The long weekend starts now.

 The Murder Junkies played the night after Butch's funeral. The tattoo Anna got in memory of Butch>>.

Well I'm still alive. I have been on one hell of a run and that combined with the recent loss of Butch has made me lethargic and unable to concentrate on the computer long enough to write anything worthwhile. I'm kicking as of today and that usually kicks my muse in the ass, if nothing else, I will be posting reams of foul tempered, opinionated craaaaaap, so that's something I suppose.
I just did my last shot and I already feel the panic kicking in, you would think that I would sit back and savor it but nooooooooooooo. I have to dwell on the fact that by this time tomorrow I will wish I were dead. Oh well, it's no big thang and it will be over soon...even if it seems like every minute lasts an ETERNITY!!! I got my refill of Percocet and and higher dose of Neurontin, so it won't be too bad, just irritating.
In the last month I have driven over 4,000 miles back and forth to Espanola and it's time to take a break. It has been dreamy but my habit has increased by leaps and bounds, where I used to stay wasted all day off a tiny shot, it now takes a ridiculous amount for me to catch a nod. We have been going through about a G a day and it's getting crazy expensive. For the first time in my life I am reluctant to liquidate everything I own for the sake of H. Could it be maturity and responsibility rearing their ugly heads at last? Pffft, doubtful!
I have some photos taken on the long road to Espanola and I will undoubtedly post those in short order. I may even delve back into the past and pull out some more of my ever amusing war stories...perhaps something involving Butch. I miss that motherfucker something fierce....
Anna has had something resembling a nervous breakdown following the news of his death, she is slowly but surely regaining her wits but it will definitely take some time. I think getting the memorial tattoo helped her accept that he was gone. I haven't been much help to her seeing as how alot of her distress revolves around a crisis of faith (she's catholic), and my views on God, death etc are far from comforting. I don't really understand, I'm extremely comforted by my idea of God but that's me. I refuse to believe that God has nothing better to do than punish people for meaningless indescretions. Has anyone ever seriously thought about how utterly stupid it sounds to say that someone is condemned to eternal damnation....for saying God damn it? It is beyond preposterous and I truly think that a deity has more pressing matters to deal with than serial blasphemy.
Anyway, I won't get started in that direction, I'm sure the last thing anyone wants is a 10,000 word rant on organized religion and the stupidity thereof.
To answer some of my comments,

~The guy in the photo with Butch is the lead singer from DOA.

~The "Ho" is still here and I have no plans of vacating anytime soon.

~Richie is currently in a men's home but will be completing his program in the next couple months. He got a year and a year, as did Eric. I can't wait to see them when they get out. Haha, mah babies!

So I think that's it for now, I need to try and get some enjoyment out of this last poke and it ain't gonna happen while I'm sitting in front of the computer. Love ya kids, your Melody Lee, after all who else would have me?

Me a victim? Of myself maybe.

