Amsterblog

All right, I've neglected the blog long enough. I meant to write about Amsterdam the day after I got back, but I smuggled a few grams back to Frankfurt (there was absolutely NO security on the train so I wish I'd taken A LOT more) and I had a lot of smoking to do. And I learned something: smoking weed seriously diminishes your motivation to post on the Blog. So now I understand why this thing is so dead most of the time.

But I ran out of the shit quickly. It only took a week, and I was being ULTRA-CONSERVATIVE, like Rush Limbaugh style. But it dissappeared, and I was left with no recourse but to return to nightly beer drinking. But it was strange. I drank for two nights and just thought about how being stoned was much better. And when I woke up in the morning I felt sick, and just thought about the mornings after smoking are much much better. Then I decided to take a break from getting fucked up, and here I am, sober Kem, and I'm not a pretty picture. Many of you may have heard me talk about how I was depressed in high school. Well, whenever I go sober for awhile I realise all over again that I'm still ridiculously depressed. Which is why I haven't Blogged in so long, cause I like to keep my Blogs up-beat and funny, but I'm just not capable of that right now.

So you're all just gonna have to deal with it, bitches. You want to hear about Amsterdam and I'm gonna tell you, but the truth may shock you: it sucked. That's right, it was completely sucky. Don't misinterpret me, the city was great. The smell of delicious weed pouring out from every coffee shop, prostitutes in windows, delicious food to be eaten everywhere, fucked-up people walking around all over the place, shady black guys trying to sell you coke and ecstacy, and everyone speaking English like it was the national language. And the herb? Top-knotch, of course.

So why did it suck, you ask? Because the people I went with suck. Two guys from TCNJ, a girl from Texas, a guy from Massachussetts, and a girl from Spain who went with us because none of her actual friends could afford it. The spanish girl, Laura, was really nice, and I even got to practice some of my pitifully rusty spanish with her. But she was very quiet the whole time because her English wasn't very good. The guy from Mass, Jesse, is a good guy, and it would have been great if it was just the Spanish girl, him, and me. But one of the guys from TCNJ, Justin, is the biggest asshole on the face of the planet. He just can't resist putting Kem down at every opportunity, mocking everything he says and making him feel like shit. And he has never smoked weed regularly, so we spent the days touring museums and shit, completely SOBER in goddamn AMSTERDAM! What the fuck? Why can't we stop in a coffee shop and toke before going to the Torture Museum? "Because I don't don't want to be too tired later." Fuck that shit, man.

The girl from Texas, Rachel, and the other guy from TCNJ, David, are secretly screwing around with each other, but everyone knows it. She smoked for the first time in her life in Amsterdam but didn't get high until she ate a brownie on the last night and got DAMN fucked up. The other TCNJ guy is nice, but only insofar as he's not an asshole. He used to smoke as heavily as we do, but he's giving that up while in Europe. Amsterdam was only a temporary return to weed.

So yeah, on Sunday night we bought two eighths of Columbian shrooms and I split one with David, and Jesse and Laura split the other. It was Laura's first time, but she didn't get the whole experience because their eighth was weak for some reason. But the one me and David split was the fucking blow-your-mind shit. We sat in a coffee shop tripping our balls off for hours. My hat on the table was dancing to the music. I went to the bathroom and felt like I was trapped in some crazy outerspace death-chamber. The techno music added greatly to the insanity.

That was the highlight of the trip. At one point the coffee shop blew a fuse and the lights went out. They had to turn the auxiliary lighting on, which was a giant bright white beam of death turning the atmosphere from happy and comfortable to evil and nightmarish. So we left and by then we were coming down. We went to the coffee shop where Rachel had bought her brownie earlier, and David and I each got one. Rachel hadn't been acting high , so I assumed it was just a harmless brownie and ate the whole thing, as my stomach was very empty by then. Little did I know it was the real fucking deal. It quickly became apparent that Rachel was now stoned out of her mind, which was pretty damn funny. We smoked until we could smoke no more, and I started to feel very weird. I realised all at once that I couldn't feel my tongue inside my mouth. Then I realised I couldn't feel anything, and it kind of freaked me out. I tried going outside in the cold, but it could have been 30 degres below Absolute Zero and I wouldn't have realised it. I put a few tic-tacs in my mouth, hoping the sensation would help, but it just felt like two minty dots floating around in a tongueless void. I began to worry that if I just started chewing on my tongue and slicing it into a bloody pulp with my teeth, I wouldn't even realise it. But when we went back to our hostel and got in bed it was nice to be completely and utterly numb, and I lost all my anxiety.

The next day was the day we had to leave, and I wanted to stay as late as possible and do as much smoking as we could before going back, but Justin's stomach hurt and he wanted to leave as early as possible. He had no interest in smoking any more. But we were in fucking Amsterdam and I would be damned if I didn't get at least one more joint out of it, so we rushed to the nearest coffee shop called BasJoe and we were the only ones in there as I rolled a joint and practically smoked it to the face, realising that we all had far too much weed left to finish before going back. Luckily, the guy working there was this awesome black dude (I call him Bas Joe) who struck up a conversation with us, and I asked him if he knew about smuggling weed out of the city and what security was like on the trains. Not only did he tell me they probably wouldn't search me and if they did find anything they would merely take it away, but he provided two small plastic bags to hold the weed in and wrapped it in cellaphane for us. This dude was seriously THE MAN. If you ever go to Amsterdam, stop at BasJoe and say hello.

So that was that. It could have been worse, of course, but it could have been a lot better. The next time I go, I'm going alone and smoking all fucking day every day. But what would be even better is if a few of you motherfuckers decide to take a trip there, and I'll meet up with you and we'll get so blazed that we won't even remember where we're from. But you're all poor as hell, so I'll understand if you don't.

Luke, holla at your comments of wisdom. Craig, holla at the blackness that is yourself. Everyone else, just holla already. Holla at your president for securing Iraq for democracy. Somebody had to do it. And Max, meow meow holla meow holla meow meow.

Keep it real, bitches. Because if you don't, I'll fucking kill you all.