Tuesday, June 26, 2012
God. Anyone commenting on posts that has personal knowledge of me is sooooo misinformed if they think they're exposing anything about me that hasn't been public knowledge for ages. Like really.
Strung out and knocked up...yup. Not a huge secret. Same goes for the way I looked before during and after. Social pariah? No shit. Fat? Duh. Hooker? Check. Selling dope? Uh yeah!
So whatever. As for everything else, maybe you were there or maybe you weren't, it's not super important and I'm not the only one who saw the way shit went down. Once? Really...really? If you say so. Christ, Anna...back me up here.
I'm not spilling anything that half the fucking town don't already know, man. I mean honestly. If someone wants me to take shit down, they know where to find me. And that was such a class move pulling AD's covers. I didn't even do that, I called him something else.
As for The whole long suffering 'Saint Casey' bullshit, yeah he's put up with a lot of shit from me. His choice. I also took a lot of crap from him but people like to forget about that. He's not stupid, he knows what's up.
How, you ask? Coz I tell him myself, for the most part. And check it out, I didn't wanna mention it because it sounds skeevy as fuck but he was here for the last icky part of the Adrian/Sammi episode. He saw what happened and thought it was hilarous and kinda pathetic on Ade's part. It wasn't me sucking his dick, so why the hell would he care? Not wasting any more time on this. Just my bi-annual comment check, haha.
That comment on my last post from a pseudo Adrian made my morning though. I can pretty much guarantee that he's not lapping up jack. He's beyond unhappy with me right now. If it was him...which I seriously doubt, even though he does read this dreck, he's taking it a lot better than I've heard. Not really his style, though.
Maniac says that I should be very wary if A invites me to go for a drive in the desert, coz he's definitely losing his shit over this. Um...really? Tell me something I don't know. I've been saying he's gonna put me in the ground for months now, so long drives? Nah, I'm cool.
I guess his nose isn't broken, just...fractured? It's taped or something like that, I haven't seen it but that's what I hear. So I suppose I didn't hit him hard enough. It bruised the fuck outta my hand though.
Now there's this whole situation about someone who's homeboys think he's bullshitting about seeing me. Really? If someone was gonna fictionalize a bitch they were hooking up with, they could do a helluva lot better than me. That's just dumb. I am SO fucking wrecked, tracked up etc, why would you do that? DUMB. So if said homeboys are reading this, YEAH, it's all true.
I'm no Goddamned prize, everyone knows that but he likes me, what can I say? He's an idiot but a pretty damned cute one and to tell y'all I adore him is putting it mildly. He knows it and now you know it...well I hope he knows it. I tell him daily, so he should and that is SO not like me. I'm not the lovey type, shocking, ain't it? But for him...anything. Got that, sweetheart? Anything. I know you occasionally read this mess, so enjoy that.
I also regularly make an asshole out myself posting about it on various sites, much to the delight of Regina and company. Everyone LOVES it when I look retarded. Mmhmm, that's what I'm here for; to look stupid so you feel better about yourselves and to not give a fuck about it one way or the other.
But enough now, this stupid chair is hurting my ass (my BIG FAT ASS) and the dilaudid I did last night has made me twitchy this morning. Did what I always do and cleaned up for a week just to get some H last Friday, take sub for 2 days and then Dillys last night. Pretty much canceled out the clean time and put me back to square one. Yay me. Melody sooooo smart! Hahaha...go fuck yourselves. HARD.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
That that last little thing was kinda ick, huh? Like I said before, not as if I can make those so inclined think less of me any-damn-how.
Fuck. So much happening and not happening...I have no idea where to start. There's something going on with me that I'm just not gonna spill. Yeah, it involves someone(s) around here and that's all you're gonna get. And no, it's not Adrian or Richie. And it's definitely not MK.
A vague picture may emerge about what's going on but the hardcore details will not. Since I'm not being real forthcoming about that, I'll tell you about some other crazy shit that's happened.
It's 1 am, Casey is being a bit of a dick, I'm on the phone talking to _______and Francis keeps calling through.
He needs new points.
*I'll put them in the mailbox.
Can I give him Manny's cell number?
He has me covered if I need it tomorrow.
*Awesome, I'll be sure to call as soon as I wake up, sick as fuck.
So I think that's it for the night and settle in to enjoy what's left of my dope and my phone conversation. Then about 15 minutes later I hear something outside, ignore it and go on about my business, hoping beyond hope that it's not Adrian's GF breaking shit again.
Seconds pass and there's a knock on the door; it's Francis...holding a toddler. It's after midnight, he's on foot and the blonde/blue eyed baby is clearly not one of his.
Francis:" There was some guy trying to get in your ride, so I put him down."
Francis:" There was some fool trying to climb in your ride, so I told him, "Yo homey, step away from home girl's ride. He just kept on, I didn't tell him twice. He's layed out in your driveway."
I looked past him and sure enough, there was a body laying next to the driver's side door. "Um thanks? ...why are you holding that baby, who's is it and were you holding it when you clocked him?"
He looked over his shoulder and said, "Casey working tomorrow? Call me in the morning." then hitched the kiddo higher on his hip and took off in the direction of K's house. Yeah.
Second incident, next night:
I've been blowing up Francis' cell since around 11am. Motherfucker says he's got me, you better believe I'm gonna make sure he comes through on it. He calls around 3pm, shitfaced on H and Xanax. He's on his way to K's and then coming by to hook me up. Mmhmm. As it's taken him approx 10 mins to form 3 sentences, I figure I'll be well...oh sometime around 9 pm. Bully for Xanax.
