Shamanic Pantaloons and Pizza Rolls

When I was 19, I went to a pool party and everybody stayed up all night drinking, swimming, and talking. My mom was coming to pick me up before she went to work. I didn't know then that when you drink it radiates from your skin to warn everyone around you that you're full of poison and bad decisions. My mom knew I was drunk because I smelt like tequila covered with cinnamon toothpaste and pizza rolls.

First, she tried to get me to admit I had been drinking by asking me to drive home. I told her I had a migraine and I couldn't see straight.

However, before we got home I made her stop while I threw up pizza rolls and tequila. She didn't say anything, and she drove me home where I slept until I was awoken by the very strong smell of fish, and about fifteen members of my family playing dominoes in my kitchen.

While my mom hates fish, she hates lying even more and she was willing to fill her house with the loudest game known to man and the most rancid of odors to punish me. Pictures were taken, I was everyone's background for a few months, luckily they were on shitty flip phones. I spent the next two miserable hours on the bathroom floor with my face pressed against the toilet seat praying that I would just die.

I took about seven different drugs at a psytrance club night and this 50-year-old shaman started massaging me, what's worse is that I could feel his boner through his pantaloons onto my back. I convinced myself I was skiing at some point in the night too. When I got home, I woke my mum up to tell her I'd done a shit load of drugs and got into bed with her. I got mono shortly after that, and it recurs about twice a year, which is fucking great.