I just went outside and was almost knocked back by the blinding light of the sun. I think maybe I have been spending too much time indoors. Even now I have yellow spots dancing in front of my eyes. Pretty!
I was sitting back there smoking, listening to the sounds of the planes flying overhead. The airport is so close that when the planes fly over you can see their landing gear out, wheels spinning. For the millionth time I sat there wondering what the odds are of a bolt falling from the sky and piercing my skull.
not high enough I'd say as it hasn't happened yet. I don't know what makes me think those things! probably the same part of my brain that makes me laugh at inappropriate times. I guess it is a little unerving when someone starts to giggle hysterically during episodes if intervention or even bloody horror flicks. Oh well, I suppose that's just me
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
I had too much to dream last night
I guess I'm in a good mood. I actually made contact with a couple of my friends from home. Jerry and Clay. Clay is up to the same old shit (surprise) and says everyone misses me. I suppose I like that sentiment even though I'm pretty sure the only time they give me a second thought is when my name comes up at the odd moment. It's not a slur against them as friends or anything it's just that drug addicts generally have other things on their mind. I told Clay to have Drew get a hold of me which would be nice.
Jerry got out of Bako and went back to L.A. at the end of last year. He is clean and on tour with his band and got a hold of me from someplace called Roswell in VA. He's Lora's ex and he hasn't heard from her since he left town. That worries me. Her and Jerry are pretty much like me and Casey, they get together, split up, say hateful things, say I love you, get back together ect. You get the idea. I don't like the fact that it has been so long since he heard from her 'cause he is her one true love and she can't stay away from him. Period!
If she hasn't called him then things are probably bad with her, meaning too much smack, way too much crack and probably a few other things too. She was one of my closest girlfriends for the last couple of years and I miss her.
I have been having these crazy dreams about my friend Sara. She died last summer from hep C. We had been best friends since Jr high, doing guys, drugs and misc, other things together for as long as I can remember. She was there when I did my first line of speed, my first shot of black, my first hit of crack even. We did so much together.
We had our moments like when her boyfriend tried relentlessly to get me in bed when she was pregnant(Not my proudest moment) or when she set my runner up to get robbed for a measly gram. Hey junkies will be junkies I guess.
We were estranged after the attempted robbery incident and it lasted for about 2 years. She called me out of the blue last year and I stared hanging out with her again. This was right after Casey left so I had plenty of time to fuck around. We got high, hung out did girl shit. It was nice to have my friend back
Then I went on a self-destructive bender and lost contact with her, I was too busy hitting the track every day in every way. One day when I was at my G-ma's house for a mini-vacation our old friend Rebecca called me an told me Sara died. I don't think it ever really sunk in. I remember making all the appropriate noises and then getting off the phone cause I was gonna go cop. I just remember thinking that she was too young to be dead from that shit. Out of all of us that came up together, got strung out together, Sara was the one who finally got her shit straight. She had a house, an income, she only used once in a great while. It seemed really unfair to me that she should be dead while I was still very alive and pretty much useless to myself and everyone around me.
Anyway, I have been having these dreams with her in them. It's so fucked up because in the dream I'm talking to her and doing whatever but the whole time I'm thinking what the fuck man, you died! It might sound funny but the only thing that has kept me from bringing that up (in my dreams) is that I'm afraid of what she'll say. It's like I don't want her to confirm it.
I can't even begin to understand what that means. I'm sure my shrink will tell me It's past guilt in my subconscious manifesting itself through my dreams.
If I had to hazard a guess I would say It's just me missing my friend. I do miss her alot.....
Jerry got out of Bako and went back to L.A. at the end of last year. He is clean and on tour with his band and got a hold of me from someplace called Roswell in VA. He's Lora's ex and he hasn't heard from her since he left town. That worries me. Her and Jerry are pretty much like me and Casey, they get together, split up, say hateful things, say I love you, get back together ect. You get the idea. I don't like the fact that it has been so long since he heard from her 'cause he is her one true love and she can't stay away from him. Period!
If she hasn't called him then things are probably bad with her, meaning too much smack, way too much crack and probably a few other things too. She was one of my closest girlfriends for the last couple of years and I miss her.
I have been having these crazy dreams about my friend Sara. She died last summer from hep C. We had been best friends since Jr high, doing guys, drugs and misc, other things together for as long as I can remember. She was there when I did my first line of speed, my first shot of black, my first hit of crack even. We did so much together.
We had our moments like when her boyfriend tried relentlessly to get me in bed when she was pregnant(Not my proudest moment) or when she set my runner up to get robbed for a measly gram. Hey junkies will be junkies I guess.
We were estranged after the attempted robbery incident and it lasted for about 2 years. She called me out of the blue last year and I stared hanging out with her again. This was right after Casey left so I had plenty of time to fuck around. We got high, hung out did girl shit. It was nice to have my friend back
Then I went on a self-destructive bender and lost contact with her, I was too busy hitting the track every day in every way. One day when I was at my G-ma's house for a mini-vacation our old friend Rebecca called me an told me Sara died. I don't think it ever really sunk in. I remember making all the appropriate noises and then getting off the phone cause I was gonna go cop. I just remember thinking that she was too young to be dead from that shit. Out of all of us that came up together, got strung out together, Sara was the one who finally got her shit straight. She had a house, an income, she only used once in a great while. It seemed really unfair to me that she should be dead while I was still very alive and pretty much useless to myself and everyone around me.
Anyway, I have been having these dreams with her in them. It's so fucked up because in the dream I'm talking to her and doing whatever but the whole time I'm thinking what the fuck man, you died! It might sound funny but the only thing that has kept me from bringing that up (in my dreams) is that I'm afraid of what she'll say. It's like I don't want her to confirm it.
I can't even begin to understand what that means. I'm sure my shrink will tell me It's past guilt in my subconscious manifesting itself through my dreams.
If I had to hazard a guess I would say It's just me missing my friend. I do miss her alot.....
Friday, July 25, 2008
The suspense is over
I put up pics of me and Casey, they were taken with a cell phone so the quality is shit and Casey has a line through his head for some reason.I think my fingers were in the way too, fuck it! I can't wait for everyone to tell me that I look like a junky whore. Like I haven't been saying that all along!
I hope everyone likes the view of my yellow bathroom and shower curtain. Three guesses as to what I was doing in there. Do I look sleepy?
I will put up a pic of Richie as soon as I get one, probably tomorrow . I am going to hunt down that little shit and get things straight. Casey is working tomorrow so it will be a perfect time. Enjoy and I look forward to some brilliantly scathing comments. Don't disappoint me.
I hope everyone likes the view of my yellow bathroom and shower curtain. Three guesses as to what I was doing in there. Do I look sleepy?
I will put up a pic of Richie as soon as I get one, probably tomorrow . I am going to hunt down that little shit and get things straight. Casey is working tomorrow so it will be a perfect time. Enjoy and I look forward to some brilliantly scathing comments. Don't disappoint me.
Horny youngters and sensitive guys
I can't believe I'm awake right now. I have had such an exciting night! Between staring at the TV and going out to smoke, I think I can honestly say that this place is dead boring. Everything shuts down at 9pm and it blows. I think the most interesting event of the night was periodically checking on the cockroach that was malingering on the back patio (I blasted it with carpet spot remover). The stupid thing refuses to die! I guess spot remover is not ideal for exterminating bugs, it's probably the roach equivalent of ODing on aspirin.
I was a little slow on the draw this week so I will not be getting loaded til sometime tomorrow, patience is not one of my virtues. As happy as I am with my current arrangement, I still miss being able to go and cop anytime I felt like it. There's nothing more comforting than knowing your connect is a few minutes away as opposed to a few states.
Fuck it, I can't complain; what I have going on now has exceeded my expectations. I just feel the need to bitch and moan about something.
Richie surprised me with a little present that almost totally fucked me, and not in a good way. He left me a bag of peach rings in the mail slot with a little note that said, " I have some sugar for you." he signed it with an R. Well as I was not expecting anything, I didn't check the mail and Casey found it when he got home from work. FUCK, FUCK,FUCK!
I had a helluva time explaining that shit. I told him I had talked to my kind of friend Regina and told her I was jonesing for candy. She must have gone to the store and come by when I was in the shower. He didn't look convinced but dropped it anyway.
This Richie thing is getting outta hand. It's only a matter of time before the shit hits the fan and I am not looking forward to it. Leaving notes and candy hmmm, it's kinda sweet in a junior high sort of way I guess. One more reminder of his barely legal status.
Christ, the bullshit I get myself into, I am a trouble magnet! I will feel unbelievably bad if Casey kicks the shit out of him. I think I will go looking for him today, maybe at the park so we can have a little tete a tete. I am going to lay it all out and hope that it scares him off.
After all I really don't care who knows about my past, present or future indiscretions. I have always been equal to a little notoriety. I am an attention slut as you well know. Any publicity is good publicity. So what if the people around here find out some unsavory details about my lifestyle, who the fuck are they anyway? Nobody I care about.
I was watching Pretty in Pink last night and was reminded of how hot James Spader is. He plays a huge asshole but all I could think of every time he came on screen was climbing all over him. Most people would think that Duckie was more my speed but as cute as he is he comes off a little gay. Also he is more emotional than a girl and that I can't deal with.
Sensitive guys are way too much work! I went out with this guy Christian who was sooo sensitive it was ridiculous. He had started using Dope because he wanted to get close to me and I guess it worked. It was Ok for awhile, he was cute and sweet but having him look soulfully into my eyes and tell me how beautiful I was got old quick. He would sulk if I spoke to any other guys and that was often as most of my friends are guys.
He was too delicate to mix with alot of my OG friends. They scared the shit out of him and they knew it so being assholes they took advantage of that fact on a regular basis. He emptied his bank account for me and that was sweet too and even the sex was good because he went above and beyond to keep me happy. He could eat pussy like a lesbian which is saying alot.
However the fact that he was always touching me, and I was always tripping over him everywhere I went drove me nuts. It got to the point that I started to feel physically ill at the thought of his hands on me.
A gang of us used to go to his house almost every night because his parents were always gone. One night as we were driving up I told my friend Brianna that if Christian tried to touch or kiss me I was going to throw up. She thought that was funny as hell, in fact everyone in the car was laughing as Chris came out of the house and immediately tried to lay one on me. I jerked back, told him I had strep throat and spent most of the night trying to figure out how to keep him off me.
My salvation came in the form of Casey who at that time was without a girl friend and was hot to hook back up with me. We always went back and forth like that. He came over and we were all in the living room watching movies loaded and happy. As usual Chris was glued to my side touching me. I had my feet up on a pillow because I had walked like three miles in a pair of steel-toes and I had blisters. Casey had used a washcloth to cool them off and was slowly rubbing them, crouched down at the foot of the pull out couch . I was so intent on what Casey was doing that I forgot all about not wanting Chris to touch me. As a matter of fact I started to frantically make out with him just to keep him from noticing that Casey had started to suck on my toes. I think Chris was the only one in the room who didn't notice because I kept hearing Brianna and Will laughing.
It was good while it lasted, I don't know what would have happened had it continued unchecked because just as Casey was making his way up my leg Chris spotted him, jumped up and ran to the bathroom where he slammed and locked the door and began sobbing like a ten year old girl.
After about fifteen minutes of that nonsense Joe told me to go and talk to him, maybe calm him down.
I stood outside the bathroom door getting more disgusted by the minute.
At first I tried to comfort him, really I did but when all I got for my trouble was, "WAAAAAAAAAAH!" louder than ever I couldn't take it anymore. I told him that he was making an idiot out of himself crying like a bitch and that he needed to man up. I pointed out to him that he was the guy and I was the girl ,if anyone should be bawling in the crapper it was me.
My statements were followed by more wrenching sobs from behind the bathroom door.
I had enough! Casey was leaning against the wall looking smug and as much as I wanted to take him home with me , the fact that he was enjoying the situation so much pissed me off. I went home alone.
That was my last go with a sensitive guy, assholes and psychos I can handle. Throw a crybaby at me and I am at a loss. Any way, I'm rambling 'cause I am TIRED and need to sleep! Goodnight, um morning. Melody
I was a little slow on the draw this week so I will not be getting loaded til sometime tomorrow, patience is not one of my virtues. As happy as I am with my current arrangement, I still miss being able to go and cop anytime I felt like it. There's nothing more comforting than knowing your connect is a few minutes away as opposed to a few states.
Fuck it, I can't complain; what I have going on now has exceeded my expectations. I just feel the need to bitch and moan about something.
Richie surprised me with a little present that almost totally fucked me, and not in a good way. He left me a bag of peach rings in the mail slot with a little note that said, " I have some sugar for you." he signed it with an R. Well as I was not expecting anything, I didn't check the mail and Casey found it when he got home from work. FUCK, FUCK,FUCK!
I had a helluva time explaining that shit. I told him I had talked to my kind of friend Regina and told her I was jonesing for candy. She must have gone to the store and come by when I was in the shower. He didn't look convinced but dropped it anyway.
This Richie thing is getting outta hand. It's only a matter of time before the shit hits the fan and I am not looking forward to it. Leaving notes and candy hmmm, it's kinda sweet in a junior high sort of way I guess. One more reminder of his barely legal status.
Christ, the bullshit I get myself into, I am a trouble magnet! I will feel unbelievably bad if Casey kicks the shit out of him. I think I will go looking for him today, maybe at the park so we can have a little tete a tete. I am going to lay it all out and hope that it scares him off.
After all I really don't care who knows about my past, present or future indiscretions. I have always been equal to a little notoriety. I am an attention slut as you well know. Any publicity is good publicity. So what if the people around here find out some unsavory details about my lifestyle, who the fuck are they anyway? Nobody I care about.
I was watching Pretty in Pink last night and was reminded of how hot James Spader is. He plays a huge asshole but all I could think of every time he came on screen was climbing all over him. Most people would think that Duckie was more my speed but as cute as he is he comes off a little gay. Also he is more emotional than a girl and that I can't deal with.
Sensitive guys are way too much work! I went out with this guy Christian who was sooo sensitive it was ridiculous. He had started using Dope because he wanted to get close to me and I guess it worked. It was Ok for awhile, he was cute and sweet but having him look soulfully into my eyes and tell me how beautiful I was got old quick. He would sulk if I spoke to any other guys and that was often as most of my friends are guys.
He was too delicate to mix with alot of my OG friends. They scared the shit out of him and they knew it so being assholes they took advantage of that fact on a regular basis. He emptied his bank account for me and that was sweet too and even the sex was good because he went above and beyond to keep me happy. He could eat pussy like a lesbian which is saying alot.
However the fact that he was always touching me, and I was always tripping over him everywhere I went drove me nuts. It got to the point that I started to feel physically ill at the thought of his hands on me.
