No, not the chemically induced kind.
My mother was on a ditching-out-crap spree in my room at her house. (I think it shall no longer be my room.) She brought me a big bag of miscellaneous stuff, most of it from my teen years. There were treasures, and there was junk. Treasures:
School newspaper - we started the school newspaper in grade 10 or 11. I was the editor and putter-together via the old method of cut & paste. (Paper, not ctrl-c.) It's freakin HILARIOUS to read now. I especially love the part where I lipped off the high school from a neighbouring town. What was even more gratifying was the lack of stern criticism from the Principal.
I had also been part of the first student newspaper in college, again as the editor. I have two favourite memories:
1.) The advice columnist was Dr. Wop. Many people were outraged, saying that he was being racist with his title, but he was a freakin Italian, and proud of it. I can understand the public outcry from his advice to a student to masturbate while watching figure skating in order to solve a homework problem. :) (Yet I printed it.)
2.) Houseparty. Booze. Hot tub. Party loudly all night. Parent of partier comes out screaming at us at 6am. Was Dean of school. Majorly embarassed.Junk:
Bon Jovi poster.
Superhost Certificate. (Just how long were those good for anyway?)
Mickey Mouse baseball cap from Las Vegas. (not remembering which whacked relative thought I would appreciate that.)
French homework. (What the #$@?)