Hey burnouts! This weekend is the PIPE CAMP edition of BYT Summer Camp Series.
We have two passes to giveaway- but FIRST you have to tell us your best weed/acid/burnout story.
Fair game: best dealer ever, craziest place you've smoked weed, crazy person you've smoked weed with (like Willie Nelson) bad trips, run-ins with the cops, etc...
(anonymous comments are totally fine- just make sure it's an email address we can use to contact you)
Week 3 promises to be awesome:
- Playing dancehall, reggae and other assorted tropical sounds....
- Nacey & Steve Starks (Nouveau Riche, KIDS)
- Lil El (KIDS, Spinsters)
- MixBlooded (Hump, Kuntrock)....
- Double dutch and limbo your way to a FREE SEASON PASS to the pool!
- First 15 campers in the pool win passes to Zooey Deschanel’s new movie, 500 Days of Summer
- We’ll have hacky sack, hair braiding, and other burning man shit.
Get in the Mood:
Smoke Weed Everyday.
Previously in Misc/Awesome:
- 12/28: Terrible Boyfriend/ Girlfriend Generator.
- 12/1: The John Waters Advent Calendar-it starts today
- 11/28: It Chooses You: All I Want for Christmas is Everything from Miranda July's Pop-Up Shop
- 11/3: Things I'd Move to Minnesota For
- 9/6: PHOTOS: Maloof $$ Money Cup
- 9/2: PHOTOS: Chantilly Model Train Show
- 9/1: Libby's List: 5 Things I Want Right Now...
- 8/22: PHOTOS: Best Friends Day
- 8/10: PHOTOS: Lawn Mover Racing, Eastern Seaboard Regionals @ Bowles Farm
- 7/26: Special List: Things the BYGays Want Now That We Can Marry In DC (and NY!)
God loves a cheerful giver.
So this one time I was at my friends frat house for an asher roth concert and after smoking with asher, he proceeded to walk around the house with a 40 in one hand and a natty in the other telling everyone how much he "loved college" and was living the dream. He's super cool.
once, when I was in LA, a couple of friends and I walked to the 711 to get more beer. inside I commented on a middle-aged dude's classic car convention t-shirt, and he got really excited about it. we all started conversing and he walked us out to his converted pickup which had a "love-shack" love creation/cabin in the truck-bed. the inside was lined with shaggy carpet and romantic electric candlelight. he asked if we wanted it as his new hot brazilian wife was reforming his free-lovin' ways.
then he asked if we wanted to smoke a joint. we all did.
then we walked to get pizza and drink red wine. pretty typical cali times.
At the time, I was setting up for a Ghostface Killah show on campus (the Cartoon Network Adult Swim tour), and as the only girl, I usually get some unwelcome advances from roadies or musicians. Usually a couple of them ask me to join them for a blunt or so, and I'm always game. This time was no different. At the end of the night, I was helping to put stuff away, and Ghostface literally appeared out of nowhere. There is nothing more frightening than a grown man sliding in from the shadows, and nothing more delightful than a member of the Wu wiggling a bowl in your face.
However, the night got better. After we smoked up outside, he invited me and the rest of the crew onto the bus. Inside was the typical fare - flowing liquor, the breezy smell of weed on the air, and limited visibility because of all the smoke. One of the crew members made the mistake of calling him by his given name, Dennis, and the shit hit the fan. Ghostface yelled that his name was Abdul Raheem - (since when?!) and kicked us all off the bus. Except for me, by virtue of my vagina and the fact I was from Staten Island too, I'm sure. I made my excuses and bounced out, not wanting to be left alone in a bus full of muscular men while high out of my mind. But I will never forget that experience.
There is also one thing I'd like to know from Ghostface - where can I find some more of that weed? Shit was epic.