He surprises me by showing up a full hour ahead of my estimate and proceeds to give me several healthy shots over the next few hours. Gracias, Francis, I never doubted you for a minute.
He's feeling good and launches into a monologue about how he and I 'clicked' from the beginning and that he's closer to me that he'll ever be to Casey. We're like blood etc etc.
Sitting on the kitchen floor in a puddle of my own loadedness, I agree and we go back and forth jerking each other off about Dopefiend pacts to always look out for one another regarding dope and have each other's back; all the usual crap that tends to spew forth when people are high and content.
Don't get me wrong, I'll hold up my end as best I can but I'm not stupid. Junkies is junkies is junkies and you take what we say with a grain of salt or you're a fucking idiot. Heroin reigns supreme and promises kept are usually done on our own time, if at all. Nature of the beast, no point in denying it.
So he leaves around 12 am and heads down to K's. About an hour or so later I get a call from MK telling me that Francis is gonna kill K and her BF and that I need to talk him down. I sigh and get on with it.
The story goes:
An very loaded Francis passes out on K's couch and wakes up to find that he's missing 1 and 1/2 G's of tar. For a millisecond he think he may have dropped it but when K and her BF barricade themselves in the bathroom he starts to wise up.
MK shows right around the time F is getting ready to shoot through the window and gets him back inside. When I get him on the line he's pretty fucking pissed, that was literally the rest of his shit and now he's gonna be short on the re-up. I tell him to calm down and that if someone doesn't make it right, we'll take care of it later. Get out of there before he kills someone over a rat ass G and a half. MK promises to see it done and I think we're good. I can do my last shot and pass out. Nope.
A few mins later I get the call and all that BS about having each other's back comes around to bite me in the ass. They need a ride, like NOW. I'm really not excited to find out what's happened but I owe Francis in a big way for taking care of me earlier, so I'm kinda stuck. However, my car is currently fucked and I can't drive it anywhere, so I tell them to come here.
F grabs the phone and tells me to walk up to K's and in the spirit of cooperation, I go. I'm thinking maybe he wants I should hurt her a little and I can do that much, at least. Me and her have history and it won't break my heart to fuck her up.
I walk up and see Francis standing on the front porch with a laptop under each arm and MK has one as well. Fuckin' A. I reiterate that my car is fucked and Francis smiles and nods to K's truck. Well shit, why didn't I think of that? K and her BF are nodded out in the bathroom and will be that way for quite some time, so yeah, lets do it. I don't even feel bad, bitch has it coming for being a sheisty cow.
I'm driving because F has no license and MK is currently absconding from some court ordered program. It's funny how shit works out.
Three houses away from our destination, we get pulled over for the cracked windshield on K's ghetto-ass truck. Cool as fuck, I calmly get the pertinent paperwork from the glove compartment, hand over my license and proceed to act like nothing is wrong.
F is super slick about shoving rigs down his pants and I'm surprised that the cop doesn't arrest us all on the spot. We slip by with a warning. No joke.
I drop them at B's and drive the truck back, park it in K's driveway, throw the keys at her front door and walk home, secure in the knowledge that I have made good on my half of the Dopefiend pact.
Third incident, a few days later:
Adrian has been driving me crazy the past couple days. He's been using Fran's FB account to spy on me and is not pleased about being my 'practice run'. He's been alternately calling and showing up and it all goes something like "You're gonna rip out those kid's hearts, you don't know any other way to be."
I've been a pretty good sport about it until now. I know he's going through some shit over what's happened between us and I'm trying to be understanding but this night I'm drinkin. So understanding is in short supply.
After a too long phone call where he says the same thing, several different ways, my stupid drunk ass starts to agree with him. I proceed to make a huge tool of myself by leaving angsty, semi-coherent messages for all involved. *sigh* They include such choice passages as: "Just walk away now.." "Run far and fast" "It's stupid to love me" "...make you wish you were dead".Yeah. HUGE tool. Fucking Adrian!
So then I get summoned by Rainman because he needs me to ride along to some bitch tweeker's trailer and take care of shit if she doesn't come clean about some product that went MIA. Drunk me thinks this is a fine idea, as all this self-reflection has left me with an undeniable urge to hurt something. Come scoop me up and lets do this.
About halfway there I come to fully realize what an asshat I've made of myself via earlier messages and that there is no conceivable way to erase them. This serves to make me extremely annoyed.
By the time we get where we're going, I see K's truck parked outside. Excellent. We push our way inside and within seconds me and K are having words. Well she is, I'm just waiting for the opportunity to introduce my fist to her face. I get it when she brags about ripping Francis and it's on.
She gets her hits in but so do I and when they pull us apart she's the one bleeding. I tell her we should finish up outside and she declines. Or rather she goes around me, out the door and drives off. Whatever, I've made my point.
The bitch we're there to see has a change of heart and tells R-man what he wants to hear, so in a way, I did what was asked of me. We leave and head back to R's compound. On arrival I see, guess who? Adrian. I'm not there 2 minutes before he starts in. Awesome.
I'm still all amped up from the scuffle with K, still kinda buzzed and SO not feelin' the messages I left earlier. It takes mere moments for me to decide that A is to blame for my having left them in the first place. I mean, not completely but still...HIS FAULT. Not entirely but yeah.
It went down like this:
I'm standing there and I hear him droning on but I'm getting so pissed that it's like a buzzing in my ears, I can't make out all the words. And all I know is that this is gonna end badly but I'm strangely ok with it. My head clears as he's getting to the good part, "Those stupid motherfucking kids don't even know what they're walking into. No pussy is worth this bullshit."
