|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.