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