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how do you know when the party???s over?





How do you know if you’ve crossed the line and you’re in trouble or heading for trouble? Unfortunately, there’s no clear-cut answer to this question; everyone’s line is different. For example, getting high every weekend may be fine for you but too much for someone else. And some guys can use for years without any problems.

But let’s face it, there are definitely some red flags along the way that could let you know that you’re on the fast track to Sketch-Ville.

The Party's Over:

Party is over when you have read every quote on this list thinking it will make you tired enough to fall asleep without realizing it is no longer dark outside when you finish.

You know the partys over when youre using a dirty underwear to wrap around your arm to find a vein so you can slam.

The party's over when you have major burns on your thumbs from holding the lighter... and you keep going anyway.

The party is over when you start charging yer friends fer hits.

The party's over when you leave to another state to get rehab and you call your old buddies to tell them about a new Better connection you found 1500 miles away

You know the party's over when the "new videos" category on porn sites is nothing but reruns.

You know the parties over when your getting your dope from your dad that left you 10 years ago for dope.... And hating him so fuckin much and stooping as low as doing dope when all you wanted was a relationship, You know the parties over when your everything youve stood against your entire life. You know the parties over when the good guys become the bad guys FUCK dope it has me and theres nothing i can do.... At least i know why he left me at least i got closure.

The party is so over when u have horrible bubbling second degree burns on your thumb bc ur trying to desperately stem dope that's not even there. I've done this twice...

The party is over when you've got a bunch of shit and no one will party or have sex with you.

You know the party's over when you have thoroughly reviewed (and now attempted to contribute to) a website for gay tweakers, and you're not even gay.

You know the party's over when the hot rocker chick drinking a beer in your kitchen is actually an upside down mop surrounded by trash in your closet

You know the party's over when... Your idea of mood lighting is a 100 watt bulb in every socket.

You know the party is over when you get complaints from your downstairs neighbors about the noise and people walking up and down your stairs at all odd hours of the night. You need to leave the house but are afraid that going out the front door will result in a phone call to the police. So, you decide repel out of your bedroom window, tied to a rope, with your trusty headlamp on...only to look over and see a cop car driving by.


you know the party's over when you have to stop talking to yourself because your mouth hurts, from talking to yourself too much

You know the party is over when you're so high you say to the guy you're with "Did you move here from San Francisco?" when you're actually in San Francisco!

The Party is over when you keep telling everyone the spots on your face are ingrown hairs.


The party is over when you go from 65 thou a year, a family, a house and a fat car to living with your friend, no car, no family, and unemployment (till that runs out!). And still you "have to have some!"

The party is over when you start lying about eating food and sleeping so people don't think you're a tweaker. Nice try, but they can still tell.

The party is over when you stop smoking weed.

The party is over when you go to the Wal-Mart and pick up a "spare" propane torch.

The party is over when you feel your cell phone vibrate in your pocket, then you realize it was just your leg muscle twitching.

The party is over after you painstakingly look for lost shards in the carpet. FINALLY you find a very tiny chunk of something that might be tweak, but you're pretty sure it's not. But you smoke it anyways, and taste that it's just a piece of a tortilla chip.

The party is over when your friend asks how far away from the party you are, and you say 15 minutes when you're still out of state.

The party is over when you don't feel comfortable talking to anyone who's not also on day 3.

The party is over when you realize you've been tapping one of your feet nonstop for the last 3 days.

The party is over when you notice that your teeth are looser than they usually are.

The party is over when you stand up to get a glass of water, but instead you decide to empty the ashtray(s), re-organize your CD case, move some furniture around, try to pop that "pimple," walk around looking for a lighter (which has been in your right hand for 15 minutes), then sit down because your dehydrated and have a headache because you never got the glass of water.

The party's over when you have to crawl out of the sling because you can't feel your arms and legs anymore, and you're so hot you go to take an ice shower and see every inch of your skin is fire engine red.

The party is over once you have gotten those BENDABLE SHARDS!

The party is over when you've met someone else stuck even harder in game.

