Nothing Says Happy Birthday like Mushroom Cookies

For my 'big' 21st birthday, my university roommates threw me one of their legendary parties. I say 'big' with a hint of sarcasm because even though turning 21 in Canada doesn't mean shit, we celebrate the U.S. tradition and for some reason, 21 is therefore a big deal to us as well. I never really got it - it's not even an even number - jeez! (Read about My O.C.D. to get that joke) Regardless, I was getting a big 21st send off.

Their parties were awesome because they were usually themed parties and surprisingly, I would say 95% of guests complied with the alloted theme. I was amazed at the effort that had gone in to some of the costumes, even from the "too cool for school" type of guys. The question was what theme to have for MY party? Meh. What does Stephanie like... that we haven't already done... it was tough, and then we got it - Mushrooms! It was true, I was a massive mushroom fan. So instead of a costume party where everyone got drunk, they could wear what they wanted and hallucinate their asses off instead. We thought that adding a funky costume element with props and bright colours might pose as a serious "bad trip" risk, so no costumes.

Since I lived with a drug dealer, even offering to pitch in financially for 'the goodies' was fruitless. Having one roommate that dealt and the other that loved to bake yielded the result of some super bad ass mushroom cookies. In true form, we whipped up a few batches of weed cookies too. Eat your fucking heart out Martha! They were fantastic. The problem was NOT to eat too many. One. Two. Three TOPS. And then you would be flying happy and free.

I had invited Mark to the party, to which our very successful 'friends with benefits' arrangement was going strong. He had been up to visit me a few times for a roll in the sack, so most people knew him already.

Mark - never - did - drugs - for - a - reason.

The party was in full swing and it was packed. Living in a dealer's house sure made one popular, but I wasn't complaining. It was a great night and the buzz from the mushroom cookies was less intense that having them straight, which was a good thing considering I had to be somewhat sociable at this party. It was like a slightly stronger body buzz than one would get from say, hash brownies; I was lovin' it.

My eye caught Mark scarfing down some cookies. I pushed my way over to him and he was laughing. Through a mouthful of cookie, he mumbled, "I think I'll be fine since they're in food... totally, ya, I'll be fine!" I quickly replied, "How many have you had?" "I dunno. A couple of these and 5 or 6 of those other ones. They're awesome!" He pointed over towards the weed cookies; I told him he was screwed. I shook my head and walked away - but I needed to keep slight tabs on him since I would be requiring his washboard stomach and penis later on that night.

About an hour later, a girl came up to me and with an awkward smile, she said, "I think your boyfriend is dead." So I knew it wasn't serious, but I followed her to the bottom of the stairs and there was Mark - lying belly up on the middle landing with his head handing over the top stair. He actually did look dead, apart from the incessant snoring that his mouth was producing. He was 100% KO'ed and it took 2 other guys to peel him off the floor and into my bedroom. Years after that night, people would still ask me how the "Man of Death" was doing, and I knew exactly who they were talking about.

Considering the fact that we were just friends, I couldn't really get mad at him; he was just an idiot that night. Needless to say, I didn't get my Mushroom Birthday Sex that I was so looking forward to, but he did make it up to me... eventually ;)