A gang of us used to go to his house almost every night because his parents were always gone. One night as we were driving up I told my friend Brianna that if Christian tried to touch or kiss me I was going to throw up. She thought that was funny as hell, in fact everyone in the car was laughing as Chris came out of the house and immediately tried to lay one on me. I jerked back, told him I had strep throat and spent most of the night trying to figure out how to keep him off me.
My salvation came in the form of Casey who at that time was without a girl friend and was hot to hook back up with me. We always went back and forth like that. He came over and we were all in the living room watching movies loaded and happy. As usual Chris was glued to my side touching me. I had my feet up on a pillow because I had walked like three miles in a pair of steel-toes and I had blisters. Casey had used a washcloth to cool them off and was slowly rubbing them, crouched down at the foot of the pull out couch . I was so intent on what Casey was doing that I forgot all about not wanting Chris to touch me. As a matter of fact I started to frantically make out with him just to keep him from noticing that Casey had started to suck on my toes. I think Chris was the only one in the room who didn't notice because I kept hearing Brianna and Will laughing.
It was good while it lasted, I don't know what would have happened had it continued unchecked because just as Casey was making his way up my leg Chris spotted him, jumped up and ran to the bathroom where he slammed and locked the door and began sobbing like a ten year old girl.
After about fifteen minutes of that nonsense Joe told me to go and talk to him, maybe calm him down.
I stood outside the bathroom door getting more disgusted by the minute.
At first I tried to comfort him, really I did but when all I got for my trouble was, "WAAAAAAAAAAH!" louder than ever I couldn't take it anymore. I told him that he was making an idiot out of himself crying like a bitch and that he needed to man up. I pointed out to him that he was the guy and I was the girl ,if anyone should be bawling in the crapper it was me.
My statements were followed by more wrenching sobs from behind the bathroom door.
I had enough! Casey was leaning against the wall looking smug and as much as I wanted to take him home with me , the fact that he was enjoying the situation so much pissed me off. I went home alone.
That was my last go with a sensitive guy, assholes and psychos I can handle. Throw a crybaby at me and I am at a loss. Any way, I'm rambling 'cause I am TIRED and need to sleep! Goodnight, um morning. Melody
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
I am incognito as a smack loving former ho
I had a semi amusing time when I went to cash the check today. I had a hell of a time even finding a place to do it. I have shitty credit (big surprise right) so no bank account for me. For some reason most check cashing places didn't feel comfortable dealing with a check that big. They looked at me like I was well, crazy. Ironic as it is for that very reason I even have a check to cash.
Anyway, I finally found a place to do it and after staring at me and the check for about ten minutes, she asked me if I could tell her what it was for. The check is issued from the national treasury for fuck sake! It says SSI right there on the front.
Being a smart ass I looked her right in the eye, leaned in and whispered," I'm in the witness protection program, why the fuck else would I be in Farmington, New Mexico?" She looked like she was gonna shit herself.
I decided to hurry things along and told her I was fucking with her, explained that the reason I was getting so much money from the gvnmt was because they decided my mental faculties weren't up to snuff and could I please have my money now.
She recovered quite nicely and set about the verification process which took for-fucking-ever! I thought they were gonna ask me for a DNA swab. So after much hassle I am now in possession of more money than a person like me should ever have access to all at once. I think I'm gonna pay off all my checksystems crap so I can open an account. I can't very well bury it or stuff it in the mattress and I'll be damned if I'm gonna put it all in Casey's account.
It's not that I don't trust him but momma didn't raise no fool. I have given him a nice chunk and I will probably spend twice that buying him crap he doesn't want or need. I just like to keep my options open and in case my idea of a good investment doesn't mesh with his, I want to be able to say, "FUCK YOU!" and do what I want anyway.
I will not be dictated to by a power drunk tyrant holding my cash hostage. That's the main reason I avoided pimps, I won't let it happen now that's for damn sure!
I don't want to give the impression that I am stingy, because I'm not. I am realistic. As much as I would like for everything to work out between me and Casey, I know our track record. Things have changed somewhat but we are still the same people we always were. So in order to keep from having to call my mommy to fix things when and if the shit hits the fan, I prefer to have a stash of cash to fall back on.
Like it's gonna last that long anyway, who the fuck do I think I'm fooling. Even if I don't spend it all on Dope I will spend it, believe you me. It's funny 'cause strung out I was so careful. I never spent money on unnecessary shit. Dope, smokes, food in that order. Priorities, you know, besides who the fuck wants to eat when you're fighting the dry heaves? Dope, then cigarettes (cause you have to have one after you fix), then food.
Anyway, I think I am going to engage in a serious bout of Internet shopping. I will probably buy Casey tons of band shirts, belts, buckles, shoes, records, CDs you name it. And no I'm not feeling guilty for hoarding my money like a scrooge. He'll get to enjoy it too......as long as he doesn't piss me off :) Ciao Bambinos, Melody Lee
Anyway, I finally found a place to do it and after staring at me and the check for about ten minutes, she asked me if I could tell her what it was for. The check is issued from the national treasury for fuck sake! It says SSI right there on the front.
Being a smart ass I looked her right in the eye, leaned in and whispered," I'm in the witness protection program, why the fuck else would I be in Farmington, New Mexico?" She looked like she was gonna shit herself.
I decided to hurry things along and told her I was fucking with her, explained that the reason I was getting so much money from the gvnmt was because they decided my mental faculties weren't up to snuff and could I please have my money now.
She recovered quite nicely and set about the verification process which took for-fucking-ever! I thought they were gonna ask me for a DNA swab. So after much hassle I am now in possession of more money than a person like me should ever have access to all at once. I think I'm gonna pay off all my checksystems crap so I can open an account. I can't very well bury it or stuff it in the mattress and I'll be damned if I'm gonna put it all in Casey's account.
It's not that I don't trust him but momma didn't raise no fool. I have given him a nice chunk and I will probably spend twice that buying him crap he doesn't want or need. I just like to keep my options open and in case my idea of a good investment doesn't mesh with his, I want to be able to say, "FUCK YOU!" and do what I want anyway.
I will not be dictated to by a power drunk tyrant holding my cash hostage. That's the main reason I avoided pimps, I won't let it happen now that's for damn sure!
I don't want to give the impression that I am stingy, because I'm not. I am realistic. As much as I would like for everything to work out between me and Casey, I know our track record. Things have changed somewhat but we are still the same people we always were. So in order to keep from having to call my mommy to fix things when and if the shit hits the fan, I prefer to have a stash of cash to fall back on.
Like it's gonna last that long anyway, who the fuck do I think I'm fooling. Even if I don't spend it all on Dope I will spend it, believe you me. It's funny 'cause strung out I was so careful. I never spent money on unnecessary shit. Dope, smokes, food in that order. Priorities, you know, besides who the fuck wants to eat when you're fighting the dry heaves? Dope, then cigarettes (cause you have to have one after you fix), then food.
Anyway, I think I am going to engage in a serious bout of Internet shopping. I will probably buy Casey tons of band shirts, belts, buckles, shoes, records, CDs you name it. And no I'm not feeling guilty for hoarding my money like a scrooge. He'll get to enjoy it too......as long as he doesn't piss me off :) Ciao Bambinos, Melody Lee
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
I got what I wanted......what the fuck do I do now?
I am in a difficult spot. Having just received HUGE amount in back pay from Cali and New Mexico, I am at a loss. For those of you that didn't know, I don't just think I'm crazy, I get paid for it. I don't quite know how to explain it except to say that the original claim resulted from an incident that happened while I was in jail.
It involved a food tray and the face of a particularly unsympathetic bunkie. Indifference to my misery I can handle but please don't lecture me when I feel like I could easily cut my own throat. If I have no issues about shanking myself, where does that leave a self righteous cell mate with a big mouth. With a tray upside her fat head, that's where! The county Phsych actually sent in my SSI app for me, wasn't that nice? So now I get an ass-load of back pay. Far be it for me to go against the dictates of the federal govmnt. Sure I'm crazy, you can send my check to.....
Anyway, I know what I would like to do with all that money. If left to my own devices, I would undoubtedly spend it all on Dope and other equally frivolous purchases. It is killing me not to do so! I could go back to Cali and set myself up for a good long while. I figure it would be at least a few months before the cops realize their favorite junky ho is back in town. I could go see all the people I miss and show them a hell of a good time in the process. I could keep my friend Lora off the streets for a few months. All admirable choices.
Even now I am thinking all kinds of naughty thoughts. I could stay here and invest in a HUGE amount of Dope from my 'friend' and get good and strung out. This backwards town has no methadone clinics, so I could look forward to a helacious kick after the three weeks or so it took me to burn through all that money. I want to sooo bad.
I want to but I won't. I have been giving more thought to the fact that my family was so sure I would leave here soon after I arrived, staying just long enough to re-ruin Casey's life and come home. I have always wondered how it is that I get the credit for his H problem when his step brother had him handing over his milk money for smack when he was like 13. He was well immersed in his own junky mess long before I stumbled into it.
Anyway, I have decided that among other things I don't want to prove them right yet again. They think they know me sooo fucking well.
I may a somewhat self-absorbed cunt but I can still put the needs of other people before mine. I know that any one of those scenarios is a bad idea. I have to fight the pull! I know that if I leave, he will drink 20 times more than usual and probably end up splattered on the road somewhere. If I let my self get fully strung out he will follow along in my Heroin soaked wake and fuck everything off. AARGH! I fucking hate conflict or should I say I hate being conflicted.
It is sooo easy to fuck myself off but when faced with the impending doom of my boyfriend I am hesitant. What the fuck!
I wonder if being mostly sober for this long hasn't affected my thought process . I am not used to doing anything that even resembles the right thing when it comes to money or Dope.Things were so much easier when we were both strung-out. There would be no question as to where the money would go. It would soon be lining the pockets of whichever Hispanic gentleman happened to have the best shit.
Being semi-responsible is hard! I don't think I like it. I can handle working and all of that other shit that goes along with being normal. I can even accept the fact that I am supposed to function as some kind of domestic drudge, cleaning up after Casey. I loath it but I can hang.
What I am having trouble with is not letting my Heroin lust run wild. It feel sooo wrong to hold back when I know giving in would feel sooo right. For awhile anyway.
It involved a food tray and the face of a particularly unsympathetic bunkie. Indifference to my misery I can handle but please don't lecture me when I feel like I could easily cut my own throat. If I have no issues about shanking myself, where does that leave a self righteous cell mate with a big mouth. With a tray upside her fat head, that's where! The county Phsych actually sent in my SSI app for me, wasn't that nice? So now I get an ass-load of back pay. Far be it for me to go against the dictates of the federal govmnt. Sure I'm crazy, you can send my check to.....
Anyway, I know what I would like to do with all that money. If left to my own devices, I would undoubtedly spend it all on Dope and other equally frivolous purchases. It is killing me not to do so! I could go back to Cali and set myself up for a good long while. I figure it would be at least a few months before the cops realize their favorite junky ho is back in town. I could go see all the people I miss and show them a hell of a good time in the process. I could keep my friend Lora off the streets for a few months. All admirable choices.
Even now I am thinking all kinds of naughty thoughts. I could stay here and invest in a HUGE amount of Dope from my 'friend' and get good and strung out. This backwards town has no methadone clinics, so I could look forward to a helacious kick after the three weeks or so it took me to burn through all that money. I want to sooo bad.
I want to but I won't. I have been giving more thought to the fact that my family was so sure I would leave here soon after I arrived, staying just long enough to re-ruin Casey's life and come home. I have always wondered how it is that I get the credit for his H problem when his step brother had him handing over his milk money for smack when he was like 13. He was well immersed in his own junky mess long before I stumbled into it.
Anyway, I have decided that among other things I don't want to prove them right yet again. They think they know me sooo fucking well.
I may a somewhat self-absorbed cunt but I can still put the needs of other people before mine. I know that any one of those scenarios is a bad idea. I have to fight the pull! I know that if I leave, he will drink 20 times more than usual and probably end up splattered on the road somewhere. If I let my self get fully strung out he will follow along in my Heroin soaked wake and fuck everything off. AARGH! I fucking hate conflict or should I say I hate being conflicted.
It is sooo easy to fuck myself off but when faced with the impending doom of my boyfriend I am hesitant. What the fuck!
I wonder if being mostly sober for this long hasn't affected my thought process . I am not used to doing anything that even resembles the right thing when it comes to money or Dope.Things were so much easier when we were both strung-out. There would be no question as to where the money would go. It would soon be lining the pockets of whichever Hispanic gentleman happened to have the best shit.
Being semi-responsible is hard! I don't think I like it. I can handle working and all of that other shit that goes along with being normal. I can even accept the fact that I am supposed to function as some kind of domestic drudge, cleaning up after Casey. I loath it but I can hang.
What I am having trouble with is not letting my Heroin lust run wild. It feel sooo wrong to hold back when I know giving in would feel sooo right. For awhile anyway.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Right on schedule
Sweet Jesus I feel magnificent! My "friend" is divine. I have elevated him to deity status. I am still a little amazed that someone I have never met or even spoken to has been so fucking consistent.
Casey is off work today as he has court and we are both thankful that people in this town are so ignorant when it comes to H that his pinned pupils will not be noticed. He has blue eyes almost like a Siberian husky so when he gets high it looks weird. I love it, it's almost like he's looking right through you. Sexy beast that he is, my baby. I don't think I have to mention that H makes me tons more affectionate than usual. Don't get me wrong, I would fuck the boy seven ways from Sunday on a daily basis. I don't need H to make me want my psycho-licious sweetheart.
Speak of the devil...........talk to y'all later. Melody Lee
Casey is off work today as he has court and we are both thankful that people in this town are so ignorant when it comes to H that his pinned pupils will not be noticed. He has blue eyes almost like a Siberian husky so when he gets high it looks weird. I love it, it's almost like he's looking right through you. Sexy beast that he is, my baby. I don't think I have to mention that H makes me tons more affectionate than usual. Don't get me wrong, I would fuck the boy seven ways from Sunday on a daily basis. I don't need H to make me want my psycho-licious sweetheart.
Speak of the devil...........talk to y'all later. Melody Lee
Thursday, July 17, 2008
I will be my own downfall.....
Just as I predicted It's Thursday an lo and behold I feel better. I get to start the cycle all over again tomorrow and I can't wait! Determined little junky ain't I?
I'm sure you've noticed me going on a Casey bashing spree the last couple of days and I am feeling repentant. It's not to say that he didn't do all the shit I bitched about, he most definitely did. I just don't want people thinking that I am shacked up with an insufferable cry baby asshole. My latest bout of Dope sick lite armed me with a short temper and a sharp tongue. I must be feeling marvelous, I usually don't explain myself or apologize, as I am never wrong. I hope this is all temporary, people will start to think I've changed. Can't have that!
