Cocaine Christmas Quotes

Merry Christmas me bollocks. The words of the Pogues's 'Fairytale of New York' also came to mind: surrounded by scumbags and maggots, I prayed God it would be my last in Los Teques.

Because you look just like Phil Mitchell on Eastenders when he was doing the crack cocaine

Keep in mind that sugar is powerfully addictive.7 I put sugar in the same category as addictive drugs like crack or heroin. Take Oreos, for example. One study from Connecticut showed that rats fed the iconic cookie liked it as much as cocaine and morphine.8 When the rats ate Oreo cookies, the pleasure center of their brains, the nucleus accumbens, lit up like a Christmas tree—the same area in the brain that lights up with cocaine. Sugar and cocaine both stimulate the addictive part of the brain with a neurotransmitter called dopamine, known for its role in pleasure and satisfaction. Rats in the study even broke open the cookie to eat the sugary middle first. Still not sure if you’re addicted to sugar?

He pushed the door, slamming it shut, then slammed his lips against mine. Shock held me immobile, but I really should have seen it coming. I’d said I couldn't fuck him because I was his boss. Then I’d fired him. It didn't take a high school graduate to add those numbers up. And yet I didn't immediately push him away. Why? Because holy god, he kissed like the devil, all sinful and intoxicating. Lucas whatever-his-name-was hit my bloodstream like pure cocaine and lit me up like a fucking Christmas tree.

The toxicology report on Bobby Ward took four months to reach my desk. During those four months, Mrs. Ward called me twice a week or more. Some weeks she called every single day. She had many theories about Bobby’s death, none of them involving drugs. “He didn’t use drugs,” she kept insisting, despite my telling her, every time we spoke, that the physical findings I saw on the autopsy pointed, strongly, to an overdose. “What about the sushi?” she asked me during one call. “People die from bad sushi all the time. He had sushi that day. Did you test the sushi in his stomach?” I tried to assert my firm professional opinion that people do not die from bad sushi all the time. In my experience people never die from bad sushi. A huge load of heroin, yes; bad sushi, no. “What about the beer? He was drinking beer with the sushi—it could have been poisonous. Maybe the beer made the bad sushi more dangerous!” Most every day for four months Mrs. Ward had a new theory of what did Bobby in: misuse of a friend’s asthma medication, anthrax (he’d died around the time of the October 2001 anthrax-letters terrorist attacks, so this was a hot topic at the time), allergic alveolitis, dust mites, iterations of the bad sushi theory over and over again. Then, just after Christmas, the toxicology report finally arrived. It showed Robert Ward had taken a lethal concoction of heroin, cocaine, and the tranquilizer diazepam.