No One Really Wants Me to Make Sense, Any-Fucking-Way.

Being not in the mood to write something entertaining or informative is nothing new with me, lacking the motivation to do anything of consequence is just one of the things that makes me irritating to others. However I am ALWAYS in the mood to take and have others take, stupid photos of me, especially when I am impaired in some way. Photograph me in my bra/underwear, half submerged in a tub of water? Capital idea, let's do so immediately. You think I'm kidding.

There's scores of stuff like that and with any luck, it will stay locked away on a few select computers until I piss someone off enough and they decide to make a slide show or something. I'm resigned to this, it'll happen eventually as I'm always pissing off the people closest to me.
Okay, so there might be one or two pics that I don't hate, that might show up here because let's face it, I just can't help myself and you can't really tell that I'm wearing pink hot pants. Feel free to forget that I mentioned owning any such thing.
Why do I feel the need to repeatedly embarrass myself? You may as well ask why water is wet, it just is and I just do. Would you believe it's due to my not getting enough love as a child, thus driving me to seek it out in unhealthy ways? Nah, I didn't think you would.
It's utter bullshit anyway, I got plenty of love, even though I did my best to make my family hate me. Not on purpose but just because I was and still am, completely spoiled and selfish and only care about me-me-me. I'm a bitch, I make people sorry they love me, which causes them to hate me and consequently themselves because of their inability to stop. Is that some fucked up shit or what? How do I do it? It's a gift, I give love a bad name. I think Bon Jovi wrote a song about me...
Right, so I'm not totally heartless...at least I'm fairly sure I'm not and I have gone out of my way to help people on occasion. My family could never understand why I would put myself out for my friends. Evidently I'm stupid, in addition to being a selfish bitch.
I went to buy points last weekend and the pharmacy tech flirted shamelessly and then called me love, after which he became so flustered that he dropped the box on the floor. It was sweet and terribly satisfying as he was not unattractive. I like that he decided to hit on me, even though I was buying something socially unacceptable. It's not like he thought I was a diabetic, I was high as shit and not doing anything to indicate otherwise. I think I even had bruises all across my chest, which must’ve been incredibly HAWT! Haha.
Those of you who think he just figured he'd get the junky to blow him in the public toilet, do shut the fuck up. Can't you let me have the illusion for once!?! Fuckers.
And so what if he did? It was still cute and he was even age appropriate...somewhat. Moving on.
I took a pic of Maniac's freakish feet, they truly have to be seen to be believed. Honestly don't know how I didn't notice until the car incident. It must have been my brain blocking it out for the sake of my mental health. I'll post it when I finish that story, I'm warning you though, it will put you off feet for a good 6 months and if you already have a problem with feet, it may well break you.
Note to self, when a tweeker's sketchy looking girlfriend locks herself in the bathroom with your VIBRATING microdermabrasion thingy, you should kick down the fucking door in order to avoid having to replace it. Some things just don't wash off...EVER-EVER-EVER-EV-ER! Hey, guess what my new status is gonna be, hahaha. Why do I let these people in my house??? Ugh.
Oh and for anyone who thinks it's a good idea to send me youtube clips of their 'awesome' indie band...DON'T. And please don't ask me what I think, I can guarantee you don't wanna know. What did I do to make you think I would appreciate something that sounds like that!?! Can you let me know, I would like to make sure I NEVER do it again.
Have you even read anything here? I think I've been more than clear about my feelings regarding effeminate boys staggering under the weight of too much hair product and ridiculous side-swept hair styles. The only thing we have in common is a desperate need to capture ourselves on camera, guys in Hello Kitty T-shirts just plain creep me out.
Besides, I thought scene boys grew up and turned into hipsters? Just so you know, I find Buddy Holly specs and ironic mustaches just as abhorrent as dudes with stupid hair and rainbow heart hoodies, so it doesn't much matter. You look 20 and despite what you may have heard, that make you waaaaaaay too fucking OLD for me, hahaha. That was a joke.
I think it's time for me to go, I'm sure there's something around here for me to get high on, or someone for me to get...never you mind. It's a mad, mad world and I don't make the rules, so why the fuck should I hafta live by 'em? Does that make sense, it shouldn't, it's 5am for fuck's sake.
Love and all that sorta tripe,
M-E-L-O-D-Y. Why? Because we LIKE you! M-O-U-S-LEEEEEEE.

Happy H-olidays

Gangly legs...so many scars, so little effort.

Fishnets cover a multitude of sins but some sins are just too deep to disguise. And like I told the elite of the SSFBHG (supersecretfacebookheroingroup), YES I dress like Dr Frank N. Furter on any given afternoon and just cuz you don't, doesn't make you better than me! Take that (not so SSFBHG!).
I wasn't planning on posting anything today but due to an unexpected-expected delivery, I am high as fuck and felt like making my presence felt. Haha, like anyone reads this bullshit anyway. If you do, my condolences and I hope you at least get a laugh out of it, God help any poor slob who takes me seriously. I don't take myself seriously and they (whoever they are) do say you should never ask anyone to do something you wouldn't do yourself.
I've been very subdued, chemically and otherwise...well aside from the speed but does that really count? I'm still the mellowest bitch you ever saw, even on gak, so I think it does not. Anyone who presumes to know differently because of some geeked out facebook-ing that was accomplished during my last foray into meth-aphysics, can SHUT THE FUCK UP! Please and thank you.
I am nothing if not polite, even when I'm advising you to batten down the gum bumping and not spend every minute of your day trying to gainsay me. It will get you nowhere, I'll just say more and then you'll have to say more and it will never, ever end because if there's one thing that has been proven time and again...I really don't know when (or how) to shut up. Ever.
Except now, maybe. I'm kind of at a loss but that could be because I'm slowly getting more and more fucked up and soon, if I have anything to do with it, coherent thought will be a thing of the past. For instance, right this very minute, I'm gonna walk away from the computer and shoot some more dope into my thoroughly undeserving self.
Mmmmm, refreshing. And it only took 2 minutes, that vein in my thigh (refer to photo), has stood up to multiple jab sessions like a champ and as of now, has been my go-to spot for....oh, at least a month. The track on it is wicked, like 7 inches long, though you can't see it in the pic. I took that back around Halloween but only posted it in the super secret FB heroin group, haha. Along with some other photos of me in my Darth Vader underoos, doing unseemly things with a rig full of dope, haha. It's ok, everyone there does, I'm not alone and keep in mind that to a junky, doing anything other than injecting a rig full of dope, is unseemly.
I've been working on getting my fav Internet pussy, Mizzzzz K1tten, to come back for another visit, a follow-up to the Joan Jett adventure. Kinda wondering if maybe I overwhelmed her a bit, she was just off the plane when we drove to Espanola and then jaunted halfway up a mountain in (or around) Taos, in the dark of night, to procure a large amount of H. Granted this was a semi scary place, about 40 minutes from another living soul and mostly inaccessible if you weren't specifically looking for it. The kind of place where they can dismember you, scrap your car and no one will ever be the wiser, even if they were, they wouldn't have a clue where to look. So yeah, a little overwhelming but worth it, I think. We sure got a lot of smack for not a lot of cash and that sounds worth it to me, haha.
I've also been there several times and was used to the setup. It probly didn't help that 'someone' felt he needed to make cute little quips about the fate awaiting uninvited guests and trespassers. We were neither of those things. Or maybe she was just tired from her flight? It did get re-routed to Houston due to the plane catching on fire. Haha, talk about a sign from God that you should NOT go to fucking New Mexico!
Anyway, I hope to convince her to come stay for my birthday, it'll be a gasssssssssssssssss. I'm turning 57, that's not something that happens every day! We need to mark the occasion with...well, with drugs. And then more drugs and THEN maybe some debauched sexual escapades. And then, you guessed it, more drugs. HEY! It's MY fucking birthday and I'll dowhatIwant!
Wait-wait-wait...shot time, por favor. Do I really need another? Nope. Does it matter? NOPE. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I'm thankful I got my muthafuckin' dope in time for the holiday, it would be disrespectful not to enjoy it. And Thanksgiving is all about overindulgence, lets just try and keep the 'over' away from the 'doses' *wink* no one likes a blue-faced Betty at the table on Turkey Day!
Alright, maybe I should go, I need to load up another issue, take a shower and then find a cute dress to wear tomorrow to V & R's. I will not be cooking this year, well just a dessert, so I need to look extra adorable to distract them all from the fact that I will likely be drooling into my mashed potatoes. Have a grand one, my darlings,
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Melody.

Your Mother Calls You Puta?

Pic by Maniac. I look more like my fucked up self  here & I think I like it.