So I say, "Oh yeah? You must be pretty Goddamn stupid yourself, coz what the FUCK...are you still doing here?" Then I broke his nose. Left handed even.
Everything after that is not too clear but I remember Maniac walking me outside and telling me not to sweat it and that Adrian's just jealous and has been bitching for days about how these guys are moving up on the food chain and he's been here all along, putting in the time. He's 'earned it' but gets nothing. Boo. Hoo.
I'll do who I want, when I want or maybe not at all. It's one of the luxuries of being me. The moral of the story is that some people never learn. Below is yesterday's correspondence from A. Yeah, I'm a cunt, never doubt it.
[Date: Wed, 20 Jun 2012 18:59:28 -0700
From: adrian k**** firstname.lastname@example.org
Subject: read me
this is bcuz i know you won't see me. i want you to remember when it wasnt this. you fuck me up bad i don't know why i do shit the way i do. hey not trying to blame you but not this way any other time. can you talk to me? not mad about what happened. my fault and you told me it would i need to talk. remember the drive from espa? it used to be like that and this came on and it was all good.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKgLmRrlD8E (Hideous Marilyn Manson-Heart Shaped Glasses)
From: melody c candyoh13@hotmail
Sent: Wednesday, June 20, 2012 8:10 PM
Subject: RE: read me
Adrian. Are you fucking retarded...like clinically? I LOATHE that song. If YOU remember correctly, I was way close to letting you touch me in the car until I noticed this was on and decided I couldn't possibly be molested to Marilyn Manson. EVER.
You can basically thank this song for the fact that you DID NOT get any of this "pussy that is not worth the bullshit" and then move the fuck on. I have. Please see yourself out.
Date: Wed, 20 Jun 2012 18:59:28 -0700
From: adrian ***** adrian_****@yahoo
Subject: Re: read me
youre such a bitch
From: melody c email@example.com
Sent: Wednesday, June 20, 2012 8:23 PM
Subject: RE: read me
GOD...you are being SUCH a fucking vagina! I've always been a cunt, Adri...you're the bitch. Furthermore. In regards to that song: MY eyes are brown...asshole. You should actually know that, what w/your weird eye contact issues. Or are you blind as well as stupid?
Now FUCK OFF.]
Is it mean? Yeah, it is. Will it keep him the hell away from me? That’s debatable but it’s worth a try. I don’t hate him but he needs to carry on elsewhere, I’m not doing him any good.
If being a grade A asshole is what it takes to save him from himself...well that I can do.
Not sure why the links on the e-mails are all retarded but I don't really care. Safe to say that everyone already has my e-mail and you won't get far with adrian_****@yahoo but that's never stopped anyone before. Have fun with that.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
I'm doing it again. I kinda just Billy Idol-ed and I can see things rapidly deteriorating from there. If you pay attention (and have an awful lot of fucking time on your hands), you can decipher exactly what's going on with me by whatever I'm listening to. 80's pop can go either way but Billy? Billy means trouble. Rich is coming to visit, late tonight maybe and it just lines up with the time I'll be highhhhhh and a very happy girl all around...
Well THAT never materialized. I DID get high but only after a very tedious and convoluted process which involved Smash (who has been christened 'Smashley') and me leaving Casey a nice note and fleeing town for 12 hrs. This was mainly because Francis fucked everything up and I got tired of waiting around.
So we made it to Espanola around 2am and got good and loaded before coming back, hence the extra six hours. It was nice. It was also 2 fucking weeks ago, so no point in getting into the rest of that now.
I need a cigarette, a REAL one. These e-things are ok but for what I'm dealing with right now, only a real one will do.
So yeah, I'm fucked but not literally, so that's something, right? OF COURSE it is, you asshole(s), whether you admit it or not. I might be an unholy mess but I know where my lines are and when not to cross them. Fine though they might be, as long as I can see them, who gives a fuck if anyone else can.
Take steps to justify your actions to your self first, if at all and should you decide you can live with it, more power to ya. If you can't, you should be in another line of work.
And it IS work, don't let anyone tell you that being a full time fuck up is easy, it's not. You log more miles than a truck driver, both literally and figuratively. And when it's good, it's really, really good but when it's bad, it's fucking brutal. You deal with it and move on...or you don't.
Now there's a lot happening and so much that I'm not gonna tell you...yet. But I will, eventually. I guess it turns out I'm a truly horrible person but I went through the aforementioned steps and eh, I'm cool with it.
Some Caligula-ish happenings this past week have taken their toll on mine and Ade's already fragile relationship but what can I say? Not my idea, NOT my problem. For your peace of mind I will tell you that no brother-sister action took place, just...just other stuff. GOSH Sammi, it was SO nice seeing you again, girl! Haha, messed uuuuuuup.
Nah, it really was nice to see her and probably would've worked out better if Adrian wasn't a fuckhead and had kept his attention where he should've, not on me. Idiot.
Crap. Now I feel like I'm being forced to reveal more than I'd intended, just so everyone is clear on the fact that I was NOT actively participating in 99.9% of what was going down. Literally going down. And whether you believe me on that is not real crucial because I think we all know that if it was imperative that I blow that fool, I so would've done it by now. Simple as that. I got no fucking shame, just a fairly serious oral fixation that I've managed to keep a decent handle on for the last 4 years.
Anyway, I think I deserve some recognition for keeping unauthorized dick outta my mouth and away from my general vicinity. For the most part anyway and am I the only one who is LOVING the way 'unauthorized dick' sounds? LOVE IT.
