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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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