I looked over at Richie who had his hand in front of his face so I couldn't see him grinning, Maniac was too-too smug while he waited to see what I would do next and Adrian...he just looked constipated.
My previous statement had pretty much expressed everything I needed to say, I walked over to cholo fuckwad and snatched the keys from his hand. It could've been worse but not by much, I told myself at least it wasn't a Smart Car and got behind the wheel.
Richie spoke up, "Uh, can you lean the seat forward so we can get in back?"
Maniac choke/snorted and turned away but I could see his shoulders shaking, the bastard was enjoying this in a big way.
"All you hilarious motherfuckers can go file in on the other side...two door piece a...and the self satisfied brown trash gets in front."
Manny raised an eyebrow and Rich shoved Ade out of the way, which in turn led to more shoving. I saw a fist get cocked back and screeched, "HEY! Cut that shit out or you can just stay the fuck here, much as I'd love to see you bloody each other up, I just don't have it in me tonight. Be civilized or go home."
"If you need someone to put something in y..." Richie drawled.
"STOP! Stop right fucking therrrrrrrrrre. I don't care if you walk back to Colorado, I'm not putting up with you and you're not putting anything anywhere."
Adrian started to perk up and that annoyed me further, " AND YOU...Scott Pilgrim! You need a tampon for that vagina? One more pout or sigh and I will kick the piss out of you myself."
Maniac snickered and adjusted the seat, indicating that they should climb in. It was accomplished with minimum drama and we were off.
Not too happy to be driving a green marshmallow, I thought I might get some payback by scaring the living shit out of Manny. He's a worse passenger than I am and I'm really, really terrible.
We took the back way to the 550 S. and the roads were all wet and slippery, I smiled and floored the gas pedal. 0-90 in 3.2 minutes, stupid hunk o' crap. Before long we were passing Semis, darting and skittering all over the highway. I glanced over at Maniac, "Not so smug now, are we?"
"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about." He clutched the shoulder harness.
"Oh no?" I took my hands off the wheel and reached back to take Richie's cigarette, leaning my head against the rest. The little car swerved and I over-overcorrected...with my knees, fun fact: I drive better with my knees than most people do with their hands, haha.
Out of nowhere came this sound, kind of like someone strangling a tea kettle mid-whistle, if you could indeed do such a thing...and then the tea kettle exploded.
"TEN AND TWO, PUTA...EYES ON THE FUCKING ROAD!!!"
Silence... and then I snarked, "You sound like my mother...if my mother was a pussy." (Tandem chuckles from the back).
He forgot all about flaming wrecks and looked at me sideways, "Your mother calls you puta?"
I laughed, "Not to my face."
He snorted but relaxed his grip on the belt, "You really that pissed I got this car?"
I pointed at the rental info that was taped to the window, "You see what that says right there?"
"What, Ford Fiesta?"
"Nah, before that, where it gives the color, read to me what that says."
"Metallic...Mojito?"
"That's right, dip-tard, it says 'Metallic Mojito'. Not only am I driving what looks to be an aerodynamic suppository, it's a green one and it goes by the loathsome name of METALLIC MO-HEE-TOE!!"
"Insult to injury." Adrian spoke up.
"Thank you!" It was the first thing he'd said/done that hadn't made me want to kick him. I rolled the window down, flicked the cig butt out and tried to concentrate on the next 2 1/2 hours of driving. It didn't last.
Rich, who was right behind me kept running his fingers up the back of my neck and just being irritating in general. Ade seemed to have gotten himself in hand as I didn't hear any sensitive-type sniffling from his direction.
I had been so caught up in all the bullshit that I never bothered to ask why we were going to Rio Rancho in the first place. It's just outside Albuquerque and usually if we were gonna meet up with anyone it was in ABQ proper but whatever. I was already in it, so no point in worrying about the whys and wheres.
So there I was, driving along, minding my own business and I kept hearing this weird scratching noise. It sounded like velcro being uh...un-velcro-ed? Since I'm neither a toddler nor a senior citizen, I knew that *I* certainly wasn't wearing any and I hoped no one else was either. I didn't have a chance to give it much thought 'cause my cell started cranking out the intro to Rebel Rebel, I pulled it out of my bra (yes that's where it was, don't judge me), tossed it to Manny and told him to hit speaker. It was R-man calling for a progress report.
"What's up?" I felt around for my cigarettes.
"How long til you make Rio Rancho?" *scratch-scratch-scratch-scratchhhhh*
"45 minutes maybe, we just passed San Ysidro." *scratch-scratch*
"Call me when you get in and..." *SCRAAAAAATCHHHH*
I couldn't take it anymore, "WHAT THE FUCK...is that noise!?!
"Feet." Rainman supplied over the speaker.
"What?"
"Feeeeeet. Maniac's crusty feet on the car mat."
The boys snickered in unison and it took me a minute to process what I'd just been told. I looked over at M, "YOU are disgusting." Back to R-man, "I don't know which is more disturbing, that his feet are capable of producing such a noise or that you recognized it immediately for what it was." Back to M, "What the hell is wrong with you? They make pumice stones for a reason."
Richie snorted, "His feet would FUCK that stone up."
"His shit would rub the crust off everyone else's feet..." Adrian added.
"Ugh, enough...and EEEW!"

It's looking like there will be one more after this, mainly cuz Imma lazy cow and I just don't feel like reading through another butt-load of my writing and trying to make it post-able. I'll get to it, if anyone gives a fuck and if you don't...well then, I'll just run out and drown myself in a shallow pool of my own tears. It bothers me that much, bahahaha etc etc.
Anyway, I have things to clean and stuff to smo...uh, take care of, maybe I'll tell y'all about it sometime.

xo Melody Lee

Oh yeah, if you haven't already, check out my girl at Eyelick, she's a doll.

　

Catch My Fall

I may do a bad thing. Worse than usual, like bordering on...fuck. Literally. I really don't know what's going on with me. I have discussed this with Anna Banana but I can't rightly do so now because I'm not speaking to her due to some melodramatics that irritated me more than they should have. Probably more a case of me being a shit than anything she did.
There's this person *sigh* there's always a Goddamned person! And...Christ, I can't even get it out, it's so unseemly. No. UGH! Another object of fascination has thrust (not yet literally), himself into my life and for some reason it's been sounding like the best worst idea I've had in some time.
Honestly, I'm having difficulty putting it into words because I know just how bad it's gonna sound and at this point in time I'm not entirely sure that it isn't just this side of illegal. Seeing as how the popular consensus is that I'm practically post menopausal, it makes it extra icky. What the fuck is my problem and WHY did he have to approach me in the first place!?!
It's 3 AM and I just had to talk myself out of calling him, I was in bed, staring at the ceiling and so close to having him meet me it was a little scary. The sad thing is that if I really wanted to go bang someone I shouldn't it wouldn't be incredibly difficult. Adrian would walk here if I asked him to and Rich has been in town nearly every other weekend but being my usual cont(CUNT)rary self, I don't want them. I want the new one and yes I'm pouting about it!
Ms K1tten was here visiting and I was soooooo good, well not that good but I didn't take her out whoring around, we just did other...stuff. She met some people but for the most part I told everyone to piss off for the week she was in town.
The plan had originally been to hit up the masses in Albuquerque (collected from a site that I won't be naming here) and it just didn't happen that way. Instead we did something else that semi scared the bejesus outta her and then came home to relax for the rest of the week.
I think I mentioned that it would be a bad idea to ingest anything (Ambien), that would result in a walking blackout, just because I was worried that I would shuffle my zombie ass over to where that kid (most definitely a kid) would be. I'm so SICK, practically a pedophile!
You know what I think it is? I've been too restrained for too long and now I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin with the unbearable itchiness of it. I need to figure something out in a hurry before I do anything I can't take back. This new interest might just be the one that kicks my butt off the overpass, if you know what I mean.
It's not about the sex (not entirely), sex starved I ain't. It's like there's this feeling telling me I need to do something really, REALLY bad. Something that no amount of Milo therapy can fix, that might have worked when I got here but not now.
In case you're wondering what that is, it's when your boyfriend gets wasted and listens to the Descendents non-stop for an extended period of time. Usually however long it takes for him to come to terms with whatever it is you did to send him off the deep end in the first place. I swear when I first got to NM Casey had Clean Sheets and Bikeage on a loop for an entire month. So dramatic.
I suppose I'm writing this now as some last ditch effort to talk myself out of doing this incredibly stupid thing that I seem hell bent on pursuing. Or...OR, I can make a quick trip to Cali and rendezvous with this other person that has been after me to visit him and it might never come to light that anything even happened. Or I might just never come back. Crap. At least he's older than I am, haha. He really has no clue what a disaster I am, though. No idea how he missed that memo. Shit.
Casey will be in Utah until Saturday, triple shit. I'm not so good at these tests the universe likes to throw at me, I seem to fail them just to spite myself. The really hilarious thing being that I'm pretty sure if I had to talk to this guy for longer than a couple hours, I might seriously contemplate cutting his tongue out. The one here, not the one in CA.
If I was high right now this would NOT be an issue! I would simply be too loaded to care, it's this relentless clarity that's driving me to it. See people, THIS is what comes of clean living, disgusting.
It's been hounding me all day, the damn vid clips on my FB wall can attest to that. I Billy Idol-ed and THEN I Depeche Mode-ed! Twisted shit, right there, using catchy 80's music to subliminally propel myself towards the best worst idea...the very best. Sounds amazing right now, I should go.
Everyone can enjoy this not quite current photo of me looking like a pissed off Transexual with crap hair, decent cleavage and DSL. My new hair is much better and I'll show it to you when and if I come back to tell you about what I may or may not have done by this time tomorrow.
M.