I never realized it before but I am pretty fucking upbeat for a junky, I mean I might bitch constantly but that's just my nature. I was born to be a pain in somebody's ass. I guess most addicts are unhappy and that comes through in their writing. I can understand that, we all have our moments. I do get annoyed though when it's like 150 pages of pity party. Poor me I'm an addict, feel sorry for me and my wasted life....wah waaaaaah! Piffle!
I would like to believe that I'm unique in every way but that's probably not true, I guess I'm just more optimistic about my condition than most. A happy go lucky dopefiend, that's me. I'm not trying to sugar coat it, it's not an easy way to live. For alot of people it's no life at all, I know that, I'm not a simpleton.
I've been at both ends of the game, flying high selling and down low just scraping to get by. I won't deny that I had some tough times but for the most part if I was feeling sorry for myself it wasn't because I hated my life, it was because I had no $$$ or dope. That's about as honest as I can be, I mean sure I could spin some yarn about how I saw myself in the gutter and had a moment of clarity when I realized I was a waste of oxygen and would be better off dead but that would be bullsheeeiiit.
Maybe It's just me but if I'm being truthful my pit of despair was dug by lack of smack not self hatred. My poor me attitude beat feet as soon as I got right. To say otherwise would be false.
It's like all those people who find religion....in jail. Motherfuckers who couldn't be bothered to say bless you when someone sneezed are all of a sudden quoting scripture at me? I'm sorry but come the fuck on!
And what are these newly re-birthed disciples of Christ praying for, world peace? Their families well being? NO! It's all about,"Oh Jesus please help me to get a fed cap kick" or "God, please help the DA to lose my paperwork so I get a continuance and can do all of my time in county" HAH! Lord and saviour my ass! Most people only pray when they're in deep shit or they want something and that's the sad truth.
I actually had some of these dipshits try to lay hands on me and 'heal' me when I was locked up and kicking, needless to say it got ugly pretty damn quick and they wasn't offering to pray for me noooo more! Fuck 'em where they breathe, I wasn't religious on the streets why the fuck would I change my tune in lockup? That is fake as all hell and why bother if you're not sincere?
Anyway, all I'm saying is that no matter how many times I hear someone tell me that I'm not being honest about my addiction I feel like I am. I know it's bad for me, I just don't care. I talk about my self destructive tendencies but I don't know if that's even the right way to describe what's up with me. I'm not doing all this shit out of self loathing, I'm doing it because I like to get loaded. I may not like some of the shit that comes along with it but I figure you take the good with the bad and smile or else move the fuck on, it's not for you.
I'm not putting down the people who are genuinely unhappy with their addictions, everyone deals with things differently, all I'm saying is why is it wrong for me to feel OK about it? Why do I have to be miserable, is it some kind of junky pre-requisite? I'm not miserable, even stuck in a shit hole miles away from friends and family.
I've never been comfortable playing the victim, that's just not me. I could turn on poor junky girl in a minute if I wanted to and I have in certain circumstances, when it was to my benefit. Junkies are the best manipulators after all.
I always feel so stupid trying to get sympathy for something I did to myself, "Oh poor me, I never knew shooting Heroin 20 times a day would do this to me, I'm just a victim of ignorance and circumstance" Riiiight.
For me trying to play that card 24/7 would be like trying to put sliced hot dogs in plain spahgetti-o's.....not worth the effort 'cause it's just not authentic. Do I come across as helpless?
I know some girls that got into H because of guys and all that crap and I suppose if they really want to they can say it wasn't their fault but I went out and hunted for it. I specifically set out to score H and I didn't quit til I got what I wanted.
The link thing isnt working so if anyone wants to read that story go back to my 6/23/08 post for the skinny on how I got started. I will say right now, yeah it was fucking stupid! I had no business doing what I did and I'm lucky we didn't all die or get HIV/HepC. I know all that and even now I can't believe I went about it the way I did but if there's one thing that comes across loud and clear, it's that I truly have no one to blame but myself PERIOD! If I have no clue what I'm doing and there's no one to show me and yet I still figure out some way to get it done then yeah, it's my fault.
I'm getting sidetracked and it's probably because I had a phone call from a particularly pathetic Josh who was acting like someone twisted his arm and forced him to become a junky. Poor trust fund baby, nobody loves him waaaaaah! Man up Josh, stop whining like a bitch and take some responsibility for your own actions.
That's it,enough bitching for tonight; everybody have a marvelous weekend, I loves you all, yes even you Josh....you sniveler! Melody

