Troma Night on Saturday was another good one: we think we’ve got the recipe of attendance numbers, film content, and other silliness just right now. I’ve even promised to update the Troma night web site when I get round to it.
Claire, Paul and I took some magic mushrooms, acquired from Little Amsterdam, Aberystwyth’s first sex shop (scoring each of us at least one purity test point we didn’t already have). Apart from potentially enhancing the general feeling of drunkenness that comes about from Troma Night; the only effect of Claire & I’s limited (experimental) dose came later, when we giggled incessantly about the idea of penises with hands. It was funny at the time. Claire went out like a lamp and reports weird dreams. I couldn’t get to sleep until about 4:30am. Weird. Paul reports little other than a feeling of weightlessness while travelling home.
On a not-too-dissimilar drug-related note, overdosed stupidly on caffeine on Tuesday and pranced around excitedly, like a fairy, before throwing up. Not so good. Felt somewhat better after that, though.
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