And Another Thing...

Fuck you.

This is current and really just because I'm jittery and just getting over some moderate dopesickness and I'm home alone. Casey's been gone since Friday, probably found himself a few dimwitted Mormon hookers over in Utah and is even now basking in pre-paid, polygamous bliss.
Aside from a short visit from one of the neighborhood youngsters, I've had nothing to do but complain and slather myself with a weak solution of topical Ketamine and Morphine. It makes me numb, not numb as in comfortably, numb as in novacain.
I spent Friday night wondering if I was ever gonna regain the feeling in my tits (Yes, I put it there too), and trying not to gag on the smell. That shit stinks of something sterile, like bandaids and also mothballs. I reeked like an old lady laid up in an infirmary.
About halfway through Saturday I decided that even though it does take the edge off, it's just too messy and inconvenient for so little effect. Plus it does weird things to your hands. I was only using my left hand to rub it in (cuz it feels funny, duh) and now each time I've taken a shower that hand prunes up in like 30 seconds. It's unsettling.
Anyway, I...oh fuck my life with Depeche Mode, Shake the Disease...really? I need to hear this NOW? Those assholes have ruined more songs for me than I care to admit, for whatever reason it's become common knowledge that the easiest way to unerve me is via music. Not always but if the mood (see: Nicely fucked up), is right and the sounds are too, it gets me. Of course I don't do too  much of anything I might get killed for but if there were a way to wear me down that would be close to the top of the list. I don't think I need to tell you what number one is.
Oh shut the fuck up, it's not like I lay down anytime someone waves a bag around, quite the opposite actually. Even when I was whoring I didn't fuck for dope, it's just not good business. The connect might know what you do but he still values you as a cusomer, fuck/suck him for a fix and he loses all respect for you. It's the whole out of sight out of mind thing, I've see it happen a million times. Bang the connect and he sees you differently and 9 times out of 10 it's not in a positive way. You become just another bag whore and that's that. Not getting down on the Ladies who do it, just saying that in my experience it's better to suck the dick, get paid and buy your own damn dope.
Neighbor came by a second ago, saw that I was practically bouncing off the walls and offered me some Valerian capsules. Took all my willpower not to punch her in the mouth. Valerian? I may as well go outside and eat grass, the cat seems to like it. Fucking Valerian. I know that this is supposed to be what they make Valium out of but there really has to be more to it than just that stupid ass root.
It's like when you tell your doctor you haven't slept in 10 days and he gives you Melatonin. Personally, I believe that a slap in the face like that deserves to get smacked right back. Melatonin, can you imagine?
Back when we used to have Dr Swanson's pill detox, you would get Valium, Soma, Clonodine (pills and derm patches), Chloral Hydrate syrup, Compazine and fucking Melatonin. Every junky in Bakersfield had at least 3 full bottles of that shit because no one ever bothered with it. Maybe it works for a 50 yr old who's never taken anything stronger than a Tylenol PM but for a Dopefiend in withdrawal? Uh-uh.
Oh no...am I boring you? Is this too mundane for those of you seeking entertainment? Well guess the fuck what, I ain't a Godamned acrobat and I'm not here turning somersaults to keep you amused. Your lack of enthusiasm for anything I post here is not my problem.
And for all those people combing past posts for mis-matched info, read the disclaimer bitches. For all anyone knows I'm a Bi-polar housewife living in obscurity and I make all this crap up just to keep myself from taking a long drive in a tightly sealed garage. Stranger things have happened so suck it and shut the fuck up already. That's what I'm gonna do and your welcome.
~Melody

Afterthoughts.

Just read my comments and want to say that anyone who imagines I would remember more than an aproximation of the dates when shit went down, is a bigger fucking idiot than you assume me to be. Exact dates...really? Grow the fuck up and leave the petty bullshit to the people who know how to do it properly. Holy CRAP, an inconsistent heroin addict, what WILL they think of next? Fucking Christ, is it any wonder that I only come by 4 times a year? Conflict and confrontation I can handle but nitpicking is a bit too juvenile, even for me.
Gleds, I love ya and the same to anyone else who's still reading after all this time. Anyone who wants to stalk me on Facebook can do it at my little ol' FB page and anyone who doesn't can fuck off cuz I didn't want you there anyway. I'm on there more than here but even then I go AWOL sometimes, however, chances are that for now it's a tad more informative than this place.
XO~ M.L.

Outstanding Emasculation & an Eco-Turd. Part 2 (of whatever the fuck that story was called)



It had been a long couple of nights, that's why I look so amazing.

Right, so I've been a very bad girl (on so many levels), but especially when it comes to updating, I can't really tell you why except that when I think about it I get this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach akin to anxiety and when something makes me feel that way, I like to pretend it doesn't exist. The only explanation I can come up with is that my head has turned writing into a responsibility and seeing as how I try and avoid those at all costs, it's making me spazzy. I'll work on it but make no promises.
Also, I know what today is and since I like to think of myself as a kind of national disaster, I thought it would be appropriate to post. OK so maybe I'm more of a regional disaster but you know what they say- act locally, think globally. My plot to bring the world to it's knees is still mostly in my head, as I'm too lazy to actually carry anything out but it is the thought that counts *wink*
So here's the second installment of...whatever the last post was involving my boys, I'm writing this on some word program and can't remember the stupid title. Yeah, I'm super fucking committed, haha. It's been sitting in this lame file just waiting to be posted but I couldn't bring myself to bother with it, don't ask me why, I'm just a twat like that. Anyway, here it is.

　
I took a seat among the paisa gear and was able to breathe easy now that the thorns in my uh...side were out of view. M had recovered nicely from my beaner comment and was now rummaging around in the kitchen looking for something to eat. He came back with a can of chocolate frosting and a loaf of white bread. He backhanded all the hats and belts off the coffee table and set everything on top. Popping open the can, he took a slice of bread, scooped out some frosting and then jammed the whole mess into his mouth.
I sat in silent, (disgusted) fascination, watching him repeat the process several times before I found my voice and asked, "Uh, what the fuck are you doing? That's gotta be one of the most repulsive things I've ever witnessed."
He paused mid-cram and said, "What? It's fucking good, tastes like chocolate cake."
I snorted, "I promise you that it does NOT taste anything remotely like chocolate cake...cochino." *dirty or pig (in this case both, haha)
He ignored me and kept shoveling until he was down to the last bite, then lunged across the table and smashed it into my mouth,"Told you, cake."
I wiped the chocolate off my chin and spat the remnants in his direction, "It doesn't taste like cake, asshole, it tastes like...welfare. You just raped my face with welfare!" I looked to see if I'd hit him and luckily I'm a good shot, it stuck to his neck so I didn't hafta clean it off the carpet.
He got up, mumbling, "Psssht, rape your face...who the fuck wants to rape your face any-damn-way?"and walked back into the kitchen
While he went to go wash half chewed bits of public assistance off himself, I got up and crept down the hall to make sure that everyone had made it to their assigned bathroom. I heard showers running and turned to go back...and ran smack into Maniac. He gave me a smug look and said, "Trying to get a look, weren't you? Don't gotta lie to kick it..."
"Fuck you, maricon. I think that's where you were headed and I foiled your plans. Peeping Tomas, hahaaaaa." *Homosexican
He looked pretty pissed so I ducked around him and ran back to the living room. I probably shouldn't keep teasing him about that stuff but I'm just being a good friend trying to help him come to terms with his (obviously) repressed sexuality. It's because I'm so kind hearted, ya know? One of these days he's just gonna shoot me and be done with it, can't remember who said that...everybody, most likely.
He stalked back into the room and asked, "You like what I did there, with the two pendejos, how you gonna dance around this one, esa?" *dumbasses
I was feeling quite droll, "Can't dance anymore, none of you jerk offs will go to Effex with me." (the boys were unimpressed with Tiesto and even less impressed with all the sweaty man meat that was trying to pick them up.)
"Fuck that noise, first time...last time, end of story." He smirked at me, "You didn't answer the question."
"Didn't I? Fine, I was hoping one or both would show some balls and tell me to go to the Devil, just snatch it out of my hands so I can avoid the headache of it all. Is that too much to ask?"
Maniac snickered, "How's that shit supposed to happen? You got their balls in your back pocket."
"Hmmm..." I said under my breath, "Is that what I keep sitting on?"
"Well," he pointed at a now clean Richie, "Maybe just one of his but that guy," He gestured to Adrian, "You left that vato con nada." *with nothing
"How outstanding of me." I rolled my eyes and avoided eye contact with the emasculated, partial or otherwise. Making my way towards the scattered western wear, I picked a cowboy hat off the floor and dropped it on my head (not something that happens too often), but I needed something to feed off of and it was the first thing that came to mind.
If you're not pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, it means that sometimes when I get into certain situations, I fall back on a song or maybe something I'm wearing (like my 16 lbs of eye liner), or any other prop that I can use to fuel/sustain my attitude. Not sure what type of insecurity that is but it does make a convincing argument for the opposition, who are always insisting that I'm putting on an act, haha. Fuck 'em all anyway.
So with my new security blanket firmly in place, I sat down on the couch and lit a cigarette. Smoking is another good tool of avoidance. I scootched down so I was leaning waaaaay back, ass on the edge of the cushion, legs stretched out before me, my crossed ankles propped up on the table. I probably looked ridiculous but what can I say, I'm like 5'9, gangly legs are just a given. Tipping the hat down over my eyes, I puffed away and started humming to myself, it was Devo, 'Big Mess'...you know, 'Cowboy Kim I am...' If you don't, you should...philistines!
Anyway, there I was, using my little song to buy some time when I felt someone pluck the hat off my head. I looked up and saw Richie smash it on his, he gave me that cheeky look that he does so well and sang, "I'm a man with a mission, a boy with a gun, I got a picture in my pocket of the lucky one."
Maniac made a gagging sound and I tried to sink deeper into the couch, muttering something about him knowing the words and if he kept it up maybe he really would get into my pants. Adrian looked pained. His expression made me irritable and slightly nauseous so I sat up and put out the cig. Then I took a few deep breaths so I wouldn't leap across the room and knock it off his face.
I remember when Rich tried that kicked puppy bullshit on me and I couldn't stand it then either. I know you're basically children but I am so not your fucking mommy, save that crap for someone who's obligated to kiss it and make it all better. *I* have a low tolerance for neediness and sufficed to say it does not put me in a mood to comfort or accommodate anyone.
Turning my attention back to the room at large, I asked, "So what the fuck are we doing tonight, please tell me it means getting outta here, if R-man's skeez shows up, I may hafta strangle a bitch."
M snickered (he doesn't like her either), and sauntered over to the bookshelves. He picked up some keys and started jingling them in his hand, "Road trip to RR?"
Fuck.
The first thing that came to mind was me having to drive that 10 ton monstrosity parked outside. See Rainman will not let Maniac take his toys further than town and sometimes not even there. Me he trusts, don't ask me why.
"I'm not driving that rolling inferiority complex. You've bumped your fucking head if you thought I was gonna navigate that tank all the way to Rio Rancho, that thing is a Godamned bust."
"R already thought of that so we're parking it, I picked up a rental earlier and left it at Jackie's, it wouldn't have made it half a mile in this mud but on the 550 we're cherry."
"Fine, lets get on with it." I walked to the door and waited for someone else to go first, so they could deal with the dogs and I could make a run for the truck-thing.
We made it back to town without incident and that's because I 100% ignored everyone around me, it was better than unintentionally instigating some crap with an offhand comment. You know me and my comments, so I shut the fuck up and stayed that way til we pulled up to the apt complex where JJ (Jackie) lives. The parking lot was pretty full so there was no way to tell what I'd be driving until Maniac took my hand and led me a couple rows over.
I shoulda seen this shit coming, "Fuck me running with a...Ford Fiesta!?! You. Prick." *insufferable rolling eco-turd

