Umm...this heroin smells just like dead skunks....

So, here I am did y'all miss me? That's a stupid question, of course you missed me! I'm sure that everybody was getting itchy for some more of my clever banter and I can't say I blame you. I get to hear myself in stereo every day and it never gets old haha, I could listen to myself for hours.
So the title of this post is dedicated to the particularly nasty dope we got on our last trip to Espanola. Now don't misunderstand, the dope itself was decent, it was the smell I could have done without. I am not exaggerating in the least, the minute I put it to water and flame it reeked like Pepe Le pew on his period! It was the foulest smelling H I have ever come across....not that that kept me from banging it straight away, I was sick after all and well...skunk-rag dope is better than no dope at all. Heheh, priorities.
Our usual connect was incommunicado and so after a 3 hour drive and then another 2 hour wait we said fuck it and settled for the rank stuff. Ugh, I haven't gotten nauseous from the smell of dope in years but this shit made me want to upchuck every time I fixed it up. Oh well, it's gone now, I haven't had a shot since 8:35am Sunday, notice that I remember the exact time. I am now on the start of my fourth day and yes I do mean fourth! Casey says that you're supposed to count from the time you get sick...I disagree. I count from the second the last shot pierced my skin, aprox 8:35am, Sunday morning. Casey is WRONG but if he wants to suffer through his third day while I begin to feel better on my fourth, so be it. Christ am I rambling or what? I think I may be a teensy bit delirious, I haven't had more than a few minutes of sleep since Sun night.
Anyway, I am not gonna write much, just wanted to let y'all know that I was still alive. We finally got the computer back and they had to wipe it completely. It had like 30 viruses, now I won't say that it was my idle porn surfing that caused it but I can't say it wasn't either. I can't help it, that shit is hilarious, way better than watching lame sitcoms. Give me some stupid amature pornabe trying to blow an insanely HUGE penis and I can stay amused and giggly for hours. Come on, y'all know it's ridiculous, don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.
Christ I hate the Jonas Brothers and why is it that every adolescent douchebag guy on the Disney channel has hair that looks like the Bad News Bears got caught in a wind tunnel? I swear to Christ if I see one more guy with ridiculous side swept Farrah hair I am am gonna march right up and kick him in the balls. Godamned Disney channel Miley Cyrus overkill.
And Zac Efron, please somebody kneecap that idiot with a crowbar...please? The sacrilege that is the revamped Hairspray speaks for itself, it hurts me to think that John Waters actually wrote the script for that musical load of manure. Anyone who has seen the original (and has any taste whatsoever), will agree that it is far superior and that John Travolta frolicking in a fat suit will never measure up to the one and only Divine. And don't let me get started on Highschool Musical 1-whatever, anyone who had anything to do with those monstrocities should be systematically exterminated!
Fuck, what the hell am I even talking about? I need sleep... I'll be back later, love, kisses, whatever you want. XOXO Melody

Douchebags, cocksuckers and lil poetic rape to round things out.

Casey at 15. Wearing Donna's hat, rummaging through her (stolen) backpack at Ed's. He had been shooting dope for a little over a year by this time. He looks like an angel doesn't he? Wolf in a Black Flag sheep suit!

