Drug issues related to Providers (a.k.a. prostitutes)

[Rosco2]

I intended this thread to be about the problems hobbyists sometimes encounter with prostitutes who use drugs (like I had to wait 15 minutes once for the lady to finish her drugs before our sexual session could begin), but I guess there can also be some advantages to dating a lady who knows about drugs.

We'll call the working ladies in this special report "Cagney" and "Lacey." So Cagney gave me a call, and I asked her if she could introduce me to a lady named Mary Jane. She said she could, so I went over to Cagney's place and picked up Mary. Mary is green, weighs about 3 grams, and lets you eat her if you want. And I decided to eat her.

Friday was the first time I had ever met Mary Jane. Didn't know anything at all about Mary until Friday.

I only had to give $20 to Cagney and Lacey for Miss Mary. Pretty good deal, I think, because I've been reading up on the internet about Mary for the past few days; M.J. can cost twice that much in some cities.

I even brought along my tiny $10 scale to measure Miss Mary. I purchased the scale from that smoke shop called "The Spot," which is right next door to the Olde Un adult store and theater. Bought a bat, carburetor, and Philly from Aardvarx and Eye Candy, too. I'm up with the cool lingo now.

So when I got home with Miss Mary Jane, I proceeded to eat her inside a grilled cheese sandwich. Mary Jane is fat-soluble; hence, the cheese. I only ate somewhere between 0.5 and 0.7 grams of Mary (only one-fourth to one-sixth of what I purchased), but believe me that was plenty! In varying degrees, I was out-of-it for about 20 hours. Before eating her, I actually took 3 or 4 tokes of Mary but my Ace-brand lighter stopped working. The tokes probably accounted for less than 0.1 of the 0.5 to 0.7 grams of Mary I took.

For the first half-hour, I actually felt a little sick, and wondered why anyone would ever date Mary. But then, Mary kissed me good, and for about 90 minutes or 2 hours, I was jammin' and singing along with tunes like "Hot Stuff," "Hang on Sloopy," and "Freebird." Wow, I had never heard music like I heard it underneath Mary.

Then, the next 2 hours with Mary were really trippy, but more of a stoney mind-bending experience than the energetic, mind-expanding music interlude. This particular Mary must be a strain with maybe 20% Sativa and 80% Indica, if I were to guess. (I did a lot of reading on the 'net before I dated Mary on Friday, and also learned about Mary's cousin named Tatanka. Tatanka is the name given to a particular strain of Mary Jane known to give more of a spiritual high {chuckle}

After 4 hours underneath Mary, it was now passed midnight. She had totally exhausted me. Just turning off the lights and getting to bed seemed to take forever and require a lot of effort. Time seemed to move slowly. I went to sleep with Mary still working on me but good.

When I woke up 6 hours later, Mary was still working on me! Or maybe I was feeling Mary's hangover--I dunno. But it took more than 20 hours total to get close to normal again. That's almost a whole day. (I think I read that eating Mary makes her work on you for a much longer time than if you simply smoked her.) For this reason, I guess it's best to eat Mary on the weekend, not during the work week.

I'd like to date Mary's more spiritual cousin, but I think I'll wait 6 months or so before dating Mary again or her cuz. She gives quite a wallop! Dating Mary just once or twice a year will be plenty enough fun for me. {Lol}

[Rosco2]

How many times have we seen providers using drugs? A few times, I guess. How many times have we been in enclosed spaces where providers (a.k.a. prostitutes) have used drugs? Several times, I suppose.

Have you seen this story in the Post Dispatch ( www.stlToday.com ) about people unknowingly moving into houses and apartments that were once meth labs? This story will shock you--it shocked me. Moving into a house that was once a meth lab poses huge health dangers.

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The Post-Dispatch interviewed more than 50 families living in former meth labs throughout the St. Louis area. Here are some of their stories.

Anthony Monaghan | St. Louis

Since moving into his Dogtown apartment two years ago, Monaghan, 44, said he has visited his doctor several times because of shortness of breath and cardiac problems.

