Fucking On Quaaludes?

So, I called my mom because the artist in my building was showing off his last Quaalude, and I was like, “Cool.” He had one pill left. So naturally, I had to ask my mom, who was young and hot once, and, well, quite the “party girl.” I called her up and asked, “Did you ever take these?” She’s all like, “No,” pretending she didn’t do anything wild back in the ’60s. Yeah, right.

I was like, “You had three kids, and I look nothing like my father. Nothing.” And she’s just like, “Yeah, what do you want me to say?”

Now, this is a woman who helped my stepdad make a ton of money and happens to be the granddaughter of a wealthy inventor — someone whose invention pretty much everyone has used at some point. So yeah, she’s well off and loved her drugs. So I’m thinking, there’s no way I believe this whole story. I know she was on that stuff. I know she was out in Los Angeles picking up guys, hitchhiking in outfits half as revealing as what you see now. AIDS wasn’t even a thing yet. I mean, I just know my mom.

“Okay, Mom, if you say so,” I said. Then I was like, “Oh, come on… just give me one little gold nugget about it so I can sleep tonight.” She just laughed and said, “Go see if he’ll give you the pill, and stop calling me about my hippie days.”