Did she not like it?  Weren’t they enough?  Was my stroke off?  What happened?

The Insecure Phase is in full force at this point.  I get in my head and over-analyze the situation.  I start to act desperate.  I create a much more awkward situation because I don’t feel I got the praise I so justly deserved.  Even if she told me how great it was and she got off I start digging for more.  I want compliments damn it!  I want to make sure Ill get a second chance so I can really show her my A game.

This type of insecure insanity is what has kept me from enjoying my success in life.  I always want more.  I used to love the phrase “never enough.”  Being comfortable with myself and going with the flow is very difficult for me at times.  I love to control and manipulate situations.

After I achieve a goal, a better approach would be to change my mindset to one of happiness and relaxation.  Slow things down and take the time to reflect on what has occurred and enjoy the moment.  Then build upon that moment predicated on real facts.  Not the craziness I brew in my mind.  Life becomes a lot better when I am able to take that advice.  I mean after all I just got laid, how bad could life really be??

My Roommate in Europe, The Dungeon Master

Ten years ago I took a bus tour through Europe.  Friends of mine were supposed to join me, but they all backed out.  I flew to Europe alone to meet the people I would spend the next two weeks traveling with. The tour started in Amsterdam.  Which meant bad news for making a first impression on my fellow travelers.

The first day in Amsterdam we all met at our hotel.  We were introduced to our tour guide and our roommates. The tour guide explained the trip and the ground rules.  The main rule we had to know was the bus would leave each city at a certain time and place.  If you were not there on time they would leave without you.  It actually happened to several people.  It almost happened to me.

Most people had roommates they knew because they booked the trip with them.  I on the other hand was roomed up with a shy, awkward, creepy Canadian who I called “The Dungeon Master.”   I don’t recall his real name, but the moniker I gave him seemed to fit.  I pictured him living in his parents basement, dressing up, playing Dungeons and Dragons, while hurting small animals.  Eventually, everyone on the trip referred to him as The Dungeon Master.

He never said a whole lot.  I tried to be friendly, but I can be a bit overwhelming.  Minutes after meeting me for the first time, I started a conversation about drinking, smoking weed at the coffee houses and having sex with hookers in the Red Light District.  I was 25 at the time and in Amsterdam so It seemed like pretty normal conversation for the circumstances.  I guess I didn’t gauge his personality quite right.

The Dungeon Master wasn’t a huge fan of mine.  As a matter of fact, he expressed his hatred for me and my antics to anyone who would listen.  He even went as far as to proposition several people about trying to trade me as a roommate.  Unfortunately for him, no one else wanted to deal with me either.

On the last night of the trip the Dungeon Master let loose and got hammer-time drunk.  Two girls we were traveling with thought his behavior was so funny they filmed him.  They started up a conversation by asking him questions about his experience on the trip .  He went off on a tirade ripping into me and telling the girls how horrible it was to be my roommate.  He said having to room with me felt like torture.

Then out of nowhere he switched tracks and dropped a bomb on them.  He went into intimate detail discussing how he had gotten double teamed by a couple of dudes in Amsterdam.  It turned out The Dungeon Master was gay.  He came out of the closet, on film, for the first time.   His hatred for me combined with too much alcohol, allowed him to share his biggest secret with the world.


I Got a Shitty Dragon Tattoo

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When I was 21, I started getting more tattoos. My best friend, Erik, was a tattoo artist.  I remember seeing a “tribally” looking dragon on a piece of flash.  At that moment I knew that bad ass dragon was going permanently on my right shoulder and trap.

Yep, I was certain this tattoo was for me.  Erik tried to talk me out of the tattoo.  But I was leaving for spring break in a month or so and I needed this tattoo.  (Yes the same spring break with the Mexican hooker).  So we sat down and he began to place this abomination on me.  Don’t get me wrong, from a technical standpoint it wasn’t a bad tattoo, he did a good job.

I sported this dragon proudly for a good year or so before I added more tattoos.  It was like a banner that told the world I was a douchebag and I know it.  I mean it wasn’t tribal band HOLY-FUCKING-SHIT douche level, but it set me apart from the pack of normal dudes.

I remember wearing tank tops to proudly display my dragon for everyone to admire. Fuck right doggy, that’s a fucking tribal dragon!  I’ve had several girls lay with me naked, looking at my tattoos, ask me why I have this stupid fucking dragon.