This is going to be a very random post. It's just another boring night in NoWheresville and I have nothing but wakefulness to look forward to. Not because I'm wired, oh no, it's because I've over indulged in my favorite pastime......relaxing with my man H.
My main man is an asshole that way, he always promises a good time but when the good times are over, he kicks you in the culo and goes on his merry way. Heroin is one moody bastard and he runs out on you when things are just getting started. Eh fuck it all anyway, as usual no one twisted my arm and forced me to shoot dope and I have no one to blame for this twitchy feeling but myself. I will do it all over again and never learn my lesson...mainly because I don't want to. Every time I score I know that I will do it til it's gone and then feel like shit for a week, nothing new. No regrets.
Damn, I always get whiny and introspective when I'm dope sick, I HATE that shit! I abhor whining!
So some news on the family front, Casey's sister C. may be coming to stay with us for an undetermined amount of time. I won't disclose details as that is her business and not my story to tell. It should be interesting, I mean C and I have had some major conflicts in the past. Casey's family have never really cared for me, to put it bluntly, they think I'm the anti-Christ, I can't imagine why...
So awhile back I decided to do the adult thing and forget about the time she tried to get me arrested for sales, the times she tried to get Casey to forget I existed, the time she got us kicked out. Ok, maybe not forget, lets say I decided to let it go. I suppose we'll see what happens. I've been told that I'm a bit of an asshole and that I'm somewhat hard to live with but I like to think that those fuckers don't know their 'ass' from a 'hole' in the ground! Well ok, I am an asshole but as I've said previously, I'm a lovable asshole, there's a difference!
Anyway, I was cleaning the house and listening to The Petshop Boys(sorry Rufus), when it suddenly occurred to me that West End girls had little to fear from Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe. West End boys however...
So the tattoo has healed beautifully and I'm already planning my next piece. Since everything on my left arm is below the elbow, I'm going to get nasty, gaping stitches tattooed all around my upper arm, just above my elbow. If done properly it should give the impression that I have chopped off my own arm and had a tattooed arm sewn on in it's place. I'm even going so far as to get the cliche spiderweb on my elbow and have it go only as high as the stitches. Add to that the incredibly trashy "STAY SICK" I'm getting inked on my fingers and I should be well on my way to finishing up the left arm. The fingers are in homage to the late, great Lux Interior BTW.
Moving on, it has just come to my attention that there is not one but THREE cops living less that a block away from me! It used to be 2 metro cops but now I see that we have a metro, a sheriff and a state trooper...all in the same house. Now I don't profess to know jack shit about cops but the last time I checked, these fuckers loathe each other. In Bako, the Metro cops thought the Sheriffs were stupid hicks (ironic because everyone in Bako is basically a hick), the Sheriffs thought Metro were know it all butt plugs and the Highway Patrol thought they were both douchebags! The only reason I am privy to this information is because K-net was made up of Metro and County and they called in HP when needed. K-net raided us on a regular basis, so I got to hear alot of shit talk between those fuckers while I was handcuffed and sitting on my front lawn.
Wow, three cops, I feel so safe. Cocksuckers!
And that brings me to another point; my use of bad language. According to one asshole, I curse like a sailor and say, "Douchebag" and "Cocksucker" too much. What was my reply you ask?
"Well maybe if I wasn't constantly confronted by douchebags and cocksuckers, I wouldn't feel the need to say it all the time....DOUCHEBAAAAAAG!"
I hope that cleared it up.
In tribute to my ongoing state ordered therapy I have decided to share two things with you 1) When separated, "Therapist" spells "The Rapist." This is disconcerting to say the least and bears further scrutiny sometime in the future.
2) My new favorite quote, "Psychoanalysis is the disease for which it claims to be the cure." ~Karl Krauss
I don't necessarily believe #2 to be totally accurate but I do like the way it sounds and the fact that it is bound to piss people off has made it all the more delicious. Take into consideration that one of my all time favorite lyrics is from Last Caress by the Misfits, it goes as follows, "I got somethin' to say, I raped your mother today and it doesn't matter much to me as long as she spread..." Pure poetry! How can you not love that? Offensive yes but genius just the same. It is complex in it's simplicity haha, figure that one out.
So here we are...another day in the life and wasn't it titillating? Sorry if y'all are bored but them's the breaks, it can't all be meth and heroin all of the time. Well, in a perfect world...
Now to top off this peek into my convoluted psyche, I will re-post a rather brilliant rant I posted on Myspace in August of last year when I was feeling a wee bit dopesick. Just like my last re-post, I am enchanted and a little in love with it right now.

[Self involved douchebags

I think maybe the fact that I am so up front about shit that most would never admit to frightens people. Am I scary? I mean come on, what's the point of trying to act all pristine when EVERYBODY who knows me knows what I've been up to. Why hide it, besides scum always floats to the surface. I can see it now, I'll be sitting with somebody who has known me for a few months and then blam, some jerk off makes a comment that just lays it all out. Whatever, it doesn't bother me, if I cared what everyone thought I wouldn't have done the shit I did.

Most people loooove me, some people hate me. For some reason there is no in between. I don't know why, I am a supremely nice person, ask anyone. I get along with everybody........mostly. And if I don't like you I have an excellent reason, perhaps you are self-involved douchebag that doesn't deserve to breath the same air as me or a conceited cunt who thinks the sun shines out of her twat. Either of those is an excellent reason for me to decide that you could die tomorrow and it wouldn't affect me in the least. I'm sure you wouldn't care if I disappeared either but hey, who gives a fuck what you think anyway, you are a self-involved, douchebag cunt after all and your opinion doesn't matter.