You know the party's over when you spend the night before your birthday slamming, almost miss your flight, and spend your birthday cruising the bathrooms at the airport because the trains don't work, waiting for your real friends to pick you up. That night you swear that your friend, who is 3000 miles away is stuck in a third story bedroom in your building, and you stay up all night trying to find him, later calling him to have him answer the phone.

There is a high probability that the party is over if you've spent the last hour cruising a really hot guy who is having a cigarette on his deck late at night after the Morning Party on Fire Island, then you make your move and reach out and grab his cock and find that you have been cruising a promo poster for the aforementioned Morning Party and the stud's cock is actually a decorative part of the structure made of pinecones.

You might realize that the party is over when all of your closest 20 or so communal barebacking (et cetera) "best friends" and "soulmates" can't think of anything better to discuss at 4 a.m. on a February Wednesday in 2004 than who has the highest viral load, and you realize that you don't think about "that kind of stuff" because yours is obviously zero because you were HIV- on your last test, and you also note that not once in the past year of non-stop private sex club marathon partying did you even consider your or anyone's HIV status.

You know the party's over when no matter how hard you try and how much you're annoying your tweakeriffic "friends" you cannot stop referring to Tina in third person and telling "her" tragic little Tinalicious anecdotes that in your head are so funny.

The party is over when it took you longer to "get ready" for the party than the party itself lasted, which was over by the time you were "finally ready" to go to it.

The party is over when you make shapes and silhouette out of the trees at night, tripped out huh.

It's over when you wake up in a hotel room and don't know if it's your room, if it's day or night, or even where you are.

The party is over when the 5th of the month becomes the 25th and you have become a bathhouse resident to avoid your probation officer.

You know the party is over when you use a zippy tie as a cockring.

The party is over when you are blowing donuts of smoke, and when you compare on who blows more smoke.

The party is over when you watch the one that you love stick needles in their arms and you know that there is nothing you can do to help them.

The party's over when you can't count the second hand of your watch for 15 seconds without losing count.

In addition to being a life wrecking, spirit killing, disease getting drug... don't ya think that it's just too damn much work? I mean with the butane, syringes, torches, glass pipes, porno, little baggies trying to be opened with lubed up shaking fingers... isn't it easier for us all to stay clean?

The party is over when you catch yourself nude in the mirror and you freak because for a split second you wonder how this ugly fucker got in your house.

The party's over when you've got one cock up your ass, your own cock down another guy's throat and countless more pics from other tweakers' profiles of God knows who's cock and/ass he might have come across in his own crackedon travels... geeezzzz-Louise...

It’s over when you go from turning several hundred dollar tricks, getting treated like royalty, to being homeless, living in tramp camps, and turning 10 and twenty $ tricks all night and day, and spend every cent on dope so you can stay up to do it again.

It’s over when you choose which dealer to cop from by which one you owe the least money to- you there! you know you did that!!

When your hotel room is 4 feet deep in trash, wall to wall, from dumpster diving.

The party’s over when you jump all over your shit with powdered sugar to sell, and then start to jones so you shoot it up yourself.

The party’s over when you accidentally mix your dope with the beach instead of the water and only notice when you’re blowing the bubbles out and getting ready to fire up.

you know the party’s over when you need to smoke a bowl just to go to sleep.

you know the party is over when you just bought a sack, but you don’t have the urge to do it nor the ability to see it cause your eyelids are closing by themselves after being open for a week.

the party’s over when you’ve been celibate for most of your life, then you take a year off, fuck around and a year later you’re diagnosed HIV poz, Syphillis, Staph infection….

the party’s over when you are 18 and HIV+ and care more about where to get a rig.

you know the party’s over when you actually have to go to the doctor cause your foot’s been asleep for three days cause a night of really good shit and video games

The party is over when you jump on your own Mother and actually try to kill her, just because she was trying to keep you out of jail.

The party is sooo over when you have to have your guard up at every filthy ghetto spot you smoke at because there is a chance a cockroach will trip you or a rat will take your wallet.