There's one more post to finish this bitch up and though I did threaten a certain charming yet pushy sheep (goat?)/Children's show host with reams, (and reams) of previously un-posted material, I think I'll hold off for now. I'm best in carefully measured doses and as enthralled as I am with myself, I don't think even I can handle 15+ posts in one go. Just know they're there, waiting to creep in and annoy you all at some further date, knowing me it'll be a much, MUCH further date.

Night-night, don't let the Terrorists bite,

XO~Melody Lee

　

　

　

　

　

Manic & Senseless~Coffee & Coathangers

This is an old one from a few weeks ago that never got posted because I said fuck this shit and went to cop and then basically forgot about it. Think of it as a placating gesture so that I can stop getting yelled at (Rufus!) for not posting enough. Haha, I'm sure I know exactly which gesture he's thinking of right now. I'm just kidding, you know I love it and I need more than the occasional kick in the ass or I would never get anything done. We all know there's only one real internal motivator in my life and that's dope or maybe self interest but they usually turn out to be the same thing so...
I'm working on getting everything sorted out so I can finish up that other post and should have it up soon, mmhmm, I sure will. This one reads a little manic due to me being suuuuuuper sick at the time and maybe doesn't make much sense, enjoy.



I'm stuck in that unbearable frame of mind that is more often than not brought on by doing too much dope for far too long and then suddenly having none at all. I could go get some if I really wanted to I guess but I haven't yet. Not that I'm trying to get clean or anything, I'm just kinda stuck. A long ass drive isn't looking very appealing but one more night of no sleep and I may very well change my fucking mind.
There's nothing here and anyone who could track down a worthy substitute is either in jail (Frances), or visiting his Mama in AZ (Adrian), at some unspeakable commune where old hippies go to die. I barely missed out on the former and almost choked on my own bile when asked if I cared to join in on the latter. Commune...really? Not in this lifetime, ya fuck!
Gross! My sense of smell is off the charts right now and it's a constest between which overpowering odor will cause me to vomit first. The coffee grounds/garlicky greens in the trash are vying for superiority with the ashtray just outside the open window. If I had to pick I'd say that the trash wins, hands down because there's just something about the smell of old-fresh minced garlic and wilty collards mixed with coffee that is undeniably stomach churning. Excuse me while I:
a) take out the trash
promptly followed by:
b) wretch all over top of said rubbish.
Uno momento, por favor, back in 2.
(Roughly 10 minutes later)
That took a bit longer than I expected as I had to stop several times along the way to distance myself from the garbage bag and regain composure. I did not throw up...yet, but the day is still young.
Fuck, this coffee is making me sweat like a dock worker. I know they say ladies don’t sweat but if we’ve established one thing it’s that I ain’t no lady, haha.
My coffee always has a gallon of creamer in it because I can’t take it any other way. It was once suggested to me that the reason I can’t drink it straight is due to the fact that it smells like Heroin. To which I replied that if this person’s Heroin smelled like Nescafe he had bigger problems than how much cream I put in my Godamned cup. The nerve!
So that drive is sounding better and better, especially as the caffeine sweats turn to plain old cold sweats and make me feel like my skin is trying to find a new place to live. Traitorous bastard! And after all the trouble I’ve gone through to decorate it with bad tattoos and continuous track marks. Some things just never give you the appreciation you deserve, am I right? Of course I am, I don’t know any other way to be, haha.
Having recently been exposed to Donald Ray Pollack, I am more than a little disappointed than any aspirations I had towards writing a novel about Hillbilly meth-head serial killers has been thwarted. Flushed out of the womb of creation more effectively than a zygote at the mercy of a back alley abortionist. The genius that is DRP has unwittingly slain what could’ve been my crowning achievement, as effectively as if he had wielded the rusty coat hanger himself.
I do know how to paint a pretty picture, don’t I?
Whatever, not too broken up about it, how can you be when someone does something so much better than you ever could? I just wanted to be able to throw in that bit about the coat hanger, that’s all that really was.
I think I’m going to start recording all my phone conversations like Andy Warhol or was it Brigid Belin? Both? Whatever, I thought of that last night and it’s sounding better and better. Of course if anyone finds out they’ll lynch me, so maybe it’s not got as much merit as previously decided. One of those things that sounds good at the time but is best not carried out. On to the next big idea...
I feel like such a rip-off right now, people ask me to write and I don’t think this is quite what y’all had in mind. Speaking of huge disappointments, I tried to like Duran Duran’s new(er) thing they have going on but after sitting through a few seconds of their first single (can’t remember the name), I gave up. The closest I can come to describing it is that it sounds like it was produced by Trent Reznor on Quaaludes. Like he wanted to pull a Ray Manzarek and play on their track but fell asleep at the synthesizer and then promptly had a seizure. No bueno.
I swear if another asshole tells me it’s time to ‘Greet the day’ I’m gonna fucking lose it. Greet this, you prick! Easy for a gakked out tard to be cheerful, especially when he’s only just begun his tweek Odessey for the week. Even that douchebag has gotten more sleep than I have!
I need to go cough and gag around some more cigarette smoke, so I’ll wrap this bitch up. Back soon, I suppose.
~M.L.

A Reasonably Satisfying Substitute.



Flashing some of my bad tats like a douchebag, ha!