One day before class in college, I went to blaze up in one of the bathrooms in our main quad. I went into a stall, packed a bowl with some of the amazingly dank Cali weed I got out there, and started puffing. After about half of the bowl, you could see a ray of light almost as opaque as a doric column streaming through the smoke as the sunlight streamed in through a skylight. Not only the stall, but the entire bathroom was full of dense weedsmoke. Suddenly, I heard the door open and someone enter. So I didn't move or make a sound. Heard the person piss, wash his hands, etc. So I waited for him to leave. But after 3 or 4 minutes I didn't hear anything. So I go back to the bowl, finish the second half or so, and then dump the ashes into the toilet, flush, and put the pipe and my stash back into my backpack. I leave the stall, and there's a cop by the sinks, just staring at me. I don't say anything, and in the emergency situation forgo washing my hands...I just quietly walk past the cop and out. Meanwhile, he doesn't say anything either. Just stares me down, his head turning slowly as I go by. As soon as I get out the door, I bolt to class. And I never see the cop again.
That's the end of the story. Pipe Camp, please!!! I have plenty more stories to pass, and roll killer Amsterdam-style spliffs to pass 'round too.
libby, i cannot resist. entirely TRUE. here's my story, even though i am exempt from ticket winning...
weed has absolutely no effect on me (just ask cale who didn't believe me at first when i told him this, then made me smoke 2 or something whole bowls of the green to find out it was true). skipping school constantly at the age of 12, i smoked the stuff every other day w/ my best friend danny, a bi-sexual youngster in love w/ me, but more in love w/ himself, smoked up w/ both his hippy parents who happened to be legally deaf, in the back of their dingy, orange shaggy carpeted winobago hideously airbrushed on the back panel w/ the shittiest new mexican-style art (wolves and the starlit nitesky) and danny would sign language to his folks "pass the joint/bong, pls...)
Then I got expelled from school for dealing pot. While danny dropped out. $7k and many attorneys later, my folks w/ the help of lawyers got me back into public school. Lol. In the interim, they sent me to catholic school. booooo.
Again, I always have good stories, but I'm never eligible. When I was probably 23 I worked as a manager at the Minneapolis Marriott City Center. We had all the bands and pro sports teams stay at the hotel when they came through town to play the Target Center. So of course Pantera came to stay at the hotel when they were opening for Black Sabbath on the reunion tour.
I introduced myself to "Dimebag" Darrell when they checked in and told him if he needed anything to call me. As soon as he got up to his room he called down and asked for two pitchers of White Russians with four glasses. (White Russians? Really?)
When I got up to the room with his order he was smoking weed with several dudes including a tattoo artist who was doing a big tattoo that said "Halford" on his leg (Rob Halford is the gay singer of Judas Priest).
They told me to hang out for a bit as they were filming a video (some legendary tour video that I've heard a lot about but never seen). I ended up smoking with them and saying some stupid line on camera for their video "this is how we do it Lone Star State-style" while wearing my work suit.
He was one of the nicest people I've ever met. R.I.P. 'Dimebag'
i was a senior in h.s., it was my 18th birthday. and my parents? they kicked me out.
so, i moved in with a buddy at his parents' house. his mom found 10 hits of acid in his little combo safe. he told her it was mine. she kicked me out.
so, i moved in with another buddy at his parents' house. his mom found his bong under his dresser. he told her it was mine. she kicked me out.
it was a fun winter.
only users lose drugs
The names have been changed to protect depressed people:
In 2002, my fat friend and i bought mushrooms in baltimore after seeing The Bridge at Recher Theatre. We returned to the plush white interior of his mansion (by most standards) in potomac MD where we each ate 1/8 stuffed inside a peanut butter sandwich, buttered and pan fried for a crispy crunch.
We laid into a massive 3 set show from 04.17.97 that had Fluffhead into Divided Sky into Antelope and closed with a cover of Franklyns Tower. Fucking heady.
The mushies kicked in around the end of the first set and we decided to just listen to the beastie boys and watch the playstation visual effects.
Then we started doing whippits that my fat friend had stolen from his job at Starbucks. We were using the NYC style nitrous cracker that feeds the nitrous directly into the balloon from a hand held can opener looking thing. What some people do is put the canister right up to their mouth.
