I remember once, when I was 16 or so, my mother sat me down at the kitchen table. With a very serious expression on her face, she asked, "Hypatia, are you using drugs?"


I couldn't believe she was asking me this. Here I was, Laurel President, and very faithful church goer, and my mom was asking me if I was doing drugs. Point blank. All serious and shit.

I remember I just kind of sat there with a dumb ass look on my face. "Um... no." I said.

"Because just tell me if you are. I want to help you if you are. I can tell that something's changed about you."

"No. Mom, I'm not taking drugs."

"You just seem, well, to be overly excited recently."

"Overly excited?"

"Yes. Hyper."

I don't know why I thought of this. But yes. My mom sat me down and questioned me about me using drugs. Even though I had never, ever touched any kind of drug. I sniffed whiteout when I was in the fifth grade once or twice. But DRUGS? Never.

Maybe I thought of this because I recently bought a coffee machine, and the fact that I am enjoying the wonderful libation of coke and rum. So yeah.

Oh and if I could get my hands on some, I probably would smoke a joint if given the opportunity.

Suck it Word of Wisdom.


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