As I got more tattoos, filling out my sleeves and chest, this fucking dragon always got in the way.  It was like someone took a shit in the middle of painting and said “fuck it, lets just leave it there, I think it adds character.”

My whole right arm is done in black and grey with many great pieces which flow together very nicely.  Then its capped off at the shoulder by this fucking dragon.  I want to get it covered up, but I would have to put a big color piece over it.  That would kind of fuck up the scheme of my arm.  I could get it lasered off and start over, but I don’t want to endure the time and pain of that process.  So I’ll probably live out my days wearing my scarlet letter of douchery!

Come to think of it my chest piece is pretty shitty tattoo.  Megan Massacre from NY Ink did this tattoo before she was famous.  She used to work for my buddy.  I’m pretty sure she always hated me, so she tattooed a pile of shit on my chest.

At least I wasn’t as dumb as a lot of people and never got someone name or initials tattooed on me.  Love of Christ, what are those people thinking.  I have tried to talk so many people out of getting those tattoos when I used to be a partner in a tattoo shop.

Most people with tattoos have at least one really shitty one that they have no clue what they were thinking.  So yeah that was a post of just me bitching about my tattoo.  So whats your shittiest tattoo?  Share, we all know you have one

Freebasing with the Squirrel Master

Like Rick James said “cocaine is a hell of a drug.” The craziest thing about my coke use is that I cant recall a single time I actually enjoyed doing it. Yet I did a shit ton of it for 15 years. Coke made me twitchier , I walked around with a “cold” all the time and it guaranteed my dick wouldn’t work.

From my experience coke brings out all the shittiest people to hang out with.  People who hate each other will stay up all night ripping lines talking about saving the world. The only reason any of them are there is because one of them has coke.

The yacked up conversations are by far one of the worst parts about doing coke. It usually ends up a bunch of random assholes in a room or a kitchen all fucked up, talking about shit they most likely will never do. Just thinking about it while writing makes me feel a little sick. But Ill get off my soapbox and tell my story.

One of my college roommates was a skinny, angry redneck that chain smoked Newports. He had short little T Rex arms and kind of looked like he may have had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.  He was loud and offensive.   However, part of me found him hilarious. He always spit when he spoke and his breath reeked of smoke. We called him the Squirrel Master. The name stemmed from squirrels invading the walls of his room and his stories of making squirrel potpie when he was younger.

We used to compete in really stupid and dangerous contests. Like who could do the most coke in a given amount of time or who could do the biggest line. One night we finished an 8 ball in less than 25 minutes. I ended up laying in my bed praying not to have a heart attack. He went out partying all night. Advantage….Squirrel Master!

Sometimes sniffing coke just wasn’t enough. We would step up our game and get creative. So we would break out the tinfoil, a splash of water, a lighter and an emptied out pen. If you use all the ingredients correctly, ta-da, you can smoke freebase.

Freebasing seemed to be more of a Sunday afternoon type thing for the Squirrel Master and I. I’m not quite sure why, but its just how it went down. One Sunday afternoon we ventured upstairs to his room in the attic and got everything prepped. Tossed the water on the coke and melted it down on the tinfoil. It was time to get down! We started taking a couple pulls of the shitty metallic tasting smoke through the pen .

The Squirrel Master was really fucked up and just had that twinkle in his eye that said “Im going for it.” He lit up the lighter, hit the tinfoil and pulled a giant cloud of smoke in through the pen. He held it in for as long as he could and then it happened. His eyes rolled back in his head and he unleashed the most vicious hacking cough I have ever heard. He fell out of his chair and hit the floor. He continued coughing violently and tears started rolling down his face.

When I saw him on the floor I ran downstairs as fast as I could. Now I’d like to tell you I went to go get him some help. But, Nope! I went and grabbed the rest of my roommates to come see what had happened. My friend could have been having stroke for all we knew. But, we were too busy doubled over, half in tears pointing and laughing at him to care.

The Squirrel Master came out of his coughing fit just fine. Well as fine as you can be when your whacked out on Freebase. He joined in on the fun and started smiling and laughing as usual. The first thing he did when he got his composure was go right back to that tinfoil, take a hit and then light up a Newport.

Clearly we were shitty fucking friends.