I told myself on Sunday I wouldn’t go out until Saturday this week.
I told myself I would work out everyday and restart my BBG guide by Kayla Itsines.
And, I have.
I have worked out everyday at least once; I did the first circuit last night – my aching body can attest to it…
I didn’t go to $0.50 beer night on Mondays.
I didn’t go to $2 wells on Tuesdays.
But, now it’s Wednesday. Possibly the hardest day to say no to the bars.
WineWednesday is my weakness; I have been to every one since I first received my fake ID, a few days before Valentine’s Day.
One spends an only $5 for an entire full-sized cheap bottle of wine.
The bar holding this glorious deal, was always my stomping ground last semester; I was there almost every night – the bouncers didn’t even check my ID, the bartenders gave me free drinks, and I always knew at least 3/4 of the population under the roof.
Some of my most infamous moments occurred there. As well, it is where I met and became best friends w every single one of the friends I am surrounded w to this day.
It was at this bar I was yakked all over by some fucking frat star bastard.
It was there that I almost fought a fat chick for slapping her boy friend’s best friend repeatedly (which I swear he really did deserve, and he actually thought was fucking hilarious). She kept asking me “who the fuck I thought I was” to which I responded, reiterating plentiful with “upper east side, motherfucker” over and over again.
But, recently… Things have gotten messy.
Messy with the ones I love and care about
Messy with the ones I don’t give a shit about
Messy with the ones I don’t even know
Messy with the ones I see but have never had a conversation with.
It’s messy, and I know I should stay away – but I also know that “should” has never been a word in my vocabulary
But more than anything ::
I know I won’t be strong enough to stay away .
Last night, I told my mom the reason I hadn’t been responding to any of her texts nor answering her calls since friday morning was because I had broken my phone again.
When she pointed out that it only takes them 25 minutes to fix a phone, I found myself awkwardly having to explain that my phone was now being held hostage by the phone clinic until I could pay them the $109 they were charging me to fix it.
So, being that I’ve broken my phone, like, what… 17 times since Valentine’s Day – she was pretty furious.
Actually, I’d describe her more as livid. Just to be more accurate and whatnot…
She went on this huge freaking rant about how I needed to get my shit together and I can’t just party for the rest of my life and not do any work.
After everything we have been through…if you continue down this path you will end up with nothing: no degree, no job, no money, and no self respect.
Aside from now knowing how to tell her during this now-you-listen-here-child speech, that she had misspelled self-respect and her grammar was definitely NOT on point…
I also wasn’t sure how to tell her what was on the tip of my tongue, or whether I even should.
What’s the point, if I have already reached a point where I don’t have any more self-respect?
In case you were wondering, I responded to the entire rant with “okay.”
Alice, why would you leave Wonderland?
So, as you can figure from my title of this post; I did acid for the first time.
It was fucking insane.
It was on Halloween at the RL Grime concert in New Orleans.
Because everyone was dressed up, a lot of people for whatever fucking reason wore creepy masks on the back of their heads. Which, to be blunt; freaked the fuck out of me.
At one point, I legitimately thought the masks on the two boys in front of me were speaking to me. The guys were clearly friends bc one kept put his arm around the other a fair amount of times while dancing, which was when I started to have my conversations and expression-face-offs with the grippy masks.
The only drawback was that I couldn’t stop thinking about Rafaele. Which was a serious buzzkill.
One of the boys in our group though, had brought his faux RayBans – which I quickly deemed as the “acid goggles”. The name actually stuck pretty fast, as the rest of the group began to call them that also, when we asked for them; sharing them as a group when they became too much for one to bear any longer.
At some point early on in the show, I noticed this girl in all white with dark hair. We made legit eye contact and I got this weird feeling she was familiar… So, acting on a gut reaction and after turning back to look at her several times – all of which she and her friend noticed – I pulled out my phone, pulled up Facebook, and searched for this one girl’s name. I grabbed Eli, and pushed her profile picture in his face and asked if the girl standing to our left was the girl in the photo. Before he responded though, her friend came up to me and said, “yes, that is my friend – how do you know her?”
So, OBVIOUSLY I ran over to her and explained how she and her friends had taken me under their wing at Electric Zoo just over 3 years earlier. We chatted for a bit and she texted her friend who had been in the group and that I had remained in touch with, took a photo, and sent it to him.
The crazy part about it was that it had been w her and her friends that I had attended my first ever electronic music festival, or even concert. It was the first time I had ever done any drug that wasn’t weed. But, it was also the last time I had seen The Bloody Beetroots perform.
Anyway, later that night some girl legitimately thought I was Ariana Grande – which to be honest, has to be the craziest fucking shit I have ever been asked. Like, bitch: I’m 5 ‘9 not 4 ft tall. I have to be like 3 sizes bigger than her, and my hair is now at long enough. So, seriously; are you on fucking crack, dude???
