WHITE LINNNNNNES

I wished and prayed that one day, I would do lines in the DJ booth.

I mean fuck. Come on. We'd smoked joints, pipes, you name it, we've had that smoking arrangement in the booth before. We've dropped pills, all that. But I had never done lines in there. Until tonight of course.

Immediately after my first, my heart rate soared. I stared at the monitor in front of me with an intense glare which said "EAT MY SHIT, FUCKWAD."
I motioned to Jim that it was his turn. He has his, and leaves 3/4 of it to me.

"It's yours mate,"

So it went up my nose. Again.
Within 20 minutes I was rolling. Pressure all over my body, sweaty palms, fuck I was out of my skull. Blake (security) tells me my possum eyes are worse than last week. I laugh at him and back away into the corner.
I run amok in the club, smoking, talking to random people that I apparently know according to them...

blur blur blur blur
Night = over. Somehow I get payed for it?

knock offs.
Knock offs were great. how much did I love them? There were six of us sitting around talking shit in the end, drinking free beer, laughing our asses off at anything that came to mind. Ess refers to me as Sam (instead of Chad) for the first time ever. My jaw drops, I gasp at her several times as she realises what she has done. She then runs to me, hugs me and sits on my lap and we have a big snuggle for a long time. It is so great. Snuggles are the shit. All because my real name is Sam and she called me by that name. I don't get it. But I love the snuggle.

After more sitting around, and more free beer, it's time to go home. Here I am pretty much.
I'm not even sure why I decided to write this now, but it might have something to do with my excessive inability to do anything even remotely sleep-related.

I have one cigarette left. I will go enjoy this now.
Peas out y'all.