I know I should be finishing up my last post but fuck me if I can manage it right now. It's there but I need to fill in some details and that could mean consulting with Maniac and that is not something I care to do at the moment. Plus he's being pissy about some stupid shit he's trying to set up. The particulars aren't important but I will say that the dolt he's entrusted to handle the bulk of his investments is fucking up in a big way. Whatever, not really my problem and I'm tired of hearing him bitch about it, so yeah, I won't be calling him up anytime soon.
Runners are usually a liability, they're just as strung out as everybody else and you have to expect that they will have their hand in the cookie jar, that's just how it works. It comes down to how greedy they are and whether you're willing to look the other way in exchange for not having to do the footwork yourself. Once they get too confident aka they think you're too fucking stupid to realize they've been pinching product, it's time to find a new one. Talk about a position with a ridiculous turnover rate, haha.
Speaking of runners, I had word from Frog which was both surprising and enjoyable. I missed him, I think. He was my friend before he was my 'employee' but then again, who wouldn't miss having what amounts to an indentured servant? He put up with a lot from me, impromptu shopping trips, manicures, regular police harassment...all that and more.
Some of my favorite memories are of me and him sitting on my bed at Christen's with a 3X3 board between us, loaded as fuck and a slew of possible felonies spread before us. I would turn off the phones and lock the doors and for the next 3-4 hours he would cut foil and plastic while I weighed dope and set it all on plates according to size. When all that was done we would both start wrapping and bagging up in balloons with the color indicating the amount. Of course we indulged in frequent shot breaks so as you can imagine it took longer than it should have, haha. We handled so much dope that it was eating the skin off our fingertips and everything from cigarettes to food had the unmistakable tang of tar attached to it. Yummy.
I'll stop that train of thought before I get too nostalgic and have to go score, I do that sometimes. Another reason why NA is not my thing, so many reasons but a big one is that reminiscing about drugs just makes me want to get high. Not that I care enough about being clean to bother with any of that but if I did, that would be a major roadblock. No NA for me.
Hair update, haha. it's now 3 shades of blue, I look like a peacock and that's not really what I was going for but I'll work with what I've got. And what I've got is teal roots, turquoise in the middle and indigo tips, don't ask, I have no idea how it happened, all I know is that I didn't do it a-purpose. It's just my natural ability coming through, I suppose. What ability, you ask? Yeah, I was wondering the same thing.
So wow, this is super interesting! I don't know if I'm just draggin' ass or if I've truly lost my flair for relating incidents from my ridiculous life to people I've never met. Well, 90% of you anyway.
I know I'm lazy but I'm starting to think that maybe I was never really that entertaining to begin with and though it was fun while it lasted, I'm getting more and more caught up in just doing the stupid things and not so much in writing about them. It'll pass, maybe.
I'm still up to no good, nothing has changed as far as that goes and yes the things that happen to and around me are still some of the most asinine occurrences you will ever encounter BUT it's like I don't even know how to put them down on the page anymore. I think I'm burned out or something...or something. Perhaps I've finally executed one brain cell too many and this is the result. A post with no direction whatsoever and me with no real inclination to remedy it. I'm happy to let it wander, it's the best I can do right now.
Drugs...too much and not enough all at the same time because as we all know, it's never enough. Even when you think you've had enough, you haven't, not really. Maybe one day I'll be over it but not yet or maybe never, who can say? I could just fizzle out one day and not wake up...ooooooh, morbid, haha. Lets stop that shit right there. Not that I'm sweatin' it but I'm pretty sure no one here cares to read on while I wax pathetic about OD's etc. I know I don't.
My Anna Banana is an idiot and in Cali without me but I expect she will be back in the Pacific Northwest posthaste and be all the better for it. It has been what you would call a harrowing sort of adventure and I think she's ready to head home. Plus it's like 110 degrees in Bakersfield, what a freakin nightmare! Not the best time to be out roaming the streets and acting irresponsible. Not that I'm judging, I do the same but not it that inferno, ugh!
Frances...I can’t, not right now, it’s too much. Adrian...ugh, D-raaaama and so not feeling a rundown. Richie...still adorable, still a pain in my ass, not feeling this as well. I’m so worn out by all of it, it’s too much trouble for not enough payout. What the fuck is the point, pretty is as pretty does and aside from being nice to look at, why are they even around anymore? I don’t mean it the way it sounds, just irritated I guess. I do care about both of them but it’s exhausting trying to deal with it all. I thank God that Rich is in CO or else I would probably go crazy.
Um, I’m thinking that a handful of misc. pills can only improve the day and I’m off to the dispensary to locate said pastilles. Maybe they’ll also improve my writing and I’ll be back with something a bit more stimulating but I’m thinking nah, not likely. How was this for an anti-update? When I said I could talk about nothing for days nobody believed me, hahaha.

Mucho love or at the very least, a reasonably satisfying substitute,
~Melody Lee

Backflash Part 1 (YES that's a word Godamn it!)

This is a few months ago and will hafta be parceled out over several posts, it's just too damn long.

I got a call a some time back asking me if I might like to go over to Rainman's for some diversion. Being that my Saturday night was looking bleak, I said, sure, why the fuck not? Casey did the usual commentary while I was getting ready to leave but didn't say anything too fucked up about it.
So I threw myself together, running from the bathroom to my laptop and back again, trying to juggle makeup-ing with the insidious and ever more present Facebook. The weather had turned icky, raining down hail and I had been bemoaning my situation online when I got the call that Maniac was on his way to pick me up in Rainman's new toy. Some obnoxious SUV that makes his old Escalade look like a Prius and probably consumes enough gas in a day to fuel up half the city.
I heard the front door, unlocked it and left it open, not bothering to check who was there, just figuring it was Maniac. It was not. I heard C. give a disgusted snort and rifle through the fridge for more beer and when I turned I saw why...Richie.
The hail had turned to rain and he had gotten soaked on the way up the drive. His clothes were wet through (of course!) and clinging to him in a very disturbing way. I may have...may have let my eyes linger a little longer than was appropriate but what the fuck do you want from me?
I was expecting some big reaction from Casey, so I downplayed my surprise but got little more than an eye roll for my trouble. I was kind shocked, as much as he doesn't like Adrian he LOATHES Richie. I suppose I can understand why, even though Adrian has had more access to my um...person, Richie is much more aggressive and creative. I adore creativity and since Casey knows this, you can see his side of it. I can see it too, it's just that I don't really care, haha. I mean I care but I also know that I'm not gonna do anything too stupid, at least not involving sex or anything that can be counted as such.
I leaned over the laptop, finished up some replies, updated my status (I really hate myself right now), killed Facebook and grabbed up my purse. I blew Casey a kiss on my way out the door, it was easier. Any reassurances and prolonged physical contact would just make him suspicious, like I was trying to apologize in advance.
Before I get any enraged comments on his behalf let me say that if I thought he REALLY didn't want me to go, like it was breaking his heart or something, I wouldn't go. On the other hand if he was doing it just to be difficult or out of some over-inflated sense of manhood and ownership, I would go just on principal, I am NOT chattel. I am however wired to be a pain in the ass and everyone, especially Casey, is aware of it.
Anyway, we ran to the truck and just as I was about to open the door and climb in, my nemesis Maniac flicked on the interior light so I could see a sulky Adrian slumped in the front passenger seat. Oh Maniac you evil motherfucker! I almost turned around and went back inside...almost. Instead I let R. pull me around into the backseat and we were on our way.
The heater was blasting and it was meltingly hot in there, plus Richie being Richie was not helping matters at all. He was blatantly flouting the seatbelt laws, scooting closer and closer until I was pinned against the far door and he was leaning into me. I could feel how warm he was under those wet clothes, lets just say it wasn't unpleasant. He slung his arm around my neck and I stopped pulling away for just a second. Relaxing against his shoulder I tugged on his sweatshirt and asked, "How come you're always wet when I see you?"
He smiled sweetly and said, "I could ask you the same thing."
Maniac guffawed and I simultaneously elbowed Richie in the stomach and kicked the back of M's seat hard enough to snap his head forward, "Watch the road, burro!" Adrian just slumped further down into his seat. *er, a burro
I suddenly felt a strong urge to kick him as well but restrained myself. If he was going to turn pouty I was in for one bitch of an evening. In an attempt to diffuse the shit storm on the horizon, I shoved Richie back to his side of the truck and had Maniac turn up the music. Enduring the hated Pitbull at ridiculous decibels was better than accelerating A's tantrum with Richie's slick repartee.
We rode through the night to Rainman's place, powering down muddy dirt roads that would have destroyed lesser vehicles. I began to waver in my dislike of the ridiculously expensive overcompensation-mobile but then reminded myself that it had seat warmers, Blue-ray and wipers on the headlights. Dislike came barreling back.
When we pulled up I was confronted with 100+ ft of red mud and 3 giant dogs between me and the trailer. I took a deep breath, knowing in my heart of hearts that I was gonna end up on my can in the muck at least once before I reached the front steps. I stood next to the truck for a couple minutes so I could gather myself before proceeding. About 5 steps in my amazing sense of balance took over and I felt myself starting to falter. Fate seemed sealed when I saw Diesel charging towards me like a mud crusted canine torpedo. I squinched my eyes shut in anticipation of impact, waiting for ass to meet ground but it never happened. Out of nowhere I had hands clamped to my arms, hauling me upwards and out of the way. I opened one eye and saw that both Adrian and Richie had come to my rescue and were now glaring at each other over the top of my head.
Diesel chose that moment to lead the other dogs in a sneak attack from the rear and next thing I knew the boys were flailing in mud, fending off dog slobber, I was still upright, don't ask me how. Maniac stood at the bottom of the steps, hands on his hips, head shaking in disgust, "Pinche payasos!" He sneered before going inside. *fucking clowns
Delighted that I was still standing, I stepped, (ever so gingerly) over Richie and Adrian, leaving them to extricate themselves. I somehow managed to make it the rest of the way without incident. I probably shoulda helped them up but hey, mud and ginormous dogs...nah, I don't think so.
I scraped the mud off my shoes and let myself in the front door. Shucking off my jacket, I took a few steps and looked around. I was relieved to see that R-man's new girlfriend was not in attendance, that bitch is a buzz kill. She's like human Clozaril in a house full of Meth Schizos, not what I call a good time.
Taking in the room I saw all kinds of un-Rainman-like paraphernalia laid out, there were pointy toed cowboy boots, tight jeans and button down shirts. Tooled leather belts and giant cowboy hats took up the coffee table. For a minute I thought R-man intended to model himself after ‘The Cook’ in Spun...and I was worried. Friends don’t let friends go shit kicker.
I did my best to ignore the minor scuffle I heard behind me and chose to question Maniac instead, “What the fuck IS all this crap?”
Maniac stared pointedly at the area directly over my shoulder and said, “We went to the frontera a few days ago and had to wear that shit.” *border
He brushed by me and went to look out the front door, the noises had subsided and in walked Adrian and Richie. R looked smug and A looked pissy, they were both coated in that nasty red clay and I wanted nothing to do with any of it, “Can you two please behave?” I turned back to Maniac, "Are you serious? Ahhhhh, the paisas, I get it. I bet you and R-man looked adorable all matchy-matchy, like two sides of the same badly dressed coin."
"Shut the FUCK up!" He kicked a boot across the room, "I never felt so stupid in all my life."
I smirked, "I find that hard to believe."
He gave me a shitty look and continued, "Those godamned mojados are a fucking circus. We went to eat and I had to listen to one of those nasty punks tell us how he fucked his sister. Another one told us about his cousin and a cow. Not a fat bitch but a real cow, like moo. Then these clothes...it's some messed up bullshit!" *wetbacks
"You had me at moo, haha...lloron. Those mojados are your people ese, what's up with that?"
"Maybe your people, they ain’t MY people, do I look like I'm screwing my sister...or a pinche vaca? Fuck that, those sorry putos need to get back across the border and stay there, I'll build the wall myself!" *crybaby *fucking cow
"That's not very politically correct" I said, looking offended before adding "Where would we be without accommodating border brothers to smuggle in product? Besides, no one likes a self loathing beaner."
Richie snickered and I turned my back on Maniac's open mouth so I could assess the situation with the boys. They were standing at opposite ends of the room, one smirk-y, one pouty. Smirk-y took a couple of confident steps in my direction but all that mud? Noooooo!
I backpedaled until my butt hit the top of the couch and then just swung my legs over so it was between us. If I ended the night covered in sludge I would be very, very unhappy.
"Shower" I said, making it a statement, not a question, "Both of you, in the shower and then I'll soothe fragile egos."
"At the same time? I always knew you were a dirty bitch, I'm telling Casey." Maniac had to add his 2 cents.
"He already knows and though it has possibilities that's not what I meant, there's more than one shower in this place, they need to find them." I pointed at the hallway, "Find them NOW kids!"
They exchanged annoyed looks before remembering that they were supposed to dislike one another and headed off to find their respective bathrooms, muttering the whole way.