I saw Richie today. It was a case of wrong place at the right time. I have been trying really hard not to think about him and keep it in my pants. I don't really want to fuck him....... Well not too bad anyway. I think it's just that he reminds me of being that age and not giving a fuck about anything . I miss being able to live for the moment and not worry about tomorrow. I'm not that old but it's like I feel age creeping up on me faster and faster. Before I know It I'll be 30 then 40. I don't hold out much hope for 50 'cause all the damage I've done to myself is gonna catch up to me sooner than later. I think I'm OK with that. I have no worries about death. I am who I am and nothing is gonna change that. If I go to Hell Oh well by that time it will be too late to cry over anyway.
I am not the most religious person but I have my own relationship with God. Alot of people disagree with me but I don't think that God sweats the small stuff. I am fucking myself up, I'm not a murderer or a child molester (although some people think that me selling was akin to murder). I don't think God is that petty and if he is well fuck it all anyway.
Back to Richie. I think he must either live close by or be fucking someone who does because this is the second time I've seen him and he acted genuinely surprised to see me. It would be flattering to think that he tracked me down but I really don't think so.
Fuck! He is soooo irresistible! I can't, I can't, I can't! He is a 19yr old baby and I am 25 going on ancient(in street years). He was walking down the street when I was getting ready to go to the store to get some smokes. I tried to hurry up and get in the truck, really I did, he just happened to see me and came running over. I couldn't be rude could I? Not me.
He was leaning in the window smiling that smile of his and looking so edible, all tousled and bedroom eyed. The boy is walking, talking sex. I need to get a hold of myself (not like that) even now I'm having a Richie flashback and it is a powerful thing!
I had to remind myself that giving into his charm would be a colossal mistake. I asked him if he needed a ride. Of course he accepted, not one to let opportunity pass him by. I told him I was going to the store first and then would take him where he needed to go. When I came out of the store, he further impressed me by pulling out Bad Religions 80-85 CD. Since it is quite possibly my favorite Bad Religion album ever that scored some points.
I started driving, with Richie giving directions, the both of us rockin out to BR. It took me a minute to realize that we were back on my street headed towards my house. "I thought you needed a ride" I said to him as I came to a stop in front of my hacienda. "I did, we're here" he said jumping out of the truck and coming around to my door. Little fucker!
I think he really expected me to just drag him inside and drop my drawers. It was tempting. I kinda laughed and reached out and slapped him lightly on the face a couple of times, "Nice try Junior." I turned and walked to the door. I heard him call out,"I'll see you soon, I know where you live now." Stubborn horny teenager.
His persistence is not making things any easier on me. I want to give in even as I know what a stupid move that would be. Stupid on so many levels but we know how things usually turn out when I am faced with a good vs bad situation. Maybe I should just tell him what a hot mess I am (according to other people) then maybe he would lose interest. Heroin addiction and a past as a hooker don't usually inspire admiration in normal people (thanks be to God that I am far from normal) no matter how cute I am. I guess time will tell with Richie, maybe it won't matter, who knows.
I do not need a kid sniffing around me right now; or ever for that matter! If Casey gets wind of it there will be hell to pay. Not for me really but I have no desire to see Casey in jail for assault. Equally strong is the desire to make sure Richie's cute face stays just as it is...intact.
I need to give this some more thought, after all I do have a reputation for decimating most guys who come within a mile of me (yep, the black widow strikes again). Almost all of them end up strung out and fucked up. I can't understand why ;}
I always thought I should have been called the black plague seeing as how an firece epidemic of junk use followed me every where but that's the funny thing about nicknames, you don't get to choose 'em. If you do choose your own nickname chances are you are a humongous tool.
Anyway that's my little drama for now. Melody
I'm sure you've noticed me going on a Casey bashing spree the last couple of days and I am feeling repentant. It's not to say that he didn't do all the shit I bitched about, he most definitely did. I just don't want people thinking that I am shacked up with an insufferable cry baby asshole. My latest bout of Dope sick lite armed me with a short temper and a sharp tongue. I must be feeling marvelous, I usually don't explain myself or apologize, as I am never wrong. I hope this is all temporary, people will start to think I've changed. Can't have that!
I saw Richie today. It was a case of wrong place at the right time. I have been trying really hard not to think about him and keep it in my pants. I don't really want to fuck him....... Well not too bad anyway. I think it's just that he reminds me of being that age and not giving a fuck about anything . I miss being able to live for the moment and not worry about tomorrow. I'm not that old but it's like I feel age creeping up on me faster and faster. Before I know It I'll be 30 then 40. I don't hold out much hope for 50 'cause all the damage I've done to myself is gonna catch up to me sooner than later. I think I'm OK with that. I have no worries about death. I am who I am and nothing is gonna change that. If I go to Hell Oh well by that time it will be too late to cry over anyway.
I am not the most religious person but I have my own relationship with God. Alot of people disagree with me but I don't think that God sweats the small stuff. I am fucking myself up, I'm not a murderer or a child molester (although some people think that me selling was akin to murder). I don't think God is that petty and if he is well fuck it all anyway.
Back to Richie. I think he must either live close by or be fucking someone who does because this is the second time I've seen him and he acted genuinely surprised to see me. It would be flattering to think that he tracked me down but I really don't think so.
Fuck! He is soooo irresistible! I can't, I can't, I can't! He is a 19yr old baby and I am 25 going on ancient(in street years). He was walking down the street when I was getting ready to go to the store to get some smokes. I tried to hurry up and get in the truck, really I did, he just happened to see me and came running over. I couldn't be rude could I? Not me.
He was leaning in the window smiling that smile of his and looking so edible, all tousled and bedroom eyed. The boy is walking, talking sex. I need to get a hold of myself (not like that) even now I'm having a Richie flashback and it is a powerful thing!
I had to remind myself that giving into his charm would be a colossal mistake. I asked him if he needed a ride. Of course he accepted, not one to let opportunity pass him by. I told him I was going to the store first and then would take him where he needed to go. When I came out of the store, he further impressed me by pulling out Bad Religions 80-85 CD. Since it is quite possibly my favorite Bad Religion album ever that scored some points.
I started driving, with Richie giving directions, the both of us rockin out to BR. It took me a minute to realize that we were back on my street headed towards my house. "I thought you needed a ride" I said to him as I came to a stop in front of my hacienda. "I did, we're here" he said jumping out of the truck and coming around to my door. Little fucker!
I think he really expected me to just drag him inside and drop my drawers. It was tempting. I kinda laughed and reached out and slapped him lightly on the face a couple of times, "Nice try Junior." I turned and walked to the door. I heard him call out,"I'll see you soon, I know where you live now." Stubborn horny teenager.
His persistence is not making things any easier on me. I want to give in even as I know what a stupid move that would be. Stupid on so many levels but we know how things usually turn out when I am faced with a good vs bad situation. Maybe I should just tell him what a hot mess I am (according to other people) then maybe he would lose interest. Heroin addiction and a past as a hooker don't usually inspire admiration in normal people (thanks be to God that I am far from normal) no matter how cute I am. I guess time will tell with Richie, maybe it won't matter, who knows.
I do not need a kid sniffing around me right now; or ever for that matter! If Casey gets wind of it there will be hell to pay. Not for me really but I have no desire to see Casey in jail for assault. Equally strong is the desire to make sure Richie's cute face stays just as it is...intact.
I need to give this some more thought, after all I do have a reputation for decimating most guys who come within a mile of me (yep, the black widow strikes again). Almost all of them end up strung out and fucked up. I can't understand why ;}
I always thought I should have been called the black plague seeing as how an firece epidemic of junk use followed me every where but that's the funny thing about nicknames, you don't get to choose 'em. If you do choose your own nickname chances are you are a humongous tool.
Anyway that's my little drama for now. Melody
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Before Drew was my faithful sidekick
So since I still can't sleep. I'm gonna tell you a story. It starts about five years ago, when I was living in an apartment in downtown Bako. It was on 17Th and B and we had a cozy little set up, let me tell you. It was me, Casey, Ash, Joe and sometimes Jimmy and Nicole. I was there to sell Dope, Casey was there cause he was my second in command and my boyfriend. Joe was there cause it was his job to run bags and Ash was there cause it was her apartment to begin with.
She had been seeing Joe for awhile but that got old so they broke up and proceeded to despise each other quietly. No one wanted to rile up the monster Casey, who had a bad temper and would go on tirades at the drop of a hat. It has been suggested to me that maybe he was feeling inferior because it was my operation and every body knew it. That may be true but let me say that I never held shit over his head or made him feel like he owed me his ass. I babied him in an almost disgusting way, catering to his fragile ego and bitchy tantrums.
Anyway, there was also Jimmy and Nicole, a junky couple who would crash from time to time. Jimmy had been born with HIV and at age 22 had probably taken every drug known to man before settling on Heroin. His girl Nicole was only 17 and was well on her way to becoming a serious junky. For whatever reason, Nicole had never caught HIV even though they had bareback sex and shared needles. Although this was amazing to us, we took precautions nonetheless and made sure that when they stayed all their shit (needles ect) was on quarantine. Nobody wanted to pick one up by mistake.
Well for awhile we had been hearing that someone was talking to the cops. This was further confirmed when Jimmy talked to a guy at the record store who told him the big story wa that we were gonna get shut down as soon as they could get a controlled buy on us. He wouldn't give up a name but said it was one of our regulars. Since alot of our regs were rookie kids who would be scared shit less if threatened by cops, this was not hard to believe. So we shut ourselves down. I took all the cash we had and bought two pieces, aprox 56 grams and we settled in figuring that we would stay quiet for a week or so and see what happened. We were turning almost everybody away. Only the fiends we had known for years had a chance of getting anything. One day this guy Arron shows up. It's only me and Joe at the pad and I tell him we're dry. Now Arron is not the type to take no for an answer. He was one of those jocko guys who had started out banging oxy and then graduated to H. He pestered and bugged, saying he just knew we had something. At one point him and Joe came to blows cause he wouldn't leave. In order to settle shit down I told Arron I would give him the name of another dealer. I hooked him up and was walking him to the door when I opened it to see Drew standing there. At this time Drew was a total rookie and definitely on our do not serve list. So I thought why not kill two birds with one stone. I told Drew that Arron was on his way to meet Jose (every Mexican in Cali who deals is named Jose) and could he give him a ride. That way he could cop as well. Problem solved.
Al went smooth for the next few hours, Ash came home from work, Casey was back, Jimmy and Nicole too. We were just getting ready to go to the bedroom to do a shot when there aws a loud pounding on the door. We all froze, only cops knock that way at a Dope house. When we didn't hear BPD open UP, Casey crept to the front door and looked our the peephole. It's that little asshole Drew, I'm gonna kick his ass! Casey opened the door and immediately Drew started babbling about a dead guy, " There's a dead guy on your grass" What the fuck? We went outside and sure enough there was Arron, blue on the lawn. Out in plain fucking sight no less! Well we may not be a brain trust but it wasn't too hard to figure out how he got there. We all turned to Drew who was shaking and stuttering, trying in vain to convince us that he had no idea how Arron got there.
By this time I had gone over and checked him out. I tried slapping him around but to no avail. He was breathing maybe twice in a minute and looked like he was dead already. We had to call 911, there was no other option, we couldn't just let him die. I know that it is the popular thing to dump people in alleys or trash cans but that is so not me. If someone needs an ambulance then fuck it call 911.
Casey grabbed Drew by the throat and broke it down. Nobody knew who Arron was, Drew just happened to walk by and see him and ran up to the first door he could find... ours, Drew didn't know us, he just needed to use the phone. While this was happening I gathered up the Dope and took off down the street to stash it til all the bullshit was over. I know cops aren't the smartest guys but any moron could see that we were all connected . Tattoos, piercings our clothes even, we had a similar style to say the least. All they would have to do is run some names, almost everyone there had some drug related charges on their record.
I think Drew was the only one who had a clean sheet. After making it clear to Drew that his life was at stake if he fucked this up, Casey took him outside to wait for the circus. A firetruck, two ambulances and several cop cars later, they had Arron loaded up and gave him a fat shot of narcan. He came to in the ambulance kicking and yelling. The cops questioned Casey and Drew but even though they knew something was wrong they didn't pursue it. After everyone was gone we went about our business getting ready to do our nigh time shots. It was at that time that Jimmy started asking if we had seen his kit. He had put it on the shelf in the living room, next to the couch where he and Nicole slept. It was gone and none of us took it!
I remembered that Arron had been begging me for a needle but I had told him we threw them all out. He had also wandered the house a bit. That moron took the HIV riggs! I knew he didn't have one and when I had rolled him over earlier he had one sticking out of his pocket. Fucking Idiot. Jimmy called Drew to ask him if they had stopped to buy any points along the way, Drew told him no. He said Arron had his own and so did he. So there it was. Arron had stolen Jimmy's dirty needles and used them. So we said OK nobody use after Arron and that was that. Drew later on became a real good friend to me after Casey left.
I had never taken the time to know him, always assuming that he was just a stupid kid. I was wrong , he turned out to be a great guy and an awesome street buddy. He always made sure that he took care of the dope at least three times a week, leaving me to work only if I felt like it. I never had to worry that he was after some ass cause it wasn't like that. He was just a good friend.
I loved to tell that story about him and Arron, it always embarrassed him when the veteran junky's would look at him like he was the biggest idiot on God's green earth, "Boy, what the fuck was you thinking taking an OD to your connects house? You're lucky your girl Melody is so sweet else you would of been in a world of hurt." The older street ho's got a kick out of teasing him about it. He really got a pass on that one. If Casey hadn't been in such a hurry to do his shit, things may have turned out very differently for Drew. I'm glad they didn't. I miss my sidekick. Melody Lee
She had been seeing Joe for awhile but that got old so they broke up and proceeded to despise each other quietly. No one wanted to rile up the monster Casey, who had a bad temper and would go on tirades at the drop of a hat. It has been suggested to me that maybe he was feeling inferior because it was my operation and every body knew it. That may be true but let me say that I never held shit over his head or made him feel like he owed me his ass. I babied him in an almost disgusting way, catering to his fragile ego and bitchy tantrums.
Anyway, there was also Jimmy and Nicole, a junky couple who would crash from time to time. Jimmy had been born with HIV and at age 22 had probably taken every drug known to man before settling on Heroin. His girl Nicole was only 17 and was well on her way to becoming a serious junky. For whatever reason, Nicole had never caught HIV even though they had bareback sex and shared needles. Although this was amazing to us, we took precautions nonetheless and made sure that when they stayed all their shit (needles ect) was on quarantine. Nobody wanted to pick one up by mistake.
