When I’m one of the only ones who actually BYOB to a party
When I typed “boobs” into Google’s new animated image search
“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”
- Pablo Neruda
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Touch-down on this week’s Choose your Weapon (34 HQ Photos) – The Brigade
Amanda Bynes Murders My ***** on Twitter of the Day – Drunken Stepfather
Kate Beckinsale in yoga pants (GIF) – Celeb Jihad
Stacy Keibler Clooney-Less And Bootylicious In Tight Jeans? Yes Please! – Popoholic
Kim Kardashian Says She Weighs 140lbs. Seriously – IDLYITW
6 Design Flaws That Annoy You Every Day (And Why They Exist) - Linkiest
Damn hot babe on a boat – Double Viking
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Doutzen Kroes must do a lot of crunches – Celeb Slam
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How To Know If You Have An Awesome Girlfrined (26 Pics) – Ned Hardy
Though I sold a little of just about everything from time to time my meat and potatoes was crank. I was deeply involved in a pretty heavy tweak scene for two years.
For the most part tweak dealers are like the President of the Hair Club For Men: not just the President, but also a client. It’s not a group of people who follow the adage "don’t get high on your own supply." In fact the entire reason I started selling was so that I could get high for free. The first time I tweaked I knew I wanted to feel that way all the time, and that selling was the only way I’d be able to afford it.
Over the two years following that decision I got pretty deep into it, did and sold a lot of speed, spent time around a lot of crazy people, and saw some pretty amazing things. I don’t think I have a story as gripping as Anon’s, but maybe I can provide some insight through a few sketches. Since my experience as a drug dealer is pretty intertwined with my experience as a drug user you’ll get a little of both.
What’s it like to be a drug dealer?
I got to be high all the time. All. The. Time. People say that drug use is a constant attempt to chase down the first high, and that it’s never great again. Nope. It always felt great. I was very, very high for just about two years straight. I loved it. How much did I love it?
I did so much speed that my hair fell out. My teeth rotted in my head, to the point that I shattered my wisdom teeth one day by eating a piece of candy. I got nosebleeds that ran so hard I just held a dixie cup under my nose and let it fill. I did so much damage to my sinuses that when my nose bled I would get blood flecks coming out of my tear ducts. Yes, I actually cried blood.
I loved it enough that none of those things slowed me down. It felt so good that I didn’t care. Unlike most people who had to slow down or stop when they ran out of money or speed, I never ran out. That was the magic of being a drug dealer. I could do as much as I wanted, all the time. I did enough that, on the few occasions I decided I didn’t want to be higher, the people around me were shocked. Shocked. They were worried something was wrong.
I built up a pretty big roll on two occasions. Both times I lost everything. Once I was swindled and the other time I was robbed. Both times I could have recovered what was taken from me and prevented it from happening again, but I wasn’t willing to take the steps I would have needed to.
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