Sunday, April 12, 2009

Another PSA

I've been thinking about another Google search that brought someone here-toluene huffing.  I'm not against mind-altering substances in general, but if you're thinking about going down that road I would like to offer up a little personal experience on the subject.  No, I didn't spend my youth sucking on a wet sock inside a paper bag, thank you.  I did, however, have a next-door neighbor who did.  We lived in adjacent apartments and by default, I spent several months breathing the shit whenever I was home and I can say it utterly befuckles the mind.  But I don't wish to speak of my nervous ticks and hallucinations, rather I would just describe what continued huffing did to my neighbor.

Not long after I moved in, he came over to make sure I wasn't with the US Government.  You see, they were beaming microwaves at his head in order to keep him from contacting the mothership, or his home planet.  He dressed like a pirate from the 17th century.  He wore a diving mask lined with tin foil and flippers while driving his motorcycle.  His apartment contained a giant, working communicator.  I mean it lit up, made noises and sparked a lot.  I'm not sure if it would actually communicate with the mothership, but it spoke volumes to me, especially after I'd been home for a few hours, sucking up this guy's toluene fumes.  There were days I was sure it would work, if only the microwaves would stop.

The final thing I would like to relate to those wanna-be huffers is the story of my roommate's birthday.  We drank a lot of beer and smoked a lot of dope, as you should on your birthday.  Oh, and lets not forget the fumes from next door.  Anyway, all this impacted my roommate pretty hard and unbeknownst to him, his appendix was slowly leaking (it later burst).  This got him very sick at about 1am.  He went out on the balcony overlooking the parking lot and puked his guts out. Right into the motorcycle helmet our neighbor had left hanging upside-down over the sissy bar on the back of his chopper.  Filled it.

The next morning I had the distinct pleasure of watching Mr. pirate/alien huffer walk up to his chopper and put on his helmet.  He drove off with puke running down his face, totally unaware, or uncaring of the fact.  Everything else aside, THAT is why you should never, ever huff.


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