Well for awhile we had been hearing that someone was talking to the cops. This was further confirmed when Jimmy talked to a guy at the record store who told him the big story wa that we were gonna get shut down as soon as they could get a controlled buy on us. He wouldn't give up a name but said it was one of our regulars. Since alot of our regs were rookie kids who would be scared shit less if threatened by cops, this was not hard to believe. So we shut ourselves down. I took all the cash we had and bought two pieces, aprox 56 grams and we settled in figuring that we would stay quiet for a week or so and see what happened. We were turning almost everybody away. Only the fiends we had known for years had a chance of getting anything. One day this guy Arron shows up. It's only me and Joe at the pad and I tell him we're dry. Now Arron is not the type to take no for an answer. He was one of those jocko guys who had started out banging oxy and then graduated to H. He pestered and bugged, saying he just knew we had something. At one point him and Joe came to blows cause he wouldn't leave. In order to settle shit down I told Arron I would give him the name of another dealer. I hooked him up and was walking him to the door when I opened it to see Drew standing there. At this time Drew was a total rookie and definitely on our do not serve list. So I thought why not kill two birds with one stone. I told Drew that Arron was on his way to meet Jose (every Mexican in Cali who deals is named Jose) and could he give him a ride. That way he could cop as well. Problem solved.
Al went smooth for the next few hours, Ash came home from work, Casey was back, Jimmy and Nicole too. We were just getting ready to go to the bedroom to do a shot when there aws a loud pounding on the door. We all froze, only cops knock that way at a Dope house. When we didn't hear BPD open UP, Casey crept to the front door and looked our the peephole. It's that little asshole Drew, I'm gonna kick his ass! Casey opened the door and immediately Drew started babbling about a dead guy, " There's a dead guy on your grass" What the fuck? We went outside and sure enough there was Arron, blue on the lawn. Out in plain fucking sight no less! Well we may not be a brain trust but it wasn't too hard to figure out how he got there. We all turned to Drew who was shaking and stuttering, trying in vain to convince us that he had no idea how Arron got there.
By this time I had gone over and checked him out. I tried slapping him around but to no avail. He was breathing maybe twice in a minute and looked like he was dead already. We had to call 911, there was no other option, we couldn't just let him die. I know that it is the popular thing to dump people in alleys or trash cans but that is so not me. If someone needs an ambulance then fuck it call 911.
Casey grabbed Drew by the throat and broke it down. Nobody knew who Arron was, Drew just happened to walk by and see him and ran up to the first door he could find... ours, Drew didn't know us, he just needed to use the phone. While this was happening I gathered up the Dope and took off down the street to stash it til all the bullshit was over. I know cops aren't the smartest guys but any moron could see that we were all connected . Tattoos, piercings our clothes even, we had a similar style to say the least. All they would have to do is run some names, almost everyone there had some drug related charges on their record.
I think Drew was the only one who had a clean sheet. After making it clear to Drew that his life was at stake if he fucked this up, Casey took him outside to wait for the circus. A firetruck, two ambulances and several cop cars later, they had Arron loaded up and gave him a fat shot of narcan. He came to in the ambulance kicking and yelling. The cops questioned Casey and Drew but even though they knew something was wrong they didn't pursue it. After everyone was gone we went about our business getting ready to do our nigh time shots. It was at that time that Jimmy started asking if we had seen his kit. He had put it on the shelf in the living room, next to the couch where he and Nicole slept. It was gone and none of us took it!
I remembered that Arron had been begging me for a needle but I had told him we threw them all out. He had also wandered the house a bit. That moron took the HIV riggs! I knew he didn't have one and when I had rolled him over earlier he had one sticking out of his pocket. Fucking Idiot. Jimmy called Drew to ask him if they had stopped to buy any points along the way, Drew told him no. He said Arron had his own and so did he. So there it was. Arron had stolen Jimmy's dirty needles and used them. So we said OK nobody use after Arron and that was that. Drew later on became a real good friend to me after Casey left.
I had never taken the time to know him, always assuming that he was just a stupid kid. I was wrong , he turned out to be a great guy and an awesome street buddy. He always made sure that he took care of the dope at least three times a week, leaving me to work only if I felt like it. I never had to worry that he was after some ass cause it wasn't like that. He was just a good friend.
I loved to tell that story about him and Arron, it always embarrassed him when the veteran junky's would look at him like he was the biggest idiot on God's green earth, "Boy, what the fuck was you thinking taking an OD to your connects house? You're lucky your girl Melody is so sweet else you would of been in a world of hurt." The older street ho's got a kick out of teasing him about it. He really got a pass on that one. If Casey hadn't been in such a hurry to do his shit, things may have turned out very differently for Drew. I'm glad they didn't. I miss my sidekick. Melody Lee
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Love is a many splendored thing
It has been an interesting day to say the least. It's not enough that I feel like dog shit, oh no. Casey has to come home from work and resume his whiskey guzzling schedule. He usually lays off for awhile after we get some Dope but I guess today was the day. He came come and proceeded to demolish a fifth of Jim Beam, chasing the whole thing with beers (pussy).
I'm sure I have mentioned that Casey drinks too much, he uses it as a substitute. I can understand that, really I can. Except for one thing.
Casey is a HUGE asshole when he is drunk. Mostly I can ignore it as it never really gets too bad but today....FUCK. He started by making comments under his breath, OK I let it go. Then he graduated to straight out shit talk, blaming me for every aspect of human misery from the holocaust to 9/11. I know that I can be a somewhat hard to live with but give me a fucking break. Waaaaah, it's all your fault. Waaah I hate my life. Waaaah I wish I was still a mildly happy drug addict instead of a miserable drudge on the working class wheel. Tell it to someone who gives a fuck, don't blame me for it.
It's not that I don't care about his feelings, I love him , of course I care. It's just that I don't take kindly to having him fling baseless accusations at me every time he gets shit faced. If he wants to talk shit about my time as a ho (and believe me that is a popular subject) or about my shitty taste in men (except for him of course) that's OK. All that shit is true. When he wants to start in blaming me for stuff that I had nothing to do with, that's when we have a problem.
Every time I had some little wet panty bitch come sniffing after Casey I always told them the same thing, "Honey, if you can put up with his bullshit for more than a few day then by all means, take him." I never actually meant it and I pity the girls who actually tried but it just goes to prove my point. He is as hard to live with as I am! Even though he can be deliciously crazy, sometimes he's just a drama queen.
Yep, I said it. My 6'3 190lb psycho can turn into the most irritating...the most frustrating....the biggest whiny bitch on the face of the earth. I swear he goes on the rag just like a woman. When he drinks It's male PMS times 1000.
So after exchanging words with me (and coming out wanting), he promptly began to destroy things. A plant, a mirror, food I brought home for him. OOOOOH, big man, you can kill a plant and a Big Mac, you must be sooo proud! (you can see why it surprises even me that he has never planted that big fist in my mouth).
After using up all his drunken dickhead energy, he stumbled to the bedroom and passed out. He is now on the bed in a Jesus Christ pose, snoring contentedly, none the worse for his ordeal. I on the other hand have a shitload of crap to clean up and let me tell you, wiping ketchup off the ceiling is not how I like to spend my time on the best of days much less when I feel like death. Maybe if I'm really lucky he'll piss the bed in a drunken delirium. Goody!
I just had to get that off my chest, no use stabbing him while he's dead to the world and can't even feel it. AAAAH love. Beautiful ain't it. Melody
I'm sure I have mentioned that Casey drinks too much, he uses it as a substitute. I can understand that, really I can. Except for one thing.
Casey is a HUGE asshole when he is drunk. Mostly I can ignore it as it never really gets too bad but today....FUCK. He started by making comments under his breath, OK I let it go. Then he graduated to straight out shit talk, blaming me for every aspect of human misery from the holocaust to 9/11. I know that I can be a somewhat hard to live with but give me a fucking break. Waaaaah, it's all your fault. Waaah I hate my life. Waaaah I wish I was still a mildly happy drug addict instead of a miserable drudge on the working class wheel. Tell it to someone who gives a fuck, don't blame me for it.
It's not that I don't care about his feelings, I love him , of course I care. It's just that I don't take kindly to having him fling baseless accusations at me every time he gets shit faced. If he wants to talk shit about my time as a ho (and believe me that is a popular subject) or about my shitty taste in men (except for him of course) that's OK. All that shit is true. When he wants to start in blaming me for stuff that I had nothing to do with, that's when we have a problem.
Every time I had some little wet panty bitch come sniffing after Casey I always told them the same thing, "Honey, if you can put up with his bullshit for more than a few day then by all means, take him." I never actually meant it and I pity the girls who actually tried but it just goes to prove my point. He is as hard to live with as I am! Even though he can be deliciously crazy, sometimes he's just a drama queen.
Yep, I said it. My 6'3 190lb psycho can turn into the most irritating...the most frustrating....the biggest whiny bitch on the face of the earth. I swear he goes on the rag just like a woman. When he drinks It's male PMS times 1000.
So after exchanging words with me (and coming out wanting), he promptly began to destroy things. A plant, a mirror, food I brought home for him. OOOOOH, big man, you can kill a plant and a Big Mac, you must be sooo proud! (you can see why it surprises even me that he has never planted that big fist in my mouth).
After using up all his drunken dickhead energy, he stumbled to the bedroom and passed out. He is now on the bed in a Jesus Christ pose, snoring contentedly, none the worse for his ordeal. I on the other hand have a shitload of crap to clean up and let me tell you, wiping ketchup off the ceiling is not how I like to spend my time on the best of days much less when I feel like death. Maybe if I'm really lucky he'll piss the bed in a drunken delirium. Goody!
I just had to get that off my chest, no use stabbing him while he's dead to the world and can't even feel it. AAAAH love. Beautiful ain't it. Melody
The road to Hell is paved with good intentions
I feel like shit! I am totally incapable of sitting still or concentrating on anything for more than a few minutes. I have been bouncing from computer to TV to book to cigarette to AARGH. Out of all the symptoms involved in my mini withdrawal, I hate that the most, the inability to sit still. Also that gross feeling I get on the back of my neck. It feels all sweaty and clammy and it fucking drives me nuts. On the rare occasion that I have been able to fall asleep when I feel this way, the neck sweats have been able to wake me time and time again. Oh and that scratchy feeling in the back of my throat that makes me want to cough and puke every time I smoke. Did I mention the fact that I feel like I have to pee every ten minutes whether I really need to go or not? I guess there's more on my little list than I previously thought. Fuck it.
I am if nothing else a glutton for punishment, especially where Heroin is involved. Even as I sit here feeling like hell I am still thinking about this weekend. I will get my next delivery just as I am starting to feel normal and do it all over again.Silly silly girl.
This is not the first time I have done this. I used to go for months at a time, trying to clean up and wavering back and forth. One of my connects asked me about it once, why he would only see me once a week or so. It was unusual when I would normally be copping up to 5 times a day. He thought I was going elsewhere. I told him not to worry, I was trying to clean up but only lasting for about 5 days before I broke down and got some more. I was staying clean just long enough to get over the worst of the kick just to go out and acquire a habit all over again. After only five days all it takes is one good shot and you're back where you started.
The only times I have ever been able to really truly kick, I was in jail. I don't count the times I went on methadone cause it really doesn't hurt at all after you get your dose right, maybe a couple of days at the most. However I have noticed that no matter how high my dose was I was always able to make myself sick just thinking about dope and how bad I wanted to do it. I would get cold sweats and nasty chills and tell myself that I was fucking retarded cause on 160 mlgs of methadone being sick was pretty much impossible. My fucked up head! It never ceases to amaze me.
Casey has it worse as he has to go out into the oilfield feeling like this. He does have it all over me in some regards though. for instance even when we had crazy insane H habits he could always force himself to go to sleep, no matter how sick he was. It's not fucking natural I tell you! Even if he was kicking his legs and tossing and turning, he would still be asleep. Bastard! Alot of times I would wake him up just cause I was pissed that he could ignore all the shitty feelings while I was condemned to toss and sweat and twitch for days on end. When we did do the "We're gonna kick and be normal people" bullshit, it only lasted a few days cause after about 4 or 5 I was so fucking tired that all I wanted was a shot so I could get some sleep.My reasoning was that I would just do enough to take the edge off and then go right back to kicking. Right. Even then I knew how full of holes that plan was, I just didn't care. When you're Dope fiends and in some kind of relationship together it is almost impossible to kick. You feed off each other and even though you might have good intentions at the beginning, by the time you both feel like shit all it takes is a quiet suggestion and off you go to the Dope man.
I'm sure you've figured out by now that I am no exactly the quiet suggestion type. I would either stand up and announce that I had had enough and was going to cop or I would just go cop and tell him after the fact, when I had a shot waiting for him. After all the fucker was most likely asleep so he wouldn't realize I was gone til it was too late anyway.
Not the best situation to clean up in. I have finally figured out that all those time I tried to clean up, I was doing it because it was expected of me. Someone, Casey, my family wanted me to quit.So, being not completely hard headed , I tried. But somewhere along the way I decided that I don't think Heroin is my problem. I am my problem and there's no getting away from me. Heroin is something I do because it feels good and for a moment it makes everything in my head go quiet. I don't have to think about anything all I have to do is sit back and feel. I love that!
I am not trying to escape my problems, cause aside from being seriously fucked in the head I don't have any. Right now, I am content. Maybe not happy but I never asked for happy, I am satisfied with content. I am content to be what I am. Not a bad deal. I don't feel bad about what I do, cause I don't see it as the colossal no no people perceive it as. So I like to shoot smack, so fucking what, don't you have something more important to bitch about. My friend Melissa had a button that read, "Who needs life? I'm high on Dope." I think that about sums it up.
I am if nothing else a glutton for punishment, especially where Heroin is involved. Even as I sit here feeling like hell I am still thinking about this weekend. I will get my next delivery just as I am starting to feel normal and do it all over again.Silly silly girl.
This is not the first time I have done this. I used to go for months at a time, trying to clean up and wavering back and forth. One of my connects asked me about it once, why he would only see me once a week or so. It was unusual when I would normally be copping up to 5 times a day. He thought I was going elsewhere. I told him not to worry, I was trying to clean up but only lasting for about 5 days before I broke down and got some more. I was staying clean just long enough to get over the worst of the kick just to go out and acquire a habit all over again. After only five days all it takes is one good shot and you're back where you started.