The party has done been over when you have lost your job, your family, your self respect and your home but your still willing to give crank one more chance.

you know the party is over when you have lost your front teeth from using too much and you still go around to all the tweak houses thinking you are cool

you know the party’s over when you go to your dealers with the perfect story about why you don’t have his money, but another bump will help you get it, when you notice that he is forcing another customer who can’t pay to perform oral sex on the barrel of a 12 gauge, with a shaky trigger finger, while screaming WHERE’S MY MONEY BITCH?

you know the party’s over when you have to wait another thirty minutes to score because your dealer is busy pulling out the last of his teeth- by hand

you know it’s over when you’re doing the crappy-flop from a hot shot, and you can’t wait for the seizure to stop so you can do a shot of some different dope.

The party’s over when you see something shiny 20 feet into a blackberry patch, crawl in to get it and come out six hours later with an aluminum can, and looking like you had a run-in with freddy kruger.

You MIGHT want to think about the party being over when you’ve been sketched out for the whole weekend, and found a second pnp party group to join after hardly any sleep from the LAST pnp group you attended, AND the guys judge you up and down from the second you walk in for 20 mins. and flat out tell you this aint gonna work for us, AFTER being convinced to drive 30 miles for a good time! (not finished yet!) THEN you cant drive all the way back home cause the sketchy ness so you stop at the nearest Sex Club to “relax” though you stay in your room ALL night because you could swear you hear EVERYONE complaining about how bad you smell even after THREE showers! Then you go to leave at checkout, get strange looks, get way too sketched to drive home and call a friend to come pick you up, which he does with ANOTHER of his friends so we can all play in the sex club. Only to find out that my friend’s OTHER friend was one of the boys that rejected me the night before!! God damn!

The party’s over when you are trying to hook up the phone sex lines, and you give your address, and then hear a “click”

You know the party is over when you spend an entire two hours in a church bathroom shooting up because two of your ex boyfriends decided to show up to gay youth group and you just couldn’t handle being in the same room with them.

You know the party’s over when you lose everything you own in a U-Haul that gets hunted down in another city and repossessed by the cops.

The party is over when you crash after a week of being up, and the only reason your supposive girlfriend pulls down your pants is to get to your dope hidden in a pouch strapped to your leg.

You know the party's over when you have to use 4 different credit cards and all the cash in your pocket to pay for the porn, lube, and dildos you are buying for the party you are throwing that night for YOURSELF!! Then in the parking lot you actually ask yourself if the 14" colt dildo was BIG ENOUGH?

The party’s over for your friend when she has you search her car for bugs & tracking devices after she gets it detailed.

The party's over when your doing circles in bed looking for shards for 4+ hours and wake up hanging half off the bed.

You know the party's over when your shadow-people start seeing shadow-people.

A sign that you may be overdoing it is when you're 5 or 10 minutes into an especially informative radio or T.V. program and just before you pick up the phone to tell a friend to tune it in, you notice it's in a foreign language you neither speak nor understand.

Remove any doubt it's time to cut back if, instead of admitting you tweaked on a perceptual hallucination, you think you're one of those miracle cases you've heard about, where someone suddenly can communicate in a language they've never spoken before.

The party's over when you end up outside of the rave you were just in thinking Taxis are cops cars while having an anxiety attack. Now instead of dancing all night, you're flat on your ass waiting for an ambulance.

The party's over when you've tweaked for so long the front porch light switch in your house now flushes the toilet.

You know the party is over when you're sitting in your room and you see your webcam light on and you think the feds are watching u thru your webcam.

You know the party might need to end when you get arrested twice, in the same day...In two different counties...

The party is DEFINITELY over when you figure out it doesn't really matter if you "hold it in" or not.

The party is over when you debate with your "friends", which is better to use? A torch or a lighter?

You know your party is over when you find yourself in the local bathhouse hot tub making bubble art out of boredom at 7 a.m.

The party is over when you would rather take multiple loads over several days then care about your t-cell count.

The party is over when you start having 2 day weeks.