I am always in such a good mood when I am sober, can you tell? So I'll leave it at that because even though I love to talk about my self (I am sooo fascinating), enough is enough. ]


I do think it's funny that I'm always on about self-involved assholes when I am quite possibly the most self involved person I have ever come across. I mean look at this blog, it's all me, me, me and Heroin....just the way I like it heheh. Look at it this way, you write what you know and I know me (and Heroin) better than anything else, it's a winning combination. Ok anons, take the bait, you know you want to.

So this is the portion of our program where it's time to say goodnight,I'm off my loves, tune in next week (or possibly sooner), same bat time, same bat channel. XOXO Melody

The METHod to my madness.

So here I am and as promised I will indeed wrap this bitch up, with a ribbon even. It has taken longer than I intended, mainly because I'm a lazy cunt. It might have been the H that distracted me but I'm thinkin naaah, I'm just a horribly unmotivated layabout and I was too occupied doing nothing to get my ass on here and finish this shit.
So anyway, here goes:
Adrian somehow managed to lick all the meth residue off the spoon without vomiting and we bid farewell to Sammi and her bathroom. I tried to talk her into coming with us but she decided against it...smart girl. We hit the long road to Cuba, jumping on Bloomfield HWY and taking it to the Regina (rhymes with vagina),junction. Coincidentally this is the same way you get to Espanola. R-man decided that he was gonna ride in the back with Maniac, leaving me to drive with Adrian riding shotgun. He played DJ with the Cds and we were zooming down those crazy-twisty country roads listening to The Damned and Cocksparrer. There was an occasional protest from Maniac who would just as soon have chucked the stereo out the window as listen to our playlist but I just turned it up louder and drowned him out.
I was taking those roads at about 80mph, ignoring the fact that the posted speed limit was never over 40. If someone else had been driving I would have been shitting my pants but since it was me behind the wheel, I had no problems whatsoever. The windows were cracked but it did little to lessen the overwhelming cloud of cryssy that was billowing from the backseat. I gave up on trying to ingest a satisfactory amount of nicotine through the usual methods and began snapping the filters off my Marlboro's and sucking them down that way. It was much more effective but the yellow tar stains on my fingers haven't yet faded and are not very pretty to look at.
We rolled into Cuba much sooner than expected and cruised over to Loco's house. Joker answered the door and just like last time, there were crackheads in varying states of dementia littering the scene. The house smelled like sweaty socks toasting over Brillo and I remember having the overwhelming urge to vomit....quickly followed by the urge to bang another issue of speed. My reasoning was that at least if I puked after the shot, I would be way too wired to give one single, solitary fuck.
Loco had sidled up behind me and put his hands my shoulders, kneading me with his fingers in some parody of a massage. It didn't hurt exactly, it was more irritating than anything else. I get to a point where I'm so geeked that the slightest touch makes my skin crawl and I had passed that point looooong before we walked through the door. Adrian had tried to take my arm when we got out of the truck and I about bit his head off. I'm fine as long as you don't touch me.
Casey can touch me but that is a different kind of touch altogether and he knows how to use that super tingly skin sensitivity to his (and my) advantage. Basically, if you aren't someone I'm planning to fuck in the next 60 seconds, you need to keep your mitts off my person. It's unusual for me to get quite this fucked up but Rainman had outdone himself and the latest batch was INSANE!!!
I had to clench my fists in a serious effort to keep from clocking Loco in the head and then slithered out from under his hands. I was trying very hard to be pleasant and it just about killed me, all I wanted was to adjourn to the back bedroom so I could do my shot and smoke my filter-less cigs. I smiled and nodded and made some agreeable sounding noises until Joker asked if I needed to do a hit. I could have kissed him! For obvious reasons, I was not my usual charming self. My clever repartee was noticeably absent and I may as well have been mute for all the good my vocal cords were doing me.
I think I gave Joker a grateful smile but I could've snarled at him for all I know, I was so not in control of myself at that moment. It doesn't really make sense but it was like I needed to go faster in order to calm down. I needed to jolt myself back to....myself. I followed Joker to the back bedroom, Ade trailing behind me and Loco giving us the stink eye. I think he would have come along as well if he hadn't had business to attend to. R-man was waiting in the kitchen and product was ready to be distributed.
We went into the same room as the last time I was there and Jokes left to grab us some water and a spoon. I ignored Adrian and went about setting up my shooting station, cotton..ahem...cig filter...check! New point...check! Adorable but rapidly becoming an annoyance junky kid....check! Now all I needed was for Joker to hurry his ass up...check!