The only times I have ever been able to really truly kick, I was in jail. I don't count the times I went on methadone cause it really doesn't hurt at all after you get your dose right, maybe a couple of days at the most. However I have noticed that no matter how high my dose was I was always able to make myself sick just thinking about dope and how bad I wanted to do it. I would get cold sweats and nasty chills and tell myself that I was fucking retarded cause on 160 mlgs of methadone being sick was pretty much impossible. My fucked up head! It never ceases to amaze me.
Casey has it worse as he has to go out into the oilfield feeling like this. He does have it all over me in some regards though. for instance even when we had crazy insane H habits he could always force himself to go to sleep, no matter how sick he was. It's not fucking natural I tell you! Even if he was kicking his legs and tossing and turning, he would still be asleep. Bastard! Alot of times I would wake him up just cause I was pissed that he could ignore all the shitty feelings while I was condemned to toss and sweat and twitch for days on end. When we did do the "We're gonna kick and be normal people" bullshit, it only lasted a few days cause after about 4 or 5 I was so fucking tired that all I wanted was a shot so I could get some sleep.My reasoning was that I would just do enough to take the edge off and then go right back to kicking. Right. Even then I knew how full of holes that plan was, I just didn't care. When you're Dope fiends and in some kind of relationship together it is almost impossible to kick. You feed off each other and even though you might have good intentions at the beginning, by the time you both feel like shit all it takes is a quiet suggestion and off you go to the Dope man.
I'm sure you've figured out by now that I am no exactly the quiet suggestion type. I would either stand up and announce that I had had enough and was going to cop or I would just go cop and tell him after the fact, when I had a shot waiting for him. After all the fucker was most likely asleep so he wouldn't realize I was gone til it was too late anyway.
Not the best situation to clean up in. I have finally figured out that all those time I tried to clean up, I was doing it because it was expected of me. Someone, Casey, my family wanted me to quit.So, being not completely hard headed , I tried. But somewhere along the way I decided that I don't think Heroin is my problem. I am my problem and there's no getting away from me. Heroin is something I do because it feels good and for a moment it makes everything in my head go quiet. I don't have to think about anything all I have to do is sit back and feel. I love that!
I am not trying to escape my problems, cause aside from being seriously fucked in the head I don't have any. Right now, I am content. Maybe not happy but I never asked for happy, I am satisfied with content. I am content to be what I am. Not a bad deal. I don't feel bad about what I do, cause I don't see it as the colossal no no people perceive it as. So I like to shoot smack, so fucking what, don't you have something more important to bitch about. My friend Melissa had a button that read, "Who needs life? I'm high on Dope." I think that about sums it up.
Monday, July 14, 2008
My teenage years...gone but not forgotten
I just came across one of my favorite Desendents songs, bikeage. I set it as my default song so y'all can enjoy it as well. I remember one of my semi-steady boyfriends/fucks having his band cover this song as a tribute to me after we broke up. Instead of being embarrassed or feeling insecure, I remember laughing and taking a bow as everyone turned to look at me (he did it at an all ages show on a Saturday night). It's not like everybody in that town didn't already know my business anyway. It is ironic however that at the time he dropped his musical bomb, I was not selling my ass for smack.
I was just getting to the point where shooting up every day was sounding better and better. I still had alot of resources, so hitting the streets wasn't necessary. I guess he thought if he laid it out for me in those terms, you know, "This is where you're gonna end up if you don't stop" that I would get my head out of my ass and stop. Wrong!
Preaching at me from the top of your instrument laden soapbox is not the way to get me to do anything. Silly boy. I only do things when I feel like it. Even if you have a good idea, I won't consider it until it seems like it occurred to me first. It must be a good idea if I thought of it.
Anyway, the song brought back some memories. Sitting on the corner of 19 and eye street, loaded waiting for the sun to go all the way down so all the other asshole fuck-ups could put in an appearance. Laying the seats back in my big ol' car (1978 Oldsmobile Regency 77) and smoking a cig after a really good shot. Cruising around, pissed cause we had just copped and everyone but me was fixing(I had to drive). Mike telling me to stop whining and find a spot to park and me being a smart-ass and parking in front of the police station, a carload of junkies with needles at the ready.
We had alot of good times interspersed with bullshit but now all I remember is the fun. In alot of ways it's all I got cause some of the people I reminisce about are dead and gone and I couldn't make new memories with them if I wanted to. In some cases the past is all I have left. More's the pity.
On a side note, the guy who sang to me," Whose gonna pick you up and take you home with them tonight? Not me!" did end up taking me home. We got back together a few weeks later and I took great delight in leaning over to him at odd moments and whispering, "Not me!" Just like me to rub it in huh .
Love, Melody"when you're on the streets with a needle in your arm, selling your body for another fix" Lee
I was just getting to the point where shooting up every day was sounding better and better. I still had alot of resources, so hitting the streets wasn't necessary. I guess he thought if he laid it out for me in those terms, you know, "This is where you're gonna end up if you don't stop" that I would get my head out of my ass and stop. Wrong!
Preaching at me from the top of your instrument laden soapbox is not the way to get me to do anything. Silly boy. I only do things when I feel like it. Even if you have a good idea, I won't consider it until it seems like it occurred to me first. It must be a good idea if I thought of it.
Anyway, the song brought back some memories. Sitting on the corner of 19 and eye street, loaded waiting for the sun to go all the way down so all the other asshole fuck-ups could put in an appearance. Laying the seats back in my big ol' car (1978 Oldsmobile Regency 77) and smoking a cig after a really good shot. Cruising around, pissed cause we had just copped and everyone but me was fixing(I had to drive). Mike telling me to stop whining and find a spot to park and me being a smart-ass and parking in front of the police station, a carload of junkies with needles at the ready.
We had alot of good times interspersed with bullshit but now all I remember is the fun. In alot of ways it's all I got cause some of the people I reminisce about are dead and gone and I couldn't make new memories with them if I wanted to. In some cases the past is all I have left. More's the pity.
On a side note, the guy who sang to me," Whose gonna pick you up and take you home with them tonight? Not me!" did end up taking me home. We got back together a few weeks later and I took great delight in leaning over to him at odd moments and whispering, "Not me!" Just like me to rub it in huh .
Love, Melody"when you're on the streets with a needle in your arm, selling your body for another fix" Lee
Friday, July 11, 2008
Hooray for express mail
It's Friday mothafuckas! I love Fridays and y'all know why. I just signed for my weekly care package and boy am I happy. I loaded a healthy shot and POW. Instant ecstasy. I was in the bathroom and watched my pupils pin as I was lighting a smoke. Heaven! Nothing like sparking up a delicious Marlboro 100 after an equally delicious shot.
I was so stoked to hear the doorbell cause it was kinda unexpected, I mean I knew that I would be getting it today but he usually sends it regular mail which takes 5 days. This week I paid for express, so voila instead of getting it next Monday I got it today. I also thought it would be delivered with the regular mail, around 3 0r 4, leaving me with quite a few hours to kill. A pleasant surprise to say the least.
I am feeling no pain and I had to share it with all of ya's cause I know there is nothing more interesting than living vicariously through an irresponsible, irrepressible Hype like me. Let me entertain you.
Love from your Favorite Fiend, Melody Lee
I was so stoked to hear the doorbell cause it was kinda unexpected, I mean I knew that I would be getting it today but he usually sends it regular mail which takes 5 days. This week I paid for express, so voila instead of getting it next Monday I got it today. I also thought it would be delivered with the regular mail, around 3 0r 4, leaving me with quite a few hours to kill. A pleasant surprise to say the least.
I am feeling no pain and I had to share it with all of ya's cause I know there is nothing more interesting than living vicariously through an irresponsible, irrepressible Hype like me. Let me entertain you.
Love from your Favorite Fiend, Melody Lee
I like my roots just the way they are, dark and exposed
So I went to my bi-monthly psych appointment yesterday and it was a fucking waste of time, as usual. My Doctor is a condescending cunt! She never listens to anything I say, always just nods and says "uh huh" before asking another of her asinine questions. On this last visit she wanted to try and expose my root. My root? Oh for fuck sake, the only roots I have to expose are on my head.
There is no hidden tragedy to blame for my mistakes. I refuse to believe that there is some repressed memory that is responsible for who I am. Don't get me wrong, I have had my share of shitty experiences but I am not a sob sister!. So I had an overly affectionate step dad, so what, me and a million other girls. It's over, done with. I see no purpose in torturing myself over something that I had no control over.
Abusive boyfriends, check. Rape/sexual/mental abuse, check. And your point is? Everything but the step dad incident happened after I started using drugs. I don't think I know one girl (especially girls that ho and use) who has not had a rape or ass-kicking experience. Even girls that don't use or hustle have this shit happen to them.
I feel for the girls who can't get past what happened to them but that is not me. I have no issues with it. I can't change it, I can't forget it but I refuse to dwell on it. I can talk about it without getting all weepy and alot of times I find some of it funny.
For example I can thank my high school boyfriend Grant for kicking my ass regularly. Because of him I am fearless when it comes to throwing down with mouthy bitches, after having a huge guy beat on you like you were a man what the fuck is some girl gonna do to me?
As for getting raped, like I said I would be hard pressed to find a single girl who hasn't suffered the same. It's just one of those things. Deal with it, I have.
All of that shit is irrelevant when it comes to who I am unless you consider the fact that it made me smarter and tougher when dealing with certain situations. I have never sat down and done something destructive just because I couldn't get over the fact that some asshole guy did something fucked up to me. I don't need a reason to run wild and get loaded, I do it cause I like it and it feels oh-so-right.
The exception to that is when I got fucked up to try and forget about Casey. I don't think that counts because it was not the result of some kind of abuse or drama, it was the result of my inability to give up all my bullshit and grow up. My fault not his.
So I think if it were not for the fact that I am required to see the bitch-whore psychiatrist, I would have quit going a long time ago. I can analyse myself just fine. I'm fucking crazy, surprise! So what, learn to love it, I have.
Krazy Kisses Bitches, Melody Lee
There is no hidden tragedy to blame for my mistakes. I refuse to believe that there is some repressed memory that is responsible for who I am. Don't get me wrong, I have had my share of shitty experiences but I am not a sob sister!. So I had an overly affectionate step dad, so what, me and a million other girls. It's over, done with. I see no purpose in torturing myself over something that I had no control over.
Abusive boyfriends, check. Rape/sexual/mental abuse, check. And your point is? Everything but the step dad incident happened after I started using drugs. I don't think I know one girl (especially girls that ho and use) who has not had a rape or ass-kicking experience. Even girls that don't use or hustle have this shit happen to them.
I feel for the girls who can't get past what happened to them but that is not me. I have no issues with it. I can't change it, I can't forget it but I refuse to dwell on it. I can talk about it without getting all weepy and alot of times I find some of it funny.
For example I can thank my high school boyfriend Grant for kicking my ass regularly. Because of him I am fearless when it comes to throwing down with mouthy bitches, after having a huge guy beat on you like you were a man what the fuck is some girl gonna do to me?
As for getting raped, like I said I would be hard pressed to find a single girl who hasn't suffered the same. It's just one of those things. Deal with it, I have.
All of that shit is irrelevant when it comes to who I am unless you consider the fact that it made me smarter and tougher when dealing with certain situations. I have never sat down and done something destructive just because I couldn't get over the fact that some asshole guy did something fucked up to me. I don't need a reason to run wild and get loaded, I do it cause I like it and it feels oh-so-right.
The exception to that is when I got fucked up to try and forget about Casey. I don't think that counts because it was not the result of some kind of abuse or drama, it was the result of my inability to give up all my bullshit and grow up. My fault not his.
So I think if it were not for the fact that I am required to see the bitch-whore psychiatrist, I would have quit going a long time ago. I can analyse myself just fine. I'm fucking crazy, surprise! So what, learn to love it, I have.
Krazy Kisses Bitches, Melody Lee
Thursday, July 10, 2008
I can be sooo brilliant sometimes!
I did something really intelligent yesterday. I was feeling extra bored as it was almost 3pm and Casey wouldn't be home for hours yet. He was in Colorado for the day and would be gone til at least 8 or 9. I had spent the better part of the day dragging ass around the house, fucking with my hair, make-up ect. For lack of anything better to do I yanked item after item out of my closet, playing dress-up. After an hour or so of this, I felt like I wanted to scream! You know when it seem like nothing on earth is going to be interesting enough to knock you out of a shitty mood? It was like that.
Countless cigarettes later, I decided to go out. This is a rare occurrence because there is nothing to do in this shit town even if you do go out.
I drove , even though the tags on the truck expired months ago. Cruising down the road, music blaring was at least an improvement over rusticating at home. I pulled into a gas station to buy the requisite Pepsi and peach rings and was on my way back out to the truck when I heard ,"Hey!"
I turned and looked across the lot and sure enough, there was a carload of oh so young guys doing whatever it is that young guys do in gas station parking lots. I smiled and nodded at them and then continued on my way. I had the door open and was climbing in when I heard a voice right behind me say, "Hi."
Usually when I get hit on it involves a barrage of unending blabber designed to stupefy me into dumb acquiescence. I was taken off guard by the kid in front of me. After that first hi, he just smiled an amazing smile and sort of rocked back and forth on his heels.He then reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of my face, still just smiling.
Aha, I know this game you cocky little shit. He was one of those guys who is so cute he is almost pretty and he knows how to use it to his advantage. Black hair, green eyes, sexy lips and a killer smile. I can only imagine the number of teenage girls who promptly dropped their drawers when faced with that smile.
I smiled back, opened my peach rings and promptly shoved one in his mouth, laughing and saying he looked like he needed something sweet. His friends were hooting and giving him shit. I suppose it wasn't often that a girl could shake the stare of this green eyed romeo.
I got in the truck and pulled out of the lot, watching in the rear view as he stood there and stared after me. Driving to the park around the corner, I parked in the shade and turned up the radio. Lost in the brilliance of Black Flag, it took me a minute to realize that I was not alone. Standing next to my window was the pretty boy. I would seem that they followed me.
I had to hand it to the kid, he was tenacious as only a 19yr old can be. He was not going to be got rid of that easy.
I leaned over and opened the passenger side door, an obvious invite to climb in. I figured that I might as well get some amusement out of the situation. I turned down the music and asked him his name. It apparently took him a moment to remember it. After a few seconds the smile was back and he said,"Richie" and gave me a look guaranteed to dampen panties.
I would have been as susceptible as the next girl if it wasn't for the fact that I have walked away from some of the most talented bullshit artist/pretty boys Cali has to offer. Also the fact that he was barely legal may have put a hold on my libido. Oh and the fact that I already have an old man at home, lets not forget about Casey.
Anyway, we started talking, I told him my name, combined with the fact that I was way older than he was. Not a problem as far as he was concerned, he was, he told me, extremely mature for his age. Of that I have no doubt. His eyes were full of deliciously dirty thoughts, so transparent in a boy that age but attractive just the same. I have a weak spot for crazy outsiders and cocky pretty boys.