That's enough for today, back in a flash...haha.
~M

Etc Etc Ad Nauseum and So Forth...

This stupid thing won't let me upload a Godamned photo *pouting* and I was feeling so artistic!But really, the absolute first thing I want to bitch about it my use of the word justify in the comments I left on that last post. My use of that gives the impression that I was actually guilty of something, which I may be but not of that. What I meant was that as far my posts go it would only be natural that most of that shit sounds like me, I fucking wrote it. Now I realize that I am beyond amazing but even so, I do not have total recall. I don't remember half of the shit that's said to me unless it was particularly brilliant or extremely stupid OR I said it, as everything I say is obviously quite clever. What I do remember is the general summary of what was said and what these bastards sound like on a daily basis. So it's not 100% am I supposed to employ a stenographer to trail me everywhere I go so that I have notes to refer to? I don't think so. And I also don't think I'd care for the reaction I would get if I pulled out a tape recorder.
Second of all if you were half as good a detective as you believe yourself to be, you would've stalked some of my other online shit. Had you done so, you would have come to one of two conclusions 1) I am an internet genius who is able to kill off perfect strangers, juggle numerous identities, doctor photos and carry on years worth of false interaction simply to 'corroborate' my writing OR 2) These people, most of them my closest friends, are an all too real pain in the ass.
I also defy anyone to make a distinction between one of my snarky observations and one of Regina's or Anna's or K1tten's or alot of people. Not to mention that I spent years practically shackled to these assholes and we all know each other better than we know ourselves. Not only that but the aforementioned bitches would be the first to call bullshit if anything here was the least bit suspect. We thrive on embarrassing the crap out of each other on any and every available public forum AND K1tten is perhaps one of the best internet stalkers I've ever come across and you better believe that silly cow has run down every person, place or thing I have ever mentioned here, or anywhere else for that matter.
Josh is in detention for 'allegedly' doing something monumentally stupid at the California/Mexico border and Eddie I haven't heard from in a long, long time. I can only hope he's still ok as no one has even seen him in ages and screw you for making me even think like that. As for my friends here, well I stopped posting photos about the same time anon jerk offs started threatening to send them to the police.
And now that I think about it, why the fuck am I even explaining myself? You know at first I was just amused by it all and then I started to come down HARD and I got very annoyed. Mainly because if there's one thing I don't do on this blog it's blow smoke up my own ass and that's what such a thing implies. I really don't think I need to fabricate anything to make me look like a fucking mess, I do that well enough just by waking up.
As I said elsewhere (and because I adore quoting myself), "I would NEVER work THAT hard just to make myself look THIS ridiculous!" If I were so inclined, I'd like to think I'm intelligent enough to fashion myself a wee bit cooler than I have thus far. I fall on my ass...frequently. I make a clown of myself over 2 certain someone's on a regular basis and I speak openly and often about having blown (among other things), randoms for my Dope money. Does it seem strange that these guys still want anything to do with me after all this time and no real follow through? Maybe it does or maybe I've fucked them both 7 ways from Sunday and that's why they still come around, you never can tell with me. You know why that is? Because for the most part, what you know is what I tell you and what I choose to keep private is just that, private. Don’t underestimate the amount of stupid shit that comes flying my way on a daily basis.
Now for the most important thing of all, I was irritated by the whole thing but now I just don't fucking care, don't give one single solitary shit whether you feel it's true or not. And I can't help thinking that this is what I get for experimenting with prolonged dialogue as opposed to my tried and true style of verbal vomit. But THAT is neither here nor there, I'm as over it as I can get and the only reason I even bothered with this damn post was because it's expected of me and I can't bear to disappoint. Now tell me, do you believe that? Hahahaha...
~M

He Just Makes it too Easy.

Well this isn't exactly what I was gonna post but it'll hafta do as I'm not in the mood to bang out 10,000 words on what happened when Richie came to visit. Sufficed to say it was a very interesting weekend, Devo played a major role and I will go into it next time.

I'm feeling a little ampy and need to do something with myself so this was as good an idea as any. Maniac is in my garage doing God know what to Casey's beloved drum kit and Adrian just exited in a snit. I'm not concerned, he'll be back. If we've learned nothing else it's that the fucker is a) way more sensitive than is advisable in someone with testicles and b) he always comes back.
Casey left for work a few hours ago and I was amusing myself by antagonizing K1tten online. She abandoned me and I got a call from Frances...which I promptly ended as I am fed up with him at the moment. Then not 10 mins later my door begins to rattle off the damn hinges. I open it up and it's Maniac and Adrian, gakked retarded and waving what looked to be porn under my nose.
Bored stupid, I let them in and M begins to extol the virtues of said porn DVD. I was not impressed, it looked like your run of the mill Czech gangbang type thing and if you've seen one you've seen them all. My taste runs more to the ridiculous than anything else; I don’t watch smut to get off, I watch it to laugh and laugh...and laugh some more. It's absurd that anyone can get off to it really but I realize that men are far from discriminating when it comes such things. Pretty much every guy I know has had no issues maintaining wood while I point out infected razor burn, laughable 'virgin' orifices and snot bubbles that burst forth at the most inopportune moments.
It's not because it makes me uncomfortable, it's just what I do. Porn is basically the same 10 movies done over and over. I long for the days of John Holmes’ Hot & Saucy Pizza Girls and the San Francisco Night Chicken, that was entertainment. Still not very stimulating but hilarity goes a long way.
Maniac lunged at my DVD player burbling about double penetration like he'd just invented it. I glanced over at Adrian and saw that he was noticeably distressed. I forget sometimes that he doesn't know all that much about me and the kinds of things I get up to from time to time (no, not DP, pervs!). Like watching inappropriate things with Maniac, I do that without even thinking about it anymore. I'm far from threatened by him as I'm fairly sure I'm not his type, I have a vagina you see. Deny all you wish M, I know the truth.
So we sat. I was in the corner of the couch, Ade was next to me but far enough away that he wouldn't accidentally touch me and Maniac was planted Indian style on the floor in front of the TV, lest he miss something at a distance.
It began much like I expected, taking place in a gym/locker room and involving the usual aspects of a gangbang free for all. Yawn. It went by the title DP Sluts, imagine that, how creative.

