Melody Lee is Damned

Wel-cum to the Dark Side

2012-01-18T02:43:00.001-07:00

Before the fall. I may never be able to look D. Vader in the face again.

I'm in no way important enough to matter in the scheme of the SOPA blackout, so I'll just toss this up here anyway. Yeah, I'm not completely oblivious, much to my dislike, and do have some clue as to what going on. But as you can see, it hasn't made much difference.

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 Kirtland 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 Kirtland. 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.”
“Christ...”
“ 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.”
“Seriously?”
“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 compliment. What’s the big deal? We’re having fun.”
“Mmmhmm, and your birthday is...?”
“October 6th”
“And you will be turning...?”
“18.”
“Shit.”
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 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 shameless.
“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.

　

　

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

2011-12-09T05:25:00.001-07:00

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

2011-11-23T14:47:00.001-07:00

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?

2011-11-17T07:31:00.001-07:00

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

2011-10-20T04:24:00.001-06:00

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...

2011-09-12T14:44:00.001-06:00

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.

2011-09-11T23:24:00.002-06:00

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)

2011-09-11T23:07:00.000-06:00

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

2011-07-16T19:47:00.000-06:00

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.

2011-06-22T14:45:00.001-06:00

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!)

2011-05-19T12:54:00.000-06:00

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...

2011-04-20T18:01:00.000-06:00

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.

2011-03-21T15:58:00.000-06:00

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...

2011-03-11T00:14:00.000-07:00

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?)

2011-02-26T15:59:00.000-07:00

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.

2011-02-20T12:03:00.001-07:00

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.

2011-02-09T05:54:00.003-07:00

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

So...

2011-02-05T02:46:00.000-07:00

I went to Walmart the other day in a shredded Black Flag shirt, jeans and 4 in platform flip flops with little skulls n crossbones on them. Not unusual in and of itself but I think the three quarter length fur coat over the top of the whole mess is what really made it stand out.
I sent out a few select pics because the gaggle of disbelieving bitches I call friends needed proof that had indeed done such a thing. I even now look forward to getting my own section on the People of Walmart blog. Where the fuck else am I gonna wear that dog of a coat?
It's nice, not tatty at all but kinda looks like I skinned a bear and threw it on my back. I suppose it can go in the closet next to that floor dragging leather one that looks like Matrix gone retarded. The problem is that the longer I look at it, the more I like it. I am currently 1/4 in love with it, by this time tomorrow, who knows? I could be fully committed. Plus it's cold and that motherfucker is warm.
Moving on, I recently saw Frances, fresh from jail. He, fat Cyndi and Julio all got arrested though only Frances and F.C. got pinched at the same time. It's all so ridiculous that I feel a headache coming on just thinking about it right now, so I'll save that gem for another time.
Anyway, Frances was all smiles as he tried to talk me into going in with him on some black. I declined because anytime someone around here is selling H it's a joke. I will not pay $50 for a quarter G but if I send F in, he will pay it and then act all hurt, like HE thought I would just want us to have something rather than nothing at all. I may be a fiend but I'm not an idiot.
In this case the idiot was my dear, darling boyfriend. He made the decision to go ahead with it and then, of all the stupid things...he let Frances leave with the money. Now don't get the wrong idea, F will come back but what he has when he gets here is another thing entirely.
At this point in my life, I've heard all the excuses, first and second hand. There is NOTHING that is gonna convince me that "Small? I couldn't get into it if I wanted to, see it's in a balloon" or "The plastic was torn when he gave it to me" and my personal fav "I got pulled over and had to swallow it". I know several people (I may or may not have been one of them), that used to carry balloons just for that purpose. And if you're gonna pinch my bag, at least have the decency to melt the plastic shut again. *sigh* So now you see what I was dealing with.
Frances is amazing when he's flush and less than such when he's not. Pretty much like any other junky, except for his willingness to share when he's in the dope. Regardless, it was not a good idea to let him scuttle off, cash in hand. I gave Casey one of my "are you fucking stupid" looks and proceeded to the living room. At least there I could watch things unfold in comfort.
An hour later Casey went to hunt him down and found him on his way back, clutching an obscenely small "gram" of tar. Since we paid for half, C just broke it in two, told Fran to kick rocks and brought it back to me.
When I saw it I had to mentally restrain myself from saying anything, I just took it and fixed it up. A so called 1/2 gram gone in 2 shots, nothing weird about that, right? Well factor in that neither of us have a habit right now. A half shoulda kept us loaded all night and produced more than a couple of mildly pleasant issues. Never again Frances, not if I hafta drive all 6 hours to and from Espanola myself. Fuck it, the first 3 are the hard part, I'm high as shit on the way back, piece of cake.
I really, really don't like this place. Even if I lived in 'Spania, I would still hate it. It's so dry and gross here, it's like living in a dehydrator, even when there's snow on the ground. I'm constantly having to baste myself with disgustingly thick lotions just too keep from withering up. It's uncomfortable, I hate the feeling of being greasy, like when you bend your arm and your skin sticks to itself...blegh! The alternative is worse and as much as I love Iggy Pop, I do NOT want to end up looking like beef jerky in leather pants. Or fur coat as the case may be.
~M

It's The Little Things...

2011-01-30T19:19:00.000-07:00

I cut my bangs and now look a little too much like I'm trying to channel Bettie Page, I'm not. I was going more for Tura Satana but whatever, they'll grow out. Not especially interesting to anyone but myself. Isn't that a kick in the cunt, Melody Lee being all self involved again?

Speaking of vagina, I have had it with that douchebag Edward from Twilight! What a disgustingly pussified excuse for a vampire. As I am fairly certain that he has a cunt, I say here and now that I would love nothing more than to kick him in it. Man up, pantywaist!
Christ, I feel saddened that millions of girls are even now fantasizing about this dildo, saddened and embarrassed that my gender could be so ridiculously pie eyed over that sullen chump. He's like a vegan Vampire, stop and think about how stupid that is...Twi-tards ugh, grow up! I know that I'm going on about something that is completely fictional but I can't help it, his weird, sappy face is everywhere, it's unavoidable.
And on the topic of unavoidable, I assume everyone has seen the commercial for the Men's Shake-Weight? Ohhhhhh Myyyyyyy Gawdddddd! If seeing dudes pant and sigh whilst manipulating an obvious handjob training apparatus wasn't enough, throw in the fact that they all look like they dabble in Ukrainian gay porn. When I saw one flinch as though he were expecting a wad in the eye, I was sold! I felt I must purchase one for Maniac immediately! Did you know they deliver that bitch in like 3 days?
The look on his face was priceless! I haven't laughed so hard since I heard Wynonna Judd was selling her new album exclusively at Cracker Barrel! It's the little things that make life worth living, don't you agree? I chose to ignore his threats to bludgeon me with the thing, I like to think it was just his way of saying thank you. I especially enjoyed filling out the card, which detailed the many benefits he and (his undercover lover) Rainman could expect once he began his shake weight training.
As Maniac still vehemently denies any such relationship exists, he was less than pleased . R-man just shook his head and laughed, though his new girlfriend seemed a bit put out by the whole thing. I loathe new girlfriends, they're always so uptight and serious.
Why can none of the guys I know find a girl that is less of a drag and more like, well...me. Haha, I'm an amazing girlfriend, especially if you're a heroin addict. I will never argue about drugs, unless your sheisty ass is trying to get over on me and I am second to none when it comes to hitting ridiculously difficult veins. I will shoot dope into your IV at the hospital so you don't get sick and I will even pack gauze into icky wounds after they get sliced by the doctor.
No hysterics when you come home covered in gore and ask me to help disassemble, burn and bury gun/blade/clothing etc and I can always be counted upon to lie to your parole officer. I will even put money on your books and bring you “packages” as often as I can and as long as I myself am not wanted. What more could you want?
On the other hand, I suppose I have been a holy fucking terror of an old lady to all those fools who thought they could reform me. They shoulda known better, I did. There's only one fix I'm interested in and it ain't gonna save my soul.
OK, so maybe I’m mouthy and a pain in the ass and should you ever try to discipline me with your fists I will most likely cut your junk off but aside from that? Haha...
OK, all fun aside, here's my PSA for the year: If you read about me doing something that sounds utterly reckless and abominably stupid, it stands to reason that it would be best not to follow my example. I am not the most careful person in the world, I do irresponsible shit and I really don't weigh consequences. I'm technically a mess, I just wear it well *wink*. I don't want someone pushing up weeds because they read about something I barely walked away from and they aren't as lucky. DON'T DO IT!
I stopped turning people onto H a long time ago, right around the time I realized that it's not always the funnest thing in the world to maintain. It's hard work and you need a willingness to do what it takes, whatever that might be. Not everyone can manage it and not everyone wants to, again, I'm not special, just lucky and maybe more than a little obtuse. Like I said in comments God looks after morons, babies and assholes and I'm no baby, so y'all connect the dots.
Alright, enough with the preachy shit, it's so not me but I felt I must because Gleds brought it up in regards to his own comments and it made a helluva lotta sense. I said it, I'm done and that's it til next year, haha.

~Melody Lee, over and out.

The San Ysidro Incident or As Seen On T.V.

2011-01-28T01:22:00.000-07:00

So we were at the Hilltop gas station, me, Frances and the hippie. He said that his name was Coyote *rolling eyes* but that seemed so ridiculous that I refused to call him by it. I called him Prairie Dog (which he hated the moment it left my mouth) and anything else that happened to pop into my head. It's a gift.
We had all gotten out of the car, the pina colada/wet dirt dump aroma was too much and cold though it was, it beat the fuck outta that smell! Frances was gonna pay to have my car cleaned if it was the last thing he did. I poked him and asked if we could leave yet. I was told that we were waiting for someone to show up and that it should be mere minutes...yeah right! I didn't see why we couldn't just leave the hippie to fend for himself, I said I'd bring him to HT and here we were, job complete. I was outvoted which I think is unfair because Wombat shouldn't have gotten one but whatever.
I did appreciate being able to breathe freely however and as long as I stood upwind from P.D. it was aces. I made sure to do so at every opportunity and tripped Frances in the process when I jumped away from Mr. stink bomb a little too quickly.
"So Prairie Dog, what's the deal, where's your homeboy at, I don't have all night, tick-tock."
"Don't call me thaaaaaaaaaaaaat maaaaaaaaaan, my name is Coyoooooo.."
"Uh yeah, whatever" I interrupted, "I wanna beat feet outta here, those truckers are giving me the eye and I ain't in that line no more."
Frances laughed and gave me a look but I kept on, "So unless you feel like explaining to those large gentlemen over there that you are not in fact my patchouli permeated pimp and that they will not be enjoying the pleasure of my company this evening, I suggest you GET THE FUCK ON WITH IT!"
P.D. eyed the truckers and began to text furiously. I told myself I'd give him 10 more mins and then I was gone. A couple minutes later he tried to approach me but I yelped, "That's close enough, tell me from there! Enunciate Weasel, E-NUN-C-ATE!"
He sighed and asked if I could “Maaaaaaaaaaybe, poooooosssibly” take him as far as San Ysidro? I didn’t even answer, I turned on Frances, “San Ysidro Frances? You just came from Bernalillo, you know just how long it takes to get to FUCKING SAN YSIDRO!” I was in a yelling kinda mood, I guess.
It takes approx an hour and thirty minutes in case y’all didn’t know and I was not in the mood to do it. Even the way I drive it would be an hour each way and that was too damn long, especially since my car reeked of dirt-fruit-crap cocktail.
Frances shrugged apologetically, knowing that despite my issues with our companion's fragrance, I wouldn’t leave him stranded in the cold. That was nail #1 in fat Cyndi’s coffin.
“The guy who’s house we’re going to is a good connect, after this we can score from him instead of driving all over this *pinche state.” *fucking
I sighed and got in the car, it was gonna be a long night.
Driving in 20 degree weather at night with the windows down is not the way I had envisioned my evening. I was cold, pissy and generally not a nice person to be around. I just wanted to get all this shit over with and get back to the house so Frances could get me high in comfort.
P.D. sat silent and shivering in the backseat, knowing I was in no mood to deal with him or anyone else. Frances nodded and chain smoked, though how he could stand the taste I’ll never know. He slept through most of the drive and when we got there I was extra gratified to wake him up in the manner of my choosing.
“Fraaaanceeesss” I whispered...right before I flicked his ear, “WAKE UP!” He jerked and dropped a lit cigg onto his lap, prompting him to move faster than he had all night.
“Don’t burn my seat, cabron” I cautioned, climbing out of the car to stretch. We were parked in front of one of the ramshackle houses that is typical of San Ysidro, I was not impressed. Nail 2 Fat Cyndi, nail #2.
We followed the hippie up to the front door, he knocked and we heard a muffled, “Come iiiiiiiin.” I was steeling myself for some kind of retarded scene inside but even I never could've guessed what was waiting for us behind that door. Have y’all seen Hoarders? I’m betting you have, I’m also betting that you’ve never been in a house so inundated with cat piss that it literally took your breath away and refused to give it back.
There were stacks of magazines and newspaper everywhere, some as high as my head and I’m 5’9. We maneuvered through, using the little trail between the piles to get us ever closer to the voice calling from somewhere in the back. Everything was obscured by crap and all you could see was a light and the flickering of the T.V. set. I tripped over what I think was a cat and stepped in what I can only assume was cat shit. It woulda been nail 3 but it was so old it had dried into concrete and crunched when I trudged on through it. Had it been fresh Fat Cyndi would be in the fucking ground right now!
I took some satisfaction in the fact that Woodchuck was having problems with the smell, ahhh sweet irony. He coughed his way to the back and we finally met our host.
George was sitting in a recliner swaddled in yards of fleece that seemed to have hearts, spades and diamonds all over it. The only things showing were his hands and head. The thing looked familiar but I couldn’t quite place it.
Beyond him was a kitchen and seated at the cluttered table was a brunette girl of indeterminate age and abundant size shoveling snack cakes into her maw. And I mean shoveling! Bitch was double fisting those bad boys and horking ‘em down like she was getting paid. She was dressed in some sort of tight blue dress that showed an excessive amount of flesh and was completely inappropriate for one of her girth.
I leaned over to Frances and whispered, “She looks like a sausage about to burst it’s casing.”
He sniggered and whispered back, “Chorizo bomb. I hope I take some shrapnel in the eye cuz it ain’t gonna be pretty.”
I bit my lip to keep from cackling and nodded in agreement, not pretty was an understatement. She turned her head my way and gave me a look I didn’t care for at all. She hadn’t heard us, I suppose she was just being territorial, for all she knew we were there abscond with her delicious (gag) snacky cakes.
“Geooorge” she whined, showing off an overbite and buck teeth with a gap you could drive a Lincoln through, “Why are all these people here? Why is that girl here? You know I can’t stand girls like her.”
“Like what?” I asked, doing that thing where I don’t quite mumble, "Girls who aren't one step away from mainlining buttercream frosting?”
“Geooorge, tell her to leave, she’s bothering me. She looks funny”
I was at a loss as to what exactly I was doing since I was just standing there but whatever.
“Be cordial Gloria” he whined back, “She can’t help who she is.”
I was getting agitated, “That heifer could bite a hog through a picket fence and I’m the one who looks funny? Fuck that shit.” I started to move towards her, fairly sure that size would triumph over tenacity in this case but caring not a whit.
Frances grabbed my shoulders and stopped me, putting his mouth next to my ear he said, “Calm down, we’re almost done here. That *marrana is his sister and if you piss him off it’s back to ‘Spania when you want quantity.” *sow
I looked over at our effeminate, whiny host and decided I didn’t care, so not worth it and wow, I could find another hook up. Before I could say anything George instructed his sister to show P.D. the guest room. The hippie said his goodbyes and left us there surrounded by mess and stench.
I opened my mouth to launch into some sort of tirade about the myriad smells and insults I had endured thus far but I didn’t get a word out.
It seemed that George was in a hurry to say something as well, “You really think you’re hot shit don’t you honey? There’s no need to be so bitchy *lowering his voice to a loud whisper* is it that time of the month?”
Nails 3 through 103! I heard Frances sigh and it was on. Plus I had finally identified what he was wrapped in.
“I’m bitchy? What I really am is too annoyed to put up with a simpering jackass in a Snuggie who is too stupid to realize he has essentially paid money to wear a robe backwards!”
“It’s not a Snuggie, it’s a Slanket! It’s called Sleavin’ Las Vegas” he sniffed as he smoothed it, “I wanted Slumberjack but they were sold out...”
“ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME??? I barked at Frances, “First I hafta play nice with Not So Little Debbie back there and now this?” I turned back to George, “I’ll wipe my ass with your Slanket you prissy..”
“HEYYYYY, lets go outside and smoke a *frajo” interrupted F, cutting me off before I could get any more complimentary. He took my elbow and led me through the forest of paper goods and out the front door. *cigarette
I was busy muttering to myself, so it took me a moment to notice that Fran was doubled over in silent laughter. When he came up he was streaming tears and trying to catch his breath. “I can’t believe you called him out on the Snuggie. Not so little Debbie...” He wheezed, unable to go on.
“It’s not a Snuggie it’s a Slanket!” I pouted, doing my impression of George, “Fran! You know that bitch must’ve inhaled at least a box and a half of Zebra Cakes in the 15 minutes we’ve been here, two at a time no less! What the fuck else was I gonna call her? And that smell, don't get me started on that smell!” I was begining to giggle.
“Y-you g-got schooled b-by an asshole wearing a b-b-b-blanket” stuttered Frances trying hard to get himself under control.
“Hey fuuuuuuuuuck you.” I replied, setting us off all over again. It was time to go home, I was so over the whole thing.
On the ride home Frances said, “A box and a half? That’s alot of fucking cakes!”
“Ya think?” I asked sarcastically, “Those things are nasty besides, if you eat one and drink milk it makes lard on the roof of your mouth, it’s sick and wrong.”
“I guess that explains the ‘Not so little’ part huh?”
“It’s definitely not helping the situation, I know that much.”
“Wipe your ass with his Sl-Slanket” He choked out, “Damn girl...”
“Yeah, I know, I ain’t right but at least I’m funny and that almost makes up for it.”
I drove us home, my car smelt of hippie and putrifying fruit but I sustained myself by counting all the ways in which fat Cyndi Lauper would pay for this evening’s idiocy...pay, pay, pay.

Questions Answered, Comments Addressed and Blah.Blah.Blah!

2011-01-24T15:37:00.002-07:00

OK, I'm gonna answer some comments with this post and continue the saga of fat Cyndi Lauper next time. Hope that is acceptable and if not, tough tittie said the kitty when the milk went dry. Haha...in no discernible order, here we go!
First off, I so-so-so appreciate Andrea coming to my defense but it's totally unnecessary. I can see how a friend might be upset by that shit but I welcome it. What could be better than for someone to dislike me in the extreme, yet feel compelled to see what I do next? They love to hate me and I love them for it. Negative attention is still attention, que no? I adore you Andrea hit me up tonight, k?
Anna your linking is for shit, just e-mail me that stuff from now on!
I need to check the dates for Lora, then I will put up the R.I.P. I miss that crazy bitch something fierce! Bako wasn't the same without her.
Hello to Lucy, I'm glad to hear from ya girlie, I hope you're still tearin it up and doin shit your own way. I'm happy to hear you were amused, I live to serve, *wink*.
Also stoked to hear from Michelle and Kelley, hugs n kisses sweethearts.
Now for Prince Charles! You'll hafta come find me, the hunt is part of the fun and don't forget the Chloroform, with those ears you're gonna need it handsome. Oh and can Camilla watch? I'm weird that way, haha.
Oh man, I am so fucking good at phone sex it's almost unreal. I have no probs owning up to that at all. I give amazing phone, no doubt about it. I think it's more than the voice though, it's because when some depraved fuck calls me and says, "Will you do a home invasion/rape/torture/mutilation/snuff fantasy?" I say, "I'm gonna find us a real pretty piece of ass in there, string her up by her ankles and have a little batting practice. I'll break every bone in her fucking body...I wanna hear them cracking and grinding together while you fuck her. I'll carve a nice, tight virgin hole in that bitch's gut so you can stick it in her." And that's the super mild version. I can do all the other shit too, don't get me wrong. I'm beyond great at the standard moan and groan but I really excel at the twisted shit. Blow torch, curling irons, phone cords, box cutter... it must be the thwarted serial killer in me. Anyway, what I'm getting at is that I'm good because I never say no to anything, I take all the calls other bitches are too squeamish to do and it pays off. I need to get back to it, I've been slacking and my perverts are getting impatient *wink*
So Gleds...Christ amighty dollface! Those comments are hard to unscramble sometimes but I wouldn't have it any other way, you're purely you and I love it. I'm not sure I'll get to all of your questions but here's an answer to the most important ones of the lot, the drug related ones,of course.
The bags here are done in a very basic way and if you're lucky they'll be over but mainly a dime=$10=1/10th of a gram. Some dealers won't sell dimes because it's a drag but it's how you make the most money off your cache. Sell point for point and you get $100 a G instead of say $80 because you sold quarter bags for $20 instead of $25. I sold dimes on up to quarter ounces and it's always the higher the quantity, the bigger the price break. I'm not sure what % of purity the tar here is but it's decent, in Cali it varies. I went to O.C. and got G's for $40 but you had to bang 2 of them just to get well. In my hometown you can get Dope that will put your dick in the dirt off a 10 dollar bag...you can also get burned like a motherfucker, so I guess it's like anywhere else. I did some there recently and we were loaded for days n days.
I don't know how different it could possibly be from state to state but here we cook the Dilaudid for just a second to really break up the pills. I'm talking like no longer than it takes to get that first crackle and boil on the spoon. Then you toss in the cotton and draw it up, pretty as you please. You also wanna go back and pound the cotton to make sure you got it all. It doesn't burn but it does cause a weird ache if you start to miss, it's hard to explain but it just...aches. The liquid we just draw out of the vials and shoot as is, it's ready to bang, straight from the gate *wink*
Oxy doesn't burn either but you don't cook that at all, just crush it and put the water on, alot of water. Anyone trying it better have a 100 unit point ready because there's so much damn water you may need to do it twice. It's really a hassle but when you need that rush and nod and there's nothing else to be had, it seems worth it. They have tried to gel up the pills here in the states but so far there are still water soluble goodies to be had.
The only thing I've done that really burns is Morphine. It burns no matter what and you feel it crawling up your vein until it disappears into your circulatory system. It's so short acting and lame but you know, when there's nothing else...
I hit the E- room this weekend because my feet were doing that weird thing where they look like they belong on a corpse, (plus I was bored and couldn't find any Opies). It didn't hurt, though it sometimes does, but it looks so freaky that when I go to emergency, they take one look and start pumping me full of all sorts of yummy things. They really believe that I must be in indescribable pain to let them IV my neck in order to get some relief. If the only knew, haha, besides, sticking my neck once is soooo preferable to getting poked a gazillion times everywhere else.
I got several shots of Morphine and 3 of Dilaudid in the 4 hours I was there. Doc was amazed that I was perfectly coherent after the first few and marveled at my tolerance, haha. If he only knew how I built it. Anyway, off topic, Morphine burns Dilly don't.
Shane you are divine, thanx for the compliment. Thank you to Tatyana (I probly bungled the spelling, sorry), Sweden, Sids and all the others that have started reading or are just happy to see me back, cheers my darlings, much love to ya.
Oh and Military School? I can't begin to imagine how bad that blows! Like sucking off dogs for beer money blows. I'm not sure if that makes sense right now, Lyrica, haha. Anyway, glad to be of use and out of curiousity, is this an Up The Acadamy kinda place? Haha... I fucking LOVE that movie! SAY IT AGAIIIIIIIN! Sorry, this shit is kicking my ass and making me feel retaaaaaaaarded, in a good way of course.
Oh, about the background...damn! Every time I try to pretty up my page it's too hard to read *sigh* gimmie a few days and I'll see what can be done.
I better go now before I start to make even less sense than usual...I am currently sense-less, haha.
XOXO~ Melody
PS. SO jealous of whoever has that soundtrack record!I would cause some serious damage for that thing, no lie.

I Introduce Frances and Fat Cyndi Lauper

2011-01-18T08:40:00.001-07:00

So this is a bit more recent, like a few days ago recent. I had been tied up with shit all day and it continued into the night. First, Frances’ brother Julio show’s up and he’s sooooo fucking gakked I could hardly stand to look at him. That fool had to have been up for at least a week, the tats on his face stood out in relief he was so pale.

