Alternating between nibbling a giant pretzel, and eating a berry-topped cheesecake with digestive biscuit base, and drinking coke and drinking a milkshake thats based on those rhubarb and custard-flavour traditional boiled sweet hard candies, the kind that are half red half yellow, only, this time as a milkshake.
I'm in a very variable mood tonight for some reason. Even my pain meds I'm finding it difficult to settle as to whether to use codeine, dihydrocodeine, morphine sulfate, oxycodone, or to turn the morphine into a morphine ester, and if I did, between dipropionyl, dibenzoyl or di-(n)-butyrymorphine.
Although even in such a mood I reckon I could rule out dibutyrylmorphine. Tried it, its average, more potent than morphine, probably a bit less than pure, uncut diamorphine (pharm. grade heroin) And the preparation of it by necessity involves either n-butyric anhydride, or n-butyryl chloride. And both of them end up producing butyric acid, which even my father knows now is the stuff responsible for the smell of puke being puke-like. He actually asked the other day just that to confirm he was right, although at first I thought he was smelling it here, which would be odd, since I've not used any of my n-butyric anhydride in quite a long time, for any purpose whatsoever. I try to avoid it whenever possible, because it stinks, or rather the butyric acid produced as it hydrolyzes does, the anhydride itself is more..pungent, but less acutely vomitesque. And thats the reason I haven't used any butyric anhydride for a fair while. It make for a filthy stink like somebody's rancid, dissected stomach and its semidigested, sour, rancid dairy-containing contents, and the stink in question hangs around as if it were the soul of a sinner damned, attempting to claw their way out of hell, and it really doesn't be exorcized easily either.
Benzoyl chloride actually doesn't smell too bad, it does generate hydrochloric acid gas on contact with atmospheric moisture, but I don't mind the smell of hydrogen chloride, I've pretty much gotten used to it, by necessity since HCl is so common in labs and I do use an awful lot of hydrochloric acid. Benzoyl chloride, behind the teargas-ey properties, its got a rather nice sort of sightly marzipan-like or almond essence/benzaldehyde tang to it, its faint, but there, kind of reminds me of nitromethane, nitroethane or perhaps nitrobenzene. Whereas propionyl chloride would produce a far superior end compound (longer lasting by orders of magnitude, far more euphoric, much more potent (about as potent again compared with pure, un-cut, carefully prepared diamorphine as diamorphine is than morphine, I'd say on the whole, somewhat more so, maybe 4-5x as potent as heroin, if the latter not be crap from some street source. And far more of a rush if dosed IV, compared either to dibutyrylmorphine OR dibenzoylmorphine. By a long shot, so to speak. On the other hand, whilst I have never smelled propionic anhydride, the acid chloride I have smelled and it smells, the HCl fumes it belches off aside, like a mixture of unwashed human, sweaty, cheesy feet-socks and overtones of rancid goat. Quite specific I know, but it does indeed smell like rancid goat. Very goat-ey. Weird, I know, but it is, I swear, its fucking goat, of all things. Only rancid and cheesy and mixed with sweaty socks. And traces left in the air leave a taste in the back of your throat thats absolutely foul. Cloying, and decay-like, reminiscent of burning rancid fat with hints of the smoke that most plastics give off when burnt, only without the acute acridity. One of the whilst tolerable, by far and away one of my least-liked, endurable nasty smells. And that aftertaste from ambient traces of propionyl chloride vapor, god ew. I hate working with that stuff. Bleergh. Not as bad as butyric anhydride though, that is just the pits. The pits of the stomachs of a large number of people, removed, cut open, run through a blender, soaked in solvent of some sort and then distilled into a pure super-refined essence of rancid stomach contents. Only many times more potent, and as clingy as a drunken, OCD-afflicted prostitute who hasn't been paid for her 'services'
(not that I have ever, or would ever, seek out that particular service. In fact I'd probably pay them to fuck off and not come back. In the 'get lost' sense of 'fuck off' that is)
, and quacks like a 