There are some things you just know are off the table after a certain age. Like for me, I know I’m never going to ride a motorcycle. You won’t catch me dead on one of those things, especially after having a near-death experience on an ATV, and those things aren’t even as fast or dangerous as motorcycles. Put it this way, they have twice as many wheels, are half as slow and I still crashed one. What’s going to happen if I get on a motorcycle? I could spontaneously combust for all I know.
One thing that isn’t off the table at this point in my life is crack.
I’m not saying I’m going to do crack, or that I even want to do crack. It’s just something that isn’t completely off the table yet. Like if I were at a Hollywood party and Tom Cruise came up to me and said, “want to do some crack?” I’d do some crack.
Hell, if I was on a date with even a marginally attractive girl and she said, “want to do some crack and fuck around?” I’d do some crack.
Motorcycle? Hell no.
Crack? Where’s Tom at?
That’s not to say my body is a magnet for any and all drugs. I definitely wouldn’t do heroine. The whole needle things freaks me out. I hate needles so much I’d rather get AIDS than take an AIDS test.
That needle or some AIDS? Hook it up with a little bit of AIDS.
Obviously this isn’t the recipe for everyone, or even good life choices, but at least I know myself.