I’m thinking that these names are unfamiliar, maybe I mentioned Frances at some point but he didn’t figure too prominently in my day to day until the past few months. He’s an H head I met through Cam.
Little did I know that opening myself up to Frances would mean welcoming his extensive and equally drug addled family as well. They’re hella cool, it’s just that they have no concept of boundaries and if they happen to be walking by my door at 4am, well they think it’s an awesome idea to stop and knock on it. I don’t bitch too much because getting woken at stupid hours is made a lot more bearable when the dudes waking you have lots of drugs. I’m so easily coerced when it comes to shit like that, not always but mostly, yeah.
So back to last night, Julio was in my living room using the phone, the tweeker broad down the street had booted him out and he was looking for a place to hole up. As much as I like J, I wasn’t offering up any hospitality, that fool is running from some serious shit and even having him in my doorway puts me in a bad spot. So as I don’t fancy getting shot and/or arrested, I try to keep his visits short and sweet. I would probly do a lot more for one of my friends back home but lets get real, I’ve only known him for a few months, not quite ready to go all out for a casual acquaintance.
I sat back and watched Julio geek out, listening to him clear his throat over and over without even realizing he was doing it. A sure sign you’ve been up too damn long. He was trying to get Frances on the line, calling from my phone because F was ignoring his cell (for good reason no doubt) and he always answers when I call.
He was out of range and J went out back to smoke and bullshit with Casey. Casey was having one of those rare good drunk moments and was more that happy to smoke and listen while Julio told the story of his cheating old lady and her whoring ways. I’m sure they had a lot to talk about haha.
Frances called while they were out there and I found out that he was on his way back from Bernalillo with some H. He wanted to know if J was gonna split so he could come by and share. He loves his little bro but he also would like to avoid getting shot/arrested. Julio is a raid waiting to happen and nobody likes that, especially a Dopefiend who just came up big time.
I told him I was working on it and that he should cruise by as soon as he got into town. About 10 mins later he called back and told me to meet him at the VFW. I was reluctant and told him so; whining, "I don't wanna go to the VFW, it's musty in there, it smells like 'Born on the Fourth of July!' "
"I'm supposed to know what that smells like?" He asked impatiently.
"Amputees and broken dreams."
He laughed and said, "That ain't right girl, you ain't right!"
"Yeah, that's what they tell me and just cause it ain't right don't mean it ain't funny. So what's at the VFW and why do I hafta go there?"
"Well me and the chiva for starters and my ride needs to go there to talk to her homeboy."
"Stellar, how long?"
"We're on the Bisti, give me 20."
"Fucker." I grumbled.
He laughed and hung up.
I got ready and slipped out the door, I had quietly told Casey where I was headed and that he should keep the info to himself as long as Julio was around. If he found out I was meeting up with Frances, he would be right there with me and that would be inconvenient.
I started the 10 minute drive to the hall, it was around 8pm and I wasn't looking forward to getting there first, so I took my time. When I finally pulled up, F was leaning against a white car waiting for me. As I got closer I noticed he wasn't so much leaning on the car as it was holding him up. Fool was wasted!
He was so loaded he still had the rig tucked behind his ear from the last shot. The girl he was riding with had already gone inside so we went to my car and fixed up so I could get a taste while we were here. It was decent, not bad at all and by the time we walked through the door I was feeling pretty damn good. So good that Lieutenant Dan himself could've peed on my foot and I wouldn't have cared less.
He looked around and then led me towards the back where his friend was talking to some guy in the corner. She looked like fat Cyndi Lauper and he looked like he had just missed the last bus for the Phish festival. That's right, a hemp wearing, dreadlock having, putrid patchouli smelling hippie! All except the patchouli are tolerable on their own but together...yuck! And it's because Patchouli smells like someone took a dump in wet dirt, in case anyone was wondering.
Well this numb nuts had been bathing in the stuff, I dared not get closer lest the odor transfer itself to my hair and clothing, it has a way of doing that, nasty stuff! He had that stupefied drawl that comes from smoking copious amounts of weed, kinda like Matt T (anyone who knows him understands). It's a cross between a surfer and a stoned goat, it has a weird baaaaaaah-ing sound whenever certain vowels are introduced. Like Matt and his,"Whaaaaaaaaaat's Uuuuuuuuuuuup?" This guy had the same thing going on.
So I leaned against the wall and tried to ignore everything but the feeling of well being coursing through me. So much so that when I was asked if I would drive the guy to Hilltop, I uh-huh'd without knowing what I was agreeing to.
Frances shook me into a semi-awake state and walked me outside. Little did I know that my soon to be passenger was right behind us. Once we stopped moving, the smell gave him away. I poked Frances and asked him why! Why was wet dirt dump following us?
“Because you said you’d drive him.” He replied, looking at me like I was stupid, “Don’t sweat it, I’m coming with.”
“Oh, that changes everything. It’s ok everyone, Frances is coming with.” My previous good mood was fast disappearing.
I got a dirty look in return and we all climbed into the car. My first thought was that I was never gonna get rid of that smell. I considered making Frances remove his coat so Phish fucker could sit on it but the look on his face said I needn't bother asking.
I lit a cigarette and was dismayed and disgusted when it tasted exactly like, yeah you guessed it. I was not happy! I pulled out of the dirt lot and we were on our way, I had to roll the damn windows down because the heater was making it so much more pungent. We drove towards the casino and the back road that would deposit us a couple miles away from Hilltop gas station.
Not 10 minutes into the drive I heard, "Heeeeeeey maaaaaaamaaaaa, can you roll up the windows? It's cooooooooold."
"Nope" I replied, leaning my nose ever closer to the rush of cold air blowing in on my side.
"Aren't you freeeeeeezing?" it asked.
"Not so much as I am gagging on your par fume." I didn't quite mumble.
Frances, who had been drinking chocolate milk, snorted, shot a stream of it out his nose and had to scramble in the glove box for a napkin. I felt somewhat jealous as the burn and smell of Nesquik would have been a Godsend at that point .
"My whaaaaaaaaat?" questioned my new friend.
Fran snorted again and I gave him a snarky look before I said, "Your odiferous aroma, it's vile."
"Whaddaya mean maaaaaaan, I'm clean, took a shower this morning."
"Well you shoulda gone easier on the Dead head hair tonic"
"What's...huh?"
I gave up being polite and said, "The smell of your essential oil is scorching my nose hairs, hippie! How much clearer can I be? You smell like a musky fart."
He had no answer for that.
Frances thought to better the situation by spraying the small can of car freshener I kept in the console. It did not. It was so noxious that even with the windows down we all started coughing.
"Fran, you asshole," I sputtered, "Now it smells like someone shit a patchouli pina colada!"
This brought on a fresh coughing fit from all of us but luckily we had reached Hilltop and what I thought was the end of my association with our malodorous passenger. Not so, good friends, not so. Before the night was over I would be cursing the existence of fat Cyndi Lauper and swearing vengeance on her bulbous blond head.

Needles and Pillzzz-uh.

2011-01-14T08:36:00.001-07:00

Adrian was worried that I would hate his idiotic (but very nice) ass after his fuck doll went retarded and maimed my car but I know better than to blame one person for another’s stupidity, even if that person wasn’t exactly in her right mind. Yes, he took her to R-man’s place and got her super duper geeked but it was the faulty wiring in her head that told her to come fuck with my shit. I’m a big believer in taking responsibility for your actions, no matter how fucked up you are at the time. It’s still you making the moves, not the gak.

So though he had been coming by less often, he decided he needed to try and buy my good humor and affection by bringing me lots of goodies i.e. candy, coffee, various mili's of Dilaudid pills etc. He didn't hafta do it but he kept insisting so I was like," If you must you must."
He had spent most of the last week plying me with substances, hanging out and riding around (in my newly fixed auto) with me while I did this and that. I even had him as my sidekick on trips to Albuquerque and 'Spania, showing him my fav place(s) to stop and fix over by the Abiquiu Dam and at the Apache just outside Cuba. It was fun in the way such trips are when you have plenty of drugs, decent company and an unending supply of kickass music to keep shit going.
Unfortunately, the system in my car had gone pffft and until Maniac put it back together all I had was AM/FM Radio which as anyone can tell you sux monumental ass unless it's Underground Garage. It was not.
What we had was a nauseating stream of "Adult Pop", pseudo metal and indie...baaaaad indie! I felt I must be trapped in some kind of Nickleback nightmare and it seemed like another shot might be just the thing to rid me of the migraine brought on by the sentimental, tepid rubbish that was coming through my speakers.
I pulled up at the Apache and started lining everything up on my leg. Points, cap from the water bottle, lighter, cigarette (for the cotton) and last but not least, a good sized chunk of H. As I was putting it all together Adrian was fucking around with the tuner, trying to find something decent to listen to.
He got nervous when he saw me put the flame to the plastic cap but I assured him that I was not an idiot, we may end up injecting some kind of toxins released by the hot plastic but I definitely wouldn't turn it all into a melty mess. Toxins schmoxins! This bitch has shot up with water from a public toilet at the greyhound station, plastic don't scare me none.
I finished what I was doing and loaded the rigs, one for him one for me. As usual he went all gentleman-like, pulling off his belt and offering it to me. I declined as it was way too much trouble to try and hit a vein in the car, my veins are notoriously temperamental and hard to find. Instead I wasted no time in unbuttoning my jeans so I could pop it in my hip. It burned like it always does but it was that good kind of burn. The kind that you craved and waited for and when it was just right it let you know that in seconds you'd get that warm, semi-nauseous feeling in your gut that says you're gonna feel extra good in 5-4-3-2-NOW.
I did what I always do and left the point stuck in me, it was an old habit from back when my hips were so hard from muscling that pulling it out too soon would mean all the dope would come gushing out due to pressure. It's no longer necessary but it's comforting in the way that drug rituals usually are, so I always let it sit a minute.
I burned the ragged bit of cotton off the filter and put the cigg in my mouth, lighting it up and taking a big drag. Leaning my seat back, I slowly rolled my head against the headrest until I was looking over at Adrian. He was having a bit of a struggle and had gone from arms to hands and was now pulling his shirt off so he could get at his neck. In retrospect I should've known he was up to something because you don't need to remove your t-shirt to see your EJ's, it's not like the fucker was wearing a turtleneck.
All this was lost on me because I was too busy getting glassy-eyed and gazing at the mess he had left running down his arms and hands. My weird blood/needle fetish was making itself known and watching him stick the point right between the Black Flag bars on his neck was just too enchanting. As much as I am against hitting the neck, I will admit he looked damn fine doing it.
He adjusted the mirror and dug around again, finally getting it to register and shooting it in. I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding and took another drag. I met his eyes in the mirror and watched them pin and glaze over, an adorable, lazy smile on his face.
He flipped the visor up and leaned his seat back, the rig forgotten in his hand as he let the high wash over him. It's so voyeuristic to watch someone when the H overtakes them, it's like you get to see the softest side of their soul for split second. Being me, I watched anyway.
At some point my eyes closed and I nodded for a few minutes, waking up to Adrian's hand on my cheek, his face just inches away from mine. He had that look and for just a moment I wished I could go with it. He pressed his forehead against mine and I felt his hand sliding up my half covered leg. When his fingers found the dart in my hip he pulled his face away and asked, "Can I?"
I said," Whatever." trying to sound nonchalant, like his hand on me had no effect whatsoever. I don't think I was very convincing but at least I was giving it the old college try.
He plucked it out of my skin and leaned down like he was gonna lick the tiny bit of blood that was trickling down my leg. I was 99% sure that I was going to let him do it and conscience be damned but then I noticed something that had been nagging me from the sidelines.
The whole time Adrian had been orchestrating his blood-licky seduction, Marilyn Manson had been croaking out "Heart Shaped Glasses" on the radio. It was unacceptable!
I pushed his head away and said, "Are you kidding me with this song? Blegh,! This is SO not happening!"
"Huh?" he looked confused.
"I refuse to let myself be led astray with this dreck playing in the background, it's insulting."
"What? Are you serious?"
I pulled up my jeans, "Angel, I’ve never been more serious. It's time we get back on the road."
"What?"
I was starting to question his intelligence, what with all these snappy rejoinders, "Are you retarded?”
He opened his mouth to reply, looking more simple by the second, that blank stare still firmly in place.
“Say ’What’ or ‘Huh’ one more time” I dared him, getting annoyed.
His jaw snicked shut and his expression was an odd combination of humor and befuddlement. Befuddlement has never looked so fucking good!
We drove in silence for a few minutes, I had turned off the offending radio for the time being. A ways down the road I heard Ade start humming to himself. It got louder and more coherent until I could make out the words, “Little girl, little girl you should close your eyes, that blue is getting me high, making me low...”
I gave a disgusted snort, “Barf! ‘making me low’ what does that even mean? And MY eyes are brown.”
He laughed and broke into the chorus and I came back with, “I don’t mind you keeping me on pills and needles...“
He gave me the raised eyebrow and said, “I think it’s pins, not pills.”
“Hmmm, I wasn't aware of that.”
“Is that what I’ve been doing?”
“Absolutely, feel free to keep it up.” I turned the radio back on and managed to find a station that was playing 50’s and 60’s stuff. We rode the rest of the way listening to Jerry Lee Lewis and the Shangri-Las singing about a Big Legged Woman and Walking in the Sand.

When Action becomes a Necessary Evil.

2011-01-10T08:22:00.002-07:00

Sometime in September…

I was having a somewhat quiet night in, doing my best to ignore the stream of texts that were being sent my way by a gleeful Maniac and an agitated Adrian. It would seem that things had not been going smoothly over at Rainman’s house that night.
Against all advice, Ade still had that lame ass girl trailing behind him like one of those cartoon stink clouds and had taken her with him to while away the time with the homies and some of R-man’s latest. It soon became apparent that little miss cheerleader wasn’t up to the task…she lost her fucking mind!
She had become increasingly paranoid as the night wore on and according to Maniac she was, “Making that naaasty ass noise in the back of her throat that sounds like she’s gargling mocos!” *boogers
My God I almost peed when he passed along that info, he does have the damndest way with words doesn’t he? That had been the last time I answered the phone and now I just had a buttload of texts coming at me.
I finally took a look and saw:

“Crazy bitch headed ur way” (Maniac)
“Can u please just kill her so she will never come here again” (Rainman)
“Pick up” “She’s lost it. Is on her way to your house. need to talk to you” “Fuck, I’m sorry. Will ask about a ride & try to get there first” (Adrian)
“HAHAHAHAHAHA, We’re getting in the car, ain’t missing this shit, no way!” (Maniac)
“Staying home please, thank u.” (Rainman)

(I’m as lazy about deleting texts as I am about everything else)

I was already exhausted just from reading that shit, I really didn’t want to deal with it in person. I wasn’t in the mood to scrap with some tweek retarded, Mall Betty Barbie that couldn’t handle her shit. I had already done all I could to discourage Adrian from rubbing our acquaintance under her perky nose, what more could I do? The right thing never comes all that naturally to me, so the fact that I was trying counts for a lot! I could’ve just sat back, laughed and watched her fall apart because she couldn’t do anything about it.
I’d like to say I’m not that mean but really I am or I can be…I have been in the past, ask me about Lauren sometime, heheh. It's usually only when it was someone I cared for (see: wanted really bad at the time) or possibly just to piss off some bitch I couldn’t stand the sight of. What can I say? I wasn’t lying all those time I said I was a cunt.
Anyway, point is I tried but if that ridiculous twat was gonna come pounding on my door I was through trying. I so wasn’t in the mood to smack her straight but if it came to that well, I do what I have to.
It wasn’t too cold that night so I’d been laying around in a wife beater and jeans, barefoot with my hair in Pocahontas braids. I looked adorable, if you didn’t get that already. I wasn’t really dressed for a catfight but hey, bitches scrap in Jell-O wearing nothing at all, so I suppose I was actually ahead of the game.
Casey was asleep, having to work the next day and had no idea that something stupid this way comes. It was all mine to deal with and I guess that’s only right since it was my dumb ass that set the whole mess in motion months before. Seriously, what the fuck is my damage? My mom has been trying to answer that question for years, haha.
So I was expecting a knock or possibly screaming (perhaps a bitchy cheer along the lines of U-G-L-Y you ain’t got no alibi?), something to let me know she was here and needed to be dealt with. Instead I heard screeching brakes, slamming car doors, multiple raised voices and then…SMASH!
It was a muffled yet glassy sort of smash, the kind of smash a car window makes when you throw A BIG HONKIN ROCK THOUGH IT!!! That gakked cow took a mini boulder from the neighbor’s lame rock garden and put it through the rear window of my car.
I haven’t moved so fast in years. I was out the door, hands reaching for her throat in seconds flat. I took no notice of the fact that I was stomping barefoot through auto glass, instead I concentrated on putting my knee in Adrian’s balls so I could get past him ( he made the mistake of trying to stop me) and throttle his girlfriend.
Bitch’s eyes were so big she looked like a spun weasel, I guess my mellow attitude in the past had lulled her into thinking there would be no consequences if she fucked with me. Bitch was mistaken.
Maniac was doing nothing to keep me from her (if he had been any giddier he would’ve been hopping up and down clapping his hands) and Ade was on the ground relearning how to breathe. She ran down the driveway towards her car and I was right behind her. She was halfway in when I grabbed a handful of her bouncy blonde hair and jerked her back out. When she spun halfway around she caught me in the mouth with her elbow...as usual. I don't know if it's a sign from God (telling me to shut the fuck up) or my serious case of DSL but anytime a tussle ensues I get it right in the fucking pie hole! Yeah, hilarious ain't it? Fuckers!
She lurched forward trying to pull away and I used the momentum against her, introducing her head to the open doorframe until she stopped struggling. Don’t worry, she wasn’t unconscious, just a bit stunned, haha. I jerked her flailing arm up behind her back and using her hair as a handle, I steered her back towards my driveway. I turned her head this way and that so she could see the full scope of damage she had done. I then shoved her face down towards the mess of glass on the pavement, telling her to take a good look.
She may have been under the impression that I was gonna rub her face in the broken glass because she started throwing her free arm back in my direction. I twisted my fist in her hair, wrenched her arm up and said, “Bitch, I will end you.” That settled her right down, well she had started to hyperventilate but she wasn’t fighting anymore so, yeah she settled down.
Maniac is sure that it was her idiotic inability to handle R-man’s product that brought it on and I’m happy to go with that, making girls gasp for breath isn’t that important to me unless it’s with my knee in their neck haha.
So while I had her in my grasp, I instructed Adrian to get into her purse and remove whatever cash she had. It wasn’t much so I sent him to the ATM with her card so he could bring me back the $350 I’d estimated it was gonna cost to fix my window.
By the time he got back she was sitting in her car. She’d gone kinda catatonic on me, so I’d buckled her into the passenger side and gone back to the front yard.
My feet had finally started to throb and I was sitting in the disco mobile’s headlights picking glass out of my soles. It was a gross bloody mess and it didn’t feel good at all. Maniac had fetched the water hose and was trying to rinse them off so we could see where the bleeding was the worst.
Somehow I had managed to keep the damage to a minimum, car glass isn’t made to cut too badly…unless you happen to grind and stamp your way through it, which I did. I had just a few pieces in the ball of my left foot and some little ones buried in the area under the toes of my right one. It was…unpleasant. Some of them are still embedded and will likely never come out. The price you pay huh?
I made Adrian take her home, Maniac stayed to man the tweezers. I drank the rest of Casey’s whiskey and took some Percs but it still hurt like shit. Next time I will be sure to wear shoes.
I heard tell that she squawked about pressing charges but the meth in her system kept her from following through. She should know better than to try, we had our little disagreement 200 feet away from 3 different police residences, what the fuck does she think they’re gonna do about it? If they can’t be bothered to come outside and intervene (and it was LOUD), why would they care the next day? I suppose they might but the law here has a terrible fear of extraneous paperwork.
Not what I’m used to but I ain’t complaining! Besides, she would have to charge Adrian as well and that’s not gonna happen, she’s in loooooove, moron! She needs to open those china doll eyes a little wider, maybe then she’ll see how badly she’s getting worked over.
Don’t get me wrong, I adore Adrian, especially when he’s doing wrong but he’s a dick! How does she not get that? He has used her in so many ways and does nothing to hide it, not even a little. His excuse is that he told her up front how and what he was…that sounds oddly familiar.
Does that make it her own fault for getting fucked sideways by that cute little monster? I've always said it did when I used that excuse for myself, now I’m not so sure. Lets just say it makes the blame a bit harder to place and leave it at that.

~Melody Lee

The Lazarus Effect or I'm Baaaaaaaack! Something Like That.

2011-01-04T14:06:00.000-07:00

Before I get started, a quick note on my hair....oh my godamned hair! It's long, very black and very...Christ how to describe it? Anyway, the pics I took were on a night where I decided to indulge Casey's Rockabilly/Pin-up girl fetish and that's it! I already got an earful from Anna for jumping on the RB bandwagon and Regina, who loathes Rockabilly-ish girls is gonna kick my ass. I'm back to myself and am making plans to wreck my Black Dalia look even as I type this. Normal never lasts long around here but how normal is it to look like a broad that got bisected and filleted back in the day? Well it counts for normal in my household and it needs to go! I won’t get started on the emo (ugh emo), pic in the mirror thing or the crap camera I used to take it.

So It’s 15 degrees here right now, roughly 9 am and I decided it was finally time to break my silence. It hasn’t been by choice that I’ve left everyone to wonder about my whereabouts, I really haven’t been able to take care of anything for a long while. I had a couple people check my e-mails but no one responded to anything in my inbox. I dictated some stuff to my facebook (ugh facebook) friend and that was about it.
I’m not gonna get into what I’ve been up to, it’s complicated but it was obviously not an OD/death and it wasn’t jail...or a psychiatric hospital either smart asses. It’s good to be mysterious sometimes and hey, maybe I’ll spill all the gruesome details next time, you never can tell, right?
Before I go any further I’m extending a sincere “sorry to have worried you” to everyone who thought I’d taken a dirt nap. I hate to worry people needlessly, I’m selfish but not that selfish. I was just caught up in something that took the better part of a few months and was basically incommunicado to just about everybody but the people in my immediate vicinity…and Anna, haha. She, along with a few others can always track me down. She’s not my best girl for nothin’.
I love the way that sounds, no one has said that since like, 1965 and it’s a bit creepy and so delicious. It’s sounds like something your weird uncle would say just before he asked you to show him your new Rainbow Brite panties, “Now you know Uncle loves his best girl…”

I like to be a little creepy now and again, it keeps people off balance and that can be important when you’re a “manipulative heroin addict.” *rolling eyes* Those are not my words if you couldn’t tell. I can manipulate with the best of ‘em but I had that notch on my belt long before drugs were involved. Back to creepy.

One of my favorite things to do when bored was to wait until there were a bunch of rookie junksters (that didn’t know more than my name and evil rep) hanging out at Nicole’s. I would climb on Casey and we’d put on a serious display of public affection. After they got an eye full, I would give them a very loaded smile, turn to my darling and whisper (LOUDLY), “I wonder what they would think if they found out we're actually half brother and sister?”
I would usually tell them the truth if they lasted more than a few weeks but some of those kids are still walking around today, visions of junky incest dancing like sugarplums through their muddled heads. Fuck it, like that’s the worst that has ever said about me? Brother fucker wouldn’t rank too high on the list, haha.
So I hear that I’ve been dead since August? Fancy that and here I thought I was just missing in action for a bit. Not for nothing but sometimes shit comes up and sometimes it’s just me being a self involved cunt and then other times it’s a nasty combination of the two. Anna is quite obviously an asshole (though I do adore her for just that reason) for re enforcing the belief that I had become a statistic. I did feel bad and miss everybody horribly, if that counts for anything, it probly doesn‘t tho.
I did not OD…EVER! Well not in recent history anyway. In general I try to avoid it as it seems a deplorable waste of product and really you can only get so fucked up before you either go into a temporary mini coma and can’t enjoy it or just plain die.
Both of these are crap options in my opinion as anyone who has ever OD’d (and lived) can confirm. It’s not so bad on the way out but waking up sans clothing in some random (COLD!!!) shower with various people slapping the bejesus out of you and ice in your nethers is kind of a buzz kill. I know, I know, this kind of moderate attitude is so not like me but in true Melody Lee fashion there are purely selfish motives at work.
I used to have a much more gluttonous view when it came to doing ridiculous amounts of dope but in recent years I find that I would rather do a teensy bit less and enjoy it a whole lot longer. That’s just me though, if you want to gather up every crumb of smack and bang it all in one go, have at it. I’ve been there and I know there’s something glorious about estimating just how much dope it takes to not quite kill you.
Sometimes being almost dead is just what you’re after.
The problem with this is that the purity fluctuates so frequently that tonight’s perfect shot could likely be tomorrows overdose and that just takes us back to the subject of misuse. Waste not, want not, at least where H is concerned.
I’m told that a “meant for better than this” attitude denotes severe Narcissism. I am also told that I am Narcissistic to a fault. So it should come as no surprise when I tell you that I should have been famous or at least infamous. Either would’ve done beautifully as long as it meant scads of attention and absolute wads of money to waste on lovely, trivial things and the drug of the moment (any given moment).
Unfortunately the main thing holding me back has been the lack of any marketable talent whatsoever. *sigh* Not one single God given skill or the motivation with which to acquire a self taught one. I am simply too lazy to bother, my ingrained sense of apathy has won out. Moving on…to something else about MEEEEE!
I really hope that when rumors of my August OD were floating about, no one dared think that it was a deliberate act on my part. I hate to think that I was chalked up as a mewling suicide because my last post had been somewhat disjointed and depressing. That is so not never, never, never gonna happen! I may off myself by accident one of these days but not on purpose.
Dead bitches can’t shoot dope (at least not from what I’ve heard) and I intend to enjoy that luxury for as long as brotherfucking possible! Maybe it’s not the best way to look at things but if you don’t like it you can keep your eyes on your own damn paper , no one would ever believe you came up with these answers anyhow. Life is one big multiple choice test or didn’t you know?
Oooh hoo! I am so profound this morning! Haha…
Sleep deprived is closer to the truth, I’ve had a negligible amount of sleep in the last month and I believe it’s catching up with me. Of course you would never know it to look at me, even this fuckered up I can still sparkle like one of those ridiculous Twilight Waaaahmpires.
Christ don’t get me started on Edward and his ultra-sensitive vagina, I could go on for days.