He learned through the Post-Dispatch that the property was the site of a meth lab bust.

"We're like guinea pigs here," he said. "I'm not sure if the landlord had it cleaned up or not. All I know is I'm on medications I've never been on before in my life, and I've got these symptoms, and nobody knows why."

Christine Steief | Belleville

Steief thought an apartment across the street from a Belleville school would be a safe place for her and her 5-year-old son, James. About six months after she moved in, neighbors told her police once busted a meth lab there.

She said she and her son have been sick since January 2006 when they moved in, but she blames it on common colds. She worries more about her safety because it is a ground-floor apartment.

"I used to leave my windows open in the summer, but I don't do that anymore," she said. "People on meth aren't safe people, and I don't know if they'll come back here someday."

Bobby Forsythe | Granite City

Forsythe, 53, said he didn't know why his eyes and nose burned every time he walked into a vacant mobile home he had bought and wanted to restore. Then neighbors told him the former owner cooked meth there.

After he moved in last year, the meth addict's brother showed up, demanding his personal effects. Another day, a strange woman walked into the home and looked around in a daze. He told her to leave.

He continues to remodel the home but knows he can't erase its history as a meth lab.

"It can never be perfect again."

The Heckenbergs | Granite City

Despite a family history of asthma, Amee Heckenberg thought she'd be the exception.

But at age 27, six months after she and her husband moved into a mobile home in 2006, she was diagnosed with the respiratory disorder. She had to use an inhaler six times a day.

She learned later from neighbors that the home was a former meth lab.

The family has since moved out, and local officials condemned the home -- for electrical problems.

Robert FRANDSEN | Eureka

Frandsen said he couldn't pass up a three-bedroom ranch listed for $154,400 in a wooded subdivision where other houses typically sold for $200,000. Just weeks after he moved in, neighbors told him it had been a drug house. The newspaper then told him this summer that meth was made there.

Frandsen, 77, said his health is fine, but he worries how the stigma may affect his home's value.

Dan Harrison | St. John

A year after Harrison bought his home, he called 911 to report his motorcycle stolen. Officers soon swarmed around his home, and one asked him how long he had been sober.

Soon, police realized he was not the same man once busted there for making meth. And Harrison realized he was living in a former meth lab.

He told the Post-Dispatch that he'd been laid off and feared he'd one day lose the house in foreclosure. He doubted a new owner would be told the home's history.

"I wouldn't have bought this house if I knew it was a meth lab," he said. "But I guess it's going to happen to someone else now."

The Mathises | AFFTON

Leah, 23, and Sarah Mathis, 21, were told before moving into an apartment nearly two years ago that it had been a meth lab. Owners of the busy complex even told them they cleaned it.

The sisters aren't sure how well it was cleaned, but they said they felt safe enough to move in.

"We haven't had any health problems, and if something was going to happen, it would have happened by now," Leah Mathis told a reporter. "Right?"

Vernon Whillock | Festus

Whillock said he rented a Festus home to a longtime friend who he did not know was addicted to meth.

Police busted the friend in 2004, and Whillock was stuck with a house he felt was unsafe to rent to someone else. He's turned it into a paint shop.

"I'm worried about the health factors. I mean, that stuff could be in the plumbing for all I know," he said. "Who knows what he did?"

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Are you living in a former meth lab?

Christine Byers
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
10/12/2008

Jason Dowdell and Michelle DiLorenzo thought the three-bedroom ranch along a quiet, winding Jefferson County road would be the perfect place to start their life together.

They envisioned a nursery in one bedroom. Toys in the backyard. Perennials in the planters.

But all that was put on hold two years later when they learned the home was contaminated with enough methamphetamine residue to be condemned in more than a dozen states.

Under Missouri law, they were supposed to be told before they bought it that it was once a meth factory. But they weren't -- a common failure in Missouri and Illinois, the heart of America's meth labs.


"There are so many other houses like this out there," said DiLorenzo, 24. "Why aren't they doing anything about it?"

A Post-Dispatch investigation found that both states have failed to protect residents from moving into former meth labs that can lower property values, and, some experts believe, make people sick.

