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» Messing with the Dark Side
I was playing with an ouija board in Indonesia a few years back.
I asked the dead if they could give me a big wave.
I'll leave now
(Thu 20th Apr 2006, 13:10, More)
I was playing with an ouija board in Indonesia a few years back.
I asked the dead if they could give me a big wave.
I'll leave now
(Thu 20th Apr 2006, 13:10, More)
» Being told off as an adult
Funny that this topic of the week should come up ...
February last year. I'm sitting in the bar, surrounded by mates (and women) who were lapping up my every word as I told brilliant joke after brilliant joke, not easy after 26 pints but then again, I've always been able to hold my booze like a hero.
A guy comes up to me, American accent I can hear. "I'm sure you hear this all the time," he says, "but you look just like George Clooney. I run an agency for body doubles, and I think it was meant to be." I didn't want to go, I'd worked hard enough as it is to become Creative Director of Apple UK, but then again the seven-figure salary offered was quite tempting.
We got over to LA in the morning. The plane we booked had broken down, but luckily I had just met Hugh Hefner - what a guy! - in the first class lounge. We hit it off instantly, and after a couple of drinks and manly jokes, he offers us a lift in his private jet. Carnage all over the place! I must say, my penis dined well that night. Anyhow, after bidding goodbye to the 16 Playboy bunnies that I 'entertained,' turning down no less than 6 offers of marriage, I get round to my first day of shooting.
'Shooting' was certainly what I did a lot of, seeing as George didn't turn up, and because all the sets had been booked and paid for, I had to fill in a whole day's work for George. Luckily, I could do my own stunts, as I had previously trained as a WWF wrestler back when they were based in Barnet, and also knew my way around a gun pretty well after my three tours of duty in Iraq. It was an action movie, as you can probably guess, but luckily there was also a scene where I got to do a certain Jessica Alba. She's shorter in real life.
From there, it got even more unbelievable, as director Steven Spielberg had been kidnapped by Islamic fundamentalists on account of him being Jewish. Why can't we all just get along? I, for one, am instantly best mates with every person I meet. Like Eminem, Nelson Mandela, Hillary Clinton and every member of the Arctic Monkeys, all of whom were involved in some way as I mounted an incredible rescue mission where my abrupt Northern manner and lessons I'd somehow learned in the pub proved their worth over and over again and everybody, even the Islamic fundamentalists, agreed what a fantastic guy I am.
I remain forever,
Legless.
(Mon 24th Sep 2007, 23:56, More)
Funny that this topic of the week should come up ...
February last year. I'm sitting in the bar, surrounded by mates (and women) who were lapping up my every word as I told brilliant joke after brilliant joke, not easy after 26 pints but then again, I've always been able to hold my booze like a hero.
A guy comes up to me, American accent I can hear. "I'm sure you hear this all the time," he says, "but you look just like George Clooney. I run an agency for body doubles, and I think it was meant to be." I didn't want to go, I'd worked hard enough as it is to become Creative Director of Apple UK, but then again the seven-figure salary offered was quite tempting.
We got over to LA in the morning. The plane we booked had broken down, but luckily I had just met Hugh Hefner - what a guy! - in the first class lounge. We hit it off instantly, and after a couple of drinks and manly jokes, he offers us a lift in his private jet. Carnage all over the place! I must say, my penis dined well that night. Anyhow, after bidding goodbye to the 16 Playboy bunnies that I 'entertained,' turning down no less than 6 offers of marriage, I get round to my first day of shooting.
'Shooting' was certainly what I did a lot of, seeing as George didn't turn up, and because all the sets had been booked and paid for, I had to fill in a whole day's work for George. Luckily, I could do my own stunts, as I had previously trained as a WWF wrestler back when they were based in Barnet, and also knew my way around a gun pretty well after my three tours of duty in Iraq. It was an action movie, as you can probably guess, but luckily there was also a scene where I got to do a certain Jessica Alba. She's shorter in real life.
From there, it got even more unbelievable, as director Steven Spielberg had been kidnapped by Islamic fundamentalists on account of him being Jewish. Why can't we all just get along? I, for one, am instantly best mates with every person I meet. Like Eminem, Nelson Mandela, Hillary Clinton and every member of the Arctic Monkeys, all of whom were involved in some way as I mounted an incredible rescue mission where my abrupt Northern manner and lessons I'd somehow learned in the pub proved their worth over and over again and everybody, even the Islamic fundamentalists, agreed what a fantastic guy I am.
I remain forever,
Legless.
(Mon 24th Sep 2007, 23:56, More)
» The nicest thing someone's ever done for me
Reminds me of a news story I linked to off Reddit
I read this story about a year ago and it's still with me.
Guy A is walking home one night from the pub (or maybe a bar ... I think it was a US news story) and sees a rather nice Corvette pulled over by the side of the road. There's a very drunk looking Guy B on the verge being sick. Not knowing quite what to do, Guy A walks up and does a usual 'are you okay' thing.