However, I would not let me get the better of me. I am in control damn it!
I let him flirt outrageously for a few more minutes, sometimes laughing outright at some of the reasoning he tried to use on me. God save me from oversexed teenage hormones. The kid was like a hard-on with legs.
I leaned over, kissed him lightly on the lips to shut him up and then said I had to go. He tried to talk me out of it but I was adamant, mostly because the girl that I am found it really difficult to end things with a sisterly kiss.
He finally got out and I left,feeling elated and wretched at the same time. Elated cause I had kept myself on a tight leash and wretched cause his self assured smile and sexy eyes called to me in a big way. After I got home I took a shower and settled in to wait for Casey to get home. As soon as he walked through the door, I pounced on him and fucked him right there in the entryway. When he had recovered , he looked at me and said," OK what did you do?"
I hemmed and hawed but finally broke down and confessed. I must really be losing my touch if I can't even hold my mud for a few hours. After hearing the whole not-so-sordid truth, Casey just smiled and shook his head, then he turned those sexy-crazy blue eyes of his on me and I was lost. One hot look from my babe is enough to wash away memories of a hundred teenage don Juan's.
I'm sure I don't have to tell you what he did after that. Let me just say that it is a miracle that I was able to walk outside to smoke afterwards.
So I am secure in the fact that I can be a good girl when absolutely necessary, especially if it might jeopardize my relationship with Casey.
I saw Richie this morning, he was walking down my street, smoking and looking like he had just crawled out of somebody's bed. He looked scrumptious! I went quietly inside and lay down in bed, letting the smell of Casey's skin wrap around me. Cured!
I have no doubts that I will be tempted again sometime in the future but if I can just remember what I have at home, I think I will be OK. I think...
Countless cigarettes later, I decided to go out. This is a rare occurrence because there is nothing to do in this shit town even if you do go out.
I drove , even though the tags on the truck expired months ago. Cruising down the road, music blaring was at least an improvement over rusticating at home. I pulled into a gas station to buy the requisite Pepsi and peach rings and was on my way back out to the truck when I heard ,"Hey!"
I turned and looked across the lot and sure enough, there was a carload of oh so young guys doing whatever it is that young guys do in gas station parking lots. I smiled and nodded at them and then continued on my way. I had the door open and was climbing in when I heard a voice right behind me say, "Hi."
Usually when I get hit on it involves a barrage of unending blabber designed to stupefy me into dumb acquiescence. I was taken off guard by the kid in front of me. After that first hi, he just smiled an amazing smile and sort of rocked back and forth on his heels.He then reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of my face, still just smiling.
Aha, I know this game you cocky little shit. He was one of those guys who is so cute he is almost pretty and he knows how to use it to his advantage. Black hair, green eyes, sexy lips and a killer smile. I can only imagine the number of teenage girls who promptly dropped their drawers when faced with that smile.
I smiled back, opened my peach rings and promptly shoved one in his mouth, laughing and saying he looked like he needed something sweet. His friends were hooting and giving him shit. I suppose it wasn't often that a girl could shake the stare of this green eyed romeo.
I got in the truck and pulled out of the lot, watching in the rear view as he stood there and stared after me. Driving to the park around the corner, I parked in the shade and turned up the radio. Lost in the brilliance of Black Flag, it took me a minute to realize that I was not alone. Standing next to my window was the pretty boy. I would seem that they followed me.
I had to hand it to the kid, he was tenacious as only a 19yr old can be. He was not going to be got rid of that easy.
I leaned over and opened the passenger side door, an obvious invite to climb in. I figured that I might as well get some amusement out of the situation. I turned down the music and asked him his name. It apparently took him a moment to remember it. After a few seconds the smile was back and he said,"Richie" and gave me a look guaranteed to dampen panties.
I would have been as susceptible as the next girl if it wasn't for the fact that I have walked away from some of the most talented bullshit artist/pretty boys Cali has to offer. Also the fact that he was barely legal may have put a hold on my libido. Oh and the fact that I already have an old man at home, lets not forget about Casey.
Anyway, we started talking, I told him my name, combined with the fact that I was way older than he was. Not a problem as far as he was concerned, he was, he told me, extremely mature for his age. Of that I have no doubt. His eyes were full of deliciously dirty thoughts, so transparent in a boy that age but attractive just the same. I have a weak spot for crazy outsiders and cocky pretty boys.
However, I would not let me get the better of me. I am in control damn it!
I let him flirt outrageously for a few more minutes, sometimes laughing outright at some of the reasoning he tried to use on me. God save me from oversexed teenage hormones. The kid was like a hard-on with legs.
I leaned over, kissed him lightly on the lips to shut him up and then said I had to go. He tried to talk me out of it but I was adamant, mostly because the girl that I am found it really difficult to end things with a sisterly kiss.
He finally got out and I left,feeling elated and wretched at the same time. Elated cause I had kept myself on a tight leash and wretched cause his self assured smile and sexy eyes called to me in a big way. After I got home I took a shower and settled in to wait for Casey to get home. As soon as he walked through the door, I pounced on him and fucked him right there in the entryway. When he had recovered , he looked at me and said," OK what did you do?"
I hemmed and hawed but finally broke down and confessed. I must really be losing my touch if I can't even hold my mud for a few hours. After hearing the whole not-so-sordid truth, Casey just smiled and shook his head, then he turned those sexy-crazy blue eyes of his on me and I was lost. One hot look from my babe is enough to wash away memories of a hundred teenage don Juan's.
I'm sure I don't have to tell you what he did after that. Let me just say that it is a miracle that I was able to walk outside to smoke afterwards.
So I am secure in the fact that I can be a good girl when absolutely necessary, especially if it might jeopardize my relationship with Casey.
I saw Richie this morning, he was walking down my street, smoking and looking like he had just crawled out of somebody's bed. He looked scrumptious! I went quietly inside and lay down in bed, letting the smell of Casey's skin wrap around me. Cured!
I have no doubts that I will be tempted again sometime in the future but if I can just remember what I have at home, I think I will be OK. I think...
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
If God was a woman, He'd be me
I'm sure you have noticed that I don't really address comments in my posts. The reason for that is simple, I don't have the patience or time (every one of my minutes is precious) to go through and extract each and every relevant comment. Instead I prefer to answer them in a reply, under the pertinent remark. Did I mention that I am a little lazy. I'm sure the fact that I can be bothered to type out reams of meaningless blah, blah, blah but cannot be bothered to do much else has not escaped your notice. Well, there is a reasonable explanation for it all!
Anything I write goes on to further my true purpose in life, the glorification of my wonderful self!
Yes my friends, I crave attention, whether it be bad or good, no matter as long as I have at some level penetrated your mind. I adore negative comments, mostly because it verifies that someone who really doesn't like me could not get on with their day until they badmouthed me in some way. Ah triumph! How sweet is it that a person who thinks I am the lowest form of human life is compelled to comment on my behavior.Pretty fucking sweet.
Anyone who knows me, I mean really knows me is aware of the fact that I am not as big a cunt as most people might think. Don't get me wrong, I revel in my cunt status. I think it's fucking fantastic, 'cause it weeds out the assholes that are too wrapped up in themselves to see who I really am. I know, another contradiction as I am generally thought of as a supremely self-absorbed person. Well, I'm not, sorry to disappoint you. I do care about some things and surprisingly enough most of them have nothing to do with me.
I am in no way, shape or form going to be named the next mother Teresa, I do not aspire to be remembered as a selfless martyr (not that there is any danger of that happening) I will certainly not devote my life to the doing of good works. UGH! Never!
However, anyone who has ever been my friend knows that there is almost nothing I wouldn't do to help someone who really needs it. In some cases, when I felt that my sweet disposition was being used against me, to take advantage as it were, I reacted with swift justice! I cut the fuckers off!
In other cases, I have been know to go out of my way to do things that others considered a waste of time. Most Dope fiends won't help someone out unless it benefits them directly. I am not one of these. I have shared when I had little, I have given generously when I had alot.
Wait a minute! This is starting to sound suspiciously like another ode to the brilliance of....me. I guess I really am an attention slut. Oh well, I tried.
The fact that I am a recognition grubbing narcissist does not make the above mentioned facts untrue, they are very true. I suppose I just forget sometimes that not everyone is as impressed by me as I am. No accounting for taste. Love Ya's, Melody
Anything I write goes on to further my true purpose in life, the glorification of my wonderful self!
Yes my friends, I crave attention, whether it be bad or good, no matter as long as I have at some level penetrated your mind. I adore negative comments, mostly because it verifies that someone who really doesn't like me could not get on with their day until they badmouthed me in some way. Ah triumph! How sweet is it that a person who thinks I am the lowest form of human life is compelled to comment on my behavior.Pretty fucking sweet.
Anyone who knows me, I mean really knows me is aware of the fact that I am not as big a cunt as most people might think. Don't get me wrong, I revel in my cunt status. I think it's fucking fantastic, 'cause it weeds out the assholes that are too wrapped up in themselves to see who I really am. I know, another contradiction as I am generally thought of as a supremely self-absorbed person. Well, I'm not, sorry to disappoint you. I do care about some things and surprisingly enough most of them have nothing to do with me.
I am in no way, shape or form going to be named the next mother Teresa, I do not aspire to be remembered as a selfless martyr (not that there is any danger of that happening) I will certainly not devote my life to the doing of good works. UGH! Never!
However, anyone who has ever been my friend knows that there is almost nothing I wouldn't do to help someone who really needs it. In some cases, when I felt that my sweet disposition was being used against me, to take advantage as it were, I reacted with swift justice! I cut the fuckers off!
In other cases, I have been know to go out of my way to do things that others considered a waste of time. Most Dope fiends won't help someone out unless it benefits them directly. I am not one of these. I have shared when I had little, I have given generously when I had alot.
Wait a minute! This is starting to sound suspiciously like another ode to the brilliance of....me. I guess I really am an attention slut. Oh well, I tried.
The fact that I am a recognition grubbing narcissist does not make the above mentioned facts untrue, they are very true. I suppose I just forget sometimes that not everyone is as impressed by me as I am. No accounting for taste. Love Ya's, Melody
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
I wanna do wrong 'cause being bad is what I'm good at.
I would tell you that I'm trying my best to be a good girl but that would be a lie. For some reason I find that I am compulsively pre-disposed to being a very bad girl. Not so much in the way of killing, maiming ect but in the way that I almost always zero in on the worst possible scenario for any given situation. If for instance, I was faced with two choices, one being the safe thing to do, the other being the incredibly risky, stupid thing to do, I would invariably pick the latter.
I hate to be bored and doing things like wandering the mean streets of the projects at 2am is anything but boring. It is only now, after some months of being (reasonably) sober, that I have come to truly realize the extent of my all or nothing attitude. I think about some of the shit that I did and find myself shaking my head at the sheer stupidity of it.
In retrospect, I can clearly see that getting into strange cars during the wee hours of the morning is not a good idea(always make sure you can at least see who's picking you up). Likewise getting so fucked up that I run the risk of going to jail just by setting foot out the door. And you better believe I will set foot out the door.
For some reason getting unbelievably high seems to go hand in hand with staggering down to the am pm to get some smokes, candy and a Pepsi. If it happens to be 3am on a Saturday morning, so much the better. I will then have the opportunity to say hi to any friends who happen to be making their way home from the bars. I am a very social girl and though you may find this hard to believe, I make friends everywhere I go. People tend to love me or hate me with no in between, which suits me fine. (I can't stand wishy-washy types)
On any given night, (after Casey had defected to New Mexico) I could be found determinedly unwinding after a hard day(no pun intended) turning tricks. I might be spotted nodding out on the couch of my friends tattoo shop, knocking back shots at the bar or even holding court at the home of one of my fiend friends, needle in hand.
I have mentioned in a previous post that some of my devil may care ways may have been inspired by the fact that I was missing Casey something awful and doing my best to drink, fight and fuck him out of my system.
Anyway, whether or not Casey was the underlying reason for my behavior I cannot say with any certainty. I do know however, that I was doing my damnedest to throw myself into any and every dicey situation that crossed my path. Death wish? Certainly not!
At the risk of being repetitive, let me again say, I hate being bored. And Farmington, New Mexico is the capitol of boredom. I have had Casey tell me over and over that I need to get out and do something but any of you who have read my previous posts know how I feel about playing the role of benevolent former junky. BLUARGH!
It would seem to me that at this point I have nothing better to do than go looking for trouble to get into. I have on more than one occasion had to literally talk myself out of doing just that.This is a very trying experience for me. I don't know what to do with myself. Even staying home I am inviting trouble by the increased frequency of "deliveries " from my Internet friend. Yes Darlings, only someone as truly outstanding as myself can figure out a way to get strung out via cross country mail. Astounding is it not? I am not retarded, I am exceptional!
I know that I need to get my shit straight, at least where Casey is concerned. I promised my Mama that I wouldn't come all the way out here just to wreck him and then leave. Even now I get chills thinking of the faith my mother places in me. Wreck him and leave? I would hope that my family held me in a little higher regard but what can I say, my mom knows her little girl. I can be vindictive on occasion.
I guess she thought that Casey up and leaving me to get his life together might provoke me into some spiteful behavior. It did. However, by the time I left for NM, I had all but gotten it out of my system, leaving a trail of broken hearts and empty wallets behind me, in Bakers.
So here I am, not sure what to do with myself and unfortunately full of clever ideas. I have thought up all sorts or interesting things to keep me busy. None of them the least bit productive or constructive. Some of them involve recruiting others for my nefarious purposes, New Mexico is just overflowing with zombiefied kids looking for something, anything to alleviate the boredom.
I will do my best to stifle this particular urge, as corrupting kiddies is not on my 'to do' list.
This will not be easy! I feel like I am stagnating here, in this little mud puddle. I feel like the essence of my very being is being leeched out of me. How can I continue being my smart-assed street-loving self when I am denied the street?
I suppose I will resign myself to becoming a somewhat less glorious version of my former self. A bad facsimile of the original. Although........ I really believe that what Casey doesn't know won't hurt him. Hmmm, that has definite possibilities.
With that parting thought, I leave you with the words of the inimitable Mae West,
"When I'm good, I'm very, very good but when I'm bad I'm even better!"
I hate to be bored and doing things like wandering the mean streets of the projects at 2am is anything but boring. It is only now, after some months of being (reasonably) sober, that I have come to truly realize the extent of my all or nothing attitude. I think about some of the shit that I did and find myself shaking my head at the sheer stupidity of it.