The opiate of the masses and a guinea pig named Jehovah

So Casey's family is mostly Jehovah's witnesses. The rest are Catholic, figure that shit out. His mom and sisters call the day before his birthday because heaven forbid they actually acknowledge the day of his birth. Fucking stooopid!
Anyway, if you've read my first few posts then you know how I feel about the whole cult, um I mean Jehovah's witness thing. I am not overly impressed with anything they have tried to teach me and believe me, they have tried. I am not close minded. I am very open to all sorts of things.
My issue with Jehovah's witnesses is the fact that they feel like they are the only ones who have a true connection with God. I guess that goes for most organized religion but for some reasons their beliefs seem particularly one sided and ignorant. There's supposed to be these people who are 'anointed', that were chosen by God to go up to heaven and help him rule from above while all the lesser (unlucky sheep) witnesses rule on earth.
What about the rest of us you ask? Well, we're fucked! Unless you decide to "Walk in the light" and follow the ways of Jehovah and his witnesses you can resign yourself to a fiery inferno. Cheerful little people of God ain't they.
I asked Casey how the anointed are chosen and he said that they just are. WOW, that explains it! He said that they are just born knowing that they were chosen and that everyone in the church takes their word for it. Double WOW! So I asked him if this blind faith extended beyond their church, like say if I was to decide to become a witness and then I decided that I had been anointed all along, it just took me all these years to see the error of my ways and return to the flock. According to the way things were explained to me that should be okey dokey, because I KNOW I was chosen by God and they just have to take my word for it. Blind faith is a bitch, no?
Oddly enough, that wouldn't work because the last anointed was born years ago, how convenient! Is it me or does it seem especially self-important to think you can decide when heaven has reached maximum capacity? I thought you were supposed to be humble? I could go on for days about that shit. Every time I ask an 'elder' a question, I get quoted some obscure scripture that is really no answer at all.
I think what I hate the most about this whole thing is that whenever his family calls, Casey puts on this act, like he is soo pious. Hilarious right? He goes the the kingdom hall like once a month but as soon as his mom's on the phone he's like, " Yeah, I book study twice a week" or ,"I can't make this decision, I'll have to ask Jehovah." What a fucking douchebag!
I love him and I understand that he has this crisis of conscience going on and shit but come the fuck on! He should have the balls to stand up for what he does, either way. If he doesn't want to be a witness, he should just say so. If he decides that he does indeed want to follow the cockamamie beliefs founded by a bunch of addlepated religious zealots, then more power to him, just choose already!
Don't straddle the fence out of some misguided feeling of guilt. I would have way more respect for him if he just told me to fuck off and that he was gonna worship how he pleases. It's hard for me to take his declarations seriously when I see him jerking back and forth , not willing to commit to one or the other. You can't be self-righteous and preach when you yourself aren't really even trying. I loath being lectured, especially when I know that he is doing the same stupid shit I am. I guess going to church every four weeks give him that privilege.
Plus I think it sounds so fucking pretentious to call God Jehovah, it's like one more thing to remind you that they are members of the special 'chosen' club.I think I'm going to buy a Guinea pig and name it Jehovah, that way every time I hear Casey say he'll ask 'Jehovah' I can point to the habitrail and say, "Go ahead, he's listening."
I was raised catholic and thanx to some sadistic nuns, I have left all that nonsense behind. The Catholic church has turned into a haven for pederasts and perverts and that's just the clergy! The parishioners are just as bad! Imagine the shit you can justify when you believe that confessing your sins once a week wipes your slate clean. Tithe to the church and all is forgiven. Pretty to think so but not very realistic.
I know a few people who have been lucky enough to find a church that is not filled with sanctimonious hypocrites, Shelley for instance. Her church has been awesome in supporting her and I commend that. I'm not against religion, I'm against bullshit and ignorance carried out in the name of God.
I don't think we should go through life believing that God is some tyrannical being ready to cast us into the pit of hell for the slightest indiscretion. I have said it before and I will say it again, I don't think God sweats the small shit, he is not that petty. If I'm wrong well then I guess I have a surprise waiting for me when I kick off. I'm not gonna waste my time looking over my shoulder, waiting for God to come down and spank me.
Anyway, I will stop all this now, before I start to froth at the mouth. My opinions are probably biased and I am about as far as you can get from a theology scholar but it sure is fun to talk shit! Have a bless-ed day fuckers, Love Melody

Cockroaches, speed and blasphemy......a pretty full week.