Maniac: You gotta see this shit, bitch gets piped two at a time!
Me: That’s why they call it DP moron.
Maniac: In the same hole and I knew that.
Me: You also know this is hetero, right? No juicy man on man...
Maniac: BITCH you better not start with me, I’ll hafta show how a real man does it.
Me: Just like a ‘real man’ showed you? Hahaha.
Maniac: Shut the fuck up and watch the movie.
Me: If I must, it’s such a cliché, a locker room, I’m so sure.
Maniac: (looking at the visibly awkward Adrian and grinning evilly) We could make our own movie right here, the numbers are right...
Me: One problem babe, I don't have a dick and my strap-on is in the shop but if you like...
Maniac: BITCH...
He got up, came towards me trying to be all menacing and I just laughed harder. He grabbed my ankle and tried to pull me off the couch but I climbed over onto Adrian so he settled for tickling me instead. It was not fun. I was squirming all over Ade's lap giggling and screaming, trying to pull my foot the fuck away from M. He told Adrian to hold me and them started mumbling some shit about double teaming mouthy bitches. I still wasn't worried but I happened to turn towards A and saw that he was starting to look ill. Did he honestly think that geeked out cholo was serious? Another look at his face told me that yes, yes he did.
I planted my free foot in Maniac's chest and told him to stop, he was scaring Adrian, he rolled his eyes and dropped my foot.
"I'm gonna go smoke some G, leave you to hold poor baby's hand." He walked to the back room and closed the door.
So it was just me and Ade, I was still half on his lap and I smiled at him and asked, "All better now?"
He sighed, "That asshole is crazy, I never know when he's just fucking around. You don't get it cuz he lets you talk shit to him but he's not like that around most anyone else. I've seen him do..."
"Shhh" I interrupted, "I get it, I see what you're saying but let me tell you that if he EVER says anything about sex in regards to me, he's so not serious. Maniac and I will NEVER get that close...over my dead fucking body and by then I'll be way past caring if he takes a liking to my corpse."
He laughed, "That's disgusting."
"Is it? Doesn't it make you wanna slit my throat...and then fuck it?"
He started to look worried again so I quit and dragged myself off his lap. He told me he liked my hair (it's even more purple^^) and the way my lips were stained red like I’d been eating cherry slurpees all day (I had been). Then he had to go and ruin it all by reassuring me that he would NEVER do anything like what Maniac had suggested.
UGH!
"Yeah, that's the problem" I sighed, "Your inside doesn't match your outside."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's not important" I told him, "Just carry on as before."
"No, I wanna know what the fuck you mean by that. Are you saying you're pissed cuz I wouldn't do that...that you wanted us to...?"
"Nope but somehow knowing that you wouldn't do it, is irritating to me. Looking at you, you look like the worst kind of motherfucker. Like you'd be capable of anything but really you're like a kitten...a tattooed, strung out, fluffy little kitty. Sweet. Cute. Fucking unbearable!"
"I don't get you man, what do you want from me? You like pricks that treat you that way, is that what you want, will that finally get you where you wanna go?"
"The question is, do you think that it will get you where YOU wanna go?"
I'll admit I was being confrontational but after the Richie thing (that I will get to later) I'd just had too much of his being so easily wounded. It's annoying, it makes me mean.
So Adrian has walked out and Maniac is still here tweeking off on some random shit. I think all the time spent back there has gotten me mildly gakked and though it's not unpleasant, I'm just not feelin' it.
~M

I Use 'Pontificate, Dullard and Imbue' All in the Same Post! Clearly I'm Fucking Brilliant...



I like to bring Junky Elmo out to play every few years.

 I should have written 'to be continued' on that comment I posted, I might have know that as soon as I shut everything down I would have truckloads to say about the (no doubt constipated) anonymous and his/her (it's?) cheerful pronouncements. I wrote this then but didn’t get around to posting it til now as I am always feverishly busy doing as little as humanly possible.
Extended Reply:

First off, what kind of moron are you...really? Were you born retarded or are you just stupid? I'm curious to know. That post wasn't even 24 hours old but as usual you were on it like stink on shit, that speaks to your character, what there is of it anyway.
The same old story, some obnoxious ignoramus has nothing better to do than see what I've got going on and then point out that I’m a fucked up drug addict. Bravo jackass, you've come to a JUNKY blog to pontificate on the obvious, good job. Dullard!
Second of all, me miserable? Don't get it wrong, I've been called a miserable bitch on many occasions but I think they were indicating my general demeanor at the time, not my overall attitude or circumstances. I know that narcissistic delusions and rapier sharp wit (heheh) won't buy happiness but they'll keep me hella entertained until I trip over it. I have plenty to keep misery at bay, including drugs, should I choose to use them. You have, it would seem, entirely too much time on your hands. As an illustrator of the self evident perhaps you can find gainful employment standing on street corners shouting, "Fire is hot. Water is wet." Clueless fuckwit!
Let me make this perfectly clear, it's not your sad attempts to rile me that prompted this reply, it's my true and abiding love of my own voice. How could I pass up such an opportunity? I thought I was too tired to bother but the part of me that thrives on conflict just couldn't resist. Another chance to show off my linguistic prowess and near perfect execution of almost indecipherable insults? Sign me up.
See, I know what you're trying to do with the Ashley thing, it was pathetic years ago and it's even more so now. I'm not one to imbue the deceased with traits they never possessed in life. You, for instance, are a piece of shit now and will continue to be one long after you've drawn your last, poisonous breath. Facts is facts, I'm not canonizing anyone.
I know that Ashley was a mess...EVERYONE KNOWS that Ashley was a mess. She was neurotic, sometimes pathological, needy and demanding. She was adept at being helpless and using it to her advantage. She fashioned herself a victim long after she ceased to be one. The girl had issues psychiatrists don't even have names for yet.
She was also beautiful, could be unbelievably kind and tried hard to let the goodness in her shine through, even when she was so broken she was dying inside. She didn’t always succeed but she tried. You have to be some specialized breed of crap for brains if you couldn't see all that.
So in summation, you are the kind of wad o’ fuck that gives cum stains a bad name and though I may be alot of things, miserable is not one of them.
M
PS. I'll be back soon to finish what needs finishing and all that shit though I probly won't resort to Adderall unless you want me to spend 2 days writing and re-writing the same 3 sentences. 'Round here they got buckets of this stuff called Crystal Methamphetamine, if I need chemical inspiration that'll do nicely.

Rude Awakenings and The Salton Sea (dying to know how I worked that in there huh?)