This is incredibly dangerous; your lungs can literally freeze when the nitrous hits them at too fast a speed.
This did not happen. But after a couple mind altering, time stopping voyages into dumb-land, my fat friend got a little sloppy and the nitrous canister froze to his lips--causing him to rip it away swiftly and deftly.
He ripped a piece of his lip off and the blood was immediately running out of his mouth, down his shirt, and onto the white leather couch. The amount of blood was startling and horrific, as if a ketchup filled condom had been popped in his face, though this was perhaps exaggerated by the intensity of the mushrooms.
My fat friend runs to the linen closet and starts pulling down sheets and bed-spreads and beach towels which are piling up at his feet where the stream of blood from his mouth was decorating them.
I quickly got onto AOL and consulted a friend who was thinking of going pre-med if he got into Hopkins as a transfer. His idea was for my fat friend to eat a popsicle.
So i got him a Rocketpop, the red white and blue one, and he began to suckle it furiously, the melting popsicle running with the blood in the same stream and diluting it into a muddy, sticky coagulation.
The popsicle actually did the trick, and the next morning, starting at 10am, my grandmother took me to the houses of 6 different friends of hers so that i could try to sell them Cutco knives.
definitely tripping balls:
he should win
Top shelf storytellers here but I can never get enough of the Bucket.
I went to see George Clinton and the P-Funk Allstars with two of my friends when I was a senior in highschool. I smoked once in awhile at the time, but my friend had just made his sudden conversion to full-time weed smoker/ drug dealer/ former nerd who all the sudden had a lot of "cool" friends who used him for his weed mainly. Anyways, what I really mean to say is that the kid constantly carried around weed.
But he didn't necessarily carry around papers. So when we were at my house (my parents' house) before the show and trying to find something to roll up a joint with for the show (I mean, this is P-Funk, you gotta smoke) we had to resort to sticky notes, bright neon pink sticky notes. But they did the trick more or less. We had a fat neon glowing pink spliff. Lord knows it can't be good for your lungs to smoke a sticky note, but whatever.
So we're at the concert, and it's at the 9:30 club. It's a pretty great show, but we hadn't lit up yet. My two buddies were up near the front. I was stuck sort of back behind some huge white chick who kept sort of swiveling her enormously oversized butt against me. I wasn't really feeling that and some middle aged black guy next to me kept yelling at me really angrily, "what are you doing!?? Get up on that shit, man! Get up on it!" But I didn't really wanna do that... so I wiggled my way past her and found my buddies up front who were happy to see me.
At this time George Clinton stopped the show and said something along the lines of, "If any of you got weed out there, light that shit up! Puff that shit right now!" Well... that was an order from George Clinton himself. I know the 9:30 Club can be strict on drugs, but I mean, P-Funk told us to. So we whipped out our glowing neon pink spliff and started puffing and passing. We were near the front too, so the spliff was extra illuminated in the stage light. We were the most unconcealed conspicuous underage pot smokers you could possibly ask for.
I'm sure Clinton was down with the fumes we were flowing in his direction, but security was not, and it was only a matter of seconds until the three of us kids felt hands on our shoulders and turned around to find a very very tall security guard who only said, "come with me."
We marched out through the crowd to the back of the club with the bouncer behind us and he took us to the front entrance where we were told to empty our pockets. At this point I felt relieved because I didn't have anything in my pockets, but my dumb-ass recently converted to constantly stoned constantly carrying weed friend certainly had something on him. I put my wallet and keys down, but my friend put down his wallet, keys, and a frickin bag of weed, at least half an O, right on the counter.
Woops! He didn't mean to do that. He looked at the bouncer as if he actually hadn't just done that and then slowly removed the weed off the table, the bouncer clearly looking, and put it back in his pocket. "Give me that!" the bouncer ordered him, clearly annoyed. Then he put huge black X's on all of our hands and threw us out of the club. I was terrified because there were swarms of cups outside and I was sure this was a mark to arrest us, but no, it was simply to ban us, at least for the evening.
