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Grandma- There Ain't SHIT in Your Medicine Cabinet

Guest editorial by Jarold Hughes, pharmaceutical connoisseur

So I cut your grass and pulled the weeds around your fence and even hung up that stupid wind chime that blew down in the thunderstorm the other day, Grandma. I walked into your bathroom hoping to score a couple of quick pills, and BAM!

Empty cabinet.

Oh sure: you've got laxatives and vitamins and all sorts of useless douching products (I don't even want to THINK about that!), but all the good drugs you used to have?

There ain't SHIT in your medicine cabinet any more.

It wasn't that long ago when I could find a handful of Oxycontin to crush up and snort, or when I could open that magical mirrored door and find a full bottle of Xanax. But today, I leave Grandma's house empty-handed and annoyingly sober.

I mean, Christ - you haven't even got a bottle of Robitussin or NyQuil for a cheap buzz. What is the world coming to when a guy can't visit his infirm, elderly grandmother for a quick fix? And when Grandpa was still around, hanging on with the liver cancer, he used to have TONS of painkillers: good stuff, too, like Darvocet and Demerol, shit that could keep a young man like me flying for a week!

As far as I'm concerned, this is the worst kind of hospitality: after two hours of working around your house, the least you can do is keep your pills someplace I can find them. Now I've got to find a way to distract you so I can rifle through your underwear drawers.

And believe me - that's even worse than picking up the dog shit in the backyard.

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