I fixed up enough for the two of us, waved away Ade's belt and had Jokes hold off my ankle instead. I was too self involved to care about the kicked puppy look being sent in my direction, I stuck myself and dug around. My feet were like ice and I was having a hell of a time finding anything. When I did manage to get one, it was so small that it burned like hell and I had to go super slow, I could see the vein expanding every time I pushed a bit in.
It came on in stages but when it was all in, it hit me like a revelation. I heard Joker talking to me but it sounded like he was underwater. I felt like I was moving in slow motion and it took a painfully long time for me to pull a cigarette out of my pack. Ade lit it for me and the flame looked like a strobe, it was like my eyes were vibrating in their sockets.
I may have stopped breathing for a couple minutes because it seemed like forever before I took one huge gasping breath....and everything was fine. The room came into sharp focus and aside from being really AWAKE I was back to being myself. This was further proven when I saw Jokes and Adrian gaping at me like retards and after taking a leisurely drag off my smoke I drawled," Shut your mouths bitches, you're drawing flies. Haven't you ever seen a lady smoke a cigarette before?"
They shut their traps and went about their business, I think it was a wise choice on their part.
We were just getting ready to go back out to the living room when Loco put in an appearance. Lovely! Even though I had been restored to my former glory, I was in NO mood to deal with this cholo fuckwit. I could see that look in his eye and I suddenly became desperate to avoid spending any alone time with him. Captain Save a Ho was about to try and come to my rescue and I wanted NO part of it! The thought of having to sit through another of his ridiculous (one sided) heart to hearts made me physically ill. Grasping at this flimsy yet timely straw, I pushed past him, mumbling something about the bathroom and impending puke-age.
I spent a goodly amount of time in the john, chain smoking and applying nail polish, I even did my toes. At some point Maniac talked his way through the door and kept me entertained/annoyed with a running commentary on the Adrian/Loco/me situation. I swear that motherfucker missed his calling as a gossip columnist. Had he been born earlier, Maniac could put Louella Parsons to shame! If you don't know who Lolly Parsons is, I'm not gonna tell you, google that shit and learn something. There is no knowledge like useless knowledge, especially as it relates to the last 100 years of American film/pop culture history.
Anyway, I sweet talked Maniac into letting me polish his fingernails, which was no easy feat. I did it while he babbled away, only stopping long enough for him to hit his pipe. I even managed three coats! There is nothing quite like seeing a wannabe tough guy, lousy with prison tats...and "Harlot Scarlet" fingernails hahahaha. I took that pic shortly afterwards and he still had remnants of polish staining his nails. He tried to get it off with rubbing alcohol but it didn't really do the trick. Three coats motherfucker! I think he was more upset because it was red haha, oh those homies and their color prejudice!
So we left before Loco could corner me and headed back home. The drive was pretty uneventful except for the fact that the road was littered with roadkill skunks, not the most pleasant of aromas. We got to Rainman's trailer home at an ungodly hour of the morning and the boys did some random puttering about while I sat in the living room and hit Maniac's pipe.
It took awhile but Adrian eventually came to keep me company and then followed me into R-man's bedroom. I did another bracer aka giant issue of cryysy and was trying to get online and do something productive...like update my blog. He made that next to impossible, as is evidenced by the semi-retarded post I wrote that morning. His very presence was unnerving, especially when he was all cuddled up around my legs. I finally shook free of him and told him that if he was going to stay in there with me, he needed to behave.
We ended up sitting side by side on the bed watching episodes of Absolutely Fabulous on R-man's computer. Maniac joined us at some point and we passed the pipe around until I decided that it was time for me to get the fuck home. The sun had come up and it was like tweeker Kryptonite, I always lose my high after the sun rises. No matter how much speed I shoot/smoke, I can never regain my good humor after sunrise. R-man says that it's a sign that I'm not really suited to the "up" way of life. A true speed freak is down to get geeked any time, day or night or at least that's what he says. I think he is more than qualified to make that statement.
So that's it, I finally got it done! Blood, sweat and tears woven into a brilliantly constructed recollection of my latest excursion with the meth savant and his band of miscreants.
Happy Friday and I will be back next week....sometime...probably. I love all y'all motherfuckers, even the ones who wish I would drop dead on the street, that's just the kind of girl I am. Yeah....you know the kind I mean.
This is Melody Lee signing out.