The party is over when you're always late because "you have to do this real quick"

You know the party's over when the tree people are knocking at the door

Party's over when your house is in Everybody's trunk of their car.

You know the party's over when you spend more time looking for your pizzo then you do anything else

The party is over when you think your goatee hair is glass shards embedded in your face and you spend hours plucking them out.

I knew it was over for a good friend of mine when I saw a profile posted about him online. The title of the profile read "Hotrail Tranny."

The party may be over if you've made sure to turn off the "online now" icon on myspace so no one will see you are on at 4 am on a Tuesday.

You know the party is over when you're green and your best friend is spraying you down with a hose while calling you skull face!

You know it's over when you empty the shredder and attempt to reconstruct the confetti into some sort of legible evidence of your boyfriend's philandering.

You know it is time for the party to stop when the ambulance takes you to the emergency room for the third time in a month and you still can't tell the difference between a comedown and a heart attack.

You know the party is over when you've declared bankruptcy, had your car repossessed, yet you still manage to spend $200 a month on phone sex.

The party's over when you have imaginary relationships that you believe are entirely real with the porn stars you are watching on your speed binges.

The party's over when you buy a bag for you and your partner and buy an extra one for your own personal stash and keep it secret.

The party is over when your roommates that aren't home follow you to the bathroom to make sure you're not slamming tina.

The party was over for me when I no longer referred to days of the week as Monday thru Sunday but as day 1, day 2, day 3...

The party's over if you have ever had an anxiety attack so bad that you tried to sleep it off then decided you'd been in bed too long and so sat on the couch and decided that wasn't working either and so went back to bed... bed couch bed couch bed couch... for a whole week.

You know the party's over when you've bookmarked tweaker.org & dancesafe.com in your favorites!

You know the party's over when you resort to using your flashlight to get around the house because you've used all the light bulbs as pizzos and can't afford to replace the bulbs!

You know the party's over when you spend more on disposable lighters, butane, or candles than you do on food!

The party is truly over once you and your friends begin to remember days of the week based on endless (and meaningless) conversations rather than actual calendar days.

The party was over for me when my friends and I started comparing who'd been without sleep the longest! And we thought of it as an accomplishment!

The party was over when they knew me on a first name basis at the local pawnshop. And always said, "See you next week!"

You know the party's over when your phone rings 24/7 and you're awake and happy to take each call!

The party might be over when you have just read this whole list and have actually experienced most of them.

The party ended for me when I'd been up for too many days and didn't know where the hell I was or who I was when I'd been in the same place since the party started.

The party's over when you notice from across the room that there's an oily forehead spot just above the peephole on your door.

You know the party's over if you have "killed off" living relatives in order to get out of going to work.

The party's definitely over if you have spent days on end crying about breaking up with your boyfriend, who was your dealer, who you swore you could change.

The party was over when I stole from the drug dealer, and came back for more, realized someone else was about to steal, and they did. So I hid and watched out to see what else would happen and 4 others came into the apartment one at a time and stole also. We were his "best" customers.

Party's over when your mate now thinks you're calling the cops on him, only it's more like you know the party's over when your mate insists you're recording them for the feds.

The years long party ended when the people in the room next to mine always knew to play the song that I had stuck in my head.

The party is over when a special radio station that only tweakers can hear is being broadcast into your fireplace and they're telling you to go up on the roof to check for the TV station cameras that are there to videotape your arrest to put it on the news. The fireplace radio station is also instructing you to go to foxnews.net for directions on how to get out of being arrested and then you are in a panic because foxnews.net does not exist as a website.

The party is over when you have made friends and enemies with your neighbors, all through telepathic communication.

The party was over when my dealer, who now had a two-gram a day habit, was so tweaked out he started stealing from me to support his habit.

The party ended when I couldn't stop thinking they are watching me through my PC monitor or listening to me through the built-in microphone. And don't forget about the two-way web cam they installed while I was out of the house!

You need to stop the party if you have a yard sale 365 days a year, 24 hours and 7 days a week. But all you're trying to sell is junk you've found in the dumpster or behind the Goodwill.