In retrospect, I can clearly see that getting into strange cars during the wee hours of the morning is not a good idea(always make sure you can at least see who's picking you up). Likewise getting so fucked up that I run the risk of going to jail just by setting foot out the door. And you better believe I will set foot out the door.
For some reason getting unbelievably high seems to go hand in hand with staggering down to the am pm to get some smokes, candy and a Pepsi. If it happens to be 3am on a Saturday morning, so much the better. I will then have the opportunity to say hi to any friends who happen to be making their way home from the bars. I am a very social girl and though you may find this hard to believe, I make friends everywhere I go. People tend to love me or hate me with no in between, which suits me fine. (I can't stand wishy-washy types)
On any given night, (after Casey had defected to New Mexico) I could be found determinedly unwinding after a hard day(no pun intended) turning tricks. I might be spotted nodding out on the couch of my friends tattoo shop, knocking back shots at the bar or even holding court at the home of one of my fiend friends, needle in hand.
I have mentioned in a previous post that some of my devil may care ways may have been inspired by the fact that I was missing Casey something awful and doing my best to drink, fight and fuck him out of my system.
Anyway, whether or not Casey was the underlying reason for my behavior I cannot say with any certainty. I do know however, that I was doing my damnedest to throw myself into any and every dicey situation that crossed my path. Death wish? Certainly not!
At the risk of being repetitive, let me again say, I hate being bored. And Farmington, New Mexico is the capitol of boredom. I have had Casey tell me over and over that I need to get out and do something but any of you who have read my previous posts know how I feel about playing the role of benevolent former junky. BLUARGH!
It would seem to me that at this point I have nothing better to do than go looking for trouble to get into. I have on more than one occasion had to literally talk myself out of doing just that.This is a very trying experience for me. I don't know what to do with myself. Even staying home I am inviting trouble by the increased frequency of "deliveries " from my Internet friend. Yes Darlings, only someone as truly outstanding as myself can figure out a way to get strung out via cross country mail. Astounding is it not? I am not retarded, I am exceptional!
I know that I need to get my shit straight, at least where Casey is concerned. I promised my Mama that I wouldn't come all the way out here just to wreck him and then leave. Even now I get chills thinking of the faith my mother places in me. Wreck him and leave? I would hope that my family held me in a little higher regard but what can I say, my mom knows her little girl. I can be vindictive on occasion.
I guess she thought that Casey up and leaving me to get his life together might provoke me into some spiteful behavior. It did. However, by the time I left for NM, I had all but gotten it out of my system, leaving a trail of broken hearts and empty wallets behind me, in Bakers.
So here I am, not sure what to do with myself and unfortunately full of clever ideas. I have thought up all sorts or interesting things to keep me busy. None of them the least bit productive or constructive. Some of them involve recruiting others for my nefarious purposes, New Mexico is just overflowing with zombiefied kids looking for something, anything to alleviate the boredom.
I will do my best to stifle this particular urge, as corrupting kiddies is not on my 'to do' list.
This will not be easy! I feel like I am stagnating here, in this little mud puddle. I feel like the essence of my very being is being leeched out of me. How can I continue being my smart-assed street-loving self when I am denied the street?
I suppose I will resign myself to becoming a somewhat less glorious version of my former self. A bad facsimile of the original. Although........ I really believe that what Casey doesn't know won't hurt him. Hmmm, that has definite possibilities.
With that parting thought, I leave you with the words of the inimitable Mae West,
"When I'm good, I'm very, very good but when I'm bad I'm even better!"
Monday, July 7, 2008
Coke VS Pepsi, the eternal question
Well, its 6:40 pm on a Monday evening, do you know where your local junky hooker is? I may not be local (to you) but I can tell you exactly where I am. Right now, I am sitting in my bedroom, typing away, waiting for Casey to get back from wherever the fuck he went so we can get down to business and finish off the last of the fun stuff from Cali. My friend hooked it up, so what would usually have lasted a couple days is now going on four. I also got a surprise package from my girl Patty, from Bakersfield. Totally unexpected!
She sent me a CD with a 1/2 g in it. It was tar, of course but good nonetheless. It really gave me an opportunity to compare the two. Afghan brown VS Mexican black, guess what? There is no comparison! Although I will say that the tar gave good nod, it really fell short when put up against the other. I never thought I would forsake my dirty black(tar) roots but here I go. If given the choice I would definitely pick the brown.
Aside from being a better high, it also has less complications. Of all the times I have used it and either missed or had to muscle, not once have I gotten a lump, bump or abscess. Hooray, no more close calls with messy marsa. I can do without having the threat of flesh eating bacteria hanging over my head.
Another plus is the fact that it leaves my veins intact. Whereas tar quickly dries up almost any vein I put it into, the brown leaves them plump and juicy, just the way I like 'em. I can find a good spot and be secure in the fact that if I want to use it later, it will be there waiting for me. That is enough to put a smile on my face and a spring in my step (if I could currently manage to take a step at all ).
I will never say no to a shot of my old friend black tar (I will probably never say no to much of anything) but my personal preference has definitely changed.
On a side note, has everyone besides me moved ahead in the Heroin Revolution? I find myself at a loss when faced with some of the newer, more complicated aspects of shooting H. When I started out, you took the Dope, put it in a spoon, added water , fire and presto: filter through cotton and inject. There was really no deviation from that routine. Maybe go sans fire, if no lighter was available.
Now I find myself confronted with type_ through type_ Heroin. I never knew it was graded on a number scale, silly me. Not only is this the case but now you also need to be a chemist in order to prepare a shot of smack. Imagine my surprise when I read (somewhere) that in order to get the full benefit from type_ heroin, you first had to break it down with asorbic acid or some such shit.
I am very nearly speechless...very nearly. The only time I had ever heard of using an acid to break a base is when you use lemon juice (citric acid) to break down crack so you can shoot it. I don't know if I am comfortable playing Mrs. Wizard with my Dope. I find the idea of introducing heretofore unknown elements to my Heroin, well, unsettling. I am sooo not in my comfort zone. What if through some slip of the hand I turn my beloved H into some semi-toxic, highly addictive super narcotic? Oh...wait.
Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I am a teensy bit intimidated by change. Make those changes to my comfortable, reliable drug routine and OUCH! I feel my reality slipping away. How is it that I missed out on the development of IV specific filters, that go on the end of your needle, guaranteed to filter out the smallest impurities(and most of your Dope from what I've heard).
It seems that Heroin/IV technology has moved ahead by leaps and bounds, leaving poor little me, confused and alone. I guess I'll have to do what any other self respecting Dope fiend would do............VIVA LA REVOLUTION!
But I don't have to like it. Melody Lee, over and out.
She sent me a CD with a 1/2 g in it. It was tar, of course but good nonetheless. It really gave me an opportunity to compare the two. Afghan brown VS Mexican black, guess what? There is no comparison! Although I will say that the tar gave good nod, it really fell short when put up against the other. I never thought I would forsake my dirty black(tar) roots but here I go. If given the choice I would definitely pick the brown.
Aside from being a better high, it also has less complications. Of all the times I have used it and either missed or had to muscle, not once have I gotten a lump, bump or abscess. Hooray, no more close calls with messy marsa. I can do without having the threat of flesh eating bacteria hanging over my head.
Another plus is the fact that it leaves my veins intact. Whereas tar quickly dries up almost any vein I put it into, the brown leaves them plump and juicy, just the way I like 'em. I can find a good spot and be secure in the fact that if I want to use it later, it will be there waiting for me. That is enough to put a smile on my face and a spring in my step (if I could currently manage to take a step at all ).
I will never say no to a shot of my old friend black tar (I will probably never say no to much of anything) but my personal preference has definitely changed.
On a side note, has everyone besides me moved ahead in the Heroin Revolution? I find myself at a loss when faced with some of the newer, more complicated aspects of shooting H. When I started out, you took the Dope, put it in a spoon, added water , fire and presto: filter through cotton and inject. There was really no deviation from that routine. Maybe go sans fire, if no lighter was available.
Now I find myself confronted with type_ through type_ Heroin. I never knew it was graded on a number scale, silly me. Not only is this the case but now you also need to be a chemist in order to prepare a shot of smack. Imagine my surprise when I read (somewhere) that in order to get the full benefit from type_ heroin, you first had to break it down with asorbic acid or some such shit.
I am very nearly speechless...very nearly. The only time I had ever heard of using an acid to break a base is when you use lemon juice (citric acid) to break down crack so you can shoot it. I don't know if I am comfortable playing Mrs. Wizard with my Dope. I find the idea of introducing heretofore unknown elements to my Heroin, well, unsettling. I am sooo not in my comfort zone. What if through some slip of the hand I turn my beloved H into some semi-toxic, highly addictive super narcotic? Oh...wait.
Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I am a teensy bit intimidated by change. Make those changes to my comfortable, reliable drug routine and OUCH! I feel my reality slipping away. How is it that I missed out on the development of IV specific filters, that go on the end of your needle, guaranteed to filter out the smallest impurities(and most of your Dope from what I've heard).
It seems that Heroin/IV technology has moved ahead by leaps and bounds, leaving poor little me, confused and alone. I guess I'll have to do what any other self respecting Dope fiend would do............VIVA LA REVOLUTION!
But I don't have to like it. Melody Lee, over and out.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
And the Oscar goes to...
I have to say that having just read k1tten's latest post has prompted me to tell y'all a bit more about what I do all day, besides being fabulous and perfect ect.
I'm sure if any of you have read my previous posts you know that I am currently a phone slut. This has been my means of earning the almighty dollar since I got to NM. Sex is definitely something I'm familiar with and I have been doing phone sex for years and years. It really came in handy when I was slinging Dope and wanted to make some extra cash. I could stay at home all day and move bags while at the same time working . It also amused the hell out of my customers. It was not unusual to have me answer the door, phone to my ear in the middle of some hot and heavy call.
My favorite memory of this is when I had a four hour call with some guy who wanted me to pretend I was his wife. She had left him for a black guy and he got her all stuck on crack and turned her out on the streets. I guess he had her ho-ing in the same parking lot where she worked. She would be out there on her lunch break sucking off co-workers.
Anyway, this guy would get all carried away, asking me to tell him how much bigger and better black cock was and that I would do anything and anyone to keep getting it. Then he would start in about the drugs, going so far as to tell me that he was going to take me to San Fran and give me to the fiends at some random drug house, letting them shoot me up with H and fuck me on a dirty mattress, covered with used needles. I had to go on about how much I loved it and say that I didn't care if I got HIV, just don't stop.
It was at this point that my friend Jody came over to cop and sat for awhile, listening to me as he fixed. I was saying, "Oh, oh it feels so good. I looove having you watch while they use me. I can feel the needles jabbing me as they fuck me and it hurts but I like it." Jody smirked and then laughed outright, and said, " Fuck Melody I didn't know that was you I brought home last night, next time I'll clean up a little."
Well the guy heard that and I had to improvise and say that it was my black pimp boyfriend, come to inform me that he had guys waiting for me and their dicks weren't gonna suck themselves. He fucking loved it, he got so turned on that after all those hours, just a few minutes of Jody's voice in the background got him off. I would have been pissed about losing out on more money but after four hours, I was more than ready to hang up.
Selling and working the phone could sometimes be a challenge. That house was fucking insane! There was so much traffic at all hours that when we got raided, the cops told us that we were like a 24 hour McDonald's, we had drive through service (we used to sell out the window too) day and night.
Aside from shredding the place, they also confiscated my work logs and had a great time interrogating me about them. My log was a huge notebook that had lists of names, with the date, # of minutes I talked, how much cash I made and what they were into. Those stupid fucking cops thought that it was a kind of record book detailing my Dope sales. Unbelievable.
When I finally convinced them that it was work related, they had a great time going through it and laughing at all the weird shit the guys were into. Glad I could entertain the BPD as they trashed my house.
I get supreme satisfaction from the fact that we were able to flush all the dope when we heard them ram the door, so all they found was a bunch of riggs and shit like that. They were not happy to let us off with alot of piddling paraphernalia citations.
Anyway, I am getting off track here. My life has changed quite a bit since then but the phone biz always stays the same. I get a variety of calls for 5 hours a day, 5 days a week. I can expect to be anything from a horny housewife to a barely legal slut. I get to do calls where I can be a super cunt dominatrix and make guys suck cock and dress them in panties before I fuck them in the ass with a strap-on.
I also get calls where they want me to shit all over them and watch while they eat it, drink my piss, eat their own shit ect. Those are probably my least favorite, 'cause as twisted as I am sexually, I just can't get into turd entrees.
Regardless, I can talk about anything and when I get the occasional guy who wants me to suck off a dog or something I can even make that sound believable. I guess being shameless is an asset when it comes to kinky phone sex.
I've even gotten calls from a guy who wants me to act like I'm smoking rock in between tricks. He likes me to make the sounds like I'm sucking on a pipe. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that I am able to pull that one off no problem. "Please daddy, let me have the push."
So, when I'm not here, relating my superbly clever anecdotes, I am most likely on the phone engaging in some sort of lewd act.
I have to say that I love my job, turd lovers notwithstanding. I make crazy money bullshitting all day. That is something I can appreciate, any aspect of the hustle always appeals to me. Hell I'm not a whore, I'm a telecoms specialist.....
Love from your barely legal, horny, cunt dominatrix housewife, Melody
I'm sure if any of you have read my previous posts you know that I am currently a phone slut. This has been my means of earning the almighty dollar since I got to NM. Sex is definitely something I'm familiar with and I have been doing phone sex for years and years. It really came in handy when I was slinging Dope and wanted to make some extra cash. I could stay at home all day and move bags while at the same time working . It also amused the hell out of my customers. It was not unusual to have me answer the door, phone to my ear in the middle of some hot and heavy call.
My favorite memory of this is when I had a four hour call with some guy who wanted me to pretend I was his wife. She had left him for a black guy and he got her all stuck on crack and turned her out on the streets. I guess he had her ho-ing in the same parking lot where she worked. She would be out there on her lunch break sucking off co-workers.
Anyway, this guy would get all carried away, asking me to tell him how much bigger and better black cock was and that I would do anything and anyone to keep getting it. Then he would start in about the drugs, going so far as to tell me that he was going to take me to San Fran and give me to the fiends at some random drug house, letting them shoot me up with H and fuck me on a dirty mattress, covered with used needles. I had to go on about how much I loved it and say that I didn't care if I got HIV, just don't stop.
It was at this point that my friend Jody came over to cop and sat for awhile, listening to me as he fixed. I was saying, "Oh, oh it feels so good. I looove having you watch while they use me. I can feel the needles jabbing me as they fuck me and it hurts but I like it." Jody smirked and then laughed outright, and said, " Fuck Melody I didn't know that was you I brought home last night, next time I'll clean up a little."