I had intended to regale you with some of the things that took place just prior to and during my disappearance but it would seem that I’ve already written quite enough for one post. I should go now.

Sleepy, sleepy kisses,

~Melody Lee (resurrected)

Insomnia

2010-08-07T06:26:00.000-06:00

I can't sleep, my head hurts. I'm remembering odd, disjointed things, sitting here in semi darkness. Past scenes dancing in my mind, my brain aches from it. Maybe I have an aneurysm?
Mike Harvey died when his brain exploded. Devoted heroin addict, dead from a rupture, ironic. He had white blonde hair, his mother's name was Georgia, why do I remember that? He was older than me by 6 or 7 years, he taught me where to fence boosted movies and weird shit like batteries and aspirin. The Arabs in the ghetto stores give 25%.
Driving up and down East California Ave and East Truxtun selling stolen tools to the crap auto yards that were most likely fronts for drug operations anyway. We got paid in the front and bought our dope in the back.
The alley off Brown St where every morning cars would line up for drive thru service, money through a hole in the fence, H over the top with a free dime of coke as an incentive to keep coming back. Fixing while he drove us home. He stole brake pads and put them on my old Regency so we could keep the money my mom gave me to take it in. He drove a red Volkswagen Beetle.
I told my grandmother he was my boyfriend so he could sleep at the house. I was fucking someone else. I sold my horses and we went to Vegas, the Heroin was gone before we crossed the city limits.
Sick in Vegas, tossing, turning, sweating...my first real bout of sickness. Miserable. My mother wires me enough money for gas to get home and a little extra. We score crap dope cut with lactose and it gets us well enough. Fill up the car with a stolen gas card and drive from Nevada straight to the connect in Bako, finally real relief.
Back to the grind, drive, hustle, score, shoot, nod, rinse, repeat. I miss Mike. I miss my mint condition blue 77 Regency. The police called it the junky jalopy.
Got stolen and stripped when I was living with Casey off Union and Hwy 58. Cops found it a week later, the car was naked. No more junky jalopy.
Middle of summer, on foot, walking miles up Brundage to beg a front. Get well, hustle, hustle, hustle. Make $50, owe $20, what a bitch.
Dr. Swanson pill detox, $150 got you valium, clonodine pills and dermal patches, compazine, chloralhydrate syrup, soma, melatonin. I took some of everything and fixed on top, woke up with Casey, Joe and Will in a cold shower, they had to search and peel all the patches off me.
It's a blur, it's a blur, it's a blur and I miss it. I miss my supposedly wretched junky life. I miss being 16 and thinking that I'd be dead and buried in 3 years and not giving a fuck about it anyway. I miss doing speedballs in the hot summer heat and then sitting on the back steps, letting the waterhose run all over me, clothes and all. It felt like jello and my ears would ring and ring.
I need to lie down, give my head a nice, soft pillow to explode on.

Arrested Development Won't Help Me Here.

2010-08-07T03:04:00.001-06:00

I love it when someone, anonymous of course, leaves me what he or she presumes is a biting comment and then fucks it all up by making absolutely no sense whatsoever. Yes I am a junky, possibly dumb although opinions vary but what the fuck does rationalizing hafta do with that particular line from my last post?
I wasn't quite as evolved in my drug use at that point in time and certainly no junky, so how does the way I felt then have one single, solitary thing to do with who/what I am now?
Is it rationalizing to admire someone for doing something so beautifully distasteful and unnecessary that it becomes awe inspiring? Yeah it was gross and kinda creepy but the fact that he even went there is almost poetic in it's own vile way. Respect is subjective, not to be lumped into one single category, one might assume that a person as mentally gifted as yourself would recognize that.
Moving on, I have no stories of young boys selling their virtue for a taco this evening, interesting as they may be. I am restless and have no patience for such things.
I am doing my damnedest to make this thing with Adrian die a quiet, peaceful death. I think it was sometime last week that I came to the realization that when one's life begins to resemble a Pat Benetar song, it's time to take action. I only thank God that Richie is far, far away and thus unable to complicate matters any more than they already are. I've been so fucking scattered these past few months, I don't think I could handle it.
I went for a ride with Maniac to kill time and ended up somewhere I shouldn't be, dealing with morons who have no place in my life at all. Some rotten toothed, arrogant, greasy business contact of Rainman's got a bit too pushy and I was escorted back to the truck after telling him that I refused to be dictated to by some Bobby Peru looking motherfucker who didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground! I couldn't help it really, that jerk off truly looked like he had been dining on crunchy gravel for the last 20 years and IFC has been running Wild at Heart all week. You can understand how I made the connection.
I went gladly and waited out the transaction, no foot dragging here! That house smelled exactly like his teeth looked, no great loss to sit in the car. I wasn't interested in their speed or their bullshit and was also preoccupied with the Adrian situation.
Once I got home, ate the dilaudid that R-man gave me and sat to try and figure shit out, I decided to attempt the pussy way out and just not answer the phone/door...ever again. I would've worked beautifully if not for the fact that Casey was in a pissy mood and the incessant ringing was driving him crazy.
I don't have the energy to go into details right now but let me just say, if love is a battlefield this has all the makings of a massacre. I'm just not in the right frame of mind to be nice about anything and my patience is deteriorating at an alarming rate.
If there was ever a time that I thought my arrested development put me on the same level as Adrian, I am over it now. I'm so glad I was done with highschool before I had to deal with crap like this. My experiences concerning the opposite sex were of a much more adult nature when I was his age and I always had the sense to know when something was done and over with. I never wanted to be that girl who was too stupid to know when to kick rocks and I never have been. I don't plead or try to bargain, I get out while the gettin's good and that is the best advice I can give anyone.
I sincerely wish Adrian was as good at reading the situation as I was, this soap opera is getting exhausting! I'll take as much responsiblity as is mine but no more than that. I obviously blurred the lines between innocent slap and tickle and serious involvement, yes I did. I also took it for granted that he would understand the difference and not be such a girl about it! *sigh*
Anyway, I'm working on this issue and asking myself how someone who looks like Adrian can be such a bitch about all this. I've been told that my attraction to him lies in fact that his being younger than me makes him less threatening but to agree with that would give credence to that voodoo they call psychology and that is something I won't do. I've been surrounded by threatening guys most of my life, why would I start to care now? Exactly, I wouldn't.
So I will go on my merry way, watch movies til dawn and hope that I will fall asleep at some point, not likely but I can dream.
Champagne wishes,
~M

ooooh he gives me head

2010-07-22T04:14:00.001-06:00

I'm so fucked right now! Nada new there, right? Right! I'll get myself out of it one way or another, it's not really so serious, I'm just feeling a bit under the weather and letting shit bother me more than it should. Self induced sickness is a motherfucker! I'm also somewhat delirious right now, so excuse me if I'm more incoherent than usual.
So clean, so depressing and I'm stuck on a weird incident from the past...well a few of them really but like most memories they tend to melt into one long dream and it's really difficult to decipher one day from another.
I got a voicemail from one of the people involved a few days ago and due to the nature of this particular memory, I'll just call him Alan. Of course Regina especially and miscellaneous others will know exactly who I'm going on about but for his sake, I'll leave him anonymous. Not that he would care, he was and is one of the few people I know who is as vulgar and shameless as I am. This is not always a good thing but what can you do...
So anyway, Alan had always been on the forefront when it came to inspiring shock and disgust, it was one of the things that made him so much damn fun to be around (most of time). From his "fuck the retarded" T-shirt (he always made sure to have at least one semi-retarded seizure in a public place while wearing this) to the fact that he often approached pregnant women and told them he wanted to fuck their baby..."riiiiight NOW." It's really alot funnier than it sounds, maybe you had to be there.
Around the first time we met him, he cemented his reputation by whoring himself to a repugnant, clammy handed guy named Cole...for a taco and a soda. Alan was not gay, (though it has been said now years later that he has more sugar in his tank than previously suspected) and he was not particularly hungry, he did because he could. Gotta respect that on principal, right?
So while we all went in and watched some random band play at Bam Bam's, Alan got his dick sucked by the most revolting chicken hawk of all time. I think we were all around 14 or 15 and it should have been more disturbing than it was but we took it in stride and spent the rest of the night laughing about how He'd made Cole buy a porno mag so he could hold it over his lap and look at naked bitches instead of the flat back of that pervo's head.
Years later this set a pattern for those two. As we all drifted deeper and deeper into heroin use and addiction, anytime A needed cash, he could always call Cole and come to an agreement. More often than not, I was the mode of transport to these rendezvous and it never failed to play out the same way. The ride there was spent with Alan running at the mouth about what a chump Cole was and," I don't give a fuck, that nasty queen wants to blow me and give me cash...fuck it, I don't give a fuck." My personal favorite was, "Just cuz he's sucking my dick don't make me a faggot." Ah, the eloquence of confused little boys, huh? A didn't have anything against gays, it just made him feel better to say it I guess, whatever works.
So one night I had set Sara up on this blind date with my friend Geno and she totally blew it off. I felt unbelievably bad, Gene was such a doll and he really wanted to take her. I felt so bad that I went instead, I think we saw a movie and ate dinner but we were both so loaded, who can remember.
Casey wouldn't care, he had gotten arrested in SF and was doing a few months in San Bruno for commercial burglary and besides, he trusted Geno completely.
Gene was one of my surrogate boyfriends at the time, coming over and helping me deal with shit because even though Frog was there, he wasn't exactly threatening and with Casey gone it was too tempting to come in and try to relieve me of an ounce or so of that sticky black tar.
So we had gotten back to Christen's to find Alan waiting and sick ( Frog had sold the last bag) and I guess he had called up Cole to try and make some cash before I got back. The connect was gonna take an hour and we offered to drive A to go meet his sugar Daddy. Frog acted appropriately horrified but we all know the truth behind that little act, don't we?
Anyway, we drove him there and waited for it to be over and on the way home we listened to Jet boy Jet girl and watched A transform from a swaggering buttface to a sniveling little boy and back again. All the bravado in the world can't make that situation palatable and it was taking it's toll. He always managed to rally though, calling on that thing that all us addicts rely on so much...selective memory. That and cracking jokes at his own expense so we could all laugh instead of dwell on how truly wretched the experience had been.
So I got that voicemail and instantly started listening to that song, almost without realizing what I was doing. Isn't if funny how an auditory memory can take you right back to a certain time and place? For me it was riding in Geno's Cadillac and listening to Captain Sensible sing that song while Alan alternately wiped tears and talked shit. Sweet Memory lane.
If you've never heard it, it's lovely, one of the few songs that made me wish I was a scrappy gay boy rather than my womanly self. I don't really care for the original, the CS version is what it's all about.
All over the place aren't I? What do you expect, I'm typing this while drowning in a flood of snot and tears and yawning like I have a damn heart condition!
That's it, I'm done. I have things to do and well, I'm antsy just sitting here, soooo...til next time,
~M
PS. That is a drawing off lizbaillie on livejournal, just to give credit n all, though why I'm caring is beyond me.
PPS. Regina and Anna please try and restrain yourselves from commenting on his real name, I know y'all want to!

...more than I did when you were mine

2010-07-13T00:53:00.002-06:00

Here's me and Anna as the platinum blonde booby twins, she's probly gonna kill me for putting up this pic of her but I think she looks wickedly hot and I don't care.

Not to be denied his entertainment, Maniac (he's here fucking around with my latest photos), has informed me that he's waited long enough and if I don't do something about Adrian's Yoko, he will deliver her to me. It would seem that she has made quick enemies of almost everyone in their little circle, even Richie who is no friend to Adrian and not even in NM right now. I got a text from him as well, telling me that he would love me forever if I happened to cause her harm. He was exposed to her particular kind of crazy when he came to visit and wishes her gone. I would looooove to know how the fuck I got tapped for cooze control!

I find much of this oh so amusing as it's verrrry rare that Richie meets a girl he can't charm within an inch of her panties, especially a cute one. Yes, she's cute, like a cheerleader but also quite a cunt to anyone remotely acquainted with Adrian. I'm definitely more than acquainted with that sweetheart so she reserves a special kind of hatred for me. Not my fault that he still calls and comes by to bring me stuff, not really.
So I called Rich and told him he'll love me forever regardless and that I'm not going looking for her just because they want me to, contrary to popular belief, I'm not that easy. If our paths cross at the appropriate time, then maybe but I'll be damned if I go out of my way. I'm not a bully for fuck sake...Unless they pay me to be.
Rainman is usually too caught up in his geeked out fantasy world to pay much attention to his crew's random cock ornaments but this girl has managed to pierce even his meth thickened skin. He'll pay me, he has before but I don't want a ridiculous amount of methamphetamine, I want cash baby. I'm so over the cryssy right now!
The last time I did some was months ago, a crazy good batch that R-man was very generous with...too generous. Long, jagged shards of barely opaque glass that smoked for days and days and left nothing behind to mar the pipe. So strong that shooting was advised against...too strong.
I was soooo fucking gakked, all of us were and it led to some stupid shit, not the least of which was almost wrapping the truck around a cow out in the middle of nowhere. Not my finest moment. That and a few other incidents have made me wash my hands of any further speed adventures, at least til I forget what that come down felt like. Christ on crutches that was a miserable fucking week!
So yeah, cash only fuckers or opiates of equal value, nothing less will do.
The truly sad thing is that I don't think Adrian would care if I did run her off, I mean he just ditched her (again!) to go buy me ciggs and Iced coffee. I don't know about you but to me that speaks volumes. They had this ridiculous scene across from my house the other night and had I been less preoccupied, I might have done just what they all want from me and kicked her ass from here to Kansas! I think perhaps the wench grows tiresome and who could blame him? All that ill conceived animosity towards people she doesn't really know, that has to be a drag. I was just telling darling Leora that guys are retarded and need to be more discriminating when choosing a cum dump, they always end up with psychos that make more of a situation than it really is. This thing with Ade is a perfect example! I could be wrong but I don't think he was looking for a long term , ball busting old lady and now he's too nice to tell her to piss off.
Jealous bitches are the worst and how it must rankle for a girl like her to be jealous of me. She's younger, free of tattoos and track marks, cute (like a baby viper) and most importantly, she's spread wide open for him anytime he chooses. I'm not any of those things and yet she's the one sitting at her sister's apartment while her boyfriend runs around and buys me shit, with her credit card no less! Cruel, cruel world. *smirk*
I almost feel sorry for her, I would if she wasn't so goddamn stupid! These girls who think that their gold plated pussy is gonna be the one thing to change a mess of a man, well it's just sad. Adrian is a disaster, an ungodly attractive one but a disaster nonetheless. No piece of ass will ever change that, not hers, certainly not mine...you take the mess with the man or you move on to one with less baggage. No one can change anyone else, it's a fact and lil Miss pep squad hasn't figured that out yet. Tough lesson, bitch.
If I'm being mean, well I'm not really in the mood to feel bad about it. Adrian just pulled up, in HER car and he looks so adorable, too good for a little girl who only sees him for what she can make of him, not what he is. He's deliciously damaged, sweet, considerate and a better man on drugs than most men are off. Pretty involved opinion for a bitch who claims she doesn't care, huh?
I have serious issues with the men in my life, I'm still confused as to how I can carry on these (mostly) platonic relationships without self destructing. Somehow I've managed to keep Casey from killing all of us and also kept myself from giving in to either of them. I consider them mine in a weird way, not like I care if they go out and fuck whoever but if it were to get serious, I think it would bother me. Now who's the jealous bitch?
The really stupid thing being that I'm fairly sure I could have kept one or another of them if I had really wanted to. Adrian for sure and Richie on lesser but no less satisfying basis. So lame!
I need to get my head straight when it comes to my boys and...and then what? I'm open to suggestions because fuck if I know how to handle it. I actually love the little bastards, not in the way I love Casey of course but it's still genuine. I would miss them if they were gone but it's not fair to keep this up is it? One more reason I loathe the detox process, I get all introspective and stupid, hashing out shit that can be put off til a later date.
Though honestly, I'm not really sick anymore. I cashed in on the fact that my percocet script ran out a week ago (gone 3 days after I got them if you wanna know the truth) and went to urgent care for a temporary med refill. I made sure I was sweaty, shaking and so on just to make it look authentic. I'm brilliant when it comes to psyching myself out so my vitals go all screwy and back up my story.
It's not really lying, I would be getting those pills anyway, seeing as how my useless docs are at their wits end when it comes to my medical issues. Pain managment is the only option, there's no cure for what ails me (in more ways than one, heh). I don't think they would be too impressed if I told them that heroin is the only thing that chases away the sizzling nerve pains, they would assume it's psychosomatic (it's not) and leave it at that.
I feel like Keyser Soze every time I leave the hospital, the further I get from the building, the more my symptoms disappear. By the time I get to my car, script in hand, I'm barely recognizable as the rocking, palpitating wretch they saw a few minutes before.
To be continued, Maniac is done with the pics and Adrian is leaning over my shoulder trying to read what he oughtn't...he's been drinking my coffee and smells like vanilla lattes and cigarettes, sooooo damn good. Oh shut up Regina, who are you, the morality police? I can think it can't I? Just look-ie no touch-ie, I promise.
~M L

Bloody messessssssssss.

2010-06-26T01:11:00.001-06:00

This giant litter box they call New Mexico is literally draining the life out of me. It's Friday night and what the fuck am I doing? I can tell you what I'm not doing, I'm not getting the hell out the house to go do something ill advised and I'm not high. FUCK am I not high! I am in fact as far from high as you can get, meaning that I am sick, sick, sick. Like ready to drive 6 hours to go score if it wasn't almost midnight sick.
I'm such a pussy now that a mild edgy feeling is enough to make me pace the house all night looking for lost cottons and contemplating the syringe full of coagulated blood sitting on my nightstand. Seriously, I'm weighing the consequences of what might happen if I cook out the blood and pop it. It's only about a month old and yes at the time I found myself reluctant to toss it out because it contained enough heroin to knock me down...but it will almost certainly mean a wicked abscess and I'm low on Keflex.
Decisions, decisions!
If I was smart I'd shoot it into the toilet and be done but the junky in me finds that beyond abhorrent so I'll leave it where it is and hope that a few more hours of this restlessness will produce an outcome I'm comfortable with. Maybe I'll go to sleep? Maybe not.
I snatched the keys to Casey's truck and ransacked it, looking for pills that I know are there somewhere but he is too much of a Nazi to dole out, even though he isn't gonna take them himself. The fact that they were mine to begin with is lost on him.
Since he happens to be one of those wretched creatures that can force sleep while dopesick, he isn't too concerned with my malaise. Sufficed to say he thinks I'm malingering. It has been over a week and at this point I'm probly kicking suboxone not dope but that doesn't make me feel better at all! He suggested I do some theraputic house cleaning until I feel better, I suggested he go bugger himself with a pitchfork. How am I to do the Devil's work if these hands don't remain perfectly idle? Exactly!
If I wanted to I could hunt down some overpriced oxy or even some free speed but I'm not quite there yet. Doing that means subjecting myself to some kind of drama and/or idiocy and I'm just too wilted to deal with it.
I stopped the subs 3 days ago and haven't slept since and that doesn't bode well for anyone that comes within 50ft of me. I'm twitchy, easily annoyed and have the odd (yet somehow comforting) feeling that grinding my foot into someones face might be just what I need.
Adrian is banging some girl from Aztec and Maniac is way too eager to make introductions. Why I should care is the question of the hour. I don't really but I've heard (bet you can guess from who) that she is less than thrilled when my name is mentioned and if that wench gives me so much as the stink eye, I will knock it out of her head and shove it up her ass! I'm not terribly stable right now and am actually giggling at the picture of that in my head, not a good sign.
Adrian is a doll but I can't bang him so it stands to reason that someone else should but if that someone is stupid enough to think that she can engage me in some lame cooze bitch fest, she is sorely mistaken. I will knock her on her ass before she finishes the first sentence...and then I will go to jail. Girls like that always call the cops.
Christ, am I making any sense right now?
I've decided that the next person who says "F-bomb" within striking distance is gonna geeeeeeet it! That also goes for," Amaze-balls" do these people hear what is coming out of their heads??? I have along list of shit that irritates me no end, it includes ironic mullets, pork pie hats and crocs, pity the fool who leaves the house sporting all three, at least if I'm around. Good thing I didn't go to Turkey with Regina, according to her I've just described the majority of German tourists she came across.
My head is a mess right now, one half is saying that I should go kneel on Casey's chest til he gives up the pills and the other half is remembering that Faith No More sued the Care Bears...what the fuck is going on???
My favorite pussy is up in arms because my phone was out of commission for a week...it's back on Kitty Kat, same number as before, just switched vonage to comcast, no biggie. Problem with the phone is that if you answer it people start getting the idea you wanna talk to 'em. Not aimed at you K, jut sayin' is all. Call my cell.
Espanola got hit by the Feds on June 5th (I think) and it's made things inconvenient as they gaffled up 75% of the people I knew there. I wonder how many pics they have of me? Hmmmm...
Better go now before I go completely incoherent, I got's some blood to boil.
Kisses,
~Melodyyyyyyyyy.
P.S. listen to The Murder City Devils, In Name and Blood. I don't love every single song on there but pressgangs, crying cowboys and drunken homicide never sounded so good. Plus it reminds me of Mikey and that's never a bad thing.

Vapid, Trivial and Not a Little Gross

2010-06-13T22:34:00.000-06:00

I have some utterly self involved rant all written and ready to post but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It's not often that it happens that way, being in love with yourself has it's perks but not tonight. Usually I would be perfectly content to publish it and then wait for all the douchey comments that would inevitably follow so that I could lord my ability to justify any damn thing over all the anons who dared question my absolutely brilliant and in no way flawed point of view. I am perfect and therefore immune to the questionable logic that plagues the imperfect masses.
Haha, if there's one person out there that takes this last (and unbelievably run on) sentence as gospel, it will make my week, several times over in fact! Lighten the fuck up for Christ sake, find something better to do with your time and give someone else a chance at righteous indignation, you've been hogging it all up, leave some for the rest of us.
So I'm going for something inane, a little bit vapid and maybe just plain trivial. I am, after all a normal girl with normal issues and though I choose not to go on about such things, I too have days when I just don't feel fresh.
Don't be afraid, although I have no compunctions about bringing up my past as a needle toting turbo whore, I'll keep mentions of festering lady parts to a minimum. If anyone is wondering, I have no such afflictions, having been partial to condoms during my stint as a rent a hole. It's the practical thing to do and has saved me untold amounts on Valtrex and Cipro. A girl has to think about her health after all *snickering* and that old slag's tale about blowing rock smoke on suspect genitalia...well if you believe that, then you just deserve to catch the herpes!
Anyway, back to the present, my hair has gotten unbearably long and I'm at the point where if I don't do something soon, I may just shave it all off. I'm also growing tired of snide Lady Gaga comments! Lets get one thing straight, if I look like a bleached out tranny so be it but if there's one thing I know is that I've pulled off some version of this look for the last decade or more. I don't look like that crazy cunt, bitch looks like me! Whether that's good or bad is up for interpretation but there it is.
So I might and I stress MIGHT be picking some other color for my hair and may even be open to suggestions. As long as it isn't anything that looks like it might be natural, can't have that. Maybe I should hold a contest?
Well I think that's about it and I definitely fulfilled my goal of a vapid yet trivial post, I even threw in something to put you off your food, just for giggles. I hope you appreciate it! *sigh* I'm always thinking of others.
Weird, for some reason I was just reminded of the time (one of 'em), when we were getting tailed by the cops day and night and how I used to make the runners carry all my bags when I went shopping. Haha, being my bitch was part of the job description. Plus it made it more entertaining for the police, watching me drag Frog, Jimmy and Joe around to all manner of shops, loading them down with packages and making them get manicures. Maybe I was a little bored and that makes me mean but fuck it, they got paid damn well! I bet Anna remembers some of that, heheh.
Hmmm, that's making me smile, I may hafta write more on "The Tower" chronicles later.
Kisses,
~Melody Lee

Diversionary Tactics...