So to make a long story short, Sammi +Adrian's dick in her mouth+ his weird eye contact with me = some seriously awkward bullshit. As L. pointed out, it would've been waaaaaaay fucked up if Sam knew he was doing it but luckily she didn't notice.
You may be asking yourself, "WHAT...the hell is wrong with this cow, why didn't she just beat feet the hell outta there?" So to that, I'll reply, "BECAUSE THEY WERE PRACTICALLY ON TOP OF ME! And being that I'm super chill and rad in every way, I didn't want to be that bitch who broke up the BJ party...OK??? Fuck.
Furthermore, we were all so Goddamned high, that it just didn't seem like a big deal. I was fine ignoring it until Adrian looked back at me and implemented his creepy, unwavering stare and oh yeah, HELD MY FUCKING HANDS!!! Uh-huh. Guess who almost got broken fingers for her trouble? Yeah.
So anyway, I think I really do need a vacation, even if it is to loathsome Las Vegas. I'll be too fucked up to care where I am anyway, so yay dope. It's necessary and besides that, I promised and actually meant it this time.
So that’s all for now
P.S. I just found a rather baffling pool of dried blood on my bedroom windowsill. Hmmm...great to be me, ain't it?
Thursday, April 26, 2012
3 posts in less than 6 months, what can be going on with me? I'm bored as fuck and have a few hours to kill so may as well do it here. I can't find anyone online to antagonize, which is a shame. I especially like be shitty to my best home girl Anna Banana because she's such a freakin fruitcake. Nothing better than being bothersome from multiple states away, it's like poking her with a stick, long distance. Oh blow me, it's done out of love.
I heard she came to defend my honor but pretty much took her and Laura's word for it, as I'm done fucking around with a bunch of retarded-ass comments, for the time being. Maybe in a few months I'll feel confrontational enough to launch a full scale assault but for now...fuck all ya'll, I couldn't give a shit less.
I burned a huge damn hole in my wrist and am still kinda surprised that I never felt it but then again, maybe I'm not. Scorching your flesh down through a few layers tends to wake you up, no matter how loaded you are but perhaps I've crossed over into a whole other plane of fucked-up-ed-ness. Or I was technically OD'd and just happened to wake up before that pesky respiratory distress had time to really take hold. I thought I was over getting that high but it looks like it's making a comeback. Just like moi. Don't call it a comeback etc etc..
Lets have a moment of silence for the 2 boys that were shot in the yard of someone I know for no particular reason. Oh except that they were black. *sigh* The stupidity of that whole situation kinda speaks for itself, so I won't flog it here. I will say he (shooter) is a jerk off and someone shoulda put him in the dirt eons ago but what‘s it matter? Boys are still dead. Enjoy prison genius, hope it was worth it just coz you don't like black guys. Moron.
My other best girl came to visit me a couple weeks ago and it was a pretty interesting 12 days. Francis tried his considerable charms on her, only to be brutally rebuffed. Partially due to the misfortune of his having been up for something like 5 days. Plus he bore a striking resemblance to spegakked chicken every time he opened his mouth, fairly sure that didn't help him out either.
Oh and about that...his meth breath of death nearly brought Ms K1tten to her knees and not in the way he'd been anticipating. I was a little geeked myself and pretty much stayed perched atop the couch arm tending to my glassware the entire night, but even from there I was able to thoroughly enjoy the show.
She attempted to render the spot next to her as narrow and uninviting as possible, but that only served to make him squeeze in closer and inadvertently blow fetid gusts of poop mouth up her nostrils. Combine that with what he evidently thought was sexy spanglish wooing and you have some serious entertainment.
I half heartedly tried to intervene but it was made difficult as I had to keep leaving the room to laugh hysterically. Like a geeked hyena.
At one point I ran smack into her in the kitchen, she was in mid-flight to the bathroom. She stopped long enough to frantically whisper, "Melody! His breath smells like he's been eating dogshit...A LOT!!!" then saw him hot on her trail and proceeded to lock herself in the john. I almost urinated right there, I was laughing so hard; it was just too much for my over-stimulated brain to handle.
Francis smacked his pasted lips and looked at me like I was losing my mind, then proceeded to set up camp outside the door to ply his charms via keyhole. For a moment I thought she might attempt to exit out the window but he eventually got distracted by a phone call.
The second volley of suitors included Smash, who tried a whole different tactic. He was very polite and sweet and slightly helpless. It played on her mothering instincts, especially when he turned blue and we had to slap the shit out of him. She patiently walked him all around the house until he got his color back and then I left to go entertain Casey in the other room. We could hear them cooing to each other and thought things were going quite well until S made a fatal misstep and said, "I just don't wanna get off on the wrong foot, in case there's a chance of a relationship..." You could practically hear her cringe and it was all over from there.
We crossed paths in the hallway later that morning and she had accumulated quit a list of annoyances which she capped off by saying, "Not to be a bitch or anything, but I think it's time Smash WENT THE FUCK HOME." We made it happen as soon as possible, mostly for his sake because any longer and she would've kicked him in the face and crammed his chain smoking head in the toilet. Don't fuck with Ms K1tty and sure as hell don't mention the word 'relationship' less than 6 hours after you've first laid eyes on her, hahaha. Poor Smash.
I was inordinately short of meth-head mexican gang bangers at the time, probably on account of I don't really hangout with that many. I mean, there's a few but Adrian is white, R-man is a half-breed (like Cher) and MK may wish otherwise but he's the whitest wannabe Mexican you ever saw, though he's as pretty as a Sunday insert for Abercrombie and Fitch. But yeah I guess there's a few beaners lurking about, haha, me for instance.