I don't think that there is anything quite as disgusting as stepping on a big fat cockroach barefooted in the dark. This was the highlight of my evening. I can safely say that the noise it made is not something I will soon forget, like a mushy pop, eeeewww fuckin' nasty! After I disinfected my foot for like an hour, I went back outside, this time with the lights on and viewed the carnage . Melody 1, roach 0. Gross!
Anyway, I have been busy doing my usual assortment of nothing mixed with a little questionable behavior and a large portion of who cares anyway.
I went on an adventure with Richie a couple of nights ago and it was as if I had been magically transported back to my freshman year in high school. Loud, drunk/stoned/spun people everywhere I looked. I showed surprising restraint when I was offered some crystal. However I am only human, I smoked ALOT of weed and took some somas, had some beer a couple of tequila shots. It was a dreamy kinda night.
I had a ridiculous confrontation with some tweeker slag that took offense at my shirt. I have to tell you about my shirt! I got the idea from a convo/e-mail I had with Shelley a few weeks back. We were talking about uptight people and I said something about nuns blowing Jesus and a t-shirt. Presto! I am a brilliant attention slut! After some creative computer imaging and a trip to the silkscreen shop, I am now in possession of a shirt that says "Devout Catholic" and features a nun blowing Jesus. You can see how that might be offensive to some people. I think it's funny as fuck but I have been told that I am a little off so maybe I'm wrong.
Anyway, she got all irate saying that it was sacrilegious and that I was going to hell and that I would have to answer for my sins before God Blah, blabity, blah. Tell it to someone who gives a fuck!
She was so wired it was like watching and listening to a spun weasel (she looked like a rodent) if spun weasels could talk. Even though I was pretty fucked up I was still able to destroy her with a few smart-assed retorts, delivered with my usual flair of course. Melody 1, princess torebackula 0.
Richie behaved himself, it was kinda sweet. He stayed with me all night and kept his hands to himself, acted protective anytime some other guy got too chummy and wouldn't let me spend any money. If I was a little more naive I might be inclined to believe it was genuine. I think it's probably the next weapon in his impressive "How to score pussy" arsenal. I'm impressed anyway, and flattered but I suppose that is part of the plan as well, make me feel special so I let my guard (and panties) down. Maybe next time.
I told Casey that I had a "friend" that I had been hanging out with. He knows it is "the kid" but seems confident that I will not do anything I shouldn't. Wow, I am dumbfounded by his faith in me, I don't think I deserve it but just knowing that he's trusting me will probably keep me in line. Sneaky fucker, I'm sure that was his plan all along.
He doesn't know about my call from Cali yet and I think I'll keep mum til I know what I'm gonna do, no use getting him all pissed over nothing. He is being really understanding lately, makes me wonder if he's slipping arsenic in my Pepsi. I would think he was fucking around if he actually had the time but he works too much. He comes home smelling like oilfield dirt, not perfume and pussy. The Russian thing would be too much though, he had some run ins with 'the brother' and they were unpleasant to say the least so yeah, I'll keep my mouth shut about that.
AAAAAHHH I get to see The Damned and Jerry and Hollywood! Sorry, I can't help it. Three of my favorite things on my favorite night, Halloween! I love Jerry he is such a cutie! We are gonna have a blast!
Things are going so well, too well. I will probably get mowed down by a runaway garbage truck tomorrow. HAHAHA, talk about takin' out the trash! Kisses from me to you , Melody

I will be my own downfall.....