2010-05-26T08:08:00.001-06:00

Not to add another car to the "everything sux ass" train but this seems to be the year for it. We just heard that another friend has been relegated to the dead pile. I guess it really does happen in threes.
He was more Casey's friend than mine, I knew him well enough but we weren't close, even tho I lived with him for a short while.
As far as I know it had nothing to do with Heroin (isn't that refreshing?), he burned up in a fire. Something to do with a wayward molotov and the inability to escape the squat in a timely manner. He was toasted up like pork rind and I'm sorry it happened to him, not a pleasant way to go. So hasta luego, Jason M. RIP.
With all this melancholy crap, I feel like I should put up something to distract from it, not detract, just make the all the charred imagery go away for a bit. I know I could use something to cleanse me of that mental picture and all the horrid details that go along with it. And yes, they were absolutely awful!
So here's some of the pics from the Vegas car show thing and my scabby stiches tattoo and some other crap I captured on camera. There's tons more but they need to be scanned and that requires actual effort so...Enjoy

And the horse it rode in on...

2010-05-19T12:54:00.000-06:00

Another friend gone...what can I say? I don't want to seem nonchalant about it, because it's not that easily gotten over but really, what can I say...what can I do? Not a damn thing. Just get through my day as best I can and know in my heart that he, that they won't be forgotten, at least not by me.
It always bothers me a little bit that I can get past these things so quickly, that the last time I cried real tears over a friend's death was more years ago than I can count. Not to say that these recent losses haven't made me weepy but it's never at the appropriate moment. It'll be at some really stupid time, like when I'm doing the laundry or driving down the street that I end up with tears streaming down my face and the feeling that my heart has been torn out of my chest. Like some weird word/image association that reminds me of them and for a moment I think that I'll look over and see them next to me, doing the same shit they were doing the last time we were together.
I suppose I shouldn't be too hard on myself about this, I mean who can really say what is appropriate where grief is concerned. I just deal with it differently and have dealt with it so often that it just seems a matter of time til the next one comes around. It doesn't mean I miss them any less than the person who cries copious tears at their graveside, it just means I'm a little...different. Not better or worse, just different.
I don't even know what to write, I've been wrung out and hung up to dry. Funny that. I've decided that I'm done with alot of things and no heroin is not one of them!
I'm done with coddling self pitying sad sacks that don't have the balls to take a good look at their situation and see that they really don't have much to cry about AT ALL! Shut the fuck up, your mewling and stereotypical "depressed young man/woman" posturing is getting old and beyond boring and I won't feed your need for sympathy any longer!
I'm done with trying to please anyone but myself, including family. They were the last holdout where that was concerned but no longer. Truth is I never tried all that hard but as of now I am cutting off all that nonsense. They can take it or leave it, either way it won't affect me much. It doesn't mean I don't love them, it means I'm no longer going to go against myself just to make them feel better. DONE!
I'm not this horrible person that has no human feeling, I'm just sooo sick and tired of all the bullshit that attaches itself to those two issues. I refuse to deal with it, refuse to let it drag me down or choose my path for me.
If I choose to wreck myself in every conceivable way, I will damn well do it! You can join me, disown me or stand back and watch, I don't care which. Just don't expect me to apologize for it or make excuses, that's not the way it works.
And please don't turn your good intentions my way, misguided sympathy I can do without! I don't feel sorry for myself, I damn well don't expect anyone else to. If you are stupid enough to extend a sympathetic hand, don't be surprised if I lop it off and sell it for dope, fuck your pity and the horse it rode in on bitch!
I refuse to be that person, the one who pens a pretty tale of coercion, addiction, destruction and eventual redemption. I'll leave that to all the whiny cunts who get off on waxing about how high were their highs and how low their lows. Pfffft! Enough whiny cunts, I won't add myself to their number.
I wasn't coerced and I don't want to be redeemed, how's that for a pleasing story?
Fuckers, I don't want your help, just send me your money. Christ, I wish I was retarded enough to panhandle on the Internet...I'd make sooooo much cash! Tell people what they wanna hear and get paid for it...I was always too stuck up to panhandle but sucking dick for money, haha I guess that's different!
That's also a whole other post, so I'll leave it at that. I feel much better and may even be back before another 30 days has passed, never say never, right?
~Melody Lee
PS I'll be adding this link eventually but for all who have been asking http://noahnods.wordpress.com/ there you go. He tells me he's having trouble responding to e-mails so you can find the N man at that new blog address.

R.I.P. Joe 1981-2010

2010-05-02T02:55:00.001-06:00

He's the one on the left NOT wearing suuuuuper tight purple pants (sorry A but they are!), We'll miss you my brother...

Not Just One Thing

2010-04-26T09:37:00.000-06:00

Right, so this isn't going to be one long, focused effort, probly closer to a semi-coherent rant/ramble...you have been warned. My crappy music player is undergoing upgrades so I haven't been able to change the music, you'll just hafta grin and bear it or hit mute, your choice.
For the person who asked, Lora was one of my closest friends back home and she died of an H OD on the 4th of this month. She was complicated, difficult to get along with and so damn hard headed that it made you want to rip your hair out. I love her like a sister and am having one of my rare moments of guilt over her death.
Had I stayed in Cali, I would have inevitably been by her side and might have been able to keep her above ground a few years longer. She didn't want me to come to New Mexico, said that if I did, Casey would just use me as a crutch to fuck up and then put the all blame on me. She was right to an extent, he does do that sometimes.
She was kinda mad at me for leaving, Jerry said he knew I would and that he and L had argued over it, she was convinced that I wasn't that stupid and he thought I loved Casey too much not to. They were like the flip side of me and Casey; dark, dysfunctional and so caught up in each other that it made all bullshit seem worthwhile. I can't even imagine what Jerry is going through right now...
So anyway, that's just one of the reasons I've been MIA this month, the main one really. The others include my ever annoying medical issues (my percocet has been raised to an insane amount, not that I'm complaining) and by recommendation of a friend from work, I might be going to some specialist in Arizona, if I ever get off my ass and call his office. If not I'll be keeping up my monthly trek to Albuquerque to see my usual useless doc. Even I know better than to give someone a derivative of a med they have a severe allergy to. I was twitching and jerking like a marionette on crack! Stupid cunt!
I have gone back to refusing to take any pill I cannot readily identify. It's less twitchy that way.
Also, my family came to visit, which is always cause for equal parts happiness and alarm, nobody gets to me like my family! It was nice, even if my mom can still make me feel like a disobedient 8yr old.
In unrelated news, I got the stitches tattooed on my wrist awhile back and never got around to putting up pics. It looks gross, in a completely kick-ass way! They look all cartoon-y and Frankenstein-ish, I fucking looooooove them! You know something is creepy looking when the guy doing the tat finishes up and says, "Fuck, that shit looks crazy!" The best part was when it was all swollen and scabbed up, it looked almost real, people would stop and take a second look, just to be sure it wasn't. All in all, they are perfect! I might just put up one of the scabby pics, so y'all can enjoy it too.
I also have lotsa pics from the thing in Vegas, so I'll be putting those up as well. I woulda done it sooner but this thing with Lora made me feel even more lethargic and useless than usual. Casey looks adorable of course and I, having refused to paint and curl myself within an inch of my life, looked like a deranged Alice in wonderland with brass knuckles on the belt over my, um...pinafore haha. Not quite a pinafore but you can judge for yourself...when I get around to putting up the pics, that is. Maybe sometime this week.
My new friend wants me to take him to Albuquerque today and I'm not sure if I will. Casey hates him already because he calls me "Mami" and ignores Casey when he comes over. He comes to the door ALOT! So much that I just turned off my cell and ignore the door, it's easier that way. Cameron introduced him to me as being one of the few H users in town, he thought we might be beneficial to each other. So far I haven't seen it but whatever.
Tracksuit dildo got his car riddled with bullets at a stoplight but they missed his fat head, not sure if I care either way about that one. Never had enough interaction with him to wish him dead or alive, just enough to know he is a jerk-off of Spencer Pratt-like proportions and I want nothing further to do with him, especially if he's drawing bullets!
So, I guess that's all the news that's un-fit to print. Expect some pics soon and I'm sure some more rambling will follow as well.
~Melody Lee
P.S. Thanx to Rufus for threatening to come looking for me, with a search party like that, I may just go missing more often!

R.I.P. Lora 1984-2010

2010-04-20T08:30:00.000-06:00

Love and miss you babe...

Mean for all the Right Reasons

2010-03-27T20:09:00.000-06:00

The conclusion to my Richie episode:

I sat on the bed puffing on that disgusting brown cigarette and wondering how I was gonna extricate myself from this inconvenient situation. I hate to label Richie inconvenient but he most definitely is! Where he goes, difficult to explain misadventures follow, whether by accident or design, they are nothing if not inconvenient!
I needed to keep control of myself and the best way for me to do that was to climb into the safe, warm skin of sarcasm and snarky bitchiness that I wear so well. Talk about a defense mechanism, haha.
I didn't want to be mean, it's not in my nature to be nasty to people I like but this was an exception. I would tone down the acidity and keep the ouch factor to a minimum. Good plan!
I turned to Rich and blew a steady stream of icky More smoke into his face, looking bored and asking, "So what's up junior, what was so important that you had to stalk me into R-man's boudoir?"
I made sure to use equal parts mockery and disinterest to add just the right flavour to my question. I sounded like a proper cunt!
Poor little boy did his best to ignore my sudden personality switch but I could tell it had thrown him off a bit. I lay back on the bed, my legs hanging over the edge, feet swinging like a 3yr old, I even started humming under my breath as I created artful smoke rings and blew them up towards the ceiling.
He had started up some slick monologue about why he was pursuing me and ended it with a question...a question I ignored completely until he reached out and touched my arm in askance. Only then did I stop my humming...just long enough to turn towards him with a blank look and ask, "Hmmm? Did you just ask me something?"
It was brilliant! I felt bad, really I did, even if his darling face hadn't registered all that confused emotion and wilting testosterone, I still would've felt felt awful...pretty sure anyway. *smirk*
I knew if I could make him whiny, it would give me just the push I needed to finish the job, you all know my feelings about whining!
He tried to regroup and I hit him with, "Spit it out highschool, I don't have all night." Technically I had all night and into the next day but it was too good a line to pass up and Richie didn't notice anyway.
When he didn't say anything, I closed my eyes and returned to my smoke rings and leg swinging, when something works, stick with it! I felt the bed shift, dipping down like he'd raised himself up or rolled on his side. I was hoping it was him turning his back on me but when I opened one eye to take a look, I saw him looking down at me, the full force of those green eyes directed right at me!
My resistance wavering, I decided the best course of action was to close my eye and pretend I was not affected in the least. I thought I was doing a reasonably good job of it until I felt his breath tickling my ear and he whispered,"What you're doing right now, it's not gonna work."
I tried to counter with, "Hmmm?" but I knew he was onto me and it was gonna take alot more than vague indifference to put him off. I decided I need to up the asshole factor and try a direct and well, somewhat insulting approach. It was all I had left unless I wanted to resort to something that would make him hate me and that wasn't what I was after. I can be mean withhout being unnecessarily vicious, I save that for personal arguments and catfights, heheh.
I opened both eyes and gazed back up at him, schooling my face into something resembling amused understanding. Anything but what I was really feeling, if I let him see any kind of affection lurking in me, he would move in for the kill.
I kept my eyes on his and when he smiled at me, I smiled back, I couldn't help it but I refused to lose sight of my objective! This was gonna be really ugly and mean and so not what I wanted but it had to be done.
Still smiling at him, I reached up and put my hand on the side of that devilishly adorable face...and did my best to wreck every last vestige of self confidence in my beautiful boy. At least temporarily.
Stroking my thumb over his lower lip for extra effect...and ok because a broken finger couldn't have stopped me, I said,"So what's the deal pretty boy, is it really that bad? Don't try and tell me that you haven't had a hundred and one chances to get your shit wet in the few days you've been on the loose, I know you." He started to say something but I put my fingers over his mouth and continued,"Did something happen in jail to make you...uh shy with the ladies, an incedent in the showers perhaps? Is it cuz you feel "safe" with me?" He snorted and shook his head as if to say "what the fuck?" but I was not to be stopped. "Tell you what, if you really need to get off so desperately, you can go go into the bathroom for a little "alone" time. I won't tell." I put my hand on the back of his neck and pulled him close so I could put my mouth next to his ear and whisper,"Just remember, the door doesn't lock and it, uh...opens out."
He grabbed my wrist, pulling it off his neck and stood up. He paced back and forth a couple times running his hand over his shaved head before yelling,"FUUUUUCK!!!!" and fixing me with an questioning glare. "How the hell do you do that? How can you be be so godamned sweet and poisonous at the same time?"
I was now sitting cross-legged on the bed, fucking with the unusually large master remote, trying to look ocupied. When he kept silent I looked up and saw him staring at me expectantly.
"Oh, you want an answser to that?" I asked innocently,"I don't know how, it's a gift." I winked at him and went back to pressing buttons.
Poor Richie was at a loss. He sighed and told me stay put, he'd be right back. I didn't bother to look up, just said,"Mmmhmm" and held my breath while I waited for him to leave the room. When I heard the door close I let myself fall back on the bed and put my arm over my eyes, trying to will my heartbeat back to normal. I was having some success until I heard,"Daaaaang,that was some fucked up shit! Did you really just allude to a possible shower rape?"
I sat up and scanned the room for uninvited cholos and discovered an irritatingly familiar disembodied head peering from the corner of window, partially obscured by R-man's gaudy drapes.
I stood and walked towards him,"You're gonna choke on those big words, allude! Pffft! How the fuck are you even up there? This trailer is like 20ft off the ground!" I looked out to find him teetering on a stack of pallets and milk crates.
He smirked at me and said,"I couldn't miss this drama, that shit was better than watching tele-novelas." he brought his hand up to wave a video cam in my face," I bet those fuckers on youtube will think so too." He started laughing, way too pleased with himself.
I reached out and smacked my palm hard against his fat head, shoving him off his rickety tower to land in a sputtering heap, somewhere out of my range of vision, I told y'all that trailer was high. *snickering*
I could still hear him crashing around outside when Richie came back in the room, "What was that?"
"No one, er nothing important." I replied, promising myself that I would scour R-man's property until I found and destroyed Maniac's little recording! Youtube indeed!
I turned my attention to Rich, noting that the glint in his eye had dimmed considerably since my last assault on his ego, I was hoping that one dose of my acerbic tongue was enough. I started having doubts when he grabbed my hand a led me over to the bed. He sat and then pulled me down onto his lap and wrapped his arms around me, pressing his face into my shoulder. He didn't do more than that, so I stayed there. Eventually I turned towards him and hugged him back, it seemed like the thing to do and though the kicked puppy persona was clearly in evidence, he wasn't actively whining, so it was tolerable. Does that sound mean?
After a bit he just looked at me and said,"Why does shit get so fucked up when I'm with you?"
I looked back and said, "I don't know, it's a gift."
He laughed and I kissed him the forehead and then jumped off his lap and went to look through R-man's DVD collection. I avoided Requiem for a Dream like the herpes (that movie is waaaaay too fucked up for a night of light viewing) and chose Love & a .45, a personal favorite that I think I actually gave R-man for X-mas. It's not a widely distributed release, though it fucking should be!
So I got to watch movies with Richie curled up next to me, his head on my lap just like the little boy I keep telling him he is. I am so not one of those lame bitches to get all soppy over the little boy lost routine but it was extremely freakin cute! I even took a pic with my cell and sent it to Casey so he could see, haha. Not as fucked up as it sounds, I promise you. I called my angel to tell him what was going on and that I was running to Colorado the next day. Whe he asked what kind of mischief I was up to with Rich, I told him and sent the pic. (I might even post it here sometime, if it hides enough of his face to keep some meddling assclown from sending it to every P.O. in NM, some people need a fucking hobby!)
See, when it comes down to it, Casey knows I'm a mess but he trusts me just the same. I've done lots of things I shouldn't but never anything there's no coming back from, not recently anyway *wink*
I think the fact that I could but I don't means alot, just the same way he could but he hasn't. That could change but for now it's a comfortable place to be and that's all that matters. I adore Casey on a level so far above any silly jr. high flirtations, it makes everything else seem small by comparison, no bullshit.
Not saying it wouldn't be fun but ultimately not worth it, if it wrecks what I have at home. Am I a dope or what? I know what Anna Banana would say, haha but she's got issues of her own right now, so she can shut the fuck up! Love you bitch and you know I mean that in the nicest possible way.
So as you can see, I'm not dead, in jail and Casey did not murder me, chop me into bits and leave me as crow bait in the desert. Sorry to disappoint, haha.
Actually I am in excellent health and spirits! So much so that I have decided to put my well known hatred for Las Vegas, NV aside long enough to attend the 13th annual Viva Las Vegas rockabilly thingie. Couldn't give a lesser shit about the multitudes of hipster-billies that will be there, I'm just going so I can see Chuck Berry. Really can't pass up that opportunity, can I? Vicky is coming from Taos to watch the house, not that she needs to, this neighborhood is lousy with cops! Lucky me.
Too bad I've been snarfing sour bears all month and will look more like Bettie Pork Link than Bettie Page. Oh well, it is what is is haha and it's too late to cultivate an eating disorder especially for the trip. I'm sure I'll think of something to bring me back to my usual self before too long *wink* Don't worry, I'll take lots of pics so you can see me with my hair in victory rolls and Casey all greased up. I'd say we're worse than the hipster-billies but Casey's closer to a 50's grease-monkey than 75% of those fuckers and me, well I can get away with anything. Haha, seriously!
Besides, a large portion (toooo fucking large!)of those people care more about using the right brand of pomade than they do about learning the history behind the music they listen to. It goes a lil deeper than Jerry Lee Lewis and Carl Perkins, no disrespect to them, they kick ass but come the fuck on! Do some research, don't hogtie yourself with what amounts to 50's 101, The Stray Cats and the Nekromantix! Take some pride in what you stand for and I mean really take the time to find out, looking the part is not enough! I blame that for the scores of lame-ass, substandard rockabilly/psychobilly music that has assaulted my ears of late! If I hafta see one more crappy band, dripping Murray's hair dressing and under the impression that that, combined with using the word "cat" every other godamned sentence makes them passable, I'll swallow my fucking tongue! Heheh sorry, damn that came out of nowhere huh? Just one of my peeves rearing up to say hello.
Oh and before you ask, no I did not manage to find and stomp Maniac's filmaking debut out of existance, I had just started to file it under "Fucktard Cholo Fabrications" when I recieved a voice mail where all I could hear was gleeful tweeker chortling and me and Richie playing out our little episode in the background. This was followed by him sending me a highlight reel *sigh* I will think of something appropriately evil if the youtube threat becomes a reality!!! Try me.
Hugs, kisses and all that other good shit,
~Melody Lee

My Turn as a Domestic Slut has Truly Come to an End!

2010-02-13T16:56:00.000-07:00

Ok, so the pic has nothing to do w/my post, just bringing my work home with me, I s'pose.

So just to spite my newfound productivity, I ditched out on the second half of my shift last night, not a very subtle self-saboteur am I? Thinking I may be recovering some of my manic house cleaning energy, I have devoted myself to doing laundry today, though the fact that my dryer seems to be rebeling against it's one and only purpose (to dry, duh!) is seriously chipping away at my morale. Susie Homemaker I am not! It's been proven, time and again that I am quite possibly the worst house keeper ever.
I loathe cleaning...any kind of cleaning and I truly feel that the only thing driving me to scrub the house on a regular basis was lack of anything better to do. Now that I've found other ways to occupy myself, mopping the floors is the last fucking thing on my mind. Casey is somewhat displeased by my lack of motivation where house-wifely duties are involved and I find that I must keep reminding him that just because I'm Mexican, don't make me his fucking maid! Clever no? Clever si!
The one thing I have going for me is that I can cook, oh man can I fucking cook! Anything and everything and it's not only edible, it's usually delectable! Not braggin...well, maybe a little but a girl has to take her bows when and where she can. If I was a more practical sort, I would be sprinkling my posts with some of my kick ass recipes but alas, practical is not me at all. Plus I don't think that y'all are here to read about my unbelievably good version of beef wellington or how to make the best godamned creamy chicken soup with cheese tortellini, celery and leeks. Shame really cause that soup is soooooo fucking good! Even Casey likes it and he is usually too much of a carnivore to enjoy soup as a main course.
So anyway, I'm watching Roman Holiday and periodically dragging my ass outside to hang clothes on the line and shopping online for a new dryer. I want one of those front loaders that you can get in all the cool colors. I'm a bit unhappy with my new laptop, I got it in "moolight white" which looked alot better in the demo. It would have been closer to the truth had they called it denture beige! But the pavillion is tons better that that crappy vaio I had and if the color is the only thing wrong then I count myself lucky. That vaio was sooooo worthless! It was brand new and ran like a 5 yr old e-machine, I was totally disgusted so I got this HP Pavillion dv7 and now I'm happy. No more freezing up for absolutely no reason and refusing to convert my music files, fuck I hate that vaio!
So I had this really weird dream where I was getting molested by Joel Mchale but not as himself, as the guy he plays on community. The weird part being that it wasn't totally unpleasant. I'm usually immune to Ryan Seacrest-ish guys who use too much hair product but whatever, we all have our moments I suppose.
I'm also curious to know why it is that I am constantly getting propositioned via IM by guys from unheard of Ukranian villages. No, I am not the least bit interested in ,"having the webcam sexy" with you! I'm starting to think that my messenger ID's have been scrawled on the wall of some virtual men's room because I doubt they all got it from here. They never do tell me where they got it and I'm torn between thinking they're being coy or maybe just don't understand enough english to give me a proper answer. Oh well, that's what the "appear offline" setting is for.
Casey just got home and is shooting me adoring looks because by all appearances, the house is in the same state as when he left 4 hours ago. Nevermind that I have been hanging out washing like a Filipino houseboy! Maybe Regina can come stay and be our Filipina house girl? Haha, she'd love that! The only thing Regi likes more than housework is being subjected to Casey's moods.
So I have some rather interesting news on the Richie/Adrian/Casey front! Richie has somehow managed to get his hands on a weekend pass for the 6th of next month and has proposed that Adrian pick him (and some dilaudid) up in Colorado and then they meet me and Casey in Espanola. Wow, is that a recipe for disaster or what? Since I haven't filled you all in on the details of my last few hours with Rich, you can only judge from what you already know but even with that info you gotta know it's major bad news! Casey is sooooo unenchanted with Richie right now and he still hasn't gotten past my Adrian/crack episode. I don't know what R has planned since he doesn't shoot and will have to piss test as soon as he gets back to the home but I doubt he's gonna go without. I need to think this through a bit more, ok ALOT more.
I'm off, I need to go throw more clothes in the washer and kick the dryer on my way out the back door. Fat Mike (sprawled across my shoulders) says hello.
Kisses,
~Melody Lee

half assed update

2010-02-12T11:06:00.000-07:00

Well I had the conclusion to my Richie series all typed up and ready to go but blogger decided to eat it! So it looks like imma hafta do it all over again. Blegh!
It was interesting, even though I did feel like I was trapped in an episode of Benny Hill. I need to do a shot, I feel icky and edgey! I have some H left and a few subs for when it's gone but it looks like I'll be getting cleaned up this weekend.
I'm not feeling overly brilliant right now, so this is gonna be brief. I got promoted at work haha, is that some shit or what? I'm now a trainer and I get to um, train. Makes sense huh?
Anyway, Casey is at work and I'm all alone, getting ready to do the rest of my smack and nod until it's time for me to sign in. I'm on from 3pm to 1am and I'm s'posed to do 2 training sessions today. Wow, I feel so productive and useful! Pffft!
I am just as useless now as I ever was, so I have no clue how the fuck I managed to A) hold this job as long as I have B) actually prove myself an asset to the company. Just goes to show that you never can tell the way shit is gonna turn out.
I know there's plenty of fuckwads that will immediately comment about how they think my job is as worthless as I am and barely counts as employment at all but whatever. Suck shit, I'm not real concerned with your opinion anyway.
So I'm off to do a shot and enjoy what time I have before the girls call me. Good day to you all.
~Melody Lee