I also think you all are underestimating just how hard it is to get along with 'methhead gang bangers'. I mean really! I know I make it seem effortless but come on. If you're ever burdened with my mouthiness, surrounded by individuals who may or may not be armed and may or may not be nursing a bout of meth psychosis, then we can talk.
But all that is old news and having had somewhat of an eventful, yet totally retarded week, I've decided to lay some shit out here in the open. Mainly because writing it down helps me to get it all straightened out in my head and it's not like there's anything I can say that could make y'all think less of me than you already do. As if that even registers.
I'm just going through one of these grrr-kinda periods in my life where things are way more complicated than I care for. Yes it's 99% my fault but that's not really the point, the point is that I need to get stuff clear in my own mind, so I can then get it untwisted in my day to day and move on. Spring cleaning, if you will.
Now anyone who has been keeping up knows that I had a minor thing happening with Richie. It falls into the category of mild flirtations and though it could've easily gotten icky, it never really did and probably never will. I'll attribute this to Rich being even more of a sociopath-in-training than I am and no matter what kind of spiel he tried to lay on me, deep down we both knew he was full of shit. He might like me, he may even love me but not in a way that complicates things. He tries to see how far he can push me and likes it when I push back, it's a mutual tease and I can get into that as long as it's not constant. His forcible, then permanent relocation to Colorado has made it extremely easy to deal with, so I can check him off the list and proceed.
Next is Adrian *sigh* and that has evolved into something that most days I just try to forget about altogether. I have taken shameful advantage of his willingness to be next to me. Shameful. And I have no excuse for it at all. It's completely selfish and he doesn't deserve it but that's in no way new, I'm a very selfish person. With a few exceptions, I basically worry about numero uno. Me(an.)
Not counting MK, Adrian has had the most actual, physical contact with me and though it could be that I'm not all that amazing to grab onto, he seems to like it. Likes it to the point of letting me treat him with no more care than I would a life-sized teddy bear. It's not right. I know it's not, you know it's not and you can bet he knows exactly how fucked up it is...but he takes it anyway.
Example: I'm home alone, really high and feeling exceptionally warm and content. Adrian makes the mistake of calling and I tell him to come over and bring whatever he has to contribute. We get beautifully wasted and I spend half the night ignoring him while I nod/talk to someone else online and then I spend the other half of the night letting him wrap around me like a Velcro monkey. He has all the relevance of a body pillow and although I feel kinda bad, it's like what the fuck? Tell me to go die, where's your pride?
I did my best to warn him off not too long ago and he told me that he doesn't mind as long as he can be near me. Clearly he has no pride. And I know just how mean that sounds, I do! But he lets me get away with it and so I continue treating him like an inanimate place warmer.
I lay on the bed with my phone/laptop and talk to other homeboys/work while Adrian falls asleep against/around me. And it's not that easy to explain away a half conscious male body when I'm on Skype, lemme tell ya. Then when it's time for him to go, he goes. Sometimes earlier than necessary because although I like to look at him and I really don't hate fading in and out with him, the look in his eye makes me wanna black it for him. If it was just the self serving gleam of someone out to get laid, that would be okay but it's not; it's wounded and long suffering, miserable and hopeful all at the same time. It's that look the dogs have at the SPCA and I hate it.
Rather than feel badly about it, I'm actually kinda pissed at being forced to slog through his issues...Why oh why must I be so irresistible??? *sigh*
Haha, yeah yeah pooooooor Adrian but also POOR ME. I'm the one who's been so horribly deceived! Like I've said in the past, his outside doesn't match his inside. Had I known that Mr. Black Flag bars was harboring the tortured soul of a pallid emo youth, I would've stayed clear of the whole mess. Well...probably not, I mean he kinda had my number from the start, right?
Messy messy messy.
AND he had the nerve to get annoyed with me last night and slapped me (you WISH he'd slapped me), with the title 'Emotional Succubus' which might have annoyed me right back if A) I hadn't been falling a little more in love with it by the minute and B) been mildly shocked that he could pronounce succubus, much less define it.
SO I guess since I'm not meeting expectations and feeding off more the more traditional hell-bitch fare, I'm eating his emotions like some kind of goony psychic vampire you saw on a History channel documentary. Yeah, you know the one. Anywayyyyyyy.
Well reading back through this hasn't untwisted JACK but at least y'all get the benefit of feeling good about yourselves for not being me. My contribution to society, hope you appreciate that shit.
Friday, March 16, 2012
|Hot damn! Another huge hand :)|
It just stands to reason that after months of not reading comments, the ones I do read would be a ping-pong match regarding my looks/talents and/or lack thereof. Ouch. I'm wounded to the core, as you can see by my speedy reply.
Seriously, no one likes to hear, or in this case read about how unattractive they are...but then it hit me; yes I was bothered BUT I was also smiling, so uh, probably not the reaction you were hoping for.*Luckily* I am not a super model or an actress, so my peace of mind does not fluctuate in time with the number on my bathroom scale. I am definitely not a fan of getting old but it's pretty obvious that it's inescapable, so while I will slather on any number of overpriced creams and unguents to keep wrinkles at bay, there’s not a whole lot can be done about it.
If you think pointing out what’s up with my looks is gonna throw me, good luck. I’ve been staring down this visage in the mirror for 68-odd years, believe me I know what’s wrong with this picture. My nose is too big, my eyes are the color of shit and I have a weird dimple that I would be willing to swear I never had before 2011. The only good thing about this mess is my mouth and that’s if by ‘good’ you mean ‘looks like it can suck a dick’, so I really have no illusions about all that.
