#and a girl who has actually gone to work fully on MDMA before

[gaybriar]

genuinely want to write one of my conversion essays on mishnah precedents for modern liability insurance but also genuinely concerned it’ll be so dry that no one i know will ever speak to me again

[vcnusc]

hello it’s ur gal moose again !! i’m bringing the bitch back y’all w new face. if you want to plot HMU or LIKE THIS post and i’ll come to you !! more info abt this binch under the cut & u can peep her pinterest here. 

—— wait, that’s not DOVE CAMERON! it’s VENUS CARLISLE who identifies as CISFEMALE. a TWENTY year old JUNIOR and a VICE PRESIDENT of CHI DELTA GAMMA. VENUS is MANIPULATIVE, SOCIABLE and studying PSYCHOLOGY. will SHE even have time to do anything else? 

tw: illness, death, abuse, eating disorder & drug addiction !!

ok so !! venus grew up in nyc & she comes from money. her mom comes from old money whereas her father made his own fortune by being a cutthroat and cunning entrepreneur so her family has............a lot of money

her mom & her dad have 3 kids together (but her dad has a plethora of children from previous marriages) and she’s the middle child. she’s got an older brother, michael, who’s currently 25 and her younger brother dylan was born when she was 3.

none of the carlisle children were particularly close with their parents, who always seemed to be busy doing more important things than taking care of their children, but they’ve always been very close to each other.

illness & death tw !! the baby of the family, dylan, was diagnosed with brain cancer (medulloblastoma) when he was 8 years old and.....it was rly hard for the family as u can imagine. he was in and out of the hospital constantly, going through various treatments. sometimes they would work for a little while and sometimes they would do nothing. they found the best doctors they could and put a ton of money into surgeries and treatment for dylan but all the money in the world couldn’t save him and he passed away when he was only 13 years old.

venus adored her little brother so her whole world just........came crashing down around her after he died. she was hurting but no one wanted to talk about it. her parents basically avoided the entire issue, keeping themselves busy with work to avoid coming home to see an empty seat at the dinner table and an empty bed at night.

she didn’t rly get to experience her teenage years the way she should have bc she was a bit of a shut in after her brother died. she didn’t want to talk to anyone or go out shopping or go to parties or be with her friends. she was fucking depressed and she could barely get out of bed most of the time.

to this day she still is.....not fully comfortable with the death of her brother and she doesn’t like to talk about it. her parents forced her into therapy but she didn’t want to go so the bitch just gave up eventually. she still hasn’t really had the chance to properly grieve the loss of her brother and it’s fucked her up lowkey.

she kind of fell into a shitty crowd in high school, which was quite a shock to the people that knew venus. she used to be this cute happy little girl with nothing but love to give but......she lost that p quickly when she realized how unfair life was.

drug use tw !! she was only sixteen when she started using drugs and drinking heavily. it provided an escape from the reality she found too painful and shitty to bear. she’s tried just about anything you can think of at least once, but her preferred drugs of choice are cocaine and mdma. it wasn’t long before she couldn’t go a day without getting high or itching for her next fix. she went to rehab for her coke problem for the first time when she was 17 but she started using again almost immediately as soon as she got out. she is......basically a shame to her family & they avoid talking about this issue at all costs, choosing to pretend it doesn't exist

she kind of cleaned up her act a bit in her senior year of high school. not in the sense that she drank or got high less, but she kind of ditched the skid crowd to hang out with all of her old friends again. it was all a cover though, to make it seem like she had gotten better and she was healthy and happy again when really.............she was more depressed and miserable than ever.

abuse & eating disorder tw !! it was at this time that she started dating the love of her life, jackson. she felt head over heels for him almost instantly. he was charming and handsome and kind and anything anyone could hope for in a boyfriend. but their relationship was only perfect from afar and eventually at some point during their relationship, jackson revealed that he wasn’t exactly the person she thought he was. he was controlling and manipulative. he wouldn’t let venus do or wear certain things and he’d constantly be checking her phone and social media. he was....pretty much in control of her life and because he had her utterly convinced that he was the only person who would ever love her despite how fucked up she was, she fell into the trap and let him do all that stuff. even when he hit her and started fights she still stayed, partially because she was afraid of what he would do if she left and partially because she believed everything he told her. the subtle emotional abuse was one of the factors that led to the development of an eating disorder.