Just as I predicted It's Thursday an lo and behold I feel better. I get to start the cycle all over again tomorrow and I can't wait! Determined little junky ain't I?
I'm sure you've noticed me going on a Casey bashing spree the last couple of days and I am feeling repentant. It's not to say that he didn't do all the shit I bitched about, he most definitely did. I just don't want people thinking that I am shacked up with an insufferable cry baby asshole. My latest bout of Dope sick lite armed me with a short temper and a sharp tongue. I must be feeling marvelous, I usually don't explain myself or apologize, as I am never wrong. I hope this is all temporary, people will start to think I've changed. Can't have that!
I saw Richie today. It was a case of wrong place at the right time. I have been trying really hard not to think about him and keep it in my pants. I don't really want to fuck him....... Well not too bad anyway. I think it's just that he reminds me of being that age and not giving a fuck about anything . I miss being able to live for the moment and not worry about tomorrow. I'm not that old but it's like I feel age creeping up on me faster and faster. Before I know It I'll be 30 then 40. I don't hold out much hope for 50 'cause all the damage I've done to myself is gonna catch up to me sooner than later. I think I'm OK with that. I have no worries about death. I am who I am and nothing is gonna change that. If I go to Hell Oh well by that time it will be too late to cry over anyway.
I am not the most religious person but I have my own relationship with God. Alot of people disagree with me but I don't think that God sweats the small stuff. I am fucking myself up, I'm not a murderer or a child molester (although some people think that me selling was akin to murder). I don't think God is that petty and if he is well fuck it all anyway.
Back to Richie. I think he must either live close by or be fucking someone who does because this is the second time I've seen him and he acted genuinely surprised to see me. It would be flattering to think that he tracked me down but I really don't think so.
Fuck! He is soooo irresistible! I can't, I can't, I can't! He is a 19yr old baby and I am 25 going on ancient(in street years). He was walking down the street when I was getting ready to go to the store to get some smokes. I tried to hurry up and get in the truck, really I did, he just happened to see me and came running over. I couldn't be rude could I? Not me.
He was leaning in the window smiling that smile of his and looking so edible, all tousled and bedroom eyed. The boy is walking, talking sex. I need to get a hold of myself (not like that) even now I'm having a Richie flashback and it is a powerful thing!
I had to remind myself that giving into his charm would be a colossal mistake. I asked him if he needed a ride. Of course he accepted, not one to let opportunity pass him by. I told him I was going to the store first and then would take him where he needed to go. When I came out of the store, he further impressed me by pulling out Bad Religions 80-85 CD. Since it is quite possibly my favorite Bad Religion album ever that scored some points.
I started driving, with Richie giving directions, the both of us rockin out to BR. It took me a minute to realize that we were back on my street headed towards my house. "I thought you needed a ride" I said to him as I came to a stop in front of my hacienda. "I did, we're here" he said jumping out of the truck and coming around to my door. Little fucker!
I think he really expected me to just drag him inside and drop my drawers. It was tempting. I kinda laughed and reached out and slapped him lightly on the face a couple of times, "Nice try Junior." I turned and walked to the door. I heard him call out,"I'll see you soon, I know where you live now." Stubborn horny teenager.
His persistence is not making things any easier on me. I want to give in even as I know what a stupid move that would be. Stupid on so many levels but we know how things usually turn out when I am faced with a good vs bad situation. Maybe I should just tell him what a hot mess I am (according to other people) then maybe he would lose interest. Heroin addiction and a past as a hooker don't usually inspire admiration in normal people (thanks be to God that I am far from normal) no matter how cute I am. I guess time will tell with Richie, maybe it won't matter, who knows.
I do not need a kid sniffing around me right now; or ever for that matter! If Casey gets wind of it there will be hell to pay. Not for me really but I have no desire to see Casey in jail for assault. Equally strong is the desire to make sure Richie's cute face stays just as it is...intact.
I need to give this some more thought, after all I do have a reputation for decimating most guys who come within a mile of me (yep, the black widow strikes again). Almost all of them end up strung out and fucked up. I can't understand why ;}
I always thought I should have been called the black plague seeing as how an firece epidemic of junk use followed me every where but that's the funny thing about nicknames, you don't get to choose 'em. If you do choose your own nickname chances are you are a humongous tool.
Anyway that's my little drama for now. Melody

Scientology is fucking scary!