By the end of the night, it was raining really hard as we walked back to the hotel. During the walk, we were all for the most part still tripping pretty hard. Mattie was tripping the hardest though, as she had taken it about an hour and a half after the rest of us.
I shit you not, while walking back – Mattie literally stopped and shouted “holy shit, the painting on that building is moving! It’s a freaking video hologram shit! What the fuck, that’s fucking fire, man.”
The mural was definitely not moving. It was an insane mural, triply as hell, but definitely not moving, lmao. But, I swear to you, she actually legitimately stopped and took a video of it anyway, even after we laughed our asses off and told her it was not freaking moving at all.
When we got back to the hotel, I swear I literally could not stop laughing. I kept having all these laughing and giggling attacks, all of which Eli thought was the funniest fucking thing ever. We were both geeking out so hard, while we conversed about the walls moving around us, twisting and stretching.
It was definitely a good night.
TomorrowWorld 2015 – The India Carmichael Edition.
It was Thursday 24 September 2015 when I made my next split-second bold and undaunted decision for an opportunity of adventure, that would surely not come around again any time soon. [sorry if that sentence grammar was pitiful…]
Recently, I’d found myself in a time of my life when it was entirely falling apart. Like, it was as if everything blew up in an atomic bomb and as I tried to put it back together, I was suffering from the radiation in the aftermath.
So, naturally I still had to take care of the necessities; it was at Publix, trying to find the ramen noodles that my entire weekend took a turn for the adventurous and outrageous (for such it being so last minute). I mean, one minute I’m talking to this guy I know, (well, really he is just a bouncer at the bar I go to almost every night, which obviously meant we we’d been snapchat buddies for a 3 days short of how long we’d known each other) – but the next, he’s inviting me to TomorrowWorld with him and his buddy! So, given my rule for life to never turn down an opportunity for adventure; I agreed. 45 minutes later, I’m in the back of his Tahoe munching on my spoonful of peanut butter, and jamming out to a myriad of mixes by the artists we were headed to see.
Well, let me tell you – it wasn’t long before I began to regret my decision. Earlier, Hayden and Eli had organized to pick up a shit ton of drugs on the drive to ATL; so, for the obvious reasons that this is me and my life is always a combination of the obscene, the ridiculous, the hysterical, the unbelievable, and the outrageous, it was no surprise that things got sketchy real fast.
Shitty part 1:
First; Hayden drives us to this 5-star hotel, which in itself is a little weird for a major drug deal with an Atlanta gang member. From there; Hayden was instructed via text message to wait in the lobby for his guy, and to send his friends away, as they didn’t know us – therefore, we couldn’t be trusted; understandable. THEN; as Eli and I went in search of food (a near-impossible mission for 11pm on a Thursdy night), Hayden kept us updated through various texts reading along the lines of “omg this is so sketch… thank God I have my gun down my pants” (only in the south…), “we’re on the move to a guy’s place… wtf is going on, we’re at a warehouse… In an uber now heading back to the hotel WHERE R U???…” So, that happened, meanwhile though; Eli and I, after several attempts at finding food, we came upon an upscale bar that was still serving food. KA-CHING. We made him Uber to us because the food was so damn good.
Shitty situation 2:
It was raining. I mean full-on – monsoon-like, torrential, and giant golf ball-sized rain drops – raining. We had to make several trips form the car lot to our tent spot, during the rainfall. I’m telling you EVERYTHING was wet. I ruined my white converse – permanently and forever a weird brown stain blotched across my beloved shoes.
Shitty situation 3:
Because of my last minute decision, I didn’t have much time to think on weather conditions when I packed my bag. So, obviously I forgot a lot of stuff when I didn’t expect it to be raining ALL weekend. Situation: no raincoat (though for whatever reason I did think to bring rain boots…), no sweaters for the cold nights, no pillow, and the worst part no drugs.
Shitty situation 4:
My friends left me to find my own way home. See my post regarding how I managed to get home without being raped and murdered, and would later be found chopped up on the side of the road.
Despite these less-than-stellar setbacks, I did manage to still have an extraordinary experience.
1. I met some incredible people.
2. I had some really genuinely eye-opening (and, okay, yes, drug-induced) realizations about my life.
3. I did shrooms for the first time.
4. I did some really fucking amazing dietcocaine – like, it was hitting me full-on not even 2 minutes after ingesting.
5. I had my first, and obviously only… , true fan girl moment when I hugged the sax player of my favorite artist performing the entire weekend. Omg it was fucking awesome – I’m still freaking out and clearly not over it…
6. I had a weekend away from all the bullshit in my life and was able to just let go, and forget about it for all of 3 1/2 days.