The Richie Chronicles Continue: I Am Brought Low by a Traitorous Door

2010-01-30T02:05:00.009-07:00

Me being...difficult.
Personally I think I look tired and slightly amused but according to everyone else who was present I was showing definite signs of bitchiness. Can you blame me?
I had spent the last hour applying way too much makeup, watching the boys play with my pics and marveling at the speed with which Rainman was trucking in and out of the house. Poor R-man was wired beyond all comprehension, well and truly spegakked! He'd been gibbering some nonsense at me but in his condition I was only able to catch the gist of what he was trying so desperately to communicate. Maniac was too wrapped up in his project to translate so the most I could fathom was that R-man thought my being there with Richie was a bad idea. Hmmm, wonder how he came to that conclusion?
Richie on the other hand had done his damnedest to make sure I KNEW being there was a mistake. He followed me every time I left the room, cornering me every chance he got. Had it not been for Maniac, all would have been lost and believe me, I feel stupid as fuck even saying that. If someone had told me that I'd be relying on that goober to keep me outta trouble, I'd a called em a liar.
But as enchanted as M was with his new software, he made sure to tear himself away anytime I went MIA for more than 10 minutes...God bless him! My hero, the cholo. He didn't have to bother coming up with lame excuses either, he simply said, "Uh-uh, uh-uuuuuuuuh!" whenever he caught Richie trying to maul me. And me close to letting him heh.
I s'pose maul is a strong word but accurate nonetheless. He's still in command of those fast hands I remembered so well and had no qualms in using them. Christ, those hands! Ummm...yeah.
So I was fighting the good fight, doing my best to keep from giving in but at the same time trying to talk myself into something that I knew would end badly. No amount of self delusion would make banging Richie an acceptable option...as delightful as it sounded. I needed to stay strong and get the fuck outta there as soon as humanly possible!
I had thus far resisted the urge to inject myself with speed(tho clouds of it floated through the room at will, making me gakked by association). Me+speed+needles= zero common sense! Divide by Richie and it =maybe just this once. Not a good plan! Just this once would inevitably turn into me waking up the next night in one of Rainman's spare rooms, deliciously bruised, sullied and no doubt searching for my drawers! All the while trying to mentally edit the whole thing into something that would be remotely acceptable to my beloved Casey without being an out and out lie. Ugh! Who have I turned into??!!
*sigh* Being good blows! I have no frame of reference for doing the right thing. I know right from wrong, it's not like I'm a simpleton, mainly I just don't care. I'm used to doing as I please in these (and all) situations and the excuse that R is practically a child was starting to seem like less of an obstacle. He's technically legal and that's what matters...right? Right!
Godamn it! No, not right! Wrong! Verrrrrry wrong! So wrong that as is typical with me, it began to take on an extremely attractive, glowy kind of aura. The kind of thing that is nearly impossible for me to resist, everyone knows that when faced with two paths, I will invariably choose the worst one, sometimes (most times) on purpose. It's part of my charm.
Feeling that I would soon disgrace myself with a man-child who was far too enticing for his and my own good, I did the only thing I could. I ran.
Out from under Richie's arms, into the living room, past the burbling meth savant, swooping in to snatch Maniac off his chair and sweeping us both into the most secure room in the place, Rainman's sleeping quarters.
Ignoring the, "Crazy Puta" muttered by my reluctant cholo sidekick, I locked the bolts,hooked the chains and stuck the raid rods in the floor. Maybe a little extreme but I felt tons better after it was done.
Maniac shook his head in disgust and asked, "Now what? Did you forget you're driving him to Colorado in the morning, pendeja?"
FUCK! I had promised to take Richie to wherever the fuck Adams County is. I probly would have given this problem much more consideration if at that moment Rainman hadn't been rattling the doorknob and chittering like a spider monkey. I shoved Maniac in the direction of the door, strolled calmly to the bathroom...and proceeded to barricade myself in with the pile of boxes/junk on the floor next to the sink.
I wasn't really able to make out what was being said in the other room and a few minutes later I heard the door shut and the locks turn. I was still stacking crap when someone said, "You know this door doesn't lock, right? And it uh...opens out haha." Richie swung the door open a stood there looking adorable and smug.
I took a deep breath...and started laughing, "I give up! You are seriously a pain in my ass! Christ, you make me insane!"
"With lust?" he asked, smirking.
"Fuck off!"
"I'd rather Fu..."
"Don't! That is so not gonna happen!" I shimmied around the mess on my side of the door and brushed past him, deciding I'd had enough of acting like a lame ass girl.
I grabbed him by the back of his pants and pulled him over to Rainman's bed. Pushing him down on it I proceeded to climb him like a jungle gym! Haha, just fucking with ya. I didn't climb shit, more's the pity.
I sat down next to him, punched him in the gut when he tried to grope me and lit one of Rainman's nasty More cigarettes....

I'll finish this up next week, I've given you enough to snicker at for one day haha. I was pretty retarded tho, huh? Also part of my charm :P If a person can't laugh at their own ridiculous antics, he/she is waaaay too uptight!
Enjoy the Gary Glitter on default, I thought it was appropriate considering the pedophile-ish undertones of my post.
Catch y'all later,
~Melody Lee

Mix Cd's are the devil!

2010-01-15T21:18:00.010-07:00

Me (and my tits) in all my soft focus glory, courtesy of Richie and Maniac

So as you can see by the pic, I spent more than just the drive to Rainman's with Richie but more on that later.
When we left the house I had informed Casey that I had been pressed into service as a chauffeur and got a drunken smirk for my trouble. Figuring that I would sort it all out later, I herded Richie out the door before my beloved boyfriend decided wringing R's neck was worth the trouble after all. Rich may have just stepped off the weight pile but Casey has it all over him as far as psycho goes. Not to mention bulk, I mean look at the size of his (Casey's) arms, he looks like freakin' Popeye for fuck sake! Way hotter tho heh!
Anyway, we got into my vehicle and I started us on the drive to Rainman's tweeker compound letting Richie play the mix he burned earlier at my place. I was lost in thought when I started to notice a disturbing theme. At first I did little more than roll my eyes and chain smoke when he sang along to various "mushy" songs by the Ramones. I thought I showed amazing restraint as I sat through I want you around and I wanna be your boyfriend. That was before he moved on the the Murder City Devils and Depeche Mode. Having Richie staring at me, earnestly singing about not going down on his knees begging me to adore him...it was clearly some insidious form of reverse psychology!
I did a remarkable job of not pulling to the side of the road, snapping the offending CD into pieces and climbing out of my panties. Had it been anyone else singing to me like a tard, I would have laughed them out of the truck but it was Richie. He can do pretty much anything without compromising his hotness, cheesy sing alongs included.
Instead I calmly ejected his mix o' questionable seduction and replaced it with something less...interpretable. Let him try and be adorable to Wayne County, I thought truimphantly! It looked as tho victory was close at hand...but then I witnessed him become immeasurably attractive whilst singing to me about making him cream in his jeans. He could've yodeled like a Swede (Swiss? Whatever!) and it would have been devastating, just because it was him. UGH! I was sooo out of practice when it comes to dealing with barely legal lotharios!
I turned down the music and we had a little talk...

Me: Why do you do this shit? I haven't seen you in soooo long and it's like you never left! You pick up right where you left off. It's fucked up, you know where I stand on all this.

Richie: I though maybe things were different, I heard about what happened over Loco's place with that hype from Phoenix. Plus Loco making comments about you and him hooking up. I Thought maybe...

Me: *grumbling* Fucking Maniac and his big mouth! First of all eeew! Loco? Really? That's what you think of me? Secondly what happened with Adrian was...complicated. I...got caught up in the moment.

R: Yeah, I heard that you did *smirking* that guy must either be a pussy or a fool to let it end the way it did.

M: Hmph! Big man are we? I suppose you would've carried me off like some jailbait caveman and...

R: What is it with you and the age thing? It's not like I'm 12, I'm grown and...

M: AND you lied to me! You told me you were like 19 and come to find out you had just had turned legal. UGH! I was almost a baby snatcher! Do you know how creepy that is? I spent my last year in Bako fending off advances from kids that I could have babysat for in Jr high! The last thing I expected was to have you to deal with as well, you're practically and infant!

R: *laughing* I think it's funny as hell and I wish you would just understand. I only want to know you *looking soulfully in my direction* It's like you only let me see one side and I want to get to know every part of you.

M: Hah, I know what part you're interested in! And it's spoken for!

R: Fuck, like that's a secret...come play with me over at R-man's tonight. Please? It'll just be you and me and maybe Maniac, Rainman is gonna be busy most the night. Like old times, you know you want to...and it'll be the last time we can kick back before I leave.

M: *sigh* gonna work that angle are you? Fine, I'll stay for a bit.

Richie smiled turned the music back up, he lit a smoke and we said nothing else the rest of the way. I already knew what I was letting myself in for and had to wonder at my lack of judgement. Not that I'm a model of restraint or anything but I usually try to keep it in my pants out of consideration for Casey. Crack enhanced make out sessions do not count if they are terminated before any clothing hits the floor...or dirt as the case may be heh.
I was gonna be in for it and sure enough, the moment we walked through the door, I was assaulted by a gakked cholo wielding a digi cam. It would seem that Maniac came up on all sorts of photo stuff and had been experimenting by taking pics of anything that would stand still.
Richie took the camera and started shooting waaaay too many pics of me and my impeccably turned out boobs. Though I knew they looked quite good, I (and my tits) soon grew weary of the attention and put a stop to the photo shoot.
They uploaded the pics and the boys played with the effects on paintshop pro, turning me into a soft focus daguerreotype. I was somewhat pleased by the end result so I decided to post it here.
I hate to do it but there's alot more to tell and it's gonna take more than one post, I will say that I have a few things to be ashamed of...good thing shame isn't in my repertoire. Shameless has it's perks. So does omission *wink* it's definitely in the top ten of favorite sins, omission kicks ass!
Anyway, I'll be back soon to tell all...shut the fuck up, YES I WILL! Haha, I'm gonna be sick for a few days and that usually results in regular posts. It's the nature of the beast.
Kisses and I'll see all y'all motherfuckers soon. Listen to the Angry Samoans while I'm gone, sooo good it almost hurts!
XO Melody Lee

The Return of Richie...and then some. Adrian who?

2010-01-11T11:21:00.002-07:00

Casey multi-tasking

I saw my baby Richie recently...totally unexpected! I was sitting on my ass, looking less than presentable, contemplating a long day of phone perversions when there was a knock at the window. Let me make it clear that no one knocks on the window anymore, not since Casey's last blowup. So even though he was at work, it was still unusual. Besides which, answering the door in thi-hi fishnets, boxers and wifebeater was less than ideal. Don't ask, I was having a desperately seeking Susan moment, the less said about that the better.
So I open the door and who do I see standing before me? My sweet Richie, looking super hot and as edible as ever. If anything he looked a bit less like the cute skate punk I remember. Being in lock-up will do that to you, especially to guys, serving time for males is vastly different than it is for females, at least in my experience.
Anyway, his head was shaved and he was all...fit *wink* he'd been doing some serious work on the weight pile or something (not sure if weights have been yanked in NM jails)he looked grown up and...uh, anyway, he looked good.
In true Richie style he ignored the fact that I looked like a throwback to an 80's movie and leaned in to give me a hug. Fuck he smelled goooood, familiar and disconcerting, all at the same time. We froze like that for awhile, him with his arms wrapped around me and my hands resting on his back. Don't know how long we would've stayed that way if someone hadn't cleared their throat in a very loud and obnoxious way. I pulled loose and looked around R's now considerable shoulders and saw Eric standing behind him. I ducked under Richie's arm and E swept me into a bear hug. I was less reserved with Eric just because there had never been weirdness between us. He finally let me go when Mr. Muscles grabbed me from behind and pulled me back into him. Signature Richie move and just as effective now as it ever was, uh-huh.
I suggested we go inside before we were spotted by a neighbor who would carry tales to Casey, probly something along the line of," Your old lady was practically banging two thugs on the front porch and she was wearing YOUR underwear!" Somewhat inaccurate but damning just the same.
They followed me into the house and we went into the bedroom heheh, not what you think. I had all kinds of shit going online and I needed to monitor while we talked. I will say that I did not hate seeing Richie sprawled out on my bed. Eric was a bit more circumspect, taking seat in one of the armchairs. Not to say that Eric isn't a cutie too, we just never had that kind of thing going on, thank god! That would be waaaaay too much to deal with!
So did I mention that seeing Richie laying amidst my blankets and pillows was not entirely unpleasant? I did? Well I'm saying it again, he is fucking HOT!
So I found out that the boys were making a brief stop in between reporting to their PO's and getting shipped to some men's home in Colorado (Eric had been out a few days already). The last time this happened I didn't get to see them at all and then they caught a case there, getting sent back to the pokey. So tho I managed to pull off one visit, the fact that I refuse to get a New Mexico DL (it makes my stay here seem way too permanent), kept me from visiting again.Now my boys were here, looking very grown up but still every bit the little fuckers I remembered.
Richie was playing with Fat Mike, rolling himself in my sheets like a big and very dangerous(to me)cat. I should explain to those who don't know that trying to ignore Richie is next to impossible, he's one of those magnetic personalities that you can't help but watch and the fact that he's unbelievably attractive don't hurt either! He's such a little sociopath, I swear to Christ that kid has every available emotion on speedial and fuck can he make it seem sincere. Regina calls me a sociopath on a regular basis but I don't really think I am, I kinda wish I were sometimes, it would make some things alot easier.
Anyway, we sat there and shot the shit for like hours, the boys ooh-ing over the ink I got while they were locked up. Some time later I heard the door and the phone in rapid succession, I answered my cell and got Cameron. He was outside waiting on me, I had totally forgotten that I was expecting C and crew. They were coming over to tie up some loose ends and grab some more percs and no doubt spend a good portion of the day in my living room. I turned to Eric and Rich and said,"Great, this just turned into a gangbang" getting a blank look from one and an interested smile from the other, I think you know who belonged to what. Gangbang indeed!
So I went to go let the others in, conducted some business and they arranged themselves on assorted couches. I went to take a shower and change into something more suitable, declining Richie's offer to join me. I am a good girl! Haha, maybe if I repeat that enough times it'll be true.*wink*
Casey had made it home by the time I was done swathing myself in my security blanket of black eyeliner and was less than pleased to see everyone, especially you know who. He made a snide reference to my "barely legal entourage" and ensconced himself in the bedroom to make love to the 3 40oz-ers he was holding. The pic is one I took of him that night.
So alot of interesting things happened,one of them being the drive taking Richie to Rainman's house. Eric had gotten a lift to his sister's from Cameron after some not so subtle prompting from Rich. So I will write about that next time because as usual my post has gotten beyond long and though too much of me is never a bad thing, enough is enough.
I'll be back, you know I will, I always am and if you miss me too much, listen to me on the voice thingie or look for my lame-o podcasts sometime this week. I could seriously kick my own ass for agreeing to do that shit! It could be interesting if I can get the always hard to pin down Veronica Vicious to make the guest appearance she's been promising...unreliable cuuuunt!
Why does that sound so familiar and strangely comforting? Hmmm, no idea haha.
See y'all soon...probly. Tho every smart kid knows I was born on a green light, it is a very selective light and picks and chooses when and where it will make it's influence known. It's an asshole that way.
Kisses,
~Melody Lee
P.S. No I haven't forgotten Adrian, I just temporarily placed him on the second to top shelf. No reflection on him, he's a sweetie, maybe too much so. I have issues dealing with guys that are too nice but the fact that he's gorgeous makes it sooo much easier to put my issues aside haha. A little bit of shallow every now and then never hurt anyone, promise!

For your enjoyment, last year's bitching 3 days late.

2010-01-02T07:26:00.009-07:00

On closer inspection of my pic^^ I am beginning to think that I should stop wearing clothing 3 sizes too large and stick to something more fitted that doesn't make it look as tho I have 30 fat rolls! Moving on, I'm watching some movie right now called Mondo Hollywood, aside from the somewhat nostalgic feel of it, the main thing that attracted me were the dismal comments left by previous viewers. Something to the effect of "what a waste of skin those hippies were" and "this movie is a flaming pile of crap" so after being subjected to such eloquence, I ask you how was I supposed to keep from watching? It's not so bad, although the 60's aren't really my thing. I think the best thing about the 60's was the music, the killer garage sound that came in waves from all over the place...it's quite simply amazing. I still get caught up in The Sonics and Richard and the Young Lions, The Beau Brummels, all that stuff is insane, simple and raw, practically perfect in every way. If you sat me down and forced me to listen to some of that summer of love folk shit, I might possibly gnaw through my wrists in an attempt to make it stop but not if we were listening to The Pretty Things or the Zachary Thacks. So I'll stop before this turns into my own private NME and turn my attention to other matters. My Little Red Book tho, seriously amazing and don't get me started on Talk Talk (curently on default)
So now I wanna direct attention to my previous post...omg hahahahaha, bonus points to you anon, seriously! After all my whining about this and that, you managed to goad me into just the kind of reaction that I try to avoid, generally because it just enforces your point and weakens mine. Not to say that I didn't make some very valid statements, oh indeed I did, not the least of which being that my choices are just that...MINE! Also forgetting during my Lyrica induced rant (not passing the buck haha, just sayin') that it doesn't matter how far I go to try and make someone understand, if they refuse to get it, there's no point in wasting time on 'em. I can't force my ideas on you any more than you can push yours on me but fuck if it wasn't fun trying.
Now all those things aside, I think my biggest issue with my last post wasn't the fact that I sound like a huge buttplug, I have no problem with that at all. My problem is that I was so immersed in making my point that I totally spaced my complete and utter dislike for the word braggadocios! I think anyone who actually uses that word in a sentence is a total anus, in person or print! Either way it's not a good look, who the fuck talks like that anyway? That word is at the top of my "did you seriously just say/do that?" list, right after bromance, asap (as in A-sap, spelling it is fine), copacetic (no everything is not!) and kabooby (not really a word, more of a flying camel but it weirds me out just the same). Further down the list are women who have decided that being called an actress is somehow demeaning and that they are now ac-tors (bah!) People who own hypo-allergenic pets and guys who when asked what they miss most since they've been locked up say their flat iron! I think that last one sums up everything that is wrong with the world. I may hafta write a scathing satire entitled "A Felon and his Flat iron" to further illustrate my Point! Am I the only one who thinks that is beyond ridiculous? I won't mention names but seriously Aaron (haha, I lied) what am I s'posed to think when you say things like that?
Since I'm on the topic of things I hate, let me throw in people who carry canes as some kind of uber-cool affectation(uber is also on my list of lame ass words( right next to epic) but whatever). Regina can sympathize with me on this one as she personally became the victim of a cane toting gothapotamus in SF. We were walking down Haight, minding our business when I saw Regi make way for an apparently crippled (ginormous) person of indeterminate sex. If pressed I would say it was a woman but there was no time for closer inspection, as at that moment Regi was catapulted halfway into the middle of the street, the victim of an unsolicited ass-attack. It was administered by the largest black-velvet clad posterior I have ever laid eyes on, after which, said gothapotamus flipped the prop cane into it's massive shoulder and skipped away on straining cankles. So although my description is somewhat amusing, my point is this, unless you are Malcolm McDowell circa 1971 and look super hot in white droog wear, don't do it! Put the cane down, you look like a douche!
Oh and please put down your ridiculously large pipe while you're at it! A pipe? Really? Would you like some snuff to go with that President Lincoln? Schmuck! Is there anything that looks more asinine than some idiot driving down the street, a tobacco pipe the size of a small boot clamped between his teeth? Not likely but gimmie a minute and I'm sure I'll think of something!
Next goes people giving their kids stupid fucking names! Zuma Nesta Rock? Speck Wildhorse? Those might get by because having a rock star for a parent buys you alot of slack (tho it really shouldn't) but when some dipshit in Jerkspittle, Arkansas names their kid Puma Alize somethings is seriously fucked up! I'm high more often than not and I can tell you naming your kid after a running shoe and a $4.00 wine isn't a good idea. Pretentious/oblivious names are almost as bad, let me just say that unless your spawn is going to have a Dr. before his name and an S. Thompson after it, you should not be calling him Hunter. Period! Or Farmer or Shepherd, those are occupations, not names. If you have one of these in your family, my condolences, perhaps your relatives are stupid and didn't know any better?
This isn't the 1930's, we aren't fleeing the dust bowl, goddamn it DO NOT name your son Abner! Is it just me? Some moron shows me their progeny and proudly pronounces it "Summer Dawn"(sounds like a brand of douche!) "Space Radio" or "Kermitt" WHAT THE SHIT??? And they think it's soooo fucking unique! What'll be really unique is when he of the stupid name grows up to be the next Ottis Toole. Perhaps if Ottis had been named John (and hadn't had the IQ of a mashed pea) he mightn't have ended up such a fucktard! First name Ottis, last name Toole, that's the kind of situation where nobody wins, even if he was too moronic to realize he had been branded a corn pone dildo from birth, it's still not right and inbred or not, his family shoulda known better!
OK, now I have no idea how I got here but fuck if it wasn't hella fun to bitch about random, basically meaningless shit! I am restored!
So, getting more tattoos for my birthday from my angel love Casey, I'll probly throw up some pics in a couple weeks, whenever it's done. Most likely finish the stars and get the stitches on my wrist, and that shit is gonna feel soooo good! It's gonna cut right across my tendons and over that bone on the outside of the top of my wrist, yummy! Nothing feels quite like jamming a needle into your tendons. Can't wait!
So that's it for now, hope everyone had an amazing holiday and when I come back I will officially be another year older, yay. Happy New Year fuckers.
Kisses, Melody
P.S. Casey's boss told him that I am a soul sucking witch(that's a new one)and that I was draining him of his spirituality. Pffft! When he (the boss) called later that day, I told him he was a bit confused for I am actually a cock-sucking BITCH and tho that might be draining something, I sincerely doubt it's his (Casey's) spirituality! That shut him up proper, meddling Jehovah's Witness busybody! Fuck those people and the cult they rode in on!

Rebuttal and My Brief Descent into the World of Douchebaggery...

2009-12-19T16:44:00.012-07:00

Fuck me, I look goddamn miserable don't I?*dripping sarcasm* Pffffft! Smug maybe...fuck man, check that crazy-slick default song, damn The Sonics kick some serious ass!

Now lookie here, a blog post where I get to argue my point, LOVE IT! It's been awhile since I've gotten to do that, sooo stoked hahaha. I'm gonna resort to the same kind of braggadocios douchebaggery that I so often condemn but it's for a good cause. Prepare yourself kids this is gonna be messy hahaha, just kidding, it'll be on par with my usual crap, promise. Below is the comment I got and my subsequent rebuttal.

Anon:

"I could be a soccer mom for fuck sake! Or even a *shudder* real estate lady!"

I wouldn't want to be either, but there's a hell of a lot more that someone cab be b/w being a mother or selling real estate or being a junkie. I've been a heroin addict so I know how good the feeling is, but it's nowhere near the feeling of accompising things you thought you couldn't do, making your own way instead of going shot to shot, and finding something to do for a career that you like. All of your insistence that you're happy being a junkie phone whore is a front for the things you don't want to face- being a loser, abandoning your kid, having nothing, being nothing- if that wasn't the case you wouldn't feel the need to constantly insist that you are happy with how you turned out.

PS You don't sound like an "intellectual philosopher," but you do sound like a rambling junkie.

