We were talking today at lunch about drugs--pushers we have known and loved, boyfriends with habitual pot use and bad trips that may or may not have been caused by drugs laced with cyanide (Mom: those other girls were talking about it, not me. Although I know you have used pot before, so you can't get too mad if I considered doing it like once or twice). I don't know why I didn't turn into a stoner. Well, yes, I do. I was a goodie-goodie. And drugs scared the hell out of me. Every eleven year old should be made to read Go Ask Alice, the supposed real diary of a girl who is slipped LSD at a party one night and becomes a total druggie in a matter of minutes. That book single-handedly kept me bff with Chuckie the Canine Drug Dog at elementary and middle school. And then in high school, I didn't hang out with a crazy wild crowd. I do remember that I got drunk the first time ever with my friend down the street Wallis, but it was ridiculous. We didn't know what we were doing and so we poured mixed drinks and they tasted terrible and then we both cried and I went home and collapsed on my bed refusing the meat loaf for dinner. The next time I drank was probably with Jennifer in 10th grade. I think we drank beer. I remember we got her mom to take us to the mall and both of us were wearing these matching jogging outfits (both hers. She always had way cooler clothes than I did) and she made me laugh so hard that I peed my pants. ONLY A LITTLE! I had to go into the mall bathroom to turn the pants around so that the wet spot wouldn't show. When I came out of the stall, Jen was lying in the chair pretending to be asleep. She said, I fell asleep. Where am I? I almost peed again. She could always make me laugh the most. Didn't even drink that much in college and then after college, when I moved to Chicago, I dated a guy for two years who was an alcoholic. A very sweet man, wiry and in shape (he ran 10 miles a day and competed in marathons), but he drank Absolut on the rocks every night until he passed out. He once embarrassed me completely by spilling an entire bottle of red Gatorade on Jen's carpet before passing out. They had to get the carpet replaced. I can't remember if we ever paid them back or not. She was very cool about it, but I felt like a jerk. We had a very emotional break up. He tried to quit drinking, went to A.A. and everything, but I discovered vodka one night in his glass of water and couldn't stop crying. He weaved in the doorway, saying, Why are you being so dramatic? Why are you acting like Lady MacBeth? (He was a well-read drunk). He would be almost fifty years old now, if he's still alive.