they had a plan to go to college together and move in with one another but he ended up dumping her right before graduation, leaving her a wreck tbh. buT once he was gone she realized how awful he was, something she was blind to before

in her attempt to leave everything from new ny life behind, she chose to go to school in hawaii to be........far away from everyone and everything

okaY that was a lot but....here’s some more abt just her personality

she’s sad as fuck truly

definitely NOT a nice girl. doesn’t want to get close to anyone unless she has to?? and when she does get close to ppl it’s usually so she can manipulate them in some way or bc she wants to Use them

keeps “friends” around to make her feel wanted and important and make her feel better about herself

rough around the edges. no time for fuck boys but at the same time.........would probably fuck anyone because she wants to be wanted LMAO

like she is very outwardly aggressive & annoyed when ppl hit on her but then will text them at 2am to be like come over

10000% a party bitch. catch her getting fucked uP at every single party

will talk to anyone but also....still hates most ppl

some more info !!!!

she rly doesn’t need to be in school ??? like she doesn’t need a career bc she’s got money from her parents. she doesnt even give a fuck about psychology but.....she figured might as well go to college anyway

doesnt care if she does well she’s just here to fuck around and party

what she actually rly loves is music!!!!!! she has a very lovely singing voice and can play a couple of instruments. she started writing music as an outlet after her brother died & it’s just been something she’s been in love with ever since. lowkey tho

she always looks...........amazing tbH. the last thing she wants is for ppl to see how dead inside she is so she’s always dressed to the 9s. perfect makeup, flawless hair, killer outfit, sky high heels, u know. you’ll never catch her in sweatpants or with a single hair out of place

she’s on the cheer squad & she plays volleyball!!!!

loves yoga & does a lot of pilates as well. she’s fit af but......lowkey thinks her body is disgusting lmao

rly doesn’t believe she is worthy of love so she’s just.........out here trying to have a good time and pretend everything is a-okay even though she is.............................still dying inside sahfdjskfjd

wanted connections!!!

everything tbh. a REAL friend, maybe. exes, fwbs/hook ups, people she manipulates, ppl she parties with, a drug dealer, enemies, fake friends, i want it All.

[adampaisley]

My Foray into Gonzo Journalism

PART 1 - Drugs and Food

In an effort to expand my writing portfolio and find paid work, I’ve taken stock of what is popular in today’s media and decided that I need to pursue the technique of gonzo journalism.

My research shows there are a few paths I can take. I narrowed it down to two; either seek out really awful, uneducated people and tell you about them or I can write about doing things that are ill advised in a cool ironic way.

My day starts at 10am. I normally wake up at 7-7:30 and this day was no exception. But as a gonzo journalist, it’s a big no-no to start your day that early. In fact it’s more likely it’s when your night should end. This was going to be tough. I stayed in bed for a bit, read some news, posted a couple HBDs on Facebook and had a sensible breakfast before heading out.

I chose this day to start my new journalistic endeavor because it was the first day of the month after my birth month. Which meant I was driving with an expired license. I had received a renewal notice in the mail but chose to ignore it. Already feeling the gonzo rush, I head to meet a known local drug dealer to prepare myself for the evening. “Sup cuz?” he greeted me, using his e-cigarette, fully aware of the lack of research on the health ramifications of the technology. It smelled nice, like a blue raspberry sno-cone. I said as much. “Yeah, it’s blue raspberry”, he replied. This drug dealer is actually my second cousin Dale (I’ve changed his name from Dave to Dale to protect his identity).