Me:

Sweetheart, haven't you learned that I love to talk about myself? I bitch, blather and blog just because I can. If you think that I make certain statements about my life out of some deep need to reassure myself, you are waaaay off base! Fuck, I'm soooo glad I sound like a rambling junky i.e. ME! I was seriously worried that I was starting to sound like everybody else! The real issue here is that it's not up to anyone else to decide how I do or don't feel. How can you even think to try and choose my feelings for me? I can respect the fact that you've been an H addict and that you can relate to the feeling it gives you but we are not all created equal. Just because you've discovered some kind of remorse over the things you did in your past doesn't mean that I have to. It's not so far fetched really, that I'm happy as I am, why the fuck wouldn't I be? I have a nice home, I have a crazy-good income and yes it's phone whoring but again, who are you to decide that it's such a dead end job? I earn my money by working 10-12 hours a day and make what amounts to $45.00 an hour. My old man busts ass in the oilfields all day and doesn't make half as much as I do. So tell me again why my chosen profession is so bad, looks pretty fuckin good to me. I'm not working for some half assed, fly by night company, this IS my career. The sex industry is the closest thing to a recession proof job you can find and oddly enough, I'm making 3X what the college graduate who got laid off and is now working at Taco Bell earns.
What if my idea of having a long term goal is not to have one at all? Why would I want to plan out my life like that? I would go insane if I knew what was gonna happen in 5 years? No fun in that! I'm quite content to leave the future a mystery and enjoy it as it comes.
Since only the people who know me in real life are privy to the details of how my daughter came to be in my mother's care, I don't really think you can pass judgement on that situation. I never abandoned her but I don't feel like I need to explain or justify my actions to a faceless comment on a public blog. I don't think I'm a loser, I just accept the title with good grace hahaha. I don't give the slightest fuck what anybody thinks, it makes things so much easier, not having to worry about others opinions. Shall I make an itemized list of my loser accomplishments?
MY LOSER ACCOMPLISHMENTS:

Material:
*3 bedroom house, rent paid on time monthly
*SUV less than a year old
*all bills paid, utilities, cable, Internet etc.
*New laptop and desktop PC
*Crazy bouts of online shopping with my CREDIT CARD haha
*Sweet, crazy furnishings that I add to on a regular basis.
*So many electronic game systems, TV, stereos, record players that I will not list them all.
*So many kitchen implements that Martha Stewart would be envious.
*The sweetest collection of records, Cd's, etc that I add to regularly.
*More clothes and shoes than Imelda Marcos.
*A gross monthly income of $3050.00 give or take a few bucks( me and Casey)

Immaterial:
*A daughter who adores me no matter what I've done and yes she knows, I've never lied to her about that.
*An old man who puts up with all my shit and loves me anyway and a cat who disdains every move I make but still manages to treat me like I hung the moon.
*A family who also loves me, come heroin, hell or high water.
*Friends both old and new who like me as I am and know that you try to change me at your own risk.
*Contentedness.
*The ability and means to get as fucked up as I want and still keep my shit together.
*Peace of mind because I know that I'm doing ok, no matter what anyone else believes.

Funny thing is you could take almost all of that away(material things) and I would still be alright. The key to inner happiness is to take what you've got and make the best of it. I'm not 100% happy 100% of the time but neither is anyone else, addict or not. I suppose I should spend the rest of my life boo-hooing over the past, over things I can't change? Would it be more acceptable if I came here and blogged about guilt and remorse? I could do that but every word of it would be horse shit. There is enough manure in this world, I don't think I should add to the pile.
So you've cleaned up your life and found a sense of accomplishment bravo, I'm happy for you, you found something that works FOR YOU. So have I, so please don't condescend to tell me how I feel about it, the only person who can state my true feelings is me. I'm not ignoring the fact that ALOT of addicts feel as you do, that's their prerogative and yours but trying to force those convictions on me is silly and not a little presumptuous. My lifestyle ain't for everyone, addicts included but it's what I chose and I'm secure in my decision, period!
Shit, glad I cleared that up hahaha.
Later on mothafuckas, hugs and kisses and all that kinda sheeeeit!
~Melody Lee
P.S. My new friend Denny at AllTreatment.com has informed me that congress lifted the ban on national funding for needle exchanges, excellent news if I ever heard it! More to come on this topic later. See! I get along with treatment center types haha, nothing wrong with recovery my loves, as long as ain't mine heheh!

Suffering Gained Through Exquisite Means...(my intellectual windbag moment)

2009-12-12T00:10:00.003-07:00

When I think of being an addict I think back to when it all started, you know, the very first time I got high. Not H, I actually think it was weed, I think...or maybe pills but anyway it's not so much about the specific details but on whether I would change things. Like if I had known what was gonna be the end result, that I would be somewhat bedraggled and in love with a drug that has no capability of loving me back, would I still take that first shot? What do you think?
I hate to imagine what I might have settled for had I not taken that sharp turn at the corner of Heroin and Destiny street. I could be a soccer mom for fuck sake! Or even a *shudder* real estate lady! I have ZERO regrets about the way shit has turned out, I knew how it was gonna be the first time I took that poke in the arm, it's not like I didn't know what I was getting into. I grew up listening to stories about my crazy fucked up dad and his H addiction. I had NO illusions about where I was headed, I just didn't care, I made a choice.
It bothers me on so many levels when I hear people going on about how drugs screwed up their lives, like they had no say in it all. The drugs don't pull the strings baby you do, whether you wanna admit it or not. The drugs didn't make you hock your flat screen, they didn't make you steal your parent's retirement money and they sure as fuck didn't make you suck that dick! YOU did it because of whatever it is that the drugs provide you with, be it comfort, misery or oblivion. There's alot of people who thrive on misery, it's like a black cloud that follows them around and drugs can be the perfect sidekick to that situation. These people are unhappy when they're sober and equally unhappy when they're high. Sad really, what a waste of perfectly good drugs.
Worse even are the ones who refuse any responsibility for their actions. I have a homeboy who will do the most shady crap when he's strung out and then come back and apologize for it when he's clean. Like being a dopefiend gives him a license to be a piece of shit. Fuckin pussy, if he's gonna be an asshole, he should man up and be an asshole 24/7, none of this "I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking straight" bullshit!
It's all so mystifying to me, it's like a really stupid form of buyers remorse. You had your fun and now yuo hafta pay the price, no one said it was gonna be easy. Where does it say that Heroin is a safe form of pharmaceutical recreation? Last time I checked, my main man was at the top of the "Stay the fuck away" list.
I must have missed the press release from the International Opiate Association where they stated that shooting smack was 100% safe and had no lasting after effects. What the fuck did you think was gonnna happen, that you would be miraculously exempt from the addiction clause in the H contract? You shoulda read the fine print motherfuckers, 'cause you signed that bitch in blood the first time you stuck that hypo in your arm.
I'm not being heartless, just honest. You may be pre-disposed to addiction but it's still you making the decisions. I understand that people react in different ways when it comes to being dopesick but the reality is that it's not gonna kill you. It's a miserable, seemingly endless process but it does end and going into a spasticated seizure and knocking over a 7-11 is just gonna make your sitch waaaay more complicated.
It all comes down to how you look at things and even though I may have a single minded purpose where my actions are concerned, when shit goes south I still know where the blame ultimately lies. Oscar Wilde said,"We are each are own Devil and we make this world our Hell." I think it's appropriate to this situation but I also take it out of context and apply my own interpretation (what's new right?). Hell is a relative term and can mean so many things, not all of them truly bad. If my Hell is what I've created around me how can I help but adore it? It's an extension of me and what could be better than that? Suffering gained through exquisite means is not made any less wondrous because of it's origin and ultimate destination. It's beautiful in it's simplicity and reduces us to the bare bones of self, we are at our most basic when we hurt. Therefore...how can a Hell comprised of my own nature and design be anything less than...magnificent?
Christ, could I sound any more like a pseudo intellectual, philosophizing windbag? Haha, maybe if I try really, really hard! Perhaps it does sound pompous but that doesn't make it untrue. Take your fucked up addiction and hold it close, love it, pet it, for no one else can lay claim to it but you. It's all yours sugar, as is what you choose to do with it. You can carry it to the grave or you can put it to bed but make no mistake, it's ancestry is clear. There are no branches on that family tree, make it work for you or walk away, that simple and that complicated.
Hmmm, more in love with myself today than ever aren't I? Whatever, it suits me *wink* have an amazing weekend kids, however you decide to spend it.
Kisses,
~Melody Lee

The Lesson for Today is...

2009-11-25T10:26:00.005-07:00

The night we got suuuuuuuper wasted on unbelievably good dope.

It's been a pretty slow week, aside from the usual inanity that seems to follow me like a swarm. I scored some sub-standard H from a guy a couple towns over and it was definitely not worth the hassle or the poke. How frustrating is it to waste a perfectly good vein on something that you feel for 30 seconds? Extremely! I'm so shot out that when I do manage to hit a vein it's like I can hear the Hallelujah chorus and doing so just to have it suck ass because the dope was shit is kinda disappointing. Then to top it off the moron I bought it from is calling to pester me about buying more!What part of "Your dope is shit" is so difficult to understand? I stopped answering the phone and then as luck would have it, I ran into him at the store.
He's a total douche but think he's cooler than fuck and has this attitude like he can jive you into doing what he wants as long as he keeps up a constant stream of bullshit. It irritates me no end! At some point I decided to stop being civil and just let what I really felt come pouring out. It went something like this:

Douche: SO whatchu think girl, I got so much of this black I can cut the price in half.
Me: Nope, not interested. That crap was weak and I'd sooner burn my money than spend it on more bullshit. Perhaps the reason you have so much of it is that no one in their right mind would buy from you more than once.
Douche: Fuck that, this dope is fire, everybody's talking about it.
Me: *sniggering* Bet I can tell ya what they're sayin'.
Douche: My people don't bullshit.
Me: Go sell it to them then.
Douche: GIRL! I'm telling you this shit is good, you musta done something wrong with that last bag.
Me: *smirking* Yeah I did, I paid for it, that's where I fucked up.
Douche: *getting red in the face* You need to get in on this! It's gonna go fast and then you'll be back to driving 6 hours to score a bag. You're fucking up, you don't know..
Me:*cutting him off* I don't know? Let me tell you what the fuck I DON"T KNOW! I don't know why I went against instinct and copped from you in the first place. I don't know why you think that I should cave to you, a moron wearing a rip-stop nylon track suit circa 1978, you look like a flame retardant dildo by the way and I definitely don't know why the fuck you're still standing here! You need to do some serious re-evaluating and consider the facts. Fact-your dope is weak, like shooting up sleepy time tea and I ain't havin it. Fact-if everyone was so stoked on it, you wouldn't be hassling me like a broke ass vacuum salesman. Fact-you...are a dipshit and you need to step the fuck away from me and go about your business before I get really pissy and do something that might embarrass you...like break my foot off in your ass.

I walked away while track-suit dingus was still trying to sort through my tirade and haven't heard from him since. The problem with dildo's is they seem to pop up when you least expect it and when it will cause maximum trouble. We'll see.
So I thought I'd share that lil exchange with y'all while it was still fresh in my mind, since it happened this morning haha. The only good dildo is the literal one you keep in a box under the bed,figurative dildos are basically useless and should be avoided at all costs. Just say no to track suit dildos! That's the lesson for today kids, learn it, live it, love it.
BIIIIIIIIIIIIG kiss,
~Melody Lee

No Rest for the Wicked

2009-11-15T15:50:00.002-07:00

Wow, I'm super tired and wishing that I wasn't having to work right now! I just took an hour long snuff/necro call where I had to bind/torture/kill several innocent college girls and then fuck myself while the guy banged their dead bodies.Uh, pervo? Dennis Raider called, he wants his M.O. back!
I'm on for a few more hours and all I want to do is go to bed. I've been awake since...well too long and I have no more H to keep me company. I'm soooo not in the mood for homicidal morons with hard-ons!Or anyone else really, I took a suboxone today and I just wanna crash. I'm not up to my usual standards as far as phone sex goes and I'm sure I made a very poor accomplice/murderess on that last call. Good thing it wasn't my acting he was interested in :P
So this is just a quick stop, just me wanting to bitch and moan about things nobody cares about...just because I can.
XO Melody

Now Even My Cat is Judging Me?

2009-11-10T08:47:00.004-07:00

So the dreaded Facebook has redeemed itself...kinda. I still hate it on principal but it did put me in contact with one of my old friends from back in the day, so that has to count for something right? Joey was in a band with me and Regina like a million years ago and I hadn't talked to him in years and years. He went into the military before I started my heroin romance and I've been catching him up on what he missed heheh. He's partly responsible for me and Casey being together but I won't hold that against him haha.
I'm sitting here sweating and thinking and I'm sure everyone knows what it is I'm thinking about. I shouldn't...really I shouldn't but when have I ever let that stop me? I've been unusually morbid lately, thinking that one of these days I might just fall out and disappear forever. A huge relief to all those who hate me and somewhat of a nuisance to those who don't. I'm not really worried about it, as usual I tend not to dwell on ugly things until they come to pass and in this case it would be to late so fuck it.
I'm not self absorbed enough to think that it will make any real difference either way...maybe to my family and friends but that will only last so long.They'll get over it and be better for it in the process. No more worries or stress because of lil ol' me. I'm reminded of those fucktards who commit suicide under the misbegotten notion that, "They'll be sorry when I'm gone!"
Uh, no they won't, not really. They'll be relieved that they don't have to deal with your particular brand of crazy anymore and they will move on. The world won't stop because you left it, just how it goes. Eh, whatever.
Oh my God! I know what's going on here!!! I'm semi-dopesick and that always turns me into a maudlin moron. Sorry bout that, bleak introspection seems to be a side effect of the kicking process or mine anyway. I'll be good in a few days, I'll either be loaded or clean and both of those get rid of this whiny emo-ish (ugh emo) persona I'm wearing. I loathe emo in all it's weepy incarnations and it made me ill when I read something stating that the Descendents were the forefathers of the movement. It gave me that same sick feeling as when I hear Green Day refered to as the Godfathers of punk. Are these people retarded or just stupid? Who actually believes that??? Ugh, I have no words...almost heheh.
See, I'm regaining some of my old self already, must be that Percocet kicking in to relieve this edgy suckiness that has been plagueing me for the past couple days. No need to go listen to Death Cab and slit my wrists with a dull butter knife (I so do not listen to DC!).
Nothing productive on my list today, but then there rarely is. I'm quite literally the laziest person I know and unmotivated...oh so unmotivated! I do a little as possible for as long as possible, maybe they can put that on my tombstone?
I wish I could recapture some of that manic energy that used to make me sanitize the house from corner to corner. This place is trashed right now! It's so bad that even Fat Mike shook his head in disgust and refused to look at me. Now even my cat is judging me! If I do get some smack, I will try my hardest to remain semi-concious and clean the house. I'm in such a good mood when I'm loaded, nothing irritates me...except for Casey. I don't think that counts tho cuz that fucker could drive Saint Jude to slaughter terminally ill children! Was that in poor taste? Good.
So since Joey has informed me that he is an old man now and listen to folk music I will set my default song accordingly. Or try to anyway, I can only do so much and Joan Baez I ain't, perhaps some Dylan? That's as folksy as I get. Since I am first and formost a junky mess, I will choose the song (one of them anyway) rumored to be about Edie Sedgewick and her love affair with notariety and heroin, it's appropriate.

STONED MUSINGS ON RAPISTS & KURT HEMMET'S FRO

2009-11-04T20:36:00.013-07:00

My version of the Veronica Lake ^^

OK well I'm extremely stoned right now and got this wild hair up my ass to come on here and write something. I met some new cuties that smoke weed and aside from their hotness they also take tons of useless drugs off my hands and convert them to cash. Gotta love that. So I've been getting stoned alot more than before...that's not to say that I've given up the H. I've managed to do both without any cross conflict. It also doesn't hurt that my new acquaintances have smack hookups too. Who would've thought that a chance meeting at the wal-mart would reap such bounty?

I did the last 4 hours of my phone-perv duty completely wasted, like stare at the wall for 40 minutes wasted. I have no probs doing the actual talk, that shit is automatic but taking their billing info is another story entirely. That's right people, you read right, I, Melody Lee am being entrusted to retrieve and record thousands of Credit card numbers. Not just numbers but exp dates, CVV codes and complete billing addresses. Basically everything I need to wreak major havoc at Western Union and beyond. I haven't tho, probly never will. It's like the time my mom entrusted me to do her taxes, I can't bring myself to fuck over someone who trusts me *sigh* one of my few faults. I'm stupid like that...which isn't to say I don't think about it alot but I won't do it. Goddammit!

Not out of respect for the pervs (they're mostly pedophiles anyway) but out of respect for the people I work for. If this had been 4 years ago not even a blood tie would have kept me from making use of the info, I mean who the fuck are those guys to me really? A paycheck sure but not much else. Most of them are abusive date rapists and if I wasn't such a stellar actress the contempt in my voice would be over apparent. I have little tolerance for rapists, I've come across a handful and they are generally despicable.

Not gonna go the whole boo hoo route about rape, it's not something that wrecks me and for anyone contemplating an irate lecture, don't bother. I've been under a couple rapists myself so it's not like I don't know how it goes, I just don't care. Those events are not important in the history of me and I'll be damned if I spend the rest of my days scared and emotionally crippled. Why let something perpetrated by a retard which a penchant for forced copulation define me? I don't and neither should anybody else, they should suck it up and move on. And for any girls who want to go all Gloria Steinem about it, pack up the femi-nazi costume and calm down. Not saying you don't have a right to be pissed, just saying that you should get the fuck over it, why give it and him any significance?

Moving on, fuck I'm surprised at my eloquence, all things considered I've maintained a pretty good streak of lucidity. Aside from straying a bit off topic.

So I was thinking about doing my hair tonight, you can see from the pic that my roots are waaaay grown out BUT I thought that although no one can pull off a hair malfunction like yours truly, I better not risk it. Nice run on sentence huh?

I also thought better of trying to do one of those lame-o podcasts cuz I have probs concentrating on those as is. I usually duck out to go score and end up playing 15 minutes off music and leaving 45 of dead air. Priorities and all that. Besides which, converting all my music files is a nightmare and don't get me started on trying to get the vinyl on my laptop. I'll get it all done eventually but FUCK! I should have spent less $$ with Dr Strange and more on a comprehensive suite of music converting software. But no amount of software can equal limited edition Addicts and Sloppy Seconds picture discs. Who says money doesn't buy happiness? I have several examples that lay waste to that theory, my record collection is just one item on a long and varied list. Guess what's at the top? Oh ok I'll tell you, it's heroin, are you surprised?

As updates go this has been pretty pathetic but what can I say, it is what it is. I'll do better next time, scout's honor ( I was soooo not a girl scout).

The weed is wearing off so it's time to see Cameron about a refresher...or at least some oxys, then they can go. Momma has to be up at 10 am for work tomorrow and if I don't get 12 hours of sleep I get cranky.

So I think this is enough for now, I still have the last part of that story but at this point I think most have lost interest. I wouldn't exactly know tho, since I haven't checked my comments in over a month. I wrote that last post and skedaddled with nary a peek. I'm sure I'll have some beauties to look forward to when I do decide to check it out.

So next time I post I'll let y'all see what I did to my hair heheh, it's gotten fairly long and I'm just about at the breaking point. I can only go so many months without altering it in some way and since black and blonde is all I'm permitted to do colorwise, hacking at it is the next best thing. I swore I'd let it grow, Casey is surprisingly attached to long hair considering he mainly dated girls with shaved heads, I should know, I was one of 'em. I've strayed a long way from the Mohawks and devil locks but I'm still the same crazy cunt, ask anyone. Besides, I'd feel like a retard trying to pull something like that off at my age, it's a bit too Wattie for my tastes and he's like 40 years older than me. Can everyone say Mohawk toupee? Not sure if he's still sporting that look but it was scary while it lasted. Even Metallica cut their hair...but then grew it back again when they lost their dirthead cred and record sales were affected haha, it's those priorities again. I don't think I'm the only person had been relieved to see the Hemmet fro depart. But relief was short lived. I think, I don't keep up with Metallica enough to know for sure. I haven't willingly listened to And Justice For All since I was in Jr high and that was the last album I could stomach, even then. Getting a weird craving to listen to Sanitarium tho, I will banish it by putting on some Electric Eels instead. One of the best thing to come out of Ohio besides The Dead Boys and Devo...I think it was Ohio. Whatever, they kick ass (as is proved by my sweet default song).

OK, now I'm really rambling so I better go. Remember everyone, when leaving condescending comments be sure and spell them correctly. Whether you are moron or not, it makes you look idiotic, like a tard making fun of a cripple and kills any chance that I might be insulted. But then there was never really any chance of that...was there?

Kisses,

~Melody Lee

A quickie, complete with photos

2009-10-09T14:53:00.003-06:00

Pics of me, Casey, Fat Mike and some other misc crap, including a shot of my face busted to hell and back after my last catfight.Yes I'm alive and no Casey didn't pack me off for being a whore...because I'm not, well technically but in the sense that I've banged other guys since I've been here, uh no, I'm not. I'm kinda caught up working and trying to gets all this graphic novel stuff sorted and getting high (was there ever any doubt)so it might take me til next week to post the conclusion to the story. My latest headache involves Casey's snitch-cunt sister who has nothing better to do than carry tales to our family in Cali. I could understand if we were on the verge of fucking off everything but we're not! Both of us are working and maintaining all our bills, so what the fuck? You're going to tell my mommy on me? Seriously? It so utterly ridiculous and true to form, I should've expected it. His Family have been running to my mom with complaints for as long as I've known them. Guess what? She couldn't fix it when I was 15, she can't fix it now! Get a grip and fuck off! His sis is such a mess that she has to try and shit all over what we have to make herself look better. She's miserable in her marriage and miserable in her life but that's not our fault! I tried to help her out and she knifed me in the back out of spite and jealousy. That's on me for giving her the benefit of the doubt but believe me, I won't make that mistake twice. Ugh, getting sidetracked, I'm still burnt, can ya tell? So I'll try and get that shit together and post it by next week.Check the voice thingie in the meantime, I update there pretty often. Bye kids,
~Melody Lee

Just click the fucking button already ------------------------------------------------------->

2009-09-21T03:54:00.005-06:00

So yep, I'm a laaaazy cunt...and a slut to according to anon wisdom light-years beyond my own. I recorded another voice blog for your enjoyment, it cut me off as usual so I'll probly be making another one as soon as I post this. I forgot to mention something kinda important that I'm doing with this blog. Sick and stuffed up, I sound like a tranny but it is what it is, deal with it. I'm even now contemplating how to import part tres from my other computer, if all else fails I s'pose I can just e-mail it to m'self. So click da button, it don't bite, I may or may not be too unmotivated to turn off my default music so y'all might hafta go to the source. Your choice kiddies, I'll be back later. Enjoy the pic, Maniac managed to somehow erase my unbelievably frizzy hair which is why it looks kinda weird on one side but after the time consuming and amazing job he did painting a glove over my tats(diff pic), I can't really complain.
XXX~Melody Lee

Part Dos: Mi Vida Coca OR "Who says crack ain't sexy?"

2009-09-11T10:58:00.007-06:00

So I smoked smoked crack and enjoyed every second of it. Yeah, I said it...and?

I'd made my little announcement and less than 60 seconds later I was in possession of a fresh stem and a rock o' caine the size of my thumb. Loco had pressed the aforementioned items into my hands and then vanished on some mysterious errand, so I was finally able to relax. I leaned back against the closest wall and slid down to a crouch, thinking I would take a hit and then try and locate Adrian. Breaking off a good sized "crumb", I tucked it into it's little brillo nest and called out, "Lumbre?" *Fire

Maniac tossed me his lighter and I sparked it, sucking in a generous amount of mouth numbing coke-smoke. Holding it in for as long as I could, I slowly pushed my way back up the wall. That shit rung my bell! I felt a-fucking-mazing...for about 20 seconds and then the nausea hit. I exhaled a huge cloud and casually made my way (see ran), to the back door, opening it just in time to puke all over Loco's dogs. I didn't do it intentionally but they were jumping up on me, wanting attention...and boy did they ever get it! Instead of taking heed and backing the fuck off, they woofed at me and started...eating it. GROSS!!!

When it was over, I looked up and spotted Ade and two of the nameless homies from inside. They were sitting on old, ripped-out car seats that had been arranged around a fire pit and passing around a bottle of Mezcal. The fire was just embers, which was why I hadn't noticed them straight off. That and the fact that I had been in the process of heaving/fighting off overly affectionate pit bulls.

I still had pipe and rock in hand, so I secured both inside my bra and located the water spigot on the back wall of the house. I swished water around my mouth to eradicate the taste of bile, popped a piece of Orbit (trusty pocket pack), and walked over to the boys. Adrian looked pissed...and adorable! He had a cigg between his lips, hands clenched on his lap, fingers flexing. It looked eerily similar to what Casey does when he's trying to keep from murdering me. Casey looks pretty fucking hot when he wants to throttle me and I must admit that Ade was channeling that same look. It's a good look haha, but I'm a bit unusual and another less adventurous girl might find it unsettling.

Not me! I found it extremely attractive and used it as an excuse to do something unbelievably stupid and so...me. I stood in front of A and smiled, the rock had made me reckless and...stupid. Looking from his face to his hands I asked, "Are those for meeee?" His fists twitched and tightened in response, baby boy was heated!