When I was like 14, I ran away to Hollywood. I know it's very cliche but I was not trying to become a movie star or any shit like that, I was such a dumb fuck kid that taking off to L.A. to live on the streets seemed like a brilliant idea. Sooo punk rock man, we (my dumb shit friends and I) would meet up with other kids and end up squatting in some train wreck of a building for a couple of months or so before getting burned out and going home. But, while we were there all kinds of crazy shit would go on. We would panhandle all day for beer and drugs and then spend the night getting fucked up and going to shows.
Sometimes we would go back to the squat and party there. One night, this guy (I had been fucking him since my second night in town), went fuck knows where and came back with a severed human head. I'm fairly sure he didn't saw it off himself but it kinda freaked me out anyway. He was holding it by the hair and swinging it around. He later told me that him and some of the other guys had found it out under the freeway overpass. It took me about a week to purge the image (not to mention smell) from my mind and let him near me again. Stupid, I know but I've always had a weakness for for cute gutter-punk types with fucked up problems. The psycho aspect gets me all hot!
Anyway back to the point, even though that was some pretty scary fucked up shit, it doesn't even compare to my near abduction by the Church of Scientology.
We would bum change all up and down Hollywood Blvd., between Gower and La Brea. It was all mucked up with tourists who would pay to take their picture with us. It was also lousy with Scientologists. They would be everywhere, handing out pamphlets, talking to people on the street and trying to get them to go test at their little headquarters around the corner.
We always managed to avoid too much contact with them because they were a little creepy. OK, alot creepy. Anyone who believes in an alien religion, founded by a science fiction writer who spent the majority of his life on a boat frolicking naked with underage boys is alot creepy.
So it went, until one day a few of us were way too wired. It was the kind of wired where really stupid ideas seem absolutely brilliant. We decided to go and find out what was really going on in that blacked out store front they congregated in. For some reason they were always trying to get us street kids to go in and test. My friend Sara said it was because they thought we were all runaways that wouldn't be missed when they drugged us and sold us into white slavery. White slavery not withstanding we bit the bullet and went in.
It was like something out of low budget 80's sci-fi movie. There were all these little cubicles and in each one there was a machine that looked kinda like a lie detector, with all these wires and monitors hooked up.
They took each one of us into a cubicle and told us they were going to test our bio-rhythms, like brain waves and shit. I ended up with little suction cups on my forehead, a cuff around my arm and little electrodes stuck on my fingers. (I was so fucking spun that the heart monitor was jumping all over the place). Then they started asking all sorts of weird questions and seeing how my brain reacted to certain keywords. It was fucking insane! I was just starting to unplug myself and get the hell outta there when the Grand High Headcase (the guy in charge) came over and stopped me.
He put his arm around my shoulders and was starting to edge me towards a door at the back of the room. He was talking all kind of crazy shit about my test results, saying that I had scored unusually high and that they needed to test me further. I tried to pull back but he just held on tighter, telling me that I would be much better off if I went with him. He would see that I didn't have to live on the streets anymore. They would take care of me and take me somewhere nice to live, with people who just wanted to help me.
I started to freak the fuck out!
I screeched for my friends and smacked the shit out of Dr. Strange. We made it out of there eventually but managed to wreck most of their shit and a good number of L. Ron Hubbard disciples in the process . Running out the door and onto the street we didn't stop till we got a few blocks down and around a corner. No one wanted to get arrested. After I calmed down I told everybody exactly what went down.
By that time some of the other kids had joined us and were listening as well. When I finished my story, one of them started laughing, he said that I had just narrowly missed being shipped off to a scientology boot camp. He said that they have these places where it is like a high security research facility, if you score high enough, they take you there and put you through extensive testing and reprogramming. He also said that the point of all that shit was to find the person who was the chosen one, their Messiah. That all those tests were supposed to determine if your body make-up contained a high concentration alien DNA.
L. Ron Hubbard (the pedophile sci-fi writer) had prophesied that this chosen one would be found sometime at the end of the 20th century and I guess they were getting desperate, it was after all 1997. I just laughed off the kid's story, thinking he was trying to fuck with my head and decided to forget all about it. I was cool until one of the girls back at the squat came up to me and told me that Jimmy (the kid) had run away from his parents because they were hard-core scienntologists. They had tried to commit him to a facility because they couldn't control him anymore and he wanted nothing to do with their crazy beliefs.
It was soon after that Jimmy just disappeared, he was there one day and gone the next. Some of the kids said they saw him get pulled into a car off Cherokee, that it was his parents. I decided to move on. I didn't go back to Hollywood for a long time. Even if the kid was full of shit, I had just enough sense not to push my luck.
Now, I haven't thought about that shit in years, I guess I had all but forgotten, until my Doctor's appointment that is. She told me that she wanted me to have a consultation with a post- withdrawal anxiety specialist. I agreed, hoping that I might score some xanax or clonopin for my "anxiety". It was all good until about five minutes into it , when the guy pulled out a set-up that looked like a modern version of the Messiah detector. I about shit myself when he said that he thought I would do best with bio-feedback therapy and tried to hook me up to it. I was out that door so fucking fast it was like that shit you see on Scooby-Doo, where their legs are just a blurry circle going round and round. I thought about it later and came to the decision that a whole roomful of decaying body parts would be preferable to another run in with the Sientologists. They are way fucking scarier than dead stuff.
I occasionally tease my boyfriend C. and tell him that seeing him swinging that head around is what made me fall in love with him.