“What do you need?” he asked. I left with some magic mushrooms and MDMA, or “Molly” in drug-lord parlance. I wondered if this was based on the great Canadian actress Molly Parker but Dave wasn’t sure and said “probably not”. I argue that she deserves something to be named after her but Dave has already left. With the drugs securely in my coat pocket, I continue my journey.

It’s now lunch time. I head to a dive restaurant that’s of such poor quality, even Guy Fieri wouldn’t feature it on Triple D. The decor was unappealing; The crown moulding was a mess. Real sloppy work. I have a seat at the counter. “Hi, what can I get for ya?” the waitress asks. She’s an older woman, mid 40’s, dyed black hair and heavy on the makeup. She isn’t unattractive and you could tell she was a dime in her day. Her small-town eyebrows are still sculpted the same way her mother taught her at thirteen. Personally, I’m feeling extremely uncomfortable, knowing I’ll have to describe her appearance in a weird, misogynistic way in the article as is customary in gonzo journalism. (Sorry Kathy! You were a wonderful server and I know your appearance has no relevance to the story but I feel as if I had to include this.)

I’m about to order a burger with fries but realize that isn’t ill-advised enough. I look to the back page of the menu. “I’ll have the fish please” I say, knowing full well it is likely already prepared, frozen, and simply warmed for the customer. “Okay”

Lunch was pretty good. I feel okay. The tartar sauce was actually quite good. I ask about it and am told it’s made in house. I mention they should sell it and Kathy offers to put some in a container for me. I gladly accept, pay my bill and head out.

I still have a few hours to kill before I’m scheduled to take the drugs so I head to a Starbucks. I’m doing this ironically as it’s not something a cool guy gonzo journalist would do. I ironically charge my phone and order a “caramelli frappiachi or whatever”, purposefully getting the name incorrect because I wouldn’t unironically drink such a delicious beverage. I sit and play a couple turns on my Yahtzee app before heading toward the hospital.

I decided to take the drugs across the street from the emergency room. I haven’t done drugs before and read about some pretty serious allergic reactions online. My reasoning for taking them across the street and not in front of the building was twofold; less chance of being seen by a narc (drugs slang for “Narcotic Tattletale”) and if I had to cross the street with a severe allergic reaction, it would be great for the story. As a bonus, the bus I wanted to take after was west bound so it made sense to be on that side of the street.

I ingested the magic mushroom and didn’t feel an immediate allergic reaction, so I hopped on my bus and started my “trip”. ;)

Shoot, I forgot to swear in the article. Fuck the establishment! Okay, thanks.

PART 2 - I’m on Drugs, which are Illegal.

It was hard to tell if the drugs were starting to have an effect or if the bus is always this unpleasant. I hadn’t taken transit in many years, as my parents gave me a Honda Civic as a high school graduation present and it has proven to be a reliable companion. I’ve had to do a few minor repairs but am overall very happy with the reliability.

On the bus, a man is eating sunflower seeds and spitting them onto the floor. Another smells greatly of urine, yet still has the mind to catcall a teenage girl. An unkempt teen audibly burps while texting with the keyboard click sound on. It’s hard to imagine this wasn’t a hallucination but a few people I told about it suggested that these behaviors are not uncommon on the bus. I push through it by fondly thinking about the comforts of my sedan.

I finally arrive at my destination, a public park. From what I had gleaned from my research, I was now supposed to experience something considered illegal in some countries with a person of notoriety. Perhaps do peyote with Deadmau-Five or ingest an extremely hot sauce with Dave Coulier.

I had contacted a number of people and the one who was kind enough to join me was a friend of mine who is a regional journalist who is verified on Twitter. He was not very receptive to doing anything illegal but after some convincing, he agreed to eat some foods that aren’t allowed to be sold in the country because of regulatory law.

We kicked things off with a glass of Ovaltine I bought online. You can get it where I’m from as well but it’s a bit different from the British one because it has a colourant that isn’t approved here. We both agreed; it tasted pretty good.