The party is definitely done when your boyfriend cries for you to come back home, but you stay at some undisclosed hotel, gettin' screwed by your dealer.

The party's over if you have ever read this entire page and cried about it and laughed about it and then really sobbed about it only to decide to email it to your friends.

The party's over when you wonder how it is 6 AM when just 5 minutes ago it was 4 AM.

This party's over and it's time to quit when you pull up to your drug dealer's house and your dad's car is in the driveway.

The party's over when you are in a hotel room on the 8th floor and you swear that you just saw someone at the window!

You know the party is over when you are scraping all the old 20 bags to get that one "I swear it's the final" last hit but you still have that hidden oz but it's hidden so well that not even you can find it.

The party was over when the owner of the club where I was doing drag told me my jaw was so clenched that it looked like I could no longer open it wide enough to get the pipe in.

The party is over when your live-in boyfriend is out of town to visit his family and you are having sex with one guy upstairs and another one downstairs and you think you are such a rock star for getting it on and getting away with it.

The party is over when you call your friends to save you from the shadow people but you're not sure which shadow is the friend you called.

The party is over when you find yourself sitting in some doorway trying to cover up the bloody spots and scratches on your face with make-up.

The party is over when all the cock shots I post on a hook-up site are blurry because my hands are always shaking.

The party is over when your good friend is running a brothel out of your guest bedroom 'cause Tina makes him horny and you allow it 'cause he gets you high.

The party is way, way over when your constant computer tweaking makes it impossible for you to finish reading an article on Wikipedia before clicking on a link to another article, then repeating the process with each successive article until you cannot remember what article you started with even though it seemed somewhat important to look for it at the time. Another "Wiki" sign that the party is over: No matter what you started reading, you somehow end up at a meth, psychosis, or panic attack "resource page."

The party might over if you log on to web sites like this for entertainment at 4:00am.

The party was over for me when me and my buds were playin’ Carpet Ranger down on all fours, combing every last square inch of the carpet lookin’ for that one shard that NEVER dropped!!!

The party is over when you've got your closet in the trunk of your car (if you have a car).

The party is over when you find yourself anxiously seeking a couch to crash on for the night (every night).

The party is over when you've progressed to life as the dealer, and no longer the buyer.

The party’s over when you would love to just stick your head out the window to get a breath of fresh air but you don’t want any of those cameras to snap your picture.

The party has definitely ended when you find yourself driving 150 miles back and forth on a freeway in a state you don’t even live in. And all you can hear the entire time is your heart beat. And you swear on your life you are about to have a heart attack but you don’t.

The party is over when one friend is on his second year of unemployment and your other friend, the one who has had 4 jobs in the past two months, decided he had to move away, back to his family if there was to be hope. The results? One has a great new job, hasn't missed a day, goes to the gym 3 days a week and is actually active in his (new) community. The other one? He shot himself. Who do I feel like today?

This party life is over and done with when you don't need a bank account because you now take your check directly to your dealer since your front is about equal in size. Plus he/she always has cash if there is anything left after your debt is paid.

You know more then one person named "rocky" and none of them are boxers.

It’s time to quit when most of the people you know have names with descriptives in front of them, like Texas Tony, Bicycle Joe, Fast Danny.

You don't remember when you saw the sun last.

You are in the process of completing 200 projects.

You have a use for everything you find on the street.

One of your blinds is bent just enough for your eye to fit.

You know exactly where every 24-hour Walgreens is and are so familiar with their stock that you can and do tell the employees where to find things if they are out of something.

You put your tina somewhere and look for hours and never find it.

Do you own four vacuum cleaners and none work?..But they all take just one small part to work again.....It'll never happen.

You run out of sacs to chase!

When you're home alone and bored because all the friends you used to tweak with are in rehab, prison, or boarding school...

You know the party is over when you miss Christmas with your whole family because you were to busy having sex with people you don't even know.

It might be time to quit if you have imprints on your face from falling asleep with your face the keyboard.

I knew the party was over (or should’ve been) when the top told me he's just unloaded his POZ cum in my NEG ass and I just begged for more.