I have always found this to be a grave injustice. If George Clinton himself orders you to smoke some weed, you frickin smoke some weed. But... if you gotta do it, and you can't get caught, probably ought to avoid a neon pink sticky note joint.
Recently, while in Portland, I decided to take a day trip out to the beautiful Oregon coast. Of course, I needed to get pot to take to the coast, so I spent the evening before harassing every person I could find who looked like a stoner.
It was a much more elaborate journey than I had anticipated, due to the fact that it was Memorial Day weekend and Portland cops were apparently "on the prowl" for dealers who might give the city a "drug heavy" rep. All the dealers left their goods at home. After many encounters (including several ex-convicts and a cab driver named "Everett" whose info I got from someone claiming he was a dealer), I finally hit jackpot when I offered a crackhead $1 for leading me to a dealer.
He then led me to a homeless man who promised me he had the goods; the three of us went under the Burnside Bridge, where all the homeless and drug addicts in downtown Portland hang out. Amazingly, the homeless man pulled out a bubble-wrap-lined manila envelope FILLED with pot - no joke, never seen so much in my life. Even more amazingly, $10 got me an eighth, which was definitely more than I could smoke before I had to leave Portland (in a day).
So I decided to share with all the homeless guys and druggies and smoked up with them for several hours while I listened to all their stories of the crimes they did time for and the like. Fantastic stuff. I can't believe the deal I got. The homeless guy who sold me the weed also asked me on a date to walk along the waterfront the next day.
Finally, I had Everett pick me up, and he was completely freaking out because apparently I was hanging out in an area where people (especially girls) get raped and murdered on a regular basis...he told me that the only reason nobody hurt me was probably because no girl who was dressed nicely would normally ever talk to them, so they must have suspected I was either an undercover cop or a "kung fu master".
When I got back to the hotel, I tipped Everett in weed.
Amanda-
You mean Ghostface at AU? Too bad he didn't give a fuck about that show. And I also doubt he used a bowl. He's a king, and I'm sure he's exclusively about blunts.
Freshman year of college... the last night before spring break... everyone had packed up and left for home except for my friends and I.
We got busted with a big bottle of Costco Vodka... We had an eighth of weed, but had smoked most of it already and had about a 10 sack left... about 7 pipes, a bong, and a bubbler... and bottles of assorted beers... The Public Safety officers came in, and totally searched our room top to bottom, and they took all of our pipes, the weed, and made us poor out the vodka... [luckily, my friend Monique was smart enough to poor about half the bottle into cups around the sink, so we were able to at least salvage half]... as for the pipes, we're all convinced those officers smoked out of them when they got back to their office... but more than likely, they smashed them... we got written up, fined, and got placed on stayed Residence Hall suspension... but that didn't deter us from smoking weed in the room, we just got more clever with our hiding spots... [i.e. inside my roomie's computer, inside the cushions of the couch, in the VCR of the tv, in textbooks, under the potted plant, etc]... in total, the pipes all together were abut $650... yah, for a college student... that's a big buzz kill... x___x
There names were Carlito, Ariel, Chewy, Tarzan, Ignacio, Don Juan, and the other two I don't remember, they weren't that important... =P
I guess its worth mentioning that I had to tell my mom, considering the school was gonna do it neways...
the first thing she said when i told her... "See, This is why they should legalize weed!!! What did marijuana ever do to anyone?!?!"
we proceeded to have a 45m conversation about why weed is good... this was when I discovered that my mom smokes just as much as I do... i love my mom.
9th grade Saturday night sleepover consisting of myself and 2 friends. My 12th grade boyfriend had a friend who had a friend who could get us some sugar cubes (who knew? I only knew of tabs). We got the cubes $10 a piece (delicately wrapped in foil) and were told they were “2 droppers” This was around the time we all read “Go Ask Alice” for the first time, so that might have been the reason for our curiosity.