The newspaper found:

-- Toxic residue from meth labs has lingered in area homes for as long as four years after busts.

-- Home sellers and landlords routinely violate Missouri's law requiring residents be told before moving into former meth labs. Illinois has yet to adopt such a law.

-- Residents have nowhere to easily find out whether a home was ever a meth lab, unlike in other states that publish lists of addresses and flag property records.

One out of every five of the country's more than 100,000 meth labs has been found in Missouri and Illinois, according to the Drug Enforcement Administration. Police have found remnants of meth-making equipment and toxic byproducts inside homes, apartments and hotels, as well as dumped along roadways, in yards and cars.

But once officers box up the evidence, the homes are left virtually untouched.

A LINGERING PROBLEM

For the past 10 years, national health experts say they have linked exposure to meth residue to adverse health effects.

The research hasn't convinced Missouri or Illinois legislators to require that former meth labs be cleaned. But it has convinced 18 states to require that homes be decontaminated before people can move back in.

In 13 of those states, the requirements are so strict that homes remain condemned until testing shows barely a trace of meth. The acceptable level is the equivalent of spreading no more than one sugar packet of meth residue across 23 football fields.

The Post-Dispatch tested five homes police busted for meth and where new families are living.

They ranged from a recently rehabbed one-story in north St. Louis County to a split-level anchoring a cul-de-sac in O'Fallon, Mo. Months and, in some cases, years had passed since meth labs in the homes were busted, according to police reports. The tests revealed residue levels in all five homes high enough to be condemned in 13 of the 18 states.

"If five of five homes came back positive, imagine if you tested 100 homes," said Dowdell, whose home was tested. "And then imagine how many times those homes have been sold and resold."

Cleanup companies along with national and local health experts say it's common for meth labs that haven't been cleaned to test positive for residue -- no matter how long after police busts.

"It doesn't just go away over time," said Michael Frakes, who co-owns Chicago Crime Scene Cleanup LLC, a company the newspaper commissioned to collect samples.

The newspaper's findings shocked the residents, who said they did not know they were living in former meth labs until they were contacted by the Post-Dispatch.

Luke and Amy Probst's home yielded the highest levels. The fully rehabbed two-bedroom home along a tree-lined street in Belleville has a new kitchen, carpeting, paint -- and average levels of meth contamination 140 times those allowed in 13 states. Amy Probst was furious.

"If I would have known these test results, we would have never bought the house," she said.

Contamination levels were the worst in the Probsts' basement, where Luke Probst, a St. Clair County sheriff's deputy, spends most of his time.

"What if someone with kids had moved in here and made the basement a play area?" Amy Probst asked.

NO WAY TO KNOW

Illinois has never required home sellers or landlords to tell new residents of a property's history as a meth lab. A proposal to do so stalled in the state Legislature this year.

Missouri passed its law in 2001.

Former state Rep. Dennis Bonner of Kansas City said he proposed the law because a family told him they had moved into a home and started suffering from allergies. They learned it was a former meth lab only after it tested positive for residue.

"Meth labs put all types of chemicals in a house. That's why, when you see police in them, they're in hazmat suits," said Bonner, who left the Legislature in 2002. "Imagine buying a house and not knowing what it had in it."

But Missouri's law carries no criminal penalties, and few have paid attention.

The Post-Dispatch interviewed more than 30 Missouri families living in former meth labs. Only three said they had found out before moving in -- and one of them was told by future neighbors, not the home seller.

The law also requires landlords to tell new tenants if a home or apartment was ever busted for meth. But there is no form landlords are required to provide renters.

Home sellers commonly fill out a disclosure form, which asks about the presence of meth labs next to questions about mold and radon. But it's not required in all sales.

That includes homes sold in foreclosure, because banks have no way to know a home's history.

Home buyers can hire home inspectors, but most lack training to spot the signs of former meth labs or know how to test for contamination.

The only option left for home buyers or renters is to file a civil lawsuit and prove a seller or landlord knew, but didn't tell.

Area lawyers say lawsuits could be costly and hard to prove.