I snagged the smoke out of his mouth and stuck it in my own, mending this was gonna require some serious diversionary tactics! Puffing on it I offered, "Ya know, they say when you feel like you can't control your hands, you should just..." I dropped down onto his lap and hooked my arm around his neck, "Sit on 'em."

The nameless-es chuckled and I felt Ade unclench his fists and relax his frame a teensy bit. He made no move to pull his hands out from under my ass, just turned them palm up and slid 'em so one was squarely underneath and the other was holding my thigh, fingers curled around to pull me closer against him.

I put my chin on his shoulder and whispered, "Forgive me?"

He pressed his cheek against mine and whispered back, "How can I not? I could forgive you anything right now."

I sat up, gave him a cheeky smile and stuck the smoke back in his mouth. Utilizing my free hand I fished around in my cleavage for the goodies. Taking my arm from around his neck, I broke off a fat crumb, loaded the stem and traded his Camel for crack-pipe. He took it in his teeth and tilted his head back so the rock wouldn't fall out. He sat absolutely still while I dug around in his pants and pulled out his...lighter heheh. I sparked it and held the flame for him, after all, his hands were occupied! *wink*

When he couldn't hold any more, I took the glass from his mouth and brought my lips to his. I held them a hairsbreadth away, not quite touching but close enough for him to shotgun me. He blew the smoke into my mouth and I sucked in, trying to capture as much of it as possible.

I don't know when it happened but he closed the distance, kissing me tentatively while I held in the hit. I may have held it in a tad longer than necessary, I wanted to enjoy this first and in all probability, last kiss from Adrian. I let him deepen it, I mean why not? The damage was already done.

He tasted of cigarettes and tequila and...fuck, a whole lot of trouble! Basically irresistible. I blew out, the smoke evaporating as I kissed him back. His hand had crept under my shirt and was slowly stroking up and down my spine.

The resulting goose bumps brought me crashing back down to earth and I started to pull away. He murmered, "Uh-uh" and held me tighter, delivering yet another series of devastating kisses. I let it go on for another minute and then broke away, I was fast losing control of the situation. Turning my face, I put my head on his shoulder and tried to catch my breath...I was very definitely breath-less! My heart was hammering in my chest and my skin felt tingly all over. I'm sure some of that can be attributed to the coca but for the most part it was Adrian. He was breathing a lil heavy himself, one hand still gliding over my back and the other clutching onto my jeans. We stayed that way, neither one of us saying a word, just...panting, haha.

The spell was broken when a nameless called out, "Who says crack ain't sexy? You two look like a teaser for base-head Skin-a-max!"

I turned and tried to summon up a little righteous indignation but ended up laughing instead. I silently thanked no-name for making an awkward situation into something comical. I eased myself off Adrian's lap until I was sitting beside him on the ancient bench seat.

Taking inventory, I saw that aside from curling my arm around his neck, I had managed to keep my hands to myself. I was still in possession of the pipe, rock and lighter. I also noticed that my bra felt curiously loose...nimble fingered fucker!

I turned my back to Ade, looked over my shoulder and drawled, "Could ya?"

He grinned at me and slid his hands under my t-shirt, skimming his fingers around to the front and adjusting the cups before going back and hooking it up.

Shivering, I sat back, tucked all the paraphernalia into my boobs and said, "Thank you, very thorough."

"My pleasure" he replied, winking at me and popping his gum, er...my gum.

"Daaaaaang!" cried out an unidentified homie, "You should give her the gum back too homeboy! Give it back the way you got it...real sloooooow!"

I shook my head and looked at Ade, his response being to stick his tongue out, my gum sitting on the end of it. Glancing at our audience, I rolled my eyes and then thought, why not? I decided to go all porn stylie and threw my leg over both of his. Grabbing his shoulders, I pulled myself up and over so I was straddling his lap. I leaned in and sucked the gum off his tongue, dry humping his legs for effect, making it look way more obscene that it actually was.

"Fuck YESSSS!" vato#1 called out, clapping his hands, "That's what I'm talking about!"

"Shit yeah!" added vato#2, joining in the applause, "I think I gotta go jerk off now!"

"Ooooookay, " I responded, jumping off Adrian, "I am SO outta here!" I grabbed his hand and pulled him up so we could go back inside.

Right then Maniac stuck his head out the back door, "Fuck primo," he called back over his shoulder as he struggeled to avoid puppy kisses, " Your perros smell like barf!"

I let out an unintentional snort and clapped my hand over my mouth. Maniac eyed me suspiciously and then peered at the nameless-es who were giving us a standing ovation and shouting, "Again, again!"

Staring pointedly at our clasped hands, he squinted one eye at me and asked , "Que pasa con esos bueys?" * What's up with those fools?

"Nada pregunton! Attiende tus negocios y deja me los mios!" * Nothing nosy! Mind your business and let me worry about mine!

We followed him back inside and I was sure to pry my hand away from Adrian's before we encountered Loco. Things were gonna be touchy enough without giving him more reasons to act like a psycho.

Hmmm, looks like this is turning into a mini-series, must be the thwarted author coming out in me heh. I suppose that's what happens when you've been clued into the fact that your writing blows, oddly enough, by someone who can't seem to stop reading it. Funny how that works huh?

Tune in for Part tres...if y'all can force yourselves to suffer through more literary ineptitude.

Hasta Luego Amores,

~Melody Lee, (crack) Cocaine-cowgirl and recent star of Skin-a-max's, "Base-heads in Heat"

American Me...gone retarded! Part uno

2009-09-01T05:08:00.009-06:00

Me laying in someone's bed, doesn't matter who, it's not important and I don't remember anyway.

So we rolled up to Loco's place and I was already feeling jumpy. I had managed to keep the boys from hitting the Cryssy on the ride up (no easy feat) so the only thing I was amped on was stupidity. I lagged behind Joker and Adrian and grabbed Maniac so we could have a little powow before going inside.
He was smirking at me, so I reached out and pinched him, I was so not in the mood for his buffoonery! He jumped back and said, "Cabrona! What the fuck did you do that for?"
"Because you're enjoying this even though you know it's not a good idea! You dick, why the hell didn't you tell me we were coming here? The last time I saw your psycho cousin, he tongue raped my throat!"
"That wasn't the last time heheh, that was before...."
"Fuckin retardado what difference does it make? Point is that it happened, is he gonna trip on me and Adrian?"
"Fuck if I know, what do I look like, Rip Torn?"
"What? That makes NO sense! It's Rip Taylor you moron!"
"Whatever, that joto with the glitter, you know what I mean."
"Ugh, I can't deal with you right now! Are you gonna be a chickenshit and forget I'm a homegirl if your family gets outta control?"
"Chica, I ain't no chickenshit, don't sweat it, he'll be cool..."
Loco's ears musta been burning because he chose that moment to stick his head out the door and call us inside. He seemed to be in a decent mood (see cracked-out beyond belief) and I tried to relax, resisting the urge to throw his arm offf my shoulder. I looked for Ade as soon as we got inside and saw him leaning against the wall in the living room, waiting for me. SO cute!
Really I shoulda known better, the tension in the air was exacerbated by the people huddled around crack stems, puffing away. I started to walk to Adrian, trying to slither out from under Loco's arm but he grabbed me by the belt loops and pulled me back. I was already cognizant of sweaty cholo prints appearing all over my anatomy, this was taking a turn for the worst. I didn't even have the dubious protection of Rainman's presence, at least that would have kept L in check, he wouldn't want to fuck a business contact.
I was maneuvered back onto the couch and found myself in the hot seat as he asked me," Why you don't come around no more? You come here with the huerro (Adrian) but you can't come kick it with me?"
I tried scooting back but he just moved closer. "I haven't been going out at all" I told him," just keeping my ass home..."
He leaned back, "That ain't what I heard, I heard you been going to Espy and fucking around with that fool Jesse, that's a chump move girl, you know that tecate shit ain't no good."
I took a series of deep breaths, trying to stay calm. I was halfway successful when he added, "You need somebody to get you straight, that chiva is poison and you're better than that. Your old man don't keep you in line you need a..."
"Real man?" I ground out, fighting to maintain my composure. I glanced up at Adrian and saw him measuring the sitch. Maniac was so engrossed in our conversation that he was actually leaning forward on the edge of his seat, I wanted nothing more than to reach out and pinch him again! If I didn't get control of this it was gonna get ugly quick! I decided that I would hafta distract Loco before A did something stupid, after all, I was fairly sure that he wouldn't stab me with a carpentry implement.

It's not what you think although I'm sure blowing him would have been equally effective; I chose confrontation over fellatio. "Yeah, I've heard you say that before, matter of fact you've said it every time I've been by! It's getting old sweetheart, your CD's skipping, maybe if I smack you it'll change up?"

I heard Joker murmur, "Oh shit!" about the same time that Maniac let out a snort of laughter. Loco gave him a look and turned to me, "You sayin you gonna smack me heina?"

I stood up and took a step back (I may be crazy but I ain't stupid!),"You heard me and I'm not your heina, remember that fool. You're taking a whole lot for granted considering we've never been naked together. NO, I take that back because even the guys who have fucked me know better than to try and tell me what I do and don't need."

"That's 'cause they're a bunch of pussies heina, they don't got the huevos to tell it straight. They all eat your shit and when you're done they just sit back and wag their tails like a bunch of perros, waiting for more." He pointed at Adrian," Check that pendejo over there, cruising around with blue balls just 'cause he's too much of a pussy to do anything about it. Oye Adrian, no tengas esperanzas que esta loca te va dar un pedaso, esa no quere chavos, necessita..." *translates to: Listen Adrian, don't hold out hope this crazy bitch is gonna break you off, homegirl doesn't want little boys she needs...

"A REAL MAN???" I spat out, "Un propio hombre que sabe como controlar una perra venenosa como yo?" *A real man who knows how to control a poisonous bitch like myself?

I felt like the top off my head was gonna explode! Ade pushed off the wall and started coming at Loco but Jokes and a couple of guys I didn't know held him back, "Get him the fuck outta here and keep him out!" I yelled at Joker, "I'll be Godamned if he gets himself stuck over this shit!"

He was still talking smack to Loco when they dragged him from the house and L called out, "Que te dije huerro? No quere mamalones hahaha!" *What did I tell you whiteboy, she don't want no tittybabys.

I hated chopping off his balls like that but what could I do? These fools would cut him down as soon as look at him or worse, I didn't want to be responsible for that, no way.

I waited for Joker to come back (minus Adrian) and then turned my displeasure on the cholo fuckwad standing before me, "You..." I choked out, "are the most insufferable....the most overbearing, delusional, pompous..."

"Orale Joker?" I heard Maniac whisper, "Que quere disir un pom-pus? Is that good?"

I almost lost it and started laughing when I heard Jokes say,"No burro, it's not good! Shut the fuck up and stop asking pendejeras!*muttering* Un pom-pus....pinche retardado!"

"Oye primo why the hell is everybody calling me retardado today?" Maniac asked Loco, effectively turning the attention away from me and onto himself.

"That's 'cause you are, homes."

"Simon?"

"Simon!"

I let out an exasperated sigh and rolled my eyes at the room in general but was totally relieved that Maniac had come through for me. Loco was so rocked-out, he had crack-head ADD and forgot we were arguing, "So heina, I was just telling you that you need to come stay with me so you can get straight and stop fucking with that chiva."

"Grrrr, you live in a rock-house fool! How would you suggest I get clean here?"

"I could think of something to keep you busy..."

"Simon?"

"Simon!"

"You two are gonna make me regurgima...puke!" Maniac was less than pleased by our chummy banter, I don't think he trusted it. I flipped him off, made a face at him then said, "OK fuckers, whose holding my rock?" Disaster had been averted...for the time being and I needed to get intoxicated...PRONTO! I also needed to find out what they did with Adrian and just how pissed he might be at me...lil old innocent me!

OK, enough for now, I'm not sure how much more homie-speak I can relate here without feeling like an absolute moron. They really do talk like that, it's not verbatim, but it's close enough and I revert back to it so easily when I'm there. What can I say, it's the Mexi-cunt in me.

So Imma go now, I'm kinda spazzed out because my left thumb has gone numb for no apparent reason. Maniac says it's because I have it stuck up my ass 90% of the time but I'm gonna say no, that's not it.

Kisses,

Cholo-cide as a worthwhile pursuit.

2009-08-29T05:09:00.002-06:00

OK so it just so happens that every time I try and stay home so I can get straight for a few days my phone rings. I get a call or a text asking me to go fuck around and if I feel like total shit (or even if I don't) I end up going out. I got a text from Adrian asking if I felt like kicking back with him and Maniac...
I considered the offer 1) because Adrian is a hot little shit 2) cause the thought of getting something in me sounds really good ( I mean dope, pervs, not dick) 3) because Casey is asleep and I'm b-o-r-e-d.
I have vowed not to do any speed and Ade promised dilaudid if I ventured out the front door. I don't have to drive, I don't hafta babysit and I don't hafta worry about gakked out cunts getting in my face. So if everything sounds so cherry, why the fuck am I in the back of some random Bronco at 1am, making my way towards Cuba?
Yeah He forgot to mention that he's been staying in Loco's crack-den and that the stash of injectables is there.
So I'm riding back here with him next to me, writing this on Maniac's new mini and wishing we weren't already 45 minutes down the 550. He looks damn fine tho and is being his usual adorable self. Joker is driving and Maniac is in the front, enjoying the fact that for once, I'm in the back. I'm cranky and feel like I might commit cholo-cide before the night is over. To top it off he keeps playing his crap music and if I hafta take much more Pitbull, I'm gonna lose it!
The thought of sidling past Loco holds little appeal as I'm fairly sure that Cap'n Save-a-ho is gonna take offense as soon as he realizes I'm hangin with Ade for the night. This is gonna be a blast, I can already tell. Perhaps I will cozy up to the Cap'n just long enough to score some rock, I did promise no crissy and I'm gonna need something to dull the senses. Don't know if I trust getting loaded around him, I've been molested in my sleep too many times and I don't feel like I need to add another to the list.
I suppose we'll see what happens when I get there. I have no doubt that Adrian will try and ride to my rescue and get a screwdriver in the neck for his efforts...right between the sexy Black Flag bars I love so much!*sigh* I'm really hoping I don't hafta make nice with Loco to avoid unpleasantness, I mean blood might be fun but not when it's gushing out of Ade's jugular. Maniac is too much of a pussy to go against his cousin and Jokes is too loyal so I'm basically fucked. Let's just hope that remains figurative and not literal, Casey will have kittens if I get tainted by cholos (or anyone for that matter). Oh well, I guess Fat Mike could always use some brothers and sisters hahahaha, I think I'm getting a lil hysterical, I just giggled out loud and Ade looks concerned. I better wrap this up, we're almost there. I'll update later if I am able.
Wish me luck.
The thus far unsullied by cholos Melody Lee
Ugh forgot to post this but fuck it, it's up now.

Pain for for the sake of hurtin' and some questions answered

2009-08-28T14:29:00.004-06:00

Well I'm back sorta and I guess I should write now......er yeah I'll think of something. I'm debating a trip to Durango next weekend because Adrian's dilaudid connect is s'posed to be getting a FAT package of Mex brown from Cali and I don't think I'm quite strong enough to resist. We'll see...
It's funny that I called myself a masochist in my last voice blog because I never really considered myself to be one. Though I guess in technical terms a masochist isn't the same thing as a submissive. Sub I am NOT! I dig pain tho....sometimes but it has to be mutually and spontaneously inflicted, none of that master and servant crap, that's just lame! I have an unhealthy fascination with blood but that's probly normal considering what it means to an H addict. Most of us equate blood with a shot so of course it's gonna be attractive.
I bring up the masochist thing because if you think about it, this constant roller coaster I'm on is the definition of glutton for punishment. I wait just long enough to feel ok and then I run right out and cop another bag, knowing that in a couple days it'll start all over. Stupid me but whatever, in my mind the end justifies the means and until I feel differently, things are gonna continue that way. I don't really care what anyone else thinks of this cycle, cause for the most part, I don't really care what anyone else thinks period! I'm selfish and my own opinion is what's important.
I get so much shit for the stuff I write and yet....I could just write nothing. I choose to open myself up to ugly criticism out of some hyper-need for attention that probably has a psychological root that I'm unwilling to recognize because I believe psychology to be "..the disease for which it claims to be the cure" ~Krauss
Not really but I fucking love the way that sounds and it suits my purpose. I tend to adore anything that suits my purpose and also succeeds in offending people without any real effort.
So I haven't answered alot of my comments and I thought to address some now.
For the record, Gleds is right, I don't enjoy beating people up....ok that's a lie but just because I like to scrap doesn't mean I go around picking on innocent bystanders. There's a big fucking difference between being a bully and not taking people's shit. If you would care to look back over my previous fight episodes, you'll see that I rarely start these things. I just step it up, instead of exchanging dirty looks for an hour, I confront the issue head on. If they persist in being assholes then I just clock 'em in the mouth, can't say I didn't give fair and ample warning.
There's nothing wrong with aggression, it's misplaced aggression that causes problems. You won't ever catch me beating down old grannies because they looked at me sideways. It's the bitches who imagine themselves to be hard as fuck and use that belief to try and intimidate me that get my attention. I'm not saying that I'm a badder bitch than everyone else, on the contrary, I've gotten my ass beat PLENTY of times, it's just that I haven't let it scare me. So I get the shit kicked outta me, so what? At least I stood up for myself.
That's one thing you learn early on in this game, you get more respect for taking the beating than you do for running away. I learned it well because it's hard enough for girls to get respect in the drug world as it is. You don't rat, you don't run from fights (unless you're getting shot at) and you don't bang your connects for dope, it's bad for business. Even when I was working the street I never fucked the connects, I never had to. I'd built up a good enough rep to get credit if I needed it and that was because of the things listed above.
So yeah, I'm a scrappy bitch but I'm not a bully and as Rufus pointed out, why the fuck should any of these anons care what I do with my time and money? If they had it their way most of 'em would see me incarcerated or expired of some communicable disease. Too bad God ain't listenin bitches, try those prayers another day....no offense Brother Frankie, that wasn't directed at you.
Oh and Regi, I see what you're saying but am a bit worried that your vagina doesn't feel clean to begin with. Showers are your friend, never forget that. Just kidding Reg, I'm sure your vag smells like petunias, whatever that smells like.
Skillz, girl, we def have a lot in common, I'd hate to see the havoc if we ever ended up in the same zip code haha. I take that back I'd LOVE to see it!
Oh and Rufus, I expect to see photos of you in your new "cooze" themed shirt!
So there we are, I managed to fill yet another post with nothing and still make it worth reading, is that talent or what? Oh and anons, before you go off about what a talent-less bitch I am, remind yourself that you read this through and through. Even if you hate me, you still read me and that's a notch in my attention whoring belt, whether you choose to believe it or not.
Adios muthafuckas,
XOXO
~Melody Lee

Never underestimate a horny, lonely man with a wallet full of credit cards and a hard-on!

2009-08-25T08:17:00.005-06:00

The title of this post reflects the answer I gave a male friend of mine who asked the naive question, "Why the fuck would someone pay for phonesex?"
He was somewhat disturbed to think that every time I turn on my lines I get at least 15 calls in a 4 hour period (sometimes less if they last longer). Of course I have multiple listings and a pretty solid customer base but I still get a fair amount of new callers.
The whole concept seemed to bother him and although he was sitting right beside me as I took these calls, he still found it hard to believe that men would pay good money to essentially jerk themselves off to what amounts to an interactive porno.
I gave him the answer cited above and proceeded to take one of the most fucked-up hilarious humiliation calls EVER! I'm pretty much shameless in everything I do, so verbally abusing masturbating morons in front of an audience is no sweat haha, I'm awesome like that. I'm going to show you the text from my fem-domme listing to give you an idea of what a caller to that particular line can expect and let you marvel at the fact that they read it and still place the call. After that is a transcript of the call that resulted in the icky pic at the bottom of this post. Anyone who is offended by the sight of unattractive penises and wrapping materials should stop reading now. Heh, that's what I thought you pervy sons a bitches, scrolled right down didn'tcha? Don't sweat it, I'd a done the same, read on.
Listing text:

Don't let my cutesy listing fool you. I'll shred whatever scrap of self esteem you have and sound totally sweet the whole time I'm doing it.
That's right I'll be sweet as pie...as I'm making you wish you were never born! Come and play with me, see how long it takes for me to OWN your bitch ass! I'm a born switch, especially when it comes to pathetic losers like you, I just can't help myself. It takes a real man to top this bitch and all I see here is chicken shit!
You're the kind of fucktard that has nothing better to do than troll Niteflirt looking at all the women he can never hope to get. You've been reduced to paying girls for talk and even then you can't hide the fact that you're an utter waste of space. HAH,I can smell L-O-S-E-R from the moment I answer the phone, which is kinda sad but mostly funny. Can you really blame me for laughing at you? Take a look in the mirror, you pin-dick sack of dog crap! YOU are a sorry excuse for a man and it's no wonder women mock you.
You've been getting the shit kicked out of you your whole life and it's warped you into a sexual deviant who's itty-bitty dick gets hard when a girl humiliates him! Don't try and deny it, your inadequate genitalia is even now attempting to rise as you read this. Worthless, poorly endowed AND impotent? Aren't you a fucking prize! Haha, I wouldn't fuck you with someone else's vagina!
Quite the social retard aren't you? If you can find the balls(tho I sincerely doubt you possess any), pick up the phone and call me, I'll show you what I'm all about. Oh and you better start explaining yourself as soon as I answer the line, give me something worth laughing at or I'll hang up on you. My time is valuable and you're not paying me NEARLY enough to tolerate a trembling wimp who can't find the courage to speak up. Got it?

Ribbon call:
Me: Tell me what I wanna hear jerk-off, before I hang up on you.
Caller: My name is Dave, I'm a 44 year old virgin wimp loser. I'm really a loser, this is not a fantasy for me, not role play, this is my pathetic life and I can only think about girls treating me like total crap, I really have no life, no friends, no love life, I sit around in my apartment all day and surf the Internet for femdom sites and call niteflirt.
Ideally I'm looking for a girl who can get inside my head and learn all my weaknesses so she can completely destroy my self-esteem. I beg you to really hurt me physically and mentally. I'm into femdom and humiliation, but not into gay or bi sex or into feminization.
Me:Well Dav-id, I have been known to be a lil vicious, especially when dealing with pathetic, couch potato,wastes of space, like yourself. From what you've told me, it's no wonder you're still a virgin, to tell you the truth, I'm kinda surprised you don't still live with your parents.
Caller: I know princess, I don't deserve your attention. I don't deserve the privilege of hearing your beautiful voice....
Me: Shut the fuck up retard! Did I say you could speak? Since you're so eager to use your mouth why don't you come over here and clean my shoe? I think I stepped in dog shit earlier and I figure you hafta be good for something. Crawl over here and lick the shit off the bottom of my shoe!
Caller: *panting* YES PRINCESS! *slurping noises*
Me: Let me tell you something D for dickless .....OH MY GOD! Are you touching yourself??? You disgusting little worm! Stop that immediately before I go get my boyfriend to come and show you what a real dick looks like. Your shit is so tiny it's not even a small penis, it's a big clit, take your thumb and forefinger off of it or I'll burn it off with my cigarette and end this problem once and for all!
Caller: *wheezing* YES PRINCESS! Please forgive me, I'll do anything you say I'll....
Me: I know that you moron, I own every inch of you, from your receding hairline to the tips of your smelly toes. Ugh, that's a pretty picture! The image of you masturbating is...*gag* I just vomited in my mouth *spitting noise* Eat it!
Caller:*slurp*
Me: Say thank you, bitch!
Caller: Oh thank you princess I..
Me: Nauseating little twerp, as penance for being such a fucking idiot, you will tie a ribbon around your hideous little weenis and mail it to me so I can post it on my blog and show everyone what a sissy loser you are.
Caller: On your blog? Noooooo, I beg you princess...
Me: NOW GEEK!
Caller: Y-yesss p-princess.
Me: I'm over this, you should tribute me just for wasting my precious time with your ridiculous panting! My friends are gonna die laughing when I show it to them, they love hearing about my nf losers. I'm not surprised girls can see you for the dickless wimp you are, Christ, I really can smell failure and desperation from here!
15 minutes later:
Caller: Thank you Princess, that was a great call. I have attached a pic of my little dick with a ribbon and will send it now.
Me: Good dog, now go and fetch me feedback that says Princess M owns Dickless Dave. 5stars, BITCH! I'll be posting your pic soon. *click*
E-mail from caller with attached pic : Yes Princess M, just did so.