6:00 PM: consumption. 7:00 PM: trip to burger king while speculating when “it” would kick in. 7:30 PM: reach our sleepover destination and play Mario cart in the basement…. Some time later the walls start breathing, branches start taking over the house, Jumanji style, and I can see my veins and tendons. One friend is prancing around the basement topless drawing pasties on her nipples with sharpie and making out with the Matt Damon poster jumping off the wall. Then I have to go home for curfew, 11:30, because church is the next morning. It was a sleepless, trippy night in bed filled with trees taking over my bed and Jesus’ face every time I try to close my eyes. I then had to attend mass with the family at 8:30 am. I don’t think I’ve been the same since that night.
I was in a gas station convenience store near stanton park in DC. Me and two girlfriends were just in there to grab a couple of sodas (we were only 16 at the time). When we get to the the counter we start joking about the candy on the counter called mary jane. The funniest thing about it was that my friend maggie's mom's actual name was mary jane, but my other friend kelsey wasn't getting the irony of either the candy or that maggie's mom's name was mary jane. Basically she didn't know that mary jane also meant marijuana. The very old, sketchy, and raggedy looking man behind us in line asked us "so you girls like mary jane, cuz man I love mary jane." Kelsey the cute and innocent blinde form tennesse responded by saying "of course we love mary jane!" The man then proceeded to pull out a ziploc bag of the shittest weed i've ever seen right in the convience store and handed us a hand full. That was the first time i ever smoked in DC.
Needed to get from Seattle to Spokane for a friends wedding. Old best buddy from 5th grade says she'll give me a ride. We set out with two fortys and a big bag of weed. Don't worry, we got some big ass McDonalds cups and placed the fortys in them, super inconspicous. Straws fit nicely into the narrow mouths of the Old E. And we're off. Half way across Washington State and too stoned and drunk to remember which highway we're on (eat your heart out Jack Kerouc) we exit an off ramp and just as we do it, realize we are in fact going the right way. "Dude, just flip a bitch, dude" It's dark out. We left late.
Old crazy friend from fifth grade swerves back up the OFF ramp just as a massive Subaru is exiting. Off ramps are one way. Oops.
BOOM!
Pipe that was once in my lap now on the floor. Glass bottle of 40 oz. of beer that was once in my Mikkie D's cup, broken all over the car. Car totaled. We are stoned, drunk, drenched with beer, on the side of the freeway.
Eastern Washington fake n bake yuppies fly out of their totaled SUV screaming at the top of their lungs. We stumble out of car and hurriedly clean up beer as best as we can. Threw the glass in the trunk. Yuppies to upset to notice. I cross freeway and throw pipe over. Crazy old best friend from 5th grade is stingy with her pot. Doesn't want to ditch it. Puts it in underwear.
We get in car, still drenched with beer, and await State Patrol.
They come. Issue tickets and leave.
Super troopers? WTF?
Car too totaled to survive. We leave it on side of the road and hitchike to Spokane.
But that my friends --is another story.
also exempt from tix but figured i had to share...
growing up on a farm we had plenty of room to roam on wonderful mushroom expeditions. we also had tvs, computers, and surround sound everywhere as well as an above ground pool below the house at the level of our basement. we used to have parties where we'd get an O of fungi, call up 8 friends, order a pizza, and go to town.
one night after fun in every form we decided it would be a good idea to crawl out of the upstairs window onto the roof and then jump into the pool (3.5 ft pool. not deep). so that's 2 floors (about 20 feet) of a drop. there's no way i could do this once. it felt like i was flying and ended with an awesome splash in the pool at the end. i did the jump about 40 times that night, over and over again (my 14 yo brother counted for me, oy vey). luckily, no one was hurt. that was truly a unique trip to say the least. haha
see ya'll tomorrow.
freshman year @ Va Tech: some friends and I dropped blue tabs and lugged all these guitars amps and drums across the quad to the Mc-something building around midnight. we alternated between believing we were Zeppelin and Dinosaur ('88, so no Jr yet) I dipped breifly to pierce my ears and right nostril, came back and my friends were like WTF. The next morning, all three of us had pink eye. Later that year on Halloween my housemate and I rode our bikes 1/2 mile out of Blacksburg to buy green tabs - which for some reason had a rep for being kinder and gentler - from these ROTC kids. He bought, ate and we started peaking in 15 minutes, no lie. before we knew it, we were surrounded by 4 deisel ROTCs who claimed we never paid them. He stood our ground, told them to f themselves and go find the money, which they did. Find the money that is. I never dropped acid after that. Yeah I did but 8 years later in Toronto and it was ridiculous. Never again.
