"She's pulled her first ever whitey!"

He said it in the same way a proud parent might announce to their spouce that their young offspring had said their first word, or taken their first step. Only it was Ryan, on the phone to Grace, asking if I could stay at her house after my first ever bad stoned experience.

It wasn't as bad as I expected.

Apparantly everybody pulls one at one point or another, it's just you building up a tolerance to it. It really wasn't that bad. First there was big big big rizla, then there was tobacco, then there was lots and lots of Cannabis. Then it was rolled. Then I was happy, and stoned. And I started talking about families going on holiday, and why they do it. But then I had more and I felt ill. Then they forced me to move, and then I threw up.

Heiro and Ryan were all "Oh no, what do we do?" but it wasn't so bad, for as soon as I'd finished, I sat up, smiled and declared that I felt better. I did. I was no longer too stoned, just stoned to perfection.

Grace let me crash at her house, "A haven for drug casualties" where I spent 10 minutes in the kitchen telling her all about how much my mum's friend Cathy reminds me of a hamster. It's hard to work out why now. I think it might just have been my imitations of her that were hamsterish, rather than her actually being so herself.

And that was the most exciting part of my day.

In other news I think I might become a vegitarian. I feel so bad when I eat meat.