If you don't like email jokes, don't read this one.

[a1na2]

She spends $15,000 and feels pretty good about the results.




On her way home, she stops at a news stand to buy a newspaper.


Before leaving, she says to the clerk, "I hope you don't mind my asking, but how old do you think I am?"


"About 32," is the reply.


"Nope! I'm exactly 50," the woman says happily.


A little while later she goes into McDonald's and asks the counter girl the very same question.




The girl replies, "I'd guess about 29."


The woman replies with a big smile, "Nope, I'm 50."


Now she's feeling really good about herself. She stops in a drug store on her way down the street. She goes up to the counter to get some mints and asks the clerk this burning question.


The clerk responds, "Oh, I'd say 30."

Again she proudly responds, "I'm 50, but thank you!"


While waiting for the bus to go home, she asks an old man waiting next to her the same question.


He replies,"I'm 78 and my eyesight is going. Although, when I was young, there was a sure-fire way to tell how old a woman was.


It sounds very forward, but it requires you to let me put my hands under your bra. Then, and only then can I tell you EXACTLY how old you are."


They wait in silence on the empty street until her curiosity gets the best of her. She finally blurts out, "What the hell, go ahead."


He slips both of his hands under her blouse and begins to feel around very slowly and carefully. He bounces and weighs each breast and he gently pinches each nipple. He pushes her breasts together and rubs them against each other.


After a couple of minutes of this, she says, "Okay, okay...How old am I?"


He completes one last squeeze of her breasts, removes his hands, and says, "Madam, you are 50."

Stunned and amazed, the woman says, "That was incredible, how could you tell?"


The old man says, "Promise you won't get mad?"


"I promise I won't," she says.


"I was on line behind you in McDonald's."

[mrpopo]

[a1na2]

Originally Posted by Ultra Peanut

I'm still stupid and can't follow the line.

FYP - AGAIN

[stumppy]

Originally Posted by Ultra Peanut

It's a pretty funny joke. I'm not surprised you don't get it.

I can certainly see why they weren't interested in the cocaine anymore.

[a1na2]

Originally Posted by Ultra Peanut

It's a pretty funny joke. I'm not surprised you don't get it.

A page long joke about drugs can't be funny unless it's one by Cheech and Chong. You ain't either of those guys.

[Ultra Peanut]

To begin, my work is very intense at times. During release phases, I have often had to work 85-100 hour weeks in order to meet deadlines. As I'm sure many could guess, amphetamine abuse [dextroamphetamine] to achieve these superhuman hours was common. At the time of this experience, I had been up for what I estimate to be approximately 4 days. However, I will say that my knowledge of the event is very spotty... much of what I will say in the following paragraphs is pieced together from the information I have received from others.

This experience occurred while I was out of town visiting a friend at his apartment. The timeline of what happened is very mismatched in my head, but I will point out that the most noticeable negative symptoms that I recall were basically mini schizophrenic episodes, something I'd describe as being in two places at once, or more accurately flipping between two or more realities involuntarily, which, from what I'm told, resulted in me saying some very strange stuff to my friends at inappropriate times.

In all my research I will say that I believe the substance at fault is MDMA. I know I took a much higher dose than I ever have before, although I do not remember this. What I have decided is that I was taking it and then forgetting I took it, taking more, forgetting I took it, taking it... ad infinitum. It was very common at this point for me to completely lose track of short-term memory. At some point I took a sleeping pill, Zopiclone, which is chemically similar to Ambien (Zolpidem). I would say this did nothing but worsen the situation if anything.

This was nothing, however, compared to what was about to happen. I was pretty much worthless, at least from a judgment standpoint, at this time. I should have gone to sleep, I'm sure.

It seemed like a 15 minute window, but who knows -- I was okay, albeit rolling and stupid and schizo, but otherwise okay, and then suddenly, I was seeing bugs everywhere. Thousands of them, around every corner, on every surface -- every object morphed into some sort of malicious insect. This was something I managed to endure for several hours before really freaking out. I knew it wasn't real, but it was so visually terrifying that it was hard to keep my cool. The turning point was upon doing a whippet (nitrous oxide)... like I said, my judgement was gone. I had felt my sanity slipping and for some reason I thought nitrous would help -- who knows why.

I recall watching the spiders on the bed nearby as I inhaled the gas -- and as soon as I felt the whippet, I watched them begin to multiply and spawn and grow larger and move faster. I ripped the balloon out of my mouth and started smacking the bed with it, I'm told: it was at this point was when my sense of reality started to slip.