Well the guy heard that and I had to improvise and say that it was my black pimp boyfriend, come to inform me that he had guys waiting for me and their dicks weren't gonna suck themselves. He fucking loved it, he got so turned on that after all those hours, just a few minutes of Jody's voice in the background got him off. I would have been pissed about losing out on more money but after four hours, I was more than ready to hang up.
Selling and working the phone could sometimes be a challenge. That house was fucking insane! There was so much traffic at all hours that when we got raided, the cops told us that we were like a 24 hour McDonald's, we had drive through service (we used to sell out the window too) day and night.
Aside from shredding the place, they also confiscated my work logs and had a great time interrogating me about them. My log was a huge notebook that had lists of names, with the date, # of minutes I talked, how much cash I made and what they were into. Those stupid fucking cops thought that it was a kind of record book detailing my Dope sales. Unbelievable.
When I finally convinced them that it was work related, they had a great time going through it and laughing at all the weird shit the guys were into. Glad I could entertain the BPD as they trashed my house.
I get supreme satisfaction from the fact that we were able to flush all the dope when we heard them ram the door, so all they found was a bunch of riggs and shit like that. They were not happy to let us off with alot of piddling paraphernalia citations.
Anyway, I am getting off track here. My life has changed quite a bit since then but the phone biz always stays the same. I get a variety of calls for 5 hours a day, 5 days a week. I can expect to be anything from a horny housewife to a barely legal slut. I get to do calls where I can be a super cunt dominatrix and make guys suck cock and dress them in panties before I fuck them in the ass with a strap-on.
I also get calls where they want me to shit all over them and watch while they eat it, drink my piss, eat their own shit ect. Those are probably my least favorite, 'cause as twisted as I am sexually, I just can't get into turd entrees.
Regardless, I can talk about anything and when I get the occasional guy who wants me to suck off a dog or something I can even make that sound believable. I guess being shameless is an asset when it comes to kinky phone sex.
I've even gotten calls from a guy who wants me to act like I'm smoking rock in between tricks. He likes me to make the sounds like I'm sucking on a pipe. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that I am able to pull that one off no problem. "Please daddy, let me have the push."
So, when I'm not here, relating my superbly clever anecdotes, I am most likely on the phone engaging in some sort of lewd act.
I have to say that I love my job, turd lovers notwithstanding. I make crazy money bullshitting all day. That is something I can appreciate, any aspect of the hustle always appeals to me. Hell I'm not a whore, I'm a telecoms specialist.....
Love from your barely legal, horny, cunt dominatrix housewife, Melody
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
The Art of Inspiration
I got inspired during this last bout of insomnia to do a little redecorating. I'm sure I'm not the only one who appreciates a pretty picture. Stunning isn't it. I knew y'all would like it as much as I do. I did want to dress things up a little. Ciao for now, Melody Lee
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
World of Warcraft is the bane of my existance
I think I can positively say, without any hesitation that I hate World of Warcraft. This may be a incomplete opinion, since I have never played it in any way, shape or form. My statement is based on the fact that Casey spends a huge amount of his spare time glued to the computer, tapping away, manipulating his character in an un-ending stream of quests which only seem serve one purpose. To get you to a higher level so you can engage in another relentless batch of stupid quests.
He has even gone so far as to purchase a headset, so he can talk to other WOW heads as he's playing. Un-fucking-believable!
That game is the biggest time sink I have ever had the misfortune to come across. It eats up hours with ease, leaving me to wonder how it is possible that I went to sleep at 5 with Casey tapping away and now at 1, eight hours later, he is still at it.
I have begun to despair of the repercussions of having a boyfriend who is addicted to the dungeons and dragons of the new millennium. I am waiting for the day when he announces that he has quit his job, as it was just taking too much time away from WOW. I wonder if the only thing keeping him from taking such a drastic step is the fact that he needs money to pay the Internet bill.
What will all the other junky hookers say when they find out my beloved is 'GASP' a computer nerd! The humiliation!
Why couldn't he have a normal hobby, like pimping or boosting, something I could be proud of, anything but this. What happened to the head swinging psycho of my adolescence? I want my ass-stomping, Heroin injecting maniac back. And I want him now!
Ah bullshit, who am I kidding, I love him, stupid WOW fixation and all. I do sometimes miss who he was but am ecstatic to have him as he is. Alive and MINE!
I am glad that he is here with me instead of doing 25 to life because he followed through with those homicidal tendencies I remember so well.
I guess that statement, more than anything else is proof that I'm getting old. The 17 yr old me would have taken his incarceration in stride and written it off as a fact of life (our life anyway). The girl I am now is smart enough to realize what a miracle it is that one or both of us is not dead or in prison.
So I guess I will learn to live with WOW, even though I am still mystified by it's allure. The things I will tolerate for love, the mind boggles. Melody Lee
He has even gone so far as to purchase a headset, so he can talk to other WOW heads as he's playing. Un-fucking-believable!
That game is the biggest time sink I have ever had the misfortune to come across. It eats up hours with ease, leaving me to wonder how it is possible that I went to sleep at 5 with Casey tapping away and now at 1, eight hours later, he is still at it.
I have begun to despair of the repercussions of having a boyfriend who is addicted to the dungeons and dragons of the new millennium. I am waiting for the day when he announces that he has quit his job, as it was just taking too much time away from WOW. I wonder if the only thing keeping him from taking such a drastic step is the fact that he needs money to pay the Internet bill.
What will all the other junky hookers say when they find out my beloved is 'GASP' a computer nerd! The humiliation!
Why couldn't he have a normal hobby, like pimping or boosting, something I could be proud of, anything but this. What happened to the head swinging psycho of my adolescence? I want my ass-stomping, Heroin injecting maniac back. And I want him now!
Ah bullshit, who am I kidding, I love him, stupid WOW fixation and all. I do sometimes miss who he was but am ecstatic to have him as he is. Alive and MINE!
I am glad that he is here with me instead of doing 25 to life because he followed through with those homicidal tendencies I remember so well.
I guess that statement, more than anything else is proof that I'm getting old. The 17 yr old me would have taken his incarceration in stride and written it off as a fact of life (our life anyway). The girl I am now is smart enough to realize what a miracle it is that one or both of us is not dead or in prison.
So I guess I will learn to live with WOW, even though I am still mystified by it's allure. The things I will tolerate for love, the mind boggles. Melody Lee
Heroin hard-ons and other misc. topics of interest
Due to the fact that I again received my weekend supply of narcotic refreshment, I am currently unable to sleep. Again. But as I mentioned in a previous post, I'm not sorry!
I think I would be far more upset if I hadn't spent the whole weekend in a drug induced stupor. Well, maybe stupor is the wrong word. I would say it was more of a soft, fluffy reality. Don't get me wrong, I love to do a shot that knocks my dick in the dirt as much as the next (sometimes) Heroin addicted hooker. I can never get enough of that itchy rush but....there is something to be said for moderation.
I'm sure I don't have to tell you that I am not the poster girl for holding back. Moderation has never been my strong point in any way, shape or form.
I think the reason I am able to use sparingly in the case of H is nothing more than my innate need to milk every last drop of sensation from the experience.
After all, how much can I possibly enjoy being loaded if I got so gowed out that I can't remember past the point of injection.
Now I have had some marvelous times which involved waking up, needle still embedded in my body. I've always considered that the ultimate on the "what the fuck happened" scale.
1 is having to ask someone to repeat themselves cause you zoned out, 5 is waking up a half hour after you fixed, still standing at the sink rinsing your outfit and 10 is waking up the next day, syringe dangling precariously from some appendage, wondering in fact: what time is it, what day is it and what the fuck happened! This can possibly be boosted to 10&1/2 if you are also naked in a strange room when you wake up.
However, as memorable as my "what the fuck " experiences have been, I find that in recent days I have been more inclined to savor my high. I have been careful to do just enough that I get a good rush (my veins have slowly but surely been re-emerging) and then lapse into a semi-conscious state.
I can still nod a bit and dream but if someone asks me a question I will be able answer it. Whether they will be able to comprehend my answer or not is irrelevant. What matters is that I am still coherent enough to hear the question.
In the case of C. or Casey as it were (Eddie outed him on his comments earlier tonight), he does the same. Indulging just enough to get nice and loaded and still be aware enough to enjoy it. This also seems to be just the right balance to encourage the appearance of that oft elusive creature, "The Heroin Hard-on"
For those of you who aren't in the know, the heroin hard-on is what happens to most guys after they first start using. They get this incredibly stiff dick that seems to last forever. They are overjoyed and will usually use any excuse to show it off Ala fucking for hours on end. However, after a few sessions of marathon sex with no end in sight, they become more and more disenchanted with the whole thing. You see, for some reason though they are able to achieve and sustain a hard-on of massive proportions, they are (unfortunately for them) unable to cum. It takes some determined practice to work past (or should I say cum past) this frustrating road block.
The other side of this coin is the much lamented H induced impotence (which becomes more and more frequent as addiction progresses), during which no amount of vigorous hand or mouth action can rouse the sleeping lion. Unfortunately I have found that most guys that are using consistently, every day tend to fluctuate back and forth between up and down, depending on how much they have shot that day.
Strangely enough, being Dope-sick is extremely conducive to orgasm, I used to know fiend couples that would wait to fix, just so they could get off first. I was never that determined to get off.
Hmm, get rid of icky, skin crawly, I wish I were dead feeling or have sex just to cum even though the thought of someone touching me right now makes me want to cut my own throat. I wonder?
Anyway, with a little experimentation, we have found that happy medium which allows us to get fucked up and fuck each other, with mutually satisfying results.
Just one more thing to add to my (woefully short) list of reasons why I like being here. God know I could use as many reasons as I can get my hands on. Good sex definitely goes on the pro side as does having money to spend on completely frivolous, unnecessary items and of course at the top, just being able to be with Casey (AWWW...GAG).
On the con side, well too much shit to list, I mean fuck, I would be here all god damned night. I was just not cut out for life in the Southwest. For one thing, I hate the climate. And the surroundings!
If I have to listen to one more person waxing poetic on the "Desolate Beauty" of the New Mexico desert, I will shit myself! Fucking idiots! It's a desert for Christ's sake, there is nothing even remotely beautiful about a never ending landscape the color of dead grass and rust. I mean come on!
I really believe that the people who go on and on about the beauty of New Mexico are those same morons who go on e-bay to buy tumbleweeds. Imagine such stupidity! Paying someone out west to fed-ex you what amounts to...well, a weed, just so you can stick it in your front yard to give it an "authentic" western feel. I am at a loss for words! Well, almost anyway.
Yours for as long as you can stand me, Melody.
I think I would be far more upset if I hadn't spent the whole weekend in a drug induced stupor. Well, maybe stupor is the wrong word. I would say it was more of a soft, fluffy reality. Don't get me wrong, I love to do a shot that knocks my dick in the dirt as much as the next (sometimes) Heroin addicted hooker. I can never get enough of that itchy rush but....there is something to be said for moderation.
I'm sure I don't have to tell you that I am not the poster girl for holding back. Moderation has never been my strong point in any way, shape or form.
I think the reason I am able to use sparingly in the case of H is nothing more than my innate need to milk every last drop of sensation from the experience.
After all, how much can I possibly enjoy being loaded if I got so gowed out that I can't remember past the point of injection.
Now I have had some marvelous times which involved waking up, needle still embedded in my body. I've always considered that the ultimate on the "what the fuck happened" scale.
1 is having to ask someone to repeat themselves cause you zoned out, 5 is waking up a half hour after you fixed, still standing at the sink rinsing your outfit and 10 is waking up the next day, syringe dangling precariously from some appendage, wondering in fact: what time is it, what day is it and what the fuck happened! This can possibly be boosted to 10&1/2 if you are also naked in a strange room when you wake up.
However, as memorable as my "what the fuck " experiences have been, I find that in recent days I have been more inclined to savor my high. I have been careful to do just enough that I get a good rush (my veins have slowly but surely been re-emerging) and then lapse into a semi-conscious state.
I can still nod a bit and dream but if someone asks me a question I will be able answer it. Whether they will be able to comprehend my answer or not is irrelevant. What matters is that I am still coherent enough to hear the question.
In the case of C. or Casey as it were (Eddie outed him on his comments earlier tonight), he does the same. Indulging just enough to get nice and loaded and still be aware enough to enjoy it. This also seems to be just the right balance to encourage the appearance of that oft elusive creature, "The Heroin Hard-on"
For those of you who aren't in the know, the heroin hard-on is what happens to most guys after they first start using. They get this incredibly stiff dick that seems to last forever. They are overjoyed and will usually use any excuse to show it off Ala fucking for hours on end. However, after a few sessions of marathon sex with no end in sight, they become more and more disenchanted with the whole thing. You see, for some reason though they are able to achieve and sustain a hard-on of massive proportions, they are (unfortunately for them) unable to cum. It takes some determined practice to work past (or should I say cum past) this frustrating road block.
The other side of this coin is the much lamented H induced impotence (which becomes more and more frequent as addiction progresses), during which no amount of vigorous hand or mouth action can rouse the sleeping lion. Unfortunately I have found that most guys that are using consistently, every day tend to fluctuate back and forth between up and down, depending on how much they have shot that day.
Strangely enough, being Dope-sick is extremely conducive to orgasm, I used to know fiend couples that would wait to fix, just so they could get off first. I was never that determined to get off.
Hmm, get rid of icky, skin crawly, I wish I were dead feeling or have sex just to cum even though the thought of someone touching me right now makes me want to cut my own throat. I wonder?
Anyway, with a little experimentation, we have found that happy medium which allows us to get fucked up and fuck each other, with mutually satisfying results.
Just one more thing to add to my (woefully short) list of reasons why I like being here. God know I could use as many reasons as I can get my hands on. Good sex definitely goes on the pro side as does having money to spend on completely frivolous, unnecessary items and of course at the top, just being able to be with Casey (AWWW...GAG).
On the con side, well too much shit to list, I mean fuck, I would be here all god damned night. I was just not cut out for life in the Southwest. For one thing, I hate the climate. And the surroundings!
If I have to listen to one more person waxing poetic on the "Desolate Beauty" of the New Mexico desert, I will shit myself! Fucking idiots! It's a desert for Christ's sake, there is nothing even remotely beautiful about a never ending landscape the color of dead grass and rust. I mean come on!
I really believe that the people who go on and on about the beauty of New Mexico are those same morons who go on e-bay to buy tumbleweeds. Imagine such stupidity! Paying someone out west to fed-ex you what amounts to...well, a weed, just so you can stick it in your front yard to give it an "authentic" western feel. I am at a loss for words! Well, almost anyway.
Yours for as long as you can stand me, Melody.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)