Next up, I had tried to get my hands on some farm raised salmon but it didn’t pan out so I had to get a bit creative for the next one. We each had a Kinder Surprise egg. They’re legal here in Canada but not in the US as the toy inside is a choking hazard. We removed the toys and ate the chocolate without incident. They’re great. I received a puzzle inside, which is disappointing but my friend got a frog that jumped if you flick it, which was pretty cool.

I thanked him for his time and asked if he wanted to hang out and join me tonight. He said he had to head home because he and his partner were going to watch Rango.

I’m flying solo.

PART 3 - A Set Back

Well, something caught up with me. Possibly the magic mushrooms or more likely the Ovaltine. I’m pretty lactose intolerant and spend the next two hours in the washroom with a Gatorade and my iPad.

I watch a few eps of (pre-Logan era) Gilmore Girls to comfort myself.

I worry my article is in peril of ending unceremoniously if I’m unable to make it out that night, so I take an Imodium and have a short nap.I wake up feeling better and I decide that I’m up to the challenge of a night out.

I think I’ll take my car this time. I don’t want to drive under the influence but I figure any effect the mushrooms would have had is gone after my time on the toilet. The bus is just too much right now. Especially with the threat of loose stool.

PART 4 - I Drop My Bean

I pre-purchased tickets to a concert by a local punk band called Truck Frudeau. From what I’d seen online, their music is terrible and their point of view misguided but I decided to attend anyways. My research shows that these articles aren’t about sharing great art but finding something that will result in people clicking on the article to scoff.

I arrive at the venue at 9:00 PM. It said doors at 9 but when I enter there is nobody taking tickets and the band is just setting up. I figure this would be a good time to talk to them for my story. I’m not sure of how the interview will go but if they’re cool, I can act like I’m cool for talking to them or(hopefully) they say something incendiary, and I can be really condescending and sensationalize it.

I ask the lead singer, Josh, what his main problem with the Liberal government is. He says that “Justin Trudeau is just a pawn who answers to rich assholes who want to sell guns to the middle east so people kill each other.” I imagine this is not the PM’s main objective but there is likely a very troubling and continued history of Canadian arms sales. I want to research this further but I know I need to be careful the article is political enough to draw interest while never veering out of the realm of trash entertainment.

I ask to the drummer, Wes, about what he wants to accomplish with the band. He tells me that he doesn’t “pay attention to politics. (He) just likes to smoke weed and hang out when (he’s) not working at the bank”. (Off the record, I ask him what it’s like to smoke weed. I don’t want him getting in any legal trouble and I don’t want to look like I am not cool in the article.)

I thank them for their time and they finish setting up. About fifteen or so people are now gathered in front of the stage. This seems like the right time for me to take the Molly(Parker) but I’m a little gun-shy from my earlier narcotic experience and only take half of the already minimal dose I purchased. I drink a whole bottle of water with it because I heard MDMA dehydrates and I’m already pretty dried out from the loose stool.

The band begins their set. A group of teens start to mosh so I stand near the back. I think I start to feel the effect of the drug because I find myself enjoying the band. I tap my toe and nod my head, really feeling it.

It’s now about three songs in and I’ve hit a wall. I’m so tired and can’t take it any longer. I head to the washroom, the music is stripped of all the deafening volume and I can really hear how poorly they’re playing. I go to the stall and sit on the toilet.

Next thing I know, I’m woken up  from a dream about going to the airport to look for my misplaced gloves. There was a punk band playing at the airport in the dream, which makes a lot of sense now that I’m awake. An awful smelling bartender with camo pants tucked into his combat boots tells me the show has concluded and they’re about to lock up. I ask them to call a taxi for me. I get into the taxi and give him my address. The driver asks me what band I saw. I pause for a second, then say “Uhh…Jeff’s Place” because I didn’t want to explain what Truck Frudeau is all about and that’s the best fake band name I could come up with at the moment.

I arrive home and head straight to bed. I sleep soundly until 8am which is very late for me.

Fuck the establishment. Thank you for reading.