Guy B is clearly too drunk to answer any questions coherently, and it's getting dark, late and cold. Guy A decides to go through B's jacket to see if he can at least find out where the guy lives, or if he has a cellphone with useful numbers labelled 'Girlfriend' or whatever. No phone, but he does find a wallet, and from the various cards he sees that Guy B lives fairly near by.
In a mixture of kindness, bravado, and not wanting to turn down a chance to take this lovely Corvette for a brief spin, Guy A decides to drive the car and Guy B home. He props up Guy B in the passenger seat in a way that ensures B is not going to slump over on the gearstick, straps himself in, and then drives carefully to B's place, enjoying every moment of this random adventure.
Ten minutes later, he pulls up into B's drive in his fairly nice house and neighbourhood. He takes the car keys out, locates the house key, and drags B into the house and places him gently on the sofa. He replaces the keys on the telephone table, writes a brief note explaining what happened, including his name and address. He sticks the note on the fridge, and leaves, smiling once more at the night's adventures.
As he walks on home, he's surprised to see a cavalcade of police cars charging down the street in approximately the direction of B's house. Noting this on tonight's already long chalkboard of unusual events, he eventually makes it home.
Ten minutes later, there's a very firm knocking at the door. He opens it to see two burly cops holding the note that he wrote just a few minutes ago and asking "Are you this man?" He's asked to accompany them to the police station.
Much explaining later, it turns out that Guy B didn't own the car at all. Guy B was a burglar who had stolen Guy C's wallet and keys earlier in the evening, and made off with the Corvette. Guy B had decided to celebrate this fine acquisition at a nearby bar, gotten far too drunk, tried to drive home, pulled over by the side of the road to throw up, almost passed out, and that's where Guy A enters the story. When he entered guy C's house, C assumed it was the burglar come back to steal more stuff, and hid in his bedroom and called the cops.
So Guy C gets his car back and gets to see the burglar busted. Not sure if Guy A gained anything apart from a story he probably dined out on for years.
(Fri 3rd Oct 2008, 14:43, More)
Reminds me of a news story I linked to off Reddit
I read this story about a year ago and it's still with me.
Guy A is walking home one night from the pub (or maybe a bar ... I think it was a US news story) and sees a rather nice Corvette pulled over by the side of the road. There's a very drunk looking Guy B on the verge being sick. Not knowing quite what to do, Guy A walks up and does a usual 'are you okay' thing.
Guy B is clearly too drunk to answer any questions coherently, and it's getting dark, late and cold. Guy A decides to go through B's jacket to see if he can at least find out where the guy lives, or if he has a cellphone with useful numbers labelled 'Girlfriend' or whatever. No phone, but he does find a wallet, and from the various cards he sees that Guy B lives fairly near by.
In a mixture of kindness, bravado, and not wanting to turn down a chance to take this lovely Corvette for a brief spin, Guy A decides to drive the car and Guy B home. He props up Guy B in the passenger seat in a way that ensures B is not going to slump over on the gearstick, straps himself in, and then drives carefully to B's place, enjoying every moment of this random adventure.
Ten minutes later, he pulls up into B's drive in his fairly nice house and neighbourhood. He takes the car keys out, locates the house key, and drags B into the house and places him gently on the sofa. He replaces the keys on the telephone table, writes a brief note explaining what happened, including his name and address. He sticks the note on the fridge, and leaves, smiling once more at the night's adventures.
As he walks on home, he's surprised to see a cavalcade of police cars charging down the street in approximately the direction of B's house. Noting this on tonight's already long chalkboard of unusual events, he eventually makes it home.
Ten minutes later, there's a very firm knocking at the door. He opens it to see two burly cops holding the note that he wrote just a few minutes ago and asking "Are you this man?" He's asked to accompany them to the police station.
Much explaining later, it turns out that Guy B didn't own the car at all. Guy B was a burglar who had stolen Guy C's wallet and keys earlier in the evening, and made off with the Corvette. Guy B had decided to celebrate this fine acquisition at a nearby bar, gotten far too drunk, tried to drive home, pulled over by the side of the road to throw up, almost passed out, and that's where Guy A enters the story. When he entered guy C's house, C assumed it was the burglar come back to steal more stuff, and hid in his bedroom and called the cops.
So Guy C gets his car back and gets to see the burglar busted. Not sure if Guy A gained anything apart from a story he probably dined out on for years.
(Fri 3rd Oct 2008, 14:43, More)
» It's not me, it's the drugs talking
Magic mushrooms - A brief guide to alternatives.
I also used to do mushrooms before f ucking NEW LABOUR made them illegal. We used to camp out in the various orchards around Canterbury, and use the fallen wood to make impressively-sized bonfires. Camping and tripping is nuts. Eventually, the hills, the trees, yourself, all becomes linked, and pulsate with the healing light of the universe. But the government would prefer that we were miserable, and have shut this window onto the answers forever.