It doesn’t end there, I’m also riddled with scars, frequent bruises and more tracks than a train yard and...? AND it doesn’t mean shit. I realize it’s not hard for a broad to get laid, if you have a vagina, it’s pretty safe to say that you can get someone to put something in it without too much effort. You may have to lower your standards a bit but yes, even a bitch with a cleft-palate, a bum leg and a hump can get some dick if she really wants it.
I’ve never had to take something less than what I wanted at that particular moment, work situations notwithstanding. True I’ve slept with some winners but that was out of personal stupidity, not lack of options. So if I’m too ugly to be conventionally attractive...wait, what? IT’S MY AMAZING PERSONALITY!?
That’s right, and here I thought they were just after me for my mouth...and they were, just not for the reasons you'd think. That’s what makes it so fucking perfect, I’m obnoxious as shit, but they love me anyway. I routinely say things to friends that would make lesser assholes want to curl up and cry...and they love me anyway. Spending an afternoon with me ensures that you will get running commentary on EVERYTHING (so long as I'm conscious enough to give it), and they love me anyway. I don’t give up the pussy (I DON’T) and very rarely buy the dope, we do theirs...and, that’s fucking right, THEY LOVE ME ANYWAY.
If I could see some ulterior motive on their part, better believe I’d point it out but really, what would it be? They’re using me to not get laid and because they need someone to do up all their drugs...right? I do drive on occasion but not enough to make putting up with me worthwhile and although I have been known to engage in fisticuffs for a cause not mine own, it’s not that frequent. So...?
So now I can rest easy. All this time I was living under the assumption that it was my remarkable good looks keeping everyone in thrall, thank you for offering me the means to discover otherwise. How embarrassing if all they’d been after was some tawdry sex-type action!
Mmm-mmm-mmm, I WILL sleep restfully to-night but only after I’ve anointed my crows feet with the jism of barely legal boys and gargled with their tears. I never said I didn’t have an ulterior motive...did I?
Pssssssst: I don't really gargle with their tears, silly...THAT would be icky.
*Crap. All this reminiscing about boys has made me re-think my decision to avoid Adrian. I had a rather powerful mental image of those damned Black Flag bars on his neck and how much I like to lick them. Or rather, how much I would like to, if I allowed myself...ah fuck it. I'm outta here.
Monday, March 12, 2012
|Shiny Crack Head.|
Not too sure how many of you mofos are still coming around to read this shit, especially since my last post leaves you feeling a little dirty...or sticky, as the case may be. Regardless, I shall persevere; secure in the knowledge that I am my own biggest fan and that when you all turn against me (all 4 of you), I will still love myself more than anyone else ever could.
My life is kind of complicated for a person who is so totally apathetic to everything around her and that’s no joke. Sometimes I wish I gave more of a fuck about what’s going on but then I remember that no, I really don’t. Being well informed and active in society is kinda stressful and ultimately unrewarding unless you’re interested in becoming a martyr for some cause that the world at large gives one- tenth of a fuck about. Nah, I’m good.
Who knows what’s in store for me this year, not dead yet so...+1 pour moi. My sole resolution is to use more douchy French words in posts etc, so I can sound exactly like Miss Piggy and/or Pepe Le Pew. And head-butting, I need to do more of that too.
Good news, my rib was NOT cracked as I first suspected, merely bruised and it went away fairly quickly. Some of you will know what the fuck I’m talking about and some of you will not. I guess I could write about it but not now, dear God not now. I don’t have the will power to vomit up a marginally readable post about how I (almost) cracked a rib. Fairly sure you-all have a good idea of how it happened anyway and it’s old news, like a month or more.
And MK...Christ what a cluster fuck that whole thing turned out to be and no, NOT literally. No details, it’s too painful pour moi to re-live BUT he promptly started to annoy the shit out of me (again, not literally). I got rid of him for a minute by dropping his iPhone in the toilet but it didn’t last. I continue to get lame txts and horrifically young-looking photos from one of his *spare phones. Ugh. What kind of tool needs more than one iPhone? I don’t care if he does sell weed, he’s a HS kid, not Chapo Guzman. Dumb.
So THAT was embarrassing, too bad I can’t summon up enough ‘give a fuck’ for it to be an issue. It might seem like I was actually distressed but that’s just my inner attention slut rolling out the red carpet for Le Attention Wagon. Or rolling in horse shit like a slutty black & blonde dog, whichever mental image you prefer. In reality, I thought it was kinda hilarious and totally typical of my circus sideshow existence.
Guns guns and more guns! Casey and I sat down one day and decided that we needed to accumulate a completely senseless amount of weaponry. Yay semi-auto. Sigh. He got me a Taurus .45 for Valentine’s Day. How ironic would it be if I get shot with my own V-day gun for a V(ader)-day indiscretion? I’m innocent, Vader got the worst of that barrage, my virtue is still intact...or it would be if I’d had any of that particular virtue left.
Here is my new gun, being lovingly caressed by my enormous hand, haha. Now you know why I fight like a man, it’s cuz I got the mitts for it.
|I'd say it's a bad angle but naw, they're just huge.|
And possibly the balls; jury is still out pending gyn-e-co-log-i-cal testimony, hahaha.
P.S. I’ll be back tomorrow-ish when I’m good and high. Between you, me and Huey Lewis, I’m 200% more amazing when I’m wasted. You can take that to mean that I’m pretty fucking fantastic considering how aaaaaawesome I am in general.