*We stood our ground, not he
It was around the year 2000. Me & my friend David ate mushrooms together one day. It must be noted that 5 years prior, David involuntarily killed one of my best friends in an auto accident. We were celebrating him getting out of jail. Joining us for the "trip" were Matt & Dickie who decided it'd just be best to smoke pot.
We went to a swimming hole in the middle of the woods to hang out. Between Dave & I we ate a half ounce of fungus. Dave was extremely fucked up... dancing to no music in the woods, kicking trees like he was doing karate and then taking breaks where he would sway back & forth while staring at the clouds. Me, Dickie & Matt smoked a massive blunt. I was fucked up but I felt that I was comprehending things well and was having a great day... relaxing with my homies, smokin some herb, drinking vodka straight from a handle and trippin out to some great visuals.
Just then the entire vibe of my day began to shift. We were all underage at the time and Matt heard some vehicles and voices. He & Dickie looked alarmed for a moment and began to whisper about police who busted people for drugs at the same location a week prior. After about 15 minutes everything grew silent and things were probably quite good... but I still had it in my mind that cops were after us. I grabbed the handle of vodka and threw it down the hill far away from us. Dickie and Matt screamed "WTF are you doing? That's good vodka!" I responded that I didn't want to get caught by the cops. They ignored my comment and said "Just pick that shit up there's nothing to worry about." I then asked for clarification about the cops but they ignored me and continued to blaze, looking rushed as if we needed to leave.
At this point I had no idea what was happening. We're smoking weed but they looked nervous. They didn't want to throw away the alcohol even though they seemed like cops were after us... and I'm tripping my balls off.
So we get in the car and I'm so faced that I can't see anything. My vision was as if I were crying (blurry) but I wasn't... I was just that messed up that I couldn't see. A car began to tailgate us and Matt acted alarmed again and I could've sworn I kept hearing him whispering about police.
After a 20 minute ride to Dickie's house I"m still convinced that the police are after us. We sit down inside Dickie's living room and Matt turns on a porno. Dave has finally mellowed out and is drinking a beer and arranging drug calls on his cell phone. I began to think about things and realized that whatever was happening was NOT where I wanted to be. In fact it was like hell.
I thought harder about things. I looked at David and realized that I actually hated him deep down for killing my best friend, regardless of volunatry or not. He soon grew annoying to me. I then came to the realization that throughout the span of my life, I was really in hell. Kinda like at the end of the The 6th Sense when Bruce Willis finds out that after all this time he was really dead.
So I let everyone know that we should get going and try to find a different scene. David says "let me finish this beer." As it turns out only a few seconds passed by but I thought it was more like 10 minutes when I asked if we could leave again. They said "LET HIM FINISH HIS BEER!"
This made me lose it. I said "Fuck you. You're all selfish pricks. You don't make any sense. I'm leaving without you and you can arrange your own way back home!"
I proceeded into the driveway and tried to drive away, ending up in the middle of Dickie's yard. I got out because i realized their backpacks & skateboards were in the trunk. I took them out and started throwing them around in the yard while I was yelling. It was mid-day and his neighbors (wealthy) were mowing the lawns, walking their dogs, or the kids were playing. I remember everyone stopping to watch me flip out.
I got in my car to try to drive again and when I tried to look out the window my vision went back to blurry and I just stopped, coming to the realization that if I was in hell then there was no way to get out. So I accepted it... and I calmed down. And it wasn't until the next day that I realized that I had a really really bad trip.