So far, legal experts can point to only one successful lawsuit -- in Washington state -- where a judge found that home sellers failed to tell buyers about a former meth lab.

Recognizing weaknesses in disclosure laws, several states, including Oregon and Tennessee, require that meth lab reports and cleanup certifications be attached to property deeds. As a result, standard title searches reveal a home's meth lab history even if a seller lies.

NOWHERE TO LOOK

In Missouri and Illinois potential home buyers can't easily find information about former meth labs.

The DEA's website lists only labs busted since 2006. And the Post-Dispatch found that half of all homes busted in Illinois are missing from the list.

Dozens of states have made comprehensive and independent databases of meth lab addresses available online. But not Missouri and Illinois.

In Illinois, police report about three-fourths of busts to state health officials, who said they couldn't afford to post the list online. Residents must file a public records request to get the list.

In Missouri, police don't report lab busts directly to state health officials -- but do fill out DEA reports that are funneled through the Missouri Highway Patrol. However, the highway patrol doesn't post the addresses online and won't release them to the public.

In September, the Jefferson County Sheriff's Department became the first and only Missouri police agency to post addresses of meth busts online. But the list goes back only to January 2007.

"I would be too cumbersome to go all the way back," said Sheriff Oliver "Glenn" Boyer.

Comprehensive databases are key in states without cleanup laws, said Sherry Green, executive director of the National Alliance for Model State Drug Laws. The congressionally funded group promotes effective state drug policies. Green said states should not rely on the honesty of sellers or landlords alone.

"There is financial motive on the part of certain individuals to lie," Green said.

Another option for Missouri and Illinois homeowners: Ask the police.

But although police in Jefferson, St. Charles and St. Louis counties released reports of meth lab busts to the newspaper, the Illinois State Police would not.

The agency said a state law requiring the release of public records applied to police reports involving meth labs only if the suspects named in the reports agreed to it.

That infuriated the Probsts, who can't get a police report of the July 2005 bust at their home. All they know is that one took place about a year before they moved in, because it is listed on the Illinois database.

"It's ridiculous," said Amy Probst, a lawyer. "I'm so mad right now and the lawyer in me is asking, 'OK, who do I sue?' But there's nothing we can do, and we did nothing wrong."

NOWHERE TO TURN

DiLorenzo cried at the news that her home was contaminated. Her live-in boyfriend, Dowdell, bowed his head and wrapped his arms around her on the front porch of what was supposed to be their dream home.

They cannot afford to hire professional cleaners, or sell their home at a loss.

Doctors can't say for sure that the meth residue in their home is causing DiLorenzo's headaches, wheezing and nausea, but the couple won't take a chance with loved ones. Their younger siblings are no longer allowed to stay the night.

"My headaches get so bad sometimes that I throw up," DiLorenzo said. "That never happened before I moved in here."

They tried to plant perennials in the front yard earlier this summer, but stopped when they unearthed needles, foils, funnels and bottles of fuel additives. Jefferson County detectives confirmed the materials were once part of a meth lab.

The couple also have stopped investing in home improvement projects. They worry how their home's toxic history will affect their bottom line because they must disclose it to future buyers. Real estate appraisers can't say how much it will lower a property's value, only that it will.

DiLorenzo and Dowdell wondered whether anyone else has unknowingly bought a home with a meth lab in its past.

They didn't have to look far.

DiLorenzo recently checked the federal database to see if a house with a "For Sale" sign along her street was listed.

It was.

"Hmm," DiLorenzo said, as she looked down the street. "I wonder who is going to tell them."

The "For Sale" sign came down in May.

A young couple moved in.

The couple told the Post-Dispatch that they hadn't been informed. The home sellers and their real estate agent didn't return a reporter's phone call.

The couple, embarrassed at their fate, asked not to be named in this story.

It's their first house, but it wasn't their first choice. They said they passed on another house because of mold, fearing it might harm their disabled toddler.

Now the child's toys sit in their new front yard.

http://www.stltoday.com/stltoday/new...A?OpenDocument

[Rosco2]

See above reports.