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unique visitors since July 27, 2005 |
I eagerly wait to hear what kind of criminal charges Rep. Kennedy will be facing.
Surely crashing your car while intoxicated would be viewed more seriously than being stopped for going 10 MPH over the speed limit with a blood-alcohol content barely above the legal limit. Surely a congressman wouldn't be held to a lower standard than a schlub like me.
May 5, 2006, Boston Herald:
U.S. Rep. Patrick Kennedy insisted yesterday that he had consumed “no alcohol” before he slammed his Mustang convertible into a concrete barrier near his office, but a hostess at a popular Capitol Hill watering hole told the Herald she saw him drinking in the hours before the crash.
[snip]
Earlier in the evening, Kennedy issued a statement through his office blaming the accident and strange behavior surrounding it on prescription drugs.
Jan. 8, 2006, a drunken Jeff Conaway on "Celebrity Fit Club":
"Everybody, thank you for your concern. It was nothing to be concerned about. I took a couple of Benadryl and I got loopy. ... I am on prescription drugs, yes."
UPDATE: Not to be flip about this situation, because Kennedy now has stopped lying and is going into drug rehab. Hey, it worked for P.O.B.
A tip from the newly experienced:
Never, under any circumstances, accidentally dry swallow an aspirin.
I can now say with some authority that wandering through life feeling like you're having a twelve hour long severe heart attack is far less entertaining than you'd think it'd be.
Also, a hospital nurse will laugh at you when you tell her what you've done.
Perhaps if I had spent my youthful clubbing days in a more pharmaceutically productive manner I might have learned the lessons needed to avoid this sort of incident.
(I'm feeling much better now)
It might just lose me my license to practice homosexualism to admit this, but I have never been to a circuit party in my life. And now I am probably nearing the age where I would look foolish even trying to fit in.
I have (coincidentally) missed both Miami's Winter Party and Palm Springs' White Party by only a week each. And while a friend once tried to take me to one of the events for DC's Cherry party, he had gotten inaccurate information about the venue, and we ended up having to go elsewhere.
"When Boys Fly
The documentary follows a group of friends at the aforementioned White Party – not a commentary on the ethnicity of the attendees, despite appearances – presenting a realistic portrait of the highs and lows of the often chemically enhanced revelry.
But if there was an agenda in Stewart Halpern and Lenid Rolov's desert tale of love, lust and and lewdness, I couldn't find it. Instead, I saw a story about boys who came, partied and made mistakes – but, above all, had fun.
Many screen captures and a lengthy video clip, most of which is NSFW, after the jump ...
My only reason for watching "Celebrity Fit Club 3" left the show after it was revealed on the most recent episode that Jeff Conaway was indeed doing more than Benadryl. Much more.
VH1 faced a tough choice: Either lose their most compelling ratings draw, or potentially lose Conaway's train wreck of a life with cameras rolling. Remarkably, reality TV took the high road.
Producers staged an intervention and brought in a TV doctor, Drew Pinsky, for on-air counseling before shuttling Jeff into detox. (The counseling session occurred, incidentally, after Jeff overdosed and was rushed to a hospital. He was later replaced on "Fit Club" by the not-really-fat-at-all Gunnar Nelson.)
Let's recap what our own armchair MDs thought Jeff was on:
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It turns out that Jeff is actually taking enough depressants to bring down a grown hippo. His daily fix includes:
• Alcohol (undetermined amount).
• "Benzoids" (undetermined amount). I had never even heard of these before. But I guess it sounds like Benadryl. Benzoids, or Benzodiazepines, are a family of drugs that include Valium, Librium, Ativan, Klonopin, Halcion, and several others including ...
• ... Xanax (six pills per day, or 12mg).
• And finally, Norco, also known as Vicodin or hydrococone (one to three pills per day, equivalent to six Vicodin).
Malcontent voters correctly guessed that alcohol and Xanax were in the mix, but I made the mistake of not including Norco or Benzoid among the nominees. So congratulations, voters, you're now as qualified to make diagnoses as Bill Frist!
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We promised a Jeff Conaway meltdown, and we're delivering.
Last week, like a good gay site, we focused on Chastity Bono's storyline on "Celebrity Fit Club 3."
But Conaway is our man this time. Why?
Let's face it, MalcoVision was already pretty heavy (pun intended) on the lesbians yesterday, and besides, substance abusers are much funnier when they're not recovering.
Jeff showed up for a canoe race whacked out of his talentless mind.
His speech was slurred worse than Dick Clark's, he couldn't walk a straight line, and he passed out when he was supposed to be paddling.
He attributed his state, variously, to one Benadryl, two Bendryls, and possibly muscle relaxants.