Besides, those black sheets looked like they’d been splattered with 3 jars of Kindergarten paste and I feel a vicious case of PTSD rapidly developing. I’ve been furiously laundering everything in sight and it didn’t even occur here. Ugh, damn straight it didn’t! So gross.
Confused? Check the FB and all will be set to rights...until you realize it wasn't nearly worth the 30 seconds it took to look :)
Happy Monday, Bitches.
|Fat Mike's Abduction/Rape victim :)|
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
|Before the fall. I may never be able to look D. Vader in the face again.|
I've been busy doing some good things but mostly bad, bad, bad. Go figure.
I've succeeded in alienating a few more people with my snide observations, pissed off Casey by acting too much like a girl one night and hurt Maniac's feelings by telling him that the best part of him ran down his Mama's leg. I thought it was hilarious, especially when he sniffed, "Words can hurt...puta." So in retrospect I'm thinking he wasn't too torn up about it.
Just sitting here waiting for the misc. pills I took to kick in and make me feel better than...well, better than before. Probably nothing too amazing but if it tamps down some of this restlessness, I'll be happy. No, that's a lie but I'll be happi-ER than I am now, which is nothing to complain about.
I really haven't got it in me to say a lot, it's hot, which is just me as it's something close to 25 degrees and raining outside. I probably stink too, isn't that charming? It's like you can literally smell the substances sweating out of my pores. Not too delightful when you're sick and smell is amplified to the extreme. Yay, the benefits of Heroin addiction, they are vast and varied, aren't they?
Just not feelin' this update, man, like NOT AT ALL. I may have to abandon it and come back later. Yes, that's sounds most excellent, I'll do that now.
Much, MUCH later:
Right, well I still don't feel that great but got the sudden desire to write so here we are. Yes, here. We. Are.
Also doing this to look occupied as I was just informed that the landlord is replacing all bathroom fixtures tomorrow, so I'd best go and scrub the toilet, sink etc. Yeah, that's gonna happen.
Sir, I will NOT and for the following reasons:
1) Toilet is clean i.e. no toilet ring visible i.e. GO FUCK YOURSELF.
2) Cleaning something that is destined for the trash heap is stupid, GO FUCK YOURSELF.
3) I'm not the one who gets drunk and pisses all over the sides of said toilet, GO FUCK...uh-huh, that's right, YOURSELF.
Moving on, I'm about to give a (not so) brief outline detailing something that may have happened last week and you all can comment away because I can almost guarantee that I will not be coming back to so much as glance at it. If that spoils the fun, refer to last 3 words of items 1) & 2).
Under the tremendous strain of not having anything to do, I let myself be coaxed out the door one night by MK and his friend J. I have known them long enough, I suppose, as MK sells weed to Fran's ex roommate, it's all very complicated.
Anyway, I had seen MK from time to time and harmless flirting had taken place. He made overtures, I snarkily shot them down, fun was had by all. Until one night, when I was slumped in front of the TV, suffering the agony of 1000 deaths (New Girl was on and the remote was out of reach), and he called to see if I was bored and wanted to hang out. I was and I did, Casey was out of town for work and any excuse to not work myself, seemed grand. They were down the street, so appeared at my door within minutes.
Now one thing about MK is he can be semi-annoying. Being young, with no sense whatsoever, he likes to flash his money and was doing so that night. I feel that cash is not an accessory and has much better uses, so I casually introduced a gateway subject. It soon became clear that H was regrettably off the table, which was really for the best. They are babies and I’m not keen on being responsible for that introduction BUT they like Oxyyyyyyyy.
I quickly reformulated my plan and asked, "How's D? Last time I saw him was with Francis about some OxyC....he still doin' that?"
"Yeah but he lives in Fruitland now, wanted me to come by and hook him up but I told him I was busy." MK had no idead where this was heading, God love him.
"Ohhhh, I don't mind" Oozing sincerity, " Actually would LOVE to see D, it's been awhile."
After a bit more of the same, we were soon on our way to Fruitland. You might be wondering why I bothered with the OC and to that, I say, yours is not to reason why, SO ZIP IT.
At D's house I did away with the preliminaries fairly quickly and asked, "What up with the OC, friend?"
D laughed and pulled a bottle out and shook it, "80's, but you might not want, they're generics outta JZ, they got a weird stamp on 'em."
I held out a hand and looked over my shoulder at MK, "Pay the man and lets blow."
MK looked startled but I've learned that in most cases a money flasher HATES to look like he's too pussy to spend, so after a second, he made a deal for equal parts money and weed and we left.
In the car I took a minute to examine the pills and saw the Mexican eagle looking back at me, super. I told myself to shut the fuck up and that I didn't buy them so who cares if they're Juarez trash? D was always up front about stuff like that, so they might be ghetto, but essentially they would be real. I would feel less charitable later.
We went back to J’s house and right away shit started to get lame. It soon became evident that we were not on the same page concerning the OC. When the foil and straw appeared I realized we were not even reading the same fucking book. I started to say something about high school methods and then remembered who I was with. More on that later.
I chose to try and ignore their whole situation and go about my own business, D had floated me a couple new points and I had everything else I needed. However, the smell of burning buffer was really killing my mood and I couldn’t help but think about what a waste it all was. To each their own and all that but I am most definitely biased when it comes to modes of use.