On a side note, I have had other hallucinogenic experiences -- I think anyone who has knows the dream-like quality of trips... it's distinct, and as far as memories go, it is one clear way to distinguish drug-induced experiences from reality. The noteworthy element of this experience was its *utter lack* of the dreamlike feeling. There was literally no deviation from reality that could provide any sort of indication that what I was seeing was not real. It looked real, it felt real, and my mind regards it as real, despite the fact that I know it wasn't. I believe the obvious conclusion, since none of the substances I ingested are known to induce such acute hallucinations, is that this was a psychotic episode, more specifically a case of amphetamine psychosis. This type of psychosis is often described as short-term paranoid schizophrenia, which basically describes my experience perfectly.

Anyway, it was clear from this point forward that the frightening nature of my surroundings was directly correlated with how frightened I was. It got progressively worse as I got more and more terrified -- at a certain point I would actually say I went into shock, for I had come to terms with watching spiders grow out of my skin as something I could not do anything about, and was 'beyond fear' if that makes any sense. I had not become desensitized, but the opposite, activating the body's natural defense mechanisms, which turned off my sensation of acute terror.

The experience became progressively more and more intense. I know there are several occasions that my mind has suppressed. I have learned of these from those who were following me around the apartment as I sprayed clear coat paint all over the place (thinking I was killing bugs with bug spray) and yelled nonsensical things to the tune of 'why me' and 'when is it going to stop', etc. I recall that I started to see ghost-like figures, stationary, watching me, some menacing, some not.

The general theme of the experience was basically as such: No matter what I did or where I hid -- there was something terrifying right there with me, and these things became increasingly awful. There was no safety, not even in my girlfriend's arms, who I apparently pushed forcefully into a wall because I saw a bug with wings on her back. I have literally no memory of this at all, but she was scared to be around me after that, from what she told me.

This is not to say that there wasn't an element of fascination to all of this. No drug could ever rival this sort of trip -- if one could harness the contents of my subconscious and make them into a movie, they'd have an instant blockbuster. I saw horrors that make Aliens seem like a movie for children.

Eventually, I was taken to the hospital. It had been approximately eight hours of pure terror. I no longer could make the distinction between reality and psychosis-induced visuals. I spent minutes on end trying to convince the doctor there was a worm growing out of my leg. Oddly enough, I calmed down in the hospital and the visions started to disappear. Upon regaining a bit of my sanity, I realized that I thought these things were real, but I couldn't figure out how I had convinced myself of this. It was a very peculiar feeling.

Sleep was all I needed, I guess. I slept for 3 hours in the hospital bed, and upon waking up the visuals were basically gone.

This experience will never leave me, however. It's been 6 months and I still harbor paranoid fears of insects and spiders. Additionally, I acquired a mild case of HPPD (Hallucinogen Persisting Perception Disorder), often seeing floaters or after-images burnt into my vision -- and on the rare occasions that I stay awake all night, this worsens: objects begin to creep around in my peripheral vision, walls have 'crawling' surfaces, etc. From what I understand, this may be with me my whole life -- but it really isn't bad enough to inhibit my ability to live -- just enough to never let me forget. I'll probably never touch E again... no euphoria could ever be worth this kind of living nightmare.

[a1na2]

Originally Posted by Ultra Peanut

Paraphrased "I'm dancing as fast as I can. That's why I need drugs."

FYP - AGAIN
Lame Dude, Lame.

[Mr. Flopnuts]

Originally Posted by a1na2

FYP - AGAIN
Lame Dude, Lame.

You're the only dickwad around here that could have a joke thread turn into a shit slinging fest. Grow up old man.

[Ultra Peanut]

I was in an extremely happy state of mind, preparing for a 9 hour drive to West Virginia, from New York, with my boyfriend, 2 homeless raver aquaintances, and this girl I just met... in her compact car. We were off to a 3 day rave in the mountains... the sister party to one of the best raves I've ever been to in all my life. I thought I wasn't going to find a ride, but as luck would have it, the girl was down to drive to this party with a bunch of people she'd never met before, enticed by the offer of free drugs.

So, we set off, equipped with no food or drinks, just a bunch of drugs. A vial of liquid PCP, several cigars, an 1/8 of fluffy nuggs, and a bunch of powder Ketamine. 'Nuff sed.

