Do you ever find that a million cigarettes and interminable hours of retarded conversation about absolutely nothing makes the next morning way worse than anything your DARE Officer said Coke would do to you?
I loved my big coke days, but it was the Nat Shermans and quantum physics conversations with avant-garde artists and sex workers that ended up making me quit.
How do you maintain?
After that Teddy Grahams vid, I think we’re the same age. Do you have super powers? What’s your secret?
— Stephen B.
Funny you should mention it, but I can’t smoke and do blow at the same time. When I do, the next morning I feel like someone scraped my sinuses with a charcoal briquette. I’ve learned my lesson there, so it’s either one or the other.
As for the quantum physics conversations with avant-garde artists and sex workers, let me ask you this: would you rather it be Oprah’s book club conversations with real estate brokers and housewives? Not to knock housewives (some of those bitches are ten times as freaky as an average sex worker), but are you really trying to suggest that the edge-dwelling deviants in this town are somehow boring? No sir, Stevie B. I’m not buying it.
Still, I respect the nature of your question. It’s not uncommon anymore to find out the girl sitting next to me at the club was born in the fucking 90s. I recognize that eventually, I’ll have to move over for that little bitch. When I do I’ll simply make a graceful shift into more private recreation. I have a few wild friends in their 40s, and I’ve seen how they do it. You get a little older, make a little money, and just move the party up the hill.