He was still pretty looped at the weigh-in the next day, and then he went totally off his fa-sheezy, pitching a fit – along with his shoes – when his commitment to the weight-loss contest was called into question.
Our poll last week asked which "Celebrity Fit Club's" girth was most shocking.
Jeff finished a strong third, behind Kelly LeBrock and Chastity Bono:
Which "Celebrity Fit Club 3" fatty's fatness is most shocking?
This week, our poll is less to solicit opinion than to satisfy our morbid curiosity, prevailing upon any potential medical expertise in the audience: Just what drug(s), exactly, is Jeff Conaway on? Observe his behavior in the following clip and render judgment.
[Watch video – 6:51, WMV format, high bandwidth]
[Watch video – 6:51, WMV format, low bandwidth]
I am in my hotel in Delhi and just took my new Ambien CR to make sure I get to sleep and reset my clock for our meetings tomorrow.
I am extremely hesitant to blog much of anything – first because I am in the very strong grip of Ms. Ambi's potent gaze; and second, anything that I write is liable to become a treatise on the spiders that are climbing the walls of my room, devolving into paranoid shrieks and then finally a face plant into a pool of saliva on the keyboard.
But I have WiFi in my room. Sweet, understanding Lady WiFi. She's a little slower than what I'm used to, but does one really need to see a cumshot at 500kbps?
OK, the Ambien is tugging me under. Must ... stop ... blogging. Fingers ... like ... swollen sausages ... pounding random keyszzzzzzzz ......
A former meth addict talked about his life of drug-fueled bathhouse sex binges on yesterday's Oprah.
Oh, yes, he's also something of a poster child for many of the other wonderful accoutrements of his fast-paced lifestyle: unsafe sex, HIV, addiction, homelessness, hunger, prostitution, and suicide attempts.
Yeah, makes me wanna rush right out and try the stuff.
Video clips deleted at demand of Jeffrey Friedman, attorney for Oprah Winfrey
Marion Barry pleads guilty to two charges stemming from failure to pay federal income taxes.
So what bitch "set you up" this time, Marion? Lady Justice?
| “ | Several case reports and small case studies have documented a withdrawal syndrome after abrupt discontinuation of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs). ... The most common symptoms were ... vivid dreams ... ” | |
| — Journal Watch Psychiatry |
An underwear-clad dog that impressively pees into a toilet while standing on its hind legs, although not entirely accurately.
Getting locked in the basement of a friend from grade school.
Saving both Kramden and Norton from certain death in a frozen pond.
Having a private chat with Oprah. I advise her to dump Stedman and follow her lesbianic heart. We both giggle like little girls.
Sex: multiple times, multiple settings.
I am fortunate never to have gone through the pain and misery of withdrawal from an illegal drug such as heroin. Indeed, I have tried illegal drugs only a handful of times in my life (Ecstasy twice and marijuana thrice.) I have not tried them more than that, in part, because I had essentially zero response to them.
But I have to say that withdrawal from Lexapro, which I am currently undergoing, is no real picnic either. (I alluded to it only briefly in a previous post, but I am blogging about it now because it has gotten worse, not better.)
I started taking it a couple of years ago mainly as the result of a very bad relationship: He was crazy, so I went on medication.
Somewhat ironically, the drugs helped me see what a rotten boyfriend he was, so I decided I couldn't be around him anymore.
Lexapro did good things for me. It made me much happier and social, and helped me better deal with adverse situations. But on the downside, it makes you much more sensitive to weight gain, especially if you fall off the workout wagon for any length of time. It can also decrease your sex drive, although that is admittedly a blessing for me under normal circumstances, and the effect moderated with time anyway.
When the doc was originally experimenting with the proper drugs and dosages for me nearly two years ago, I went off Lexapro entirely for a short time before going back on it. The withdrawal was unpleasant. Primarily, I felt dizzy and sometimes even on the verge of blackout, especially when moving my head around. Worst of all was at least one full-fledged panic attack I endured, the first ever in my life. It was triggered by a work setting that I am no longer in.
But even without the panic attacks, this period of withdrawal seems longer and more severe. Maybe it is because I'm battling jetlag on top of it all. I feel so woozy and disconnected from my body and brain, and I have been on the edge of falling asleep at the most inopportune times. I am just glad I have a long flight ahead of me to try to readjust.
I decided to go off the drug for the reasons described above, but also because when I moved to New York, the five prescription refills I had in DC would not transfer across state lines. I had never intended to live the rest of my life needing psychotropic drugs flowing through my veins, so now seemed like the ideal time to see if I could cope without chemical assistance.
I also have the benefit of having traded up from a fucked-up, alcoholic boyfriend to the ideal mate. I know he will help me get through this, or anything else.
I'm sure he won't mind what happens to my sex drive when I come off SSRIs, either.