We have been on the road for about 2 hours, the scenery was growing quite boring, and the herb we'd smoked before was wearing off. We decided to roll up a blunt (Plenty-O-Pot, rolled in a cigar, slow burning and good to be passed for several rounds) dip it in PCP, smoke it up, alongside a cigarette dipped in PCP. I had been smoking dust personally, for around 4 years, with no majorly scary episodes. As I was dipping the blunt in the PCP, I accidentally dropped it in the vial, causing it to soak up plenty more than intended... my fingers were too short to retrieve it, so after a minute of groping awkwardly, like a freshman on a first date, I fished it out with a safety pin. Oops! I was messed up after smoking that amount, but overall coherent. Hey, tolerance is a bitch, and you never do know what to expect when it comes to PCP dosages. Anyways, we took several bumps of Ketamine (Special K) each (except for the driver, who was complaining about having to stay sober) and turned up the music. We each were deep in thought for about 30 minutes-1 hour. Nothing too unusual. As we began to come down, the topic became 'Can I get another bump? Wanna smoke some more?'

This time, we rolled up another blunt of hydro, and I carefully dipped only about the top inch or less of the blunt in the PCP. I lit it up, and after just 2 pulls, I felt what I should have felt off the first blunt hit me like a sack of flour. I bumped a fat pile of K and began to enjoy myself. I was thinking about the party, how much fun I'd had the year before, how I was looking forward to leaving the city for a few days...

Night had set in, the altitude was rising, the air outside was crisp. The windows were cracked the wind was howling, and some Terror-core/Speedkore (a hybrid of hard bass, raunchy lyrics, screams and violent samples at a rate of over 400 beats per minute) was blasting. I love drum and bass music, and the music was beginning to get to me. I asked to change the music, but nobody would. Defeated, I sat back, repulsed by the music. It had set a dark feeling to the car ride. The driver had a pissed off look on his face, because he was sober, and speeding, along at about 110 MPH. I began to observe everyone else in the car. It seemed as if the girl we'd never met beforehand had been informed of something I hadn't been. She has this twisted smile on her face and she began to seem evil to me. Like a troll who spoke with the voice of a Carebear.

Sidebar time. See, the problem I have with just copping this shit from Erowid and posting it in this thread is that it often contains a lot of references to doing drugs and preparing drugs that, frankly, detract from the overall story. Then I realize that I'm just posting something to post it, and I haven't even read most of it myself, and that concern disappears. Okay, back to tom's shitty thread.

Both homeless ravers were pierced, wearing black, and were looking very hostile. The one who was driving apeared to be the ring leader, and gave me a vibe that he was in touch with Satan himself. Receiving messages through an invisible gut wire. The others in the car were his satanic followers. Everyone in the car was planning on committing mass suicide that night to the furious sounds of the music... WHY? in search of the ultimate high... a combination only achieved by the adrenaline of death, falling off a cliff, and hardkore amounts of drugs. The fact that it was the longest night of summer (summer solstice) was all the evidence I needed to convince me that my hypothesis was correct. I searched my boyfriend's face for a sign if he was in on it/ or naive... he seemed to be so into the music I was convinced that they had hypnotized him by the sounds. He was going with the plan... and he did not give a rat's ass about me anymore, though we were together for a year and a half.

What was my role? The SACRIFICE. I'm not one to panic, get delusions, or be paranoid. In fact, I do have a vivid imagination, but I can always draw the line between reality and my subconscious. I was a pro at handling myself when on drugs. But now, all the times I'd done crazy things were haunting me. I felt as though it was the end for me, and I hadn't fulfilled the mission of my life. I had gotten sidetracked by drugs, and now it was too late. In my mind, I was coming to grips with my death. I began to think about how the impact of the car would feel when we hit. I felt us going up higher and higher into the mountains, the road was curving... the car felt like we were doing about 150 MPH, although I knew it couldn't have been more than 100. I couldn't ask questions... they would turn on me... and torture me into submission. I gave up on everything, and began to pray. I wanted so bad to be at home with my parents. I thought about all the times I'd left for days to go party and get ****ed up... and how this was the final time.

My head began to hurt, my chest was having trouble breathing. I had to use all my power to sit quietly and pretend to have fun when all I wanted to do was cry hysterically. I was too paranoid to ask my boyfriend if I was imagining things. I felt the impact of the car crash several times in my mind, but also in my body. The most intense pain in my recent memory. I felt death grip me in a flood of agony. The cult had gotten me, and I was going to die. And I thought they were cool. After about 2 hours of this, I came to grips with the situation, and as soon as I had calmly realized I was going to die, I started coming down. We changed the music to uplifting trance (FINALLY!!!!) and the car slowed down. We took a side road to smoke another joint. Everything fell back into place. We arrived safely early the next morning. In the back of my mind, I knew it was a bad trip, but I felt proud of how I was able to come to terms with dying. Not an easy thing to do.