Fingers crossed that they wouldn't gel, I managed to do the whole pill-spoon-cig butt thing and get as much as I could out of that grainy mess but when I went to the bathroom to hit, the light was way too dim. I needed bright light or at least florescent to make the veins show through. This was like a ratty bare bulb on the ceiling. The kitchen was my best bet but since hitting would involve pinning my upper thigh, I would end up jeans-less. This is usually not an issue but I didn’t feel up to flashing the kiddies, so I dragged MK away from his foil and told him I needed to motor on home. As in, DRIVE ME NOW, please.
He obliged, came in for a minute and then said something about needing to do some stuff but could he come back later? I yes-yes’d and escorted him to the door, more concerned with doing my shot, than anything he had to say. I should’ve forced myself to pay attention to what I was doing/saying, it would’ve saved me much in the “WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED!?” department.
I shut the front door and headed for the bathroom, making a pit stop in the kitchen to grab some Neurontin. Black market pills can be weak and I wasn’t taking any chances, Neuro would jack up the high and then some. I did my thing and lucked out with the sweet spot on my thigh, then noticed that I should’ve been MUCH more fucked up and swung back through the kitchen to grab a beer. Not my usual routine but like I said, no chances.
I settled myself on the couch to smoke and relax and that’s where shit gets seriously messed up.
What followed is still somewhat hazy and there are more than a couple unanswered questions. I’ll borrow Laura’s expression and simply say I was off my tits, fuckered up. BIG TIME. Please resist the urge to accuse me of making excuses, I am quite aware of that, thank you.
I woke up to something straight out of 8th grade, which is to say, MK cuddled half up my right side and VERY happy to be there. Did I mention I had never gotten around to putting my jeans back on? Didn’t think so. I was in the infamous Darth Vader underoos and some sort of...T-shirt? Whatever, not the point.
The point is that although he had his pants on, they did very little to lessen the impact of what was going on in his trousers. Honestly, not bad but although I commend him for not taking total advantage, it’s still pretty fucking awkward to wake up w/a 17 yr old dry humping you and not being totally clear on how it evolved.
I choose to believe that I was completely faultless in the matter and did not encourage it in any way. I’m still having problems committing to that but with enough effort, I’m sure I’ll come around.
Worse than this is that I was disoriented enough to allow it to continue for ...at least 5 more minutes, haha. Scoff all you want, but I was really just trying to get my bearings and it seemed rude to interrupt until I was 100% sure that I wasn’t into it. He is pretty, and although Anna is of a different opinion, most everyone else thinks he’s hot as fuck. I would also like to mention that the age of consent in NM is 17, so anyone rubbing sweaty palms together in anticipation of an informative e-mail to the proper authorities can fuck off. It’s still creepy as shit but not illegal and I might add, not my idea...as far as I know.
Senses returning, I shifted myself slightly and asked, “MK, what are you doing...uh, I mean here, what are you doing here.”
“You said I could come back and the door was unlocked, you didn’t answer, so I came in.”
“OK and then...?”
“Then I woke you up and you told me to stop being so tall and sit down.”
“ So I did, then you told me I had nice eyelashes.“
“I DID NOT.”
“You did and then you got up, went to the kitchen, sat on the floor and shot up.”
“Yup” he assured me, resuming his attentions, “Then you said to stop staring and help you and we came back to the couch.”
I was thinking furiously, or as furiously as one in my condition was capable of, marginally distracted by the fact that he was right back where he’d started. “Stop that. Anything else I should uh...be aware of?”
“Well, you let me get close but then you burned me with a cigarette, it’s cool though, it was an accident and then you...apologized.”
I sat straight the fuck up, “That’s enough.”
He had the gall to laugh at me, “You wanted to know!”
“Thank you, very informative.”
He continued, “I should be mad you don’t remember, not too much of a compliment. What’s the big deal? We’re having fun.”
“Mmmhmm, and your birthday is...?”
“And you will be turning...?”
I was looking around for something to focus on so I could stand up and in doing so realized that there was a great big sticky ‘something’ just to the West of Lord Vader’s chin. “You have GOT to be kidding me.”
“We’ve been fucking around for hours, should I be sorry?”
“Embarrassed, maybe.” I grumbled and then the time frame sunk in, “HOURS!?”
“Well yeah, off and on.”
“Excellent.” I could’ve sworn it had been like ten minutes at the most, which is exactly what I shrieked to all my Girlfriends when I was able to think straight and make my shame spiral complete. Not very complimentary to him but what’s done is done.
“I’m gonna go change and then...”
“Then I’ll split this last pill with you.” MK was shame-less.
“Yeah but this time I’ll have pants on.”
“Maybe I won’t?”
I flipped him off and closeted myself in the bathroom, deciding that anything that occurred had happened outside my drawers (undignified as that may be) and then changed into clean underpants and cutoffs so the issue of de-pants-ing would not arise again. Cum on me once, shame on you, Cum on me twice and I need to seriously re-evaluate my strategy.
After that things were much less traumatic, the most that happened was we nodded on each other for a bit before I decided he should go ahead and go. A short time later I got a call from D, he said,“ Just wanted to let you know to be careful with those, I’ve been hearing back that they creep on you.”
“You don’t say?”
“Ohhhh, shit” he laughed, “What happened?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
He just laughed louder, I held the phone away from my ear, barked, “PLEASE SEE YOURSELF OUT” and hung up on him mid cackle.
Later that day I found mysterious blood stains on the wall and floor and can only assume it’s mine, wouldn’t be the first time. Not likely to be the last.
You don’t need to say anything, I already know. Anna has been quipping about babies and playpens quite enough for all of you.
Gary Glitter Lee, over and OUT.