So the search has been on ever since to find a replacement. I was told about something called San Pedro cactus, which contains mescaline. It's totally legal - have a look on Ebay for either fresh cacti or dried stuff. Basically, you chop it up in a blender, boil it in water for a few hours, strain the mush through an old shirt and you're left with thick green 'cactus juice.' It tastes foul, but I found adding lots of ice cubes froze out the flavour.
Compared to a mushroom trip, it's much less frantic - just very smooth, relaxed, calm, and gently trippy.
However, you don't get the philosophical effects of mushrooms. That's what makes them so revolutionary. Too many people regard hallucinogens in the same way they'd regard a good night out drinking - lots of shits and giggles with a couple of funny stories to tell afterwards. That's fun, but it's not the half of one percent of what you can be and do on mushrooms. You can take them by yourself in a quiet room, put on some music, trip gently all night, and realise things about yourself that you would never have realised otherwise. Compared to shrooms, San Pedro is just a lightshow.
I've tried salvia davinorum a time or two - it's kind of like a herb that you smoke via one huge bong hit. Salvia tends to produce true 'out of body, out of mind' experiences, which is what I definitely got. The first time I got it right - one big bong hit, held down for at least 30 seconds - was mind f ucking. In the space of thirty seconds, I'd gone from my normal persona and mindset to believing I was back in secondary school, was late for a lesson that was about to begin, and for some reason all the girls in the class knew all my incredible secrets. That, and the room I was in seemed to be full of spider-web style serrations. The trip lasted about three minutes, and my best friend who was watching me said I was laughing like a loon all the way through. All in all, highly recommended, but take heed - you tend to feel tired and confused for the rest of the evening. Something which could probably be put right with - More drugs! - but take it easy.
I've also tried Hawaiian Baby Woodrose seeds, which contain a natural homologue of LSD. The idea is that you crush them and soak them in water for a few hours. We followed the method to the letter and got - nothing. Not recommended.
Lastly, you can buy herbal highs like Druid's Fantasy, a herbal mix that includes the aforementioned Baby Woodrose, but again, we took a good pop, and felt only very slightly trippy.
I guess the conclusion is that a mushroom high is very unique, and there's nothing that will give you that same experience. Goodbye forever.
(Thu 15th Dec 2005, 16:57, More)
Magic mushrooms - A brief guide to alternatives.
I also used to do mushrooms before f ucking NEW LABOUR made them illegal. We used to camp out in the various orchards around Canterbury, and use the fallen wood to make impressively-sized bonfires. Camping and tripping is nuts. Eventually, the hills, the trees, yourself, all becomes linked, and pulsate with the healing light of the universe. But the government would prefer that we were miserable, and have shut this window onto the answers forever.
So the search has been on ever since to find a replacement. I was told about something called San Pedro cactus, which contains mescaline. It's totally legal - have a look on Ebay for either fresh cacti or dried stuff. Basically, you chop it up in a blender, boil it in water for a few hours, strain the mush through an old shirt and you're left with thick green 'cactus juice.' It tastes foul, but I found adding lots of ice cubes froze out the flavour.
Compared to a mushroom trip, it's much less frantic - just very smooth, relaxed, calm, and gently trippy.
However, you don't get the philosophical effects of mushrooms. That's what makes them so revolutionary. Too many people regard hallucinogens in the same way they'd regard a good night out drinking - lots of shits and giggles with a couple of funny stories to tell afterwards. That's fun, but it's not the half of one percent of what you can be and do on mushrooms. You can take them by yourself in a quiet room, put on some music, trip gently all night, and realise things about yourself that you would never have realised otherwise. Compared to shrooms, San Pedro is just a lightshow.
I've tried salvia davinorum a time or two - it's kind of like a herb that you smoke via one huge bong hit. Salvia tends to produce true 'out of body, out of mind' experiences, which is what I definitely got. The first time I got it right - one big bong hit, held down for at least 30 seconds - was mind f ucking. In the space of thirty seconds, I'd gone from my normal persona and mindset to believing I was back in secondary school, was late for a lesson that was about to begin, and for some reason all the girls in the class knew all my incredible secrets. That, and the room I was in seemed to be full of spider-web style serrations. The trip lasted about three minutes, and my best friend who was watching me said I was laughing like a loon all the way through. All in all, highly recommended, but take heed - you tend to feel tired and confused for the rest of the evening. Something which could probably be put right with - More drugs! - but take it easy.
I've also tried Hawaiian Baby Woodrose seeds, which contain a natural homologue of LSD. The idea is that you crush them and soak them in water for a few hours. We followed the method to the letter and got - nothing. Not recommended.
Lastly, you can buy herbal highs like Druid's Fantasy, a herbal mix that includes the aforementioned Baby Woodrose, but again, we took a good pop, and felt only very slightly trippy.
I guess the conclusion is that a mushroom high is very unique, and there's nothing that will give you that same experience. Goodbye forever.
(Thu 15th Dec 2005, 16:57, More)