Have a Laugh On Me...

Having just narrowly escaped a nasty confrontation with my local Jehovah's Witness representatives, I am now sitting in my bedroom with all the lights off. Damn but they are persistent little fuckers aren't they? I guess it is somewhat my fault though. Let me give you some history on the subject.
Anyone who knows me , knows that my boyfriend C. has a rich and varied past with these so called people of god. From birth he has had their shit spoon fed to him by a religious zealot. He likes to call her mom. I'm sure you can guess what I call her. Anyway after years of adolescent rebellion, prodigious drug use and not a few encounters with the law, my (obviously confused) beloved has clearly lost his fucking mind. He has come to the conclusion that now, after all those years of screwing around he needs to tend to his neglected spirituality. Not only that but he actually works himself into spasticated seizures trying to get ME to accept these (VERY questionable) beliefs. I can force myself to respect his delusions but that's about it!
I'm sorry, but if I wanted someone to dictate to me on all matters public and private, I would be living happily with my tyrant of a mother. Even she knows better than to try and tell me how to dress, who I can fuck (according to the JW's, nobody 'til I'm married) and after I am properly wed, the manner in which I am allowed to fuck : Missionary position, once during the week and twice on Saturdays. Sunday, is of course reserved for the "Hypocrite Hootenanny", um, I mean Meeting.
Anyway I'll get to the point. After a particularly intense spasticated seizure on the part on C. I, under the questionable influence of not a little bit of Tequila agreed to have "Those People" over to do a book study. If you don't know what that is, count yourself lucky, I hope you never have the misfortune of finding out.
Needless to say, now they have been jumping out from around every corner! Assaulting me with their little books, leaving notes on my door and ringing my phone off the hook. I am a virtual prisoner.
This morning's surprise visit yielded all three of the aforementioned forms of harassment. An odious little book was left behind, complete with condescending note attached. This was followed by a prolific amount of phone ringing when the door went unanswered.
When C. returns home from work, I will let him discover said book on the doorstep and feign complete ignorance,"Book study you say? I never heard the door! It must be all that noise outside. I hope they didn't stand out in that wind and rain too long."
I like to think that God has as twisted a sense of humor as I do. The storm started just minutes before the JW's arrived and is even now clearing up. Thanx G. Appreciatively, M.