My friend Andrea tells me I need to update my playlist, we had a talk about it. She spent quite awhile pointing out how much good "new" music has come out recently and that my playlist was too retro-fied.
What can I say to that? Most of my favorite music was born long before I was so of course my choices are gonna seem outdated. What am I to do, litter my selections with Taylor Momsen and Justin Bieber? All I can think of is how badly I wanna knock her down, snatching out her weave in the process and how my fingers itch to shave off his ridiculous hair! I am however amused (more than I should be), that as puberty rears it's ugly head, the Biebs *gag* is looking more and more like Hilary Swank in Boys Don't Cry. So, so, SO amused, haha.
I'm not totally unaware of the influx of new music but can I help it if the majority of it makes my skin crawl? I won't tell you what I thought the first time I heard Vampire Weekend, it isn't fit for polite company.
Yes I like Jay-Z and Weezy and even Kanye, though he's a humongous douche nozzle. Seriously, has there ever been a bigger contradiction? When that fool raps he's brilliant but when he opens his mouth any other time it's like he's a high functioning retard. He also sounds like he has marbles in his mouth, which is kind of annoying but mostly funny.
So I danced to Lady Gaga and Ke$ha at a gay disco in Albuquerque, my reputation is shattered! I was coked beyond all comprehension when this happened, as is only right and proper for a trip to a gay disco but yes, I danced. And I was awesome! Haha, as any coked up bitch is bound to be (or thinks she is *wink*)
The issue is that though much of that shit can be tolerated under certain chemical conditions, I will not be adding 3OH!3 to my music player. Sheeeeit! Do enough drugs and anything will sound good! One summer I did so much speed that it made me think I liked the Afghan Whigs. What a rude awakening that was!
So though I will be adding things to my playlist, don't expect any miracles, it will most likely be more of what's already there. Sorry.
In other big news I made an undercover trip to Cali. 10 blissful days in a town where the smog can actually block out the sun and the Dope is primo supremo. As soon as we cleared Tehachapi I could feel the smog headache kick in and I knew that I was finally back in Kern County.
You may be asking why I was so hush hush about the whole thing and the main reason is that I still have several open warrants in Kern County and I just didn't feel like doing 6 months + at the lovely Lerdo Detention Facility. There are a few select assclowns who would love nothing more than to see me languishing in the hoosegow and since they read this shit...you see how it could've turned out for your lovely Heroin...er, Heroine.
We went for my Grandmother’s 80th Birthday and it was really nice. They had it in this historic old building downtown that used to be a mortuary like 50 years ago but has been refurbished into a kind of event hall. I thought it was in poor taste to have an 80th B-day in an ex mortuary, refurbished or not but no one else seemed to make the connection.
Ironically enough, from age 14 on, we all used to break into that building to get fucked up and sleep if necessary. That motherfucker was creepy and haunted as shit, no lie. At that time it still had the old embalming tables and all kinds of weird crap in it and because there was a caretaker living on the property, you could turn on the power. I lost my drawers more than once on those embalming tables (I am beyond classy, haha) but after some of us got stuck in the old elevator and terrorized, I kept my visits few and far between. I would crash in the amphitheater at the park before sleeping in that joint again. I saw some freaky shit and no I was not on LSD or any other hallucinogenic substances. I was pretty damn close to sober and what I saw would make those lames from Ghost Adventures piss their panties. I will leave it at that.
So after being the dutiful Daughter/Granddaughter I got to see Drew which was pretty kickass and I was super relieved that he hadn't joined the list of fallen comrades. He looked really good actually and is doing quite well. I also saw some others who shall remain nameless as they don't want it noised about that they are still using. They have donned the mask of sobriety and who am I to tear it off?
I also got the story behind Ashley's last days from one who was there and I'll just leave well enough alone. Let them believe what they want, she's gone and we can't get her back...that's the fucked up part, not how we lost her, just that we did. Kisses Ash, miss you girl.
Every mothefucker there is on Methadone, which makes me feel sorry for when they go jail...as many of them will at one time or another. M-done is a bitch but I can't judge any damn one because I've done it too. Taken that shit already knowing what it will put me through just because I was too much of a pussy to tolerate a 2 week kick. Try 2 months or more for the 'done kick and that will put shit into perspective. The problem is that unless you've been there, unable to eat, sleep or even function for more than 60 days, well it's hard to imagine, much less guard against.
So hey guess what? I got to do some really really good Mex brown powder while I was there. You know, the kind that looks like powder til you touch it or breath on it, then it turns into tar. Oh my God it was sooooooo good! I don’t know how much we spent but it was a fair amount of cash and the bags were F-A-T FAT! Fuck it was good to be home, I only wish it had lasted longer, as in permanently. But nooooooo, Casey would have none of it, we were coming back to horrid New Mexico and that was that, so here I am. Missing Drew and everybody else like crazy and wishing I was still there.
When we got home our landlord had spazzed out because we didn’t tell him we were going and he thought we had abandoned the house...with all our shit still in it. I’m talking like 3 bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, bathroom and garage (with a truck in it) full of really nice shit and he thought we left it all behind. Hellooooo?
He also called animal control on Fat Mike and we had to go bail him out of kitty jail. $75 fucking dollars to pick up a cat that never shoulda been there in the first place. When we got him home he looked so chill, like he never doubted for a second that we would be there to get him out. He immediately resumed his routine of covering everything in cat hair and meowing loudly for no apparent reason. Yet we love him still, well I do, Casey had a moment of regret (after a long meowing session), thinking kitty may have been better off at the shelter but I gave him the evil eye and he hasn’t mentioned it since.
By the way, if you ever want to see what misery made flesh looks like (no, not me silly!) take a visit to Needles, California. I thought nothing could top Rexland Acres, CA but I was oh so wrong! Needles is as godforsaken as the Salton Sea, (the Val Kilmer movie kicks ass btw, watch it here) just without the gross water and dead fish. So when I start to dwell on how much I hate where I am, I will revisit in my mind, the place they call Needles and feel much better. Such a shame to waste that name on that place, it has such potential.
XoXo Melody Lee

Satire is Tragedy Plus Time.

Thank You Regi for the adorable tampon case that doubles as a rig cozy. No doubt the endorsement deals for Vitamin Water will start pouring in at any moment.

That amazing if incomplete quote by Lenny Bruce is a more appropriate title than anything I could have come up with. I just got home (after a lovely evening that I will tell you about later) and found a ridiculously high handed e-mail waiting for me, criticizing my outlook on of all things, my own life. I had such a good night that rather than go off on a full fledged rant, I thought I'd give you this instead. Have at it.
Right, so I get alot of shit for not being "serious" enough about addiction, for taking what might ultimately be a disaster and turning into something you can laugh at. I have plenty to say on the matter because, really it's all in the way you look at it. Sure I have my moments of despair, just like any other person, junky or not but why the fuck should I wallow in it? To satisfy someone else's sensibilities? Uh-uh, not happening.
I'm not ignorant, I know that destruction and casualties go with the territory and I've accepted that but I've also learned that shit is what you make of it and I can spin shit into cotton candy any day of the week. I could lay around lamenting my predicament, being deep and insightful but what a load of crap it would be. Why be deep when shallow is so much more rewarding? Being weepy and despondent won't fix a damn thing.
I prefer to roll with the punches and when they result in the usual busted lip, I smile at the absurdity of it all, get my ass up off the floor and move on. I don't know if it comes across here but I am a naturally pessimistic person in almost all aspects of life. That is what fuels the snide sarcasm that flows from me like water. It doesn't mean I can't have fun, it means that while I'm having it, the voices in my head are counting down all the things that can go retarded. I've learned to counter it with a pithy comment or three and the result is what you have before you. It comes through unharnessed every once in a while but for the most part, I've bound and gagged it because it's a downer and not the kind I'm interested in.
If you're bent on reading about someone who lives in regret, you've come to the wrong fucking place. That's not me at all and you won't be getting any of that "I've been through hell and come out the other side a better person" garbage from this bitch. I'm not a better person. You wanna know what makes me a better person? Being higher than shit.
When I'm loaded I'm the second fucking coming. I'll feed the hungry and heal the sick with one flick of my track-marked hand and though I may be nodded out by the time they turn to praise me, praise me they will. Yeah, blasphemy is only one of my unique talents, sermonize about that you sanctimonious jerk off!
I know how bad it gets and I'd be a liar if I didn't say I a part of me revels in it. For every time I've been sick and miserable, walking the floors in some shit hole motel there is a time that the same motel turned into a dilapidated playground, adventure around every mildewed corner.
Shooting up on fire escapes and floating back down to the alley below, stepping over some passed out drunk and turning the corner onto the street. The pulsing neon and the filth and the cars cruising by. All night churches trying to save my tar blackened soul and knowing every face that crosses my path. This is...was my wonderland, it's not stylized or enhanced by indulgent stories of remorse, it is what it is-no more, no less and that's what makes it beautiful.
M. L.

The Perils of (Semi) Clean Living.

I've been spending an ungodly amount of time at home. Floored by of all things, a hideous runny nose and sneezing. This has to be one of the things I dislike most about being mostly free of Opiates, the seasonal illnesses that come with it. I may be wrong but I'll be damned if I can remember so much as a single sneeze (that wasn't the result of dope sickness) for the duration of any given H run. Hell, mosquitoes wouldn't even bite me.
If I was sick, I was likely too loaded to notice and that's how it should be, not this unrelenting cycle of snot and achoos! Sneezing, while mildly annoying, is tolerable when there is an end in sight i.e. dope on the horizon, but this? I've said enough on the matter but you never know, it might resurface later on in the post.
If that isn't reason to be in a foul mood, I'm also tired because Anna and K1tten keep me up all damn night. Forcing me (obviously!) to respond to their asinine comments on Facebook with my own equally moronic replies. Who am I? Facebook...me, really? More proof that I have been stuck at home too long. I've spent more time on that site in the last week than I have in the whole time I've had a profile.
The only upside to staying in is I've gotten to spend some time doing the cam thing with Richie (hence the screenshot^^) and no it's not what you think but you probably don't believe me. He's tried but I just tell him that it might prove awkward if and when Casey walks in. I may be an amazing bullshitter but even I couldn't talk my way out of that one. He can just get some in-person ass in Colorado, adorable fucker that he is.
I'm no good with boredom, I mean I can come here and write 3000 words about absolutely nothing but then I'm just passing it on to you. 5 minutes of your life you can never get back, like now for instance. You could've smoked a cigarette, made a Hot Pocket or taken a moderately satisfying dump but no, you wasted it on shit of another kind. I'd apologize but eh, why bother?
I took way too much Lyrica and watched Suck the other night on Netflix. I spent the first 15 minutes alternately wheezing and snorting due to the fact that the vampire in it looks utterly ridiculous (see photo below). It's supposed to be funny but I don't know if they meant to go quite that far with it. He looks like what might've happen if Marc Bolan had fucked Barnabas Collins and begat an undead tranny wearing too much pancake.

I would like to officially thank Regina for bringing this movie to my attention, I laughed so hard I was crying and then passed the info on to Anna so she could do the same. The photo doesn't really do it justice, you need to see him in action to truly appreciate it.
The movie also has Iggy Pop, Henry Rollins, Malcolm McDowell, Moby (YES, Moby) and Alice Cooper in it although aside from a few Stooges songs, the music is basically crap. If nothing else watch it for the first 15 minutes.
xo ~M. Lee