So for those of you bemoaning the fact that I've been neglecting my updates and stories, there ya go haha, my gift to you. An absurdly long post with a gag-worthy dick-pic attached, am I outstanding or what?
Mmmhmm, yeah, I'll back later. Count on it.
MUAH!
~Melody Lee, your Fem-domme for all seasons.

Just a lil audible verbal vomit for your listening pleasure

2009-08-21T22:12:00.004-06:00

If anyone didn't hear the first a-fucking-mazing recording I did while under the influence of my darling friend H, click on the My Blog thing on the bottom left corner of the widget and it will take you where you wanna go. I'll be back eventually, probly write something too, you never can tell. OK kids, I'm a long gone momma....in so many ways haha.
~Melody

NOT-so-little red riding hood-rat aka the second half of my catfight episode

2009-07-29T09:28:00.015-06:00

So I was leaning on the couch arm, trying to ignore the other two bitches in the room. It was getting kinda hard though, Gabby's friend kept saying things under her breath. That shit irritates the hell outta me! I was trying to be good, telling myself that R-man had his cash and my services weren't gonna be needed but that goddamned muttering was driving me up the wall! Combined with the looks she was shooting at me when she thought I wasn't looking, it was getting REAL hard to stay cool. Maniac was watching the whole thing in between hits, nodding at me and mouthing "Do it, you know you want to." He came over and crouched down on the floor in front of me so we could talk without being too obvious, "Check it out homegirl, that bitch it talkin' shit, you gonna let her disrespect you like that?"
I rolled my eyes at him and said, "I know what your trying to do pendejo, you just wanna see us scrap!"
He laughed, "So what? Go show that india what's up, I know you want to. Mira, look she's doing it again, damn girl you just gonna sit here? You need to go regulate."
I stood up and stretched,"What I need to do is get the fuck outta this stank ass trailer! It smells like dog shit in here." I said it loud enough to be heard by everyone in said trailer. Maniac smiled at me and stood up, his work was done...fucker!
The Navajo girl looked past me to R-man and said, "Hey, why don't you guys get the fuck outta here? You did what you came to do, now split. I don't know what you're trying to prove bringing this bitch up in here."
R-man ignored her, more concerned with his pipe that anything else.I reached over, plucked the cigg from behind his ear, lit it and said, "You got something to say to me girl? I'm standing right fucking here..."
She heaved herself up and kept talking at Rainman, "What the fuck? You cruise in here like you got something to prove, you need to get the fuck on."
I got to my feet and moved to stand in front of R-man,"You need to sit the fuck down, shut your mouth and mind your business. This shit don't concern you."
She walked towards me, "Fuck that, this is my homegirl's place, I'm making it my business."
I just shook my head and smiled, "Bitch you don't have a clue, your homegirl is lucky she didn't get her ass beat. She should be grateful I don't do it anyway, just for wasting my time."
I leaned back on the couch arm, passed my cigg to Maniac and took the pipe from R-man, taking a long hit. I waved my hand in her direction as if dismissing her, "You needs to piss off."
She walked up to me, "Who the fuck you think you are, coming in here acting all hard?" She looked over my shoulder at R-man,"What the fuck, you bring her in here like she's the big bad wolf or something, fuck that."
I took another hit and handed the pipe back, pushing off the couch I blew a cloud of cryssy in her face and drawled, "Bitch I will blow you motherfucking house down!." I hafta say I was extremely proud of that comeback, it was damn good, probly one of my best but I was losing patience and getting tired of all this back and forth shit so I followed it with,"Sit the fuck down and shut your hole, before I shut it for you!"
She opened her mouth to say something else and I just shook my head and clocked her one right in the face. She didn't see it coming and it stunned her for a minute.
What happened right after is kinda blurry but I remember ending up on the floor and trying to keep her from using her weight to pin me down. I put my knee in her gut and kept socking her in the head, just trying to keep her off me. That girl was way HEAVY! She got me good on the side of the face and busted my lip with her elbow.
I jabbed her in the throat and she went to the side trying to keep me from doing it again (getting punched in the throat is a motherfucker, believe you me) and I managed to get out from under her. I was tasting blood and it pissed me off, I spit it at her face and said, "Stupid cooze, you busted my fucking lip!"
She was still re-learning how to breathe, so I got to my feet and kicked her in the side. I looked up and Maniac was on the edge of his seat, grinning at me, R-man was rolling his eyes and Gabby was nowhere to be seen. I spat on the floor and saw that she was trying to lever her big self up so I kicked her again for good measure. I leaned over and dribbled blood in her face and she grabbed one of my legs and knocked me on my ass.
This set off another bout of grappling where she resorted to hair pulling, stupid cunt. I HATE girly fights! If your gonna scrap, why bother with all that shit, get to swinging or piss off! Lame-ass bitch!
She ripped out a chunk of my hair and scratched the shit outta my neck. I clocked her in the face a few times and then wrapped my fingers in her greasy mop and started pounding her head against the corner of the coffee table. I think I busted it open because I heard Maniac say, "OH SHIT!" and he and R-man came over and pulled us apart.
They got me up and wouldn't let me go (I was trying to kick her in the face), I elbowed Maniac in the ribs and he dragged me out the door. He took me to the car, sat me on the trunk and started laughing, jumping back when I tried to kick him in the balls. I was NOT pleased! I don't like leaving shit undone, it doesn't matter if it ends with me getting pulverized, it needs to be OVER!
I've gotten beat within an inch of my life by guys twice her size, I'm not afraid of an ass kicking, what I don't like is unfinished business.
Rainman came out of the trailer and handed me his pipe, I was feeling a lil wilted and it fixed me right up haha. We got in the car, me riding shotgun (as usual) and went back to R-man's place. Maniac kept up a running commentary the whole ride, highlighting key moments of my little tussle. I just leaned back and smoked it up, the cryssy keeping any aches and pains at bay. There was a dull throbbing on the left side of my face and my lip felt puffy but that was about it, nothing really hurt.
We got to the homestead and R-man presented me with a fat sack of meth and a new point, bless his heart. I went into the bathroom, fixed it up and managed to thread a vein on the top of my left hand. That shit burned like the devil but it didn't matter, the rush was on and I was oblivious to anything but the chemicals running through me, stealing my breath and making me feel like I was in free fall.
As soon as I was able to function, I went to the mirror and took inventory of all my ouchies. I had a HUGE bruise forming on my left cheek and my lip was split, inside and out. I had scratches behind my right ear, curving down the side of my neck, almost to my collar bone. All in all it wasn't too bad. Casey was gonna shit when he saw me though.
I ended up getting home just before he woke up. I slipped into bed seconds before the alarm went off and tried to play dead. He woke up, turned on the light and started getting dressed. I though I was gonna get away with it when I heard, "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO YOUR FACE?"
I would have buried my head in the pillow but it hurt too much, so I opened one eye and said, "I didn't do shit." He rolled his eyes and started sermonizing about crazy bitches who come home black and blue. Fine thing coming from a motherfucker who gets in more brawls than anyone I know.
I pulled the covers over my head and said nothing, he still hasn't asked me what really went down. He just knows I didn't get smacked around by a dude, which is what he really cares about. He knows if I get into it with some broad, it's on me. Fuck, even if I scrapped with some guy, I think it would still be on me but he doesn't see it that way. Haha, old fashioned I guess.
So that's it, I've got some snaps of me all bruised up, I might put 'em up later. I just started taking this weird med cocktail of Lyrica, Neurontin and Percocet (with a lil oxy thrown in for good measure), so I'll probly be posting all kinds of crazy shit. That stuff is INSANE! It makes me feel like I'm on H and mescaline, all fucked in the head, it's dreeeeaaamy!
Anyway, I'm outta here, I'll see all y'all mothafuckas later, I need to go do...something. Oh and I'm finally getting my ink, Mario is gonna drill on me next week. He's gonna finish the stars and do the stitches around my wrist, it's gonna look cool as fuck! I haven't done any H since last weekend but I get paid in 2 days and I'm pretty sure I'll be headed to Espanola as soon as I hit the bank on Friday, it's inevitable. I'm a fiend, what can I say? As long as the bills are paid, who cares what I spend my cash on anyway?
So I'm out, kisses and all that other shit, try not to get too excited. XOXO
~Melody Lee

The shallow end of the gene pool.

2009-07-28T05:01:00.007-06:00

So Anna is one of my best friends but I make no excuses for her crazy ass sister. I haven't actually seen Margaret since we all lived with Butch but I remember her juuuust fine. She was this strange hybrid of heroin slamming cock tease and religious zealot. We used to call her Attila the nun.
She would spend the whole day out hustling for dope and then nod out over her bible at night. God had told her it was wrong to fuck out of wedlock but I guess he was a bit more understanding when it came to shooting dope. Hey if being a fiend falls into a grey area, who the fuck am I to say any different?
Anyway, she routinely let guys of our acquaintance think they were gonna get laid but then heard God calling her to prayer at the critical moment. On a side note, God was just fine about letting her take as long as she needed to fix, considerate no?
So a while back I was talking to another friend and he told me that when she lived with him she would get loaded and wax philosophical. You know, about the usual things, life, death, religion, messages from God in Duran Duran songs. Yes you read that right, MESSAGES FROM GOD IN MOTHERFUCKING DURAN DURAN S-O-N-G-S!
Apparently Rio is a metaphor for original sin, Girls on Film is about greed and Hungry Like the Wolf is alluding to the search for proof of the divine.
Uh no bitch, her name is Rio and she dances on the sand, I'd say it doesn't go much deeper than that. Girls on film is pretty damn self explanatory and who knows what the fuck Hungry like the Wolf is about but I think I can safely say it's not the search for salvation.
No disrespect to Simon LeBon and crew but crafty theologians they ain't!
I suppose people can interpret things any way they like, I myself am capable of rationalizing and justifying just about anything you can throw at me but come the fuck on! Duran Duran? Really?
The bitch is clearly off her rocker and I am fully qualified to judge heheh. Just because there was a giant angel in Barbarella and a guy called Duran Duran...
OK, wait now maybe....
Nah, fuck that noise! She is batshit insane and last I heard she became a dental assistant because God wanted her to clean peoples teeth. Too bad he didn't see fit to remind her to brush her own before they all fell out.
So yeah, I was thinking about all that and thought I would share it with you. You can thank me some other time but really it was my pleasure :)
Besides, it gave me a brief respite from having to plow through the second half of my catfight episode. La-zyyyyyy!
Kisses,
~Melody

Intermission...

2009-07-27T14:26:00.007-06:00

Even my tits are strungout heh.

Yeah I promised the rest of the story but I feel like shit and I'm not about to go into all that right now. What I am in the mood for is a little anon bashing. They never tire of spouting their judgemental verbal vomit but luckily I never tire of injecting (heheh,really!), my opinion into their mindless comments. I really kinda have to, just to keep things interesting. I wonder.....have my predictions come true? Have self-satisfied douchbags the world over actually started to sound alike? Perhaps it's that they are sooooo fucking inept that they have to go through my previous posts and find a comment to copy and paste, too lethargic in their cocoon of smug self-righteousness to come up with something original. I would looove to think that it's the same idiot over and over, that would be too, too perfect but not very likely.
I mean, who the fuck is that retarded? It's bad enough that these people have nothing better to do than troll my pages looking for something to get pissy about!
I know I give people more than enough reasons to hate me, it's what I do. I am magnificent in my beneficence heheh, I bestow a gift of adventure and debauchery that leaves no visible marks. People are free to live vicariously through me without any physical risk to themselves.
No tracks on your lily white arms, no cuts, bruises or black marks staining your pristine souls...fuckwads! If you can't see the beauty in that you can go curl up in bed (no doubt located in your mother's basement) and jerk it to your Comicon '09 photo journal. Don't think to condescend to me with your untouchable attitude, I see right through you.
One hour of my "wasted" existence is worth a lifetime of yours and if I never see the wrong side of 35 it'll have been worth it!
Whatever, I'm over it. I don't have to explain shit to anybody, that's the luxury of being a self indulgent cunt. I can do and say what the fuck I want and when it's all said and done...you can go fuck yourself. Your opinion means less than nothing to this bitch.
Don't flatter yourselves into thinking I'm pissed either, I'm not, just bored with your lack of imagination. Not that's it comes as any surprise, sad to say.
What it comes down to is this :

You can try and lump me in to whatever category you like but at the end of the day you basically know shit about who I really am. You know what I tell you or in the case of a rather determined stalker from IL, what you snooped on the Internet.

Fuck it, I'm done with this, bored to tears and my heart just isn't in it tonight. I can't produce a scathingly brilliant post in this condition, so I'm not even going to try. I'll be back tomorrow..probly.
XO to everybody who isn't a fucktard, even if you live in your parent's basement and play WoW all day hahaha.
~Melody Lee

Oh no.....Must be the Season of the Bitch!

2009-07-12T08:20:00.017-06:00

Just wait, this^^ becomes relevant later on.

Well, I'm not in lock-up, just lazy. I'm sure you can tell from the date that I started this over a week ago and just now got it done. So this is what happened after my last post.

When I climbed into the car Rainman was behind the wheel and Maniac was in the back hitting the glass as usual. I took control of the stereo and replaced R-man's Seasons in the Abyss with some TSOL, it seemed to suit my mood. I crawled over the seats into the back to keep lame-o cholo company...oh and to smoke the motherfucker's speed.
It was kinda hot that night and if I hadn't been intent on putting an end to my hellacious come down, I definitely wouldn't have been rubbing against the sweaty fucktard sitting next to me. The lowered disco-mobile is free of modern conveniences like air conditioning and Maniac had taken his shirt off. I sat as far from him as possible, making snarky comments about douchebags covered in prison ink who have never seen the inside of a reception dorm. He countered with some semi-clever remarks about junky cradle robbers during which I snatched the pipe out of his hand and threatened to chuck it out the window. This set off a wrestling match that got me covered in homie sweat and the pipe lost under the front seat. R-man reached into the backseat and started swatting at us shouting, "Goddamn it, stop that shit or I'll pull this car over right now! Do you hear me? Right now I said!"
We paused, looked at each other and laughed, "Yes Papi." Maniac located the pipe and we concerned ourselves with the smoking of the speed. In between hits of cryysy we sniped at each other until Rainman cranked the volume on the stereo to drown us out. I contented myself with making faces and obscene gestures and settled back to enjoy the sweet sounds of "Code Blue". Me immature? Not on your life! I just like being obnoxious while singing about fucking dead people.
By the time we reached our destination we'd started grappling again. R-man opened the door and grumbled impatiently as I planted my feet in Maniac's chest and launched him out of the back seat and into the dirt. He got up and lunged at me, trying to wrap his hands around my throat but Rainman grabbed him around the waist and kept him off me.
I took my time climbing out of the car and smirked at M, singing out, "I WIIIIN!"
He struggled to get to me and R-man gasped out, "Christ on a cracker woman, stop pokin at him, damn sweaty mez-kin is slicker than a greased pig!"
I almost pissed myself I was laughing so hard! Between Rainman's comment, the look on Maniac's face and the speed in my system, I'm surprised I didn't have some kind of spasticated seizure! It took me a minute to pull myself together and and get the giggles under control. Maniac gave me a disgusted look and said, "Whatchu laffin' at puta, you're just as Mez-kin as I am!"
One look at that face and the dirt stuck all over his stupid ass and I started laughing all over again. I leaned against the car trying to catch my breath and told him to quit pouting, I needed concentrate on why the fuck I there in the first place.
The meth savant filled me in on the details:

1)Gabby owed him close to a thou and had been ducking him for weeks.
2)She had finally called and told him she had most of the cash.
3)If she didn't have at least two thirds of the total amount, I could kick the shit
outta her with his blessing.

My mood had improved considerably since he had first called and asked me to do it but I figured what the hell, I was already there. We walked up to the trailer and climbed the steps, she already knew we were there and the door opened before I could knock on it.
A Navajo girl the size of an Andy Gump outhouse ushered us in, shooting dirty looks in my direction. I smiled sweetly and went to lean on arm of the couch, the trailer smelled worse than it had the last time I was there, if that was possible. I think every dog in New Mexico had taken turns alternately pissing and shitting in that hell hole! Gabby was nowhere to be seen and Rainman sent Maniac to look for her.
He came back, hag-ula in tow and she flung a paper bag on the coffee table. R-man told her to dump it out and count it. She did and came up with something like $800bucks, she handed it to him.
While all this was going on Maniac had made himself comfortable on the couch and started watching TV and smoking it up. Filthy motherfucker, that couch was so rank it could have crawled away on it's own! Rainman put the money away, pulled out a bag of cryssy and scooped some onto the coffee table before settling back to hit his own pipe. Ugh, that fucking couch was NASTY!!!
Gabby eyed the offering hesitantly and said she didn't have any more money. I took the glass from R-man's hand, hit it and said, "He didn't ask for any you dumb cunt, say thank you."
Maniac snickered and the port-a-crapper disguised as a Navajo girl started muttering under her breath....

Umm, I'm gonna post the rest tomorrow because this is one long muthafuckin story and it's probly better if I break it up. Maniac descended on my household last night and spent the better part of the morning getting wired and cleaning his guns. The house has that old familiar smell of tweek, gun oil and sweaty Mez-kin haha. I gotta go fumigate while I'm still inclined to do so, I decided not to smoke but ended up getting high off the fluffy white clouds of cryssy floating through house. I will clean and then spend the rest of the day laying in bed watching movies, eating percocet and waiting for my heart to stop palpitating so I can sleep.
XOXO
~Melody

Blood Stains, Speed Kills and Oh Yes Indeed I WILL!

2009-07-07T11:38:00.011-06:00

OK so I've been a little preoccupied what with getting loaded and my new project and I haven't been doing a damn thing to update on here. Chances are that anyone who was reading me has ambled off to greener pastures and that's fine....because I know that all y'all motherfuckers that have turned your face from me will be back eventually, I'm just that irresistible!
I have been on the Methamphetamine for a bit too long and have discovered that Suboxone has done NOTHING to discourage it from coursing through my system like a deranged freight train. I have repeatedly cursed Rainman and his future inbred, three-eyed offspring but it's really not his fault, it just makes me feel better to take it out on someone besides myself.
I can't help but wish that whatever ingredient he's added in order to, pardon the pun, tweak his recipe would suddenly become unavailable....not that I'm saying he has a recipe. If my opinion were to become public knowledge(at least locally),the unwashed tweeker masses would likely hunt me down, douse me in ether and light a match. So y'all keep your big mouths shut!
I have been unable to sleep for more days that I care to think about, even going so far as to become one of those *shudder* productive tweekers that irritate the shit outta me. I cleaned, I washed, I vacuumed and folded! I bathed Fat Mike,(to his extreme displeasure) and scoured the backyard for bird and lizard carcasses. Today alone I scrubbed the guest room from top to bottom (I had to rid it of any lingering sister cooties) and threw out any linens that may or may not have been tainted by the touch of foul,(and abundant)sister flesh!
I'm in rare mood and though I have more than enough energy, I'm going to refrain from detailing the events that took place the night I made the brilliant decision to join R-man on his quest to Cuba. Maybe next post.
Maybe not, I might have an even better tale to tell. Rainman rang me about an hour ago saying he needed me to come with him to collect some money from a "recalcitrant" customer. I was going to tell him to go get fucked, it was seriously right on the tip of my tongue....until he mentioned the name of the dastardly debtor. That's right...it's Gabby,the spun retarded, dog-faced cunt who tried to take a chunk out of my arm with her teeth, if you could call them teeth. Generally teeth implies that you have more than a smattering of decaying stumps left in your head. That bitch looks like she's been eating rocks! As in gravel, not crack but I suppose both would have the same effect.
After our last altercation, during which she chipped one of her few remaining teeth on my ring, she hasn't been to eager to see me at all. As I said at the time, it's not my fault the bitch didn't take my friendly warnings to heart and shut her big fucking mouth! It's not my fault that she was too stupid to realize I was serious about shutting it for her and it's definitely not my fault that she chipped her tooth whilst repeatedly slamming her face into my fist. Nope, not my fault at all.
I've been spoiling for a fight ever since I missed my chance to throttle Casey's cunt sister. I am in such a pleasant mood right now that I think paying a visit to Countess Tore-back-ula sounds like a capital idea. I am also rather in love with the fact that I can now call myself an enforcer hahaha. I'm such a hardass.
So I will be heading out my front door in 45 minutes, I will wave a one fingered salute to the cocksucking cops that live on the corner and I will climb into the hated disco-mobile. I will inhale some cryssy from the pipe that'll be thrust under my nose the moment I shut the door and I will count the seconds till we arrive on Gabby's rickety doorstep. If she's lucky, she'll have the money and I will be on my way, if I'm lucky...she won't.
If I'm not back in 48 hours, y'all should start taking up a collection for my bail and contact K1tten who will in turn contact my bail bondsman. Haha yeah, I'll hold my breath.
Love you kids, see ya when I see ya,XOXO
~Melody Lee

A new platform...

2009-06-25T15:52:00.002-06:00

I've started a new community and am inviting anyone who is interested to join. All you have to do is scroll down to the little Junky Underground badge on my sidebar and click the join now button. It's a bit more personal than this page but that's part of the charm. We have already gotten a few people to sign up and so far it looks like it's going to be worthwhile. I don't really care if it takes off or not, the few who have signed on are among my faves on blogger and if it never goes beyond that, it'll still be fun.
I'm going to be posting pics and other shit that I normally wouldn't put on here and everyone else is invited to do the same. If I didn't send you a personal invite, it's because I didn't have your e-mail address, not because I don't love you.
Y'all don't have anything to lose by joining and you'll have access to a super cool little web badge that says you are a certified member of "The Junky Underground". I would have done it for that reason alone haha. The Junky Underground has been in existence for quite some time now, all I did was give it a single web address and an awesome icon for all of us to plaster all over our webpages.
So join up mothafuckas, this is an invitation straight from me to you. See y'all soon....or not. I love yous either way.
Hugs, kisses and all that other shit too,
~Melody Lee, founder and certified member of The Junky Underground, the un-social network for the socially undesirable...

The perils of being a MexiCunt...read the last paragraph first.

2009-06-19T11:45:00.006-06:00

I have come to the realization that I should have choked the life out of Maniac long before now. We have had our moments and for the most part he's tolerable but the joy he takes in needling me about the uh younger men thing is getting annoying. I was kind enough to let him in my house today (Adrian's presence didn't hurt) and he repaid me by blasting reggaeton on my stereo. I don't mind the music so much, I am technically a Mexican after all but his choice of songs was....uh FUCKED UP!
He must have had this in mind for some time, it was too convenient to be a coincidence and because Adrian turned out to be fluent in Spanish, it was also embarrassing as hell! I should have known he was up to something by the smug look on his face, he sat across from us and crossed his arms expectantly as "Mayor que yo" blared from the speakers. It translates to "Older than me" and is basically a song about a guy saying he doesn't care if the girl is older than he is because he wants her in his bed. It goes on to give a list of reasons why this should happen and it sounded suspiciously like the rationalizations I had heard from Richie, making me wonder if he hadn't been tutored by Maniac in the first place. No, Richie was waaaaay too slick to have been schooled by a moron.
This experience was made all the better by the goofy smile on Adrian's face which led me to the conclusion that he could understand the lyrics as well as us Mexicans. Fantastic!
I sat through the song, made some obscene gestures at Maniac and then excused myself into the bedroom, where I have been for the past 25 minutes. I seem to be caught between plotting his death and feeling ridiculous. I was trying really hard to be good today...
Adrian has cash and wants to take me to Espanola in a car of questionable origin. He can't really tell me who it belongs to and that is never a good thing. I will NOT get caught up riding in a hot car with 1/2 a piece of tar in my drawers, not gonna happen! My connect in Esp would be unthrilled if I made the scene with Ade and Maniac in tow, I would be lucky to get a 20 bag much less 14 G's. I need to give this some thought, I should just go alone and let them wait here...if I go at all.
I need to stay home.
I can hear Calle 13 coming from the other room, I'm already exhausted and they've only been here for 45 minutes. I should call Casey and see what he says, I know how much he loves it when I plot potential felonies behind his back.
I swear to Christ if Maniac puts on Daddy Yankee I'll....I'll...*sigh* That shit is like crack to Mexicans/most latin cultures, all we have to do is hear it and we start dancing. Kinda scary....I WILL NOT DANCE!!! I'm not drunk therefore it will not happen!
I'm too far gone to be dealing with this nonsense, I need to be working through this kick, not running to score more dope.
I'm off to give this some thought and I'll leave y'all some annoyingly catchy Don Omar on default, haha no thanx necessary. Attention Mexicans: Mute the music player lest you be caught off guard by the instinctive urge to dance, you have been warned....at the end of the post heh, fat lot of good that did!
Amor kids,
~Melody