I choose to "make love doggie style" so both of us can still look out the window.

Because an eight ball is what determined the difference between a str8 guy and a gay guy.

I found myself searching all surfaces for shards, and ended up with a pipe full of wax scraped off the coffee table.

Another good sign the party is over is you have bug or, as I once thought, worms on or just under your skin that no matter how hard you try, you cannot get anyone else to see. Worse yet, you take tweezers to the "bugs" and end up with a nice bloody cut on your ankle. Yeah.. it was "good times" for me

Your own dealer cuts you off out of concern.

You've picked at your face and body so much that when children see you they are frightened and ask their mommy if you were burned in a fire.

Are your jaw muscles the only defined muscles left in your body?

You would be mad at your friend for talking crap about you in the other room all day if you hadn't actually witnessed her leaving hours ago.

Your days consist of computer tweaking, closet tweaking, “getting ready to leave” tweaking and your nights are filled with making to do lists that you don't do, orchestrating elaborate schemes you'll never (let’s hope) go through with and 4 a.m. Rite Aid shopping extravaganzas.

Does the DJ really really need to stop talking to you through the music?

Have you considered whether it was rude or not to take a hit off the pipe while getting fucked?

You say ”I'd lose my ass if it wasn't attached,” only to realize you lost your ass long ago and continue to give new meaning to the term partied your ass off.

You would have been happy to go to work, if you could just get out of your apartment.

When you look at yourself in the mirror and can't look yourself in the eyes.

You have a rolodex of dealers and give your money to the first one who answers the phone even if his stuff is more jumped on than the ones who aren't answering.

You tell someone you love him and within 5 minutes you tell them that you hate him.

You clean your dealer's house just to get a bag.

Your ex-boyfriend's voice is coming from the window-unit of your 3rd floor apartment.

You help a friend for hours, looking for something that you actually stole.

You spend 3 hours walking around walmart, and all you end up buying is some
duct tape and q-tips.

You are absolutely positive that that car following you ... look, there it is again.

Do stories of yet another arrest or OD just bore you?

Have you ever thought you were being visited by the secret conspiracy society?

Do you have a permanent prescription for Kwell or Penicillin?

Does the weekend now end late Monday night and begin again on Wednesday?

Are all of your remotes broken, missing or encrusted in lube?

How does your voracious appetite for speed compare to Kirstie Alley's appetite for french fries?

Has your cat or dog told you they’re fed up with your use?

Does the staff from the psych ward recognize you at the grocery store?

Are your carpets like a science experiment ??? or so free of lint that it’s crazy?

Do you create art projects out of carpet fuzz?

Have you lost important friendships or relationships?

Have you lost the trust of your family?

Have you run out of excuses to give work?

Have you experienced short term or long-term memory loss ??? or can’t you recall?

You know the party’s over when it takes your buddy so long to find a vein after you do your hit that by the time he finds one, you need more. 
You know the party’s over when you show up at the old timer’s apartment you plan to party with and ask him to cover all the windows and floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the closet doors with sheets and blankets so *they* can’t watch you.
You know the party’s over when you show up at the OT’s apartment you plan to party with and ask him to turn off the hidden cameras.
You know the party’s over when you show up at the OT’s apartment you plan to party with and he covers the windows and mirrors with sheets and blankets as you’ve requested and says to you, “There are no cameras here, but what’s happening is that your mind, your consciousness, has expanded enough now to grasp and comprehend an unseen place where you are, indeed, being watched from, and they don’t like you.” 
You know the party’s over when you ask your dealer who’s stalking you, because you have an idea that he knows, and he says, “I can’t tell you.” Because he can’t. 
You know the party’s over when you find out just who (or really, what) is stalking you, and because you know, they follow you across the country, to the other side of the world, and haunt your dreams every night, for years, to try and persuade you to come back. 

If you’ve got another red flag that the party’s over, send it in by clicking here.

 related links
the party's over crystal & your mood
tweaking tips what is crystal meth?
slamming information treat your trick right

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