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

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!

An effective if short-lived method of shutting me up.

So first off I'm gonna start by thanking Rufus for the badass clip he made for me. I think I'm in love, seriously I could see myself turning into a furry at any moment. I'm such an Internet whore that I would probably paste that vid all over the place if I didn't also happen to be computer retarded.
I made the mistake of watching it while Fat Mike was perched on my shoulder (as usual) and now he thinks he's famous. He's been tearing around the house like a cat possessed and when I say anything about it he looks at me like, "Bitch who do you think you're talking to? The Rufus Leaking has spoken my name on camera!" There will be no living with him now.
Thank you Rufus I adore it! Casey was suitably impressed when I showed it off to him, I believe his exact words were, "Haha Rufus is giving you crap over the cat's.....HOLY SHIT is that Fat Mike?" Sorry I didn't take your name into consideration but I believe there can only be one Rufus Leaking. Often imitated never duplicated.
Moving on, I know most people wouldn't dignify shitty comments with a response but I'm sure you've realized that I am NOT most people. Since I just recently indulged in tearing anon(s) a new asshole, this will be short.
If a decade of needle use/questionable behavior didn't see me dying of HIV I seriously doubt wishing it on me via the Internet is going to be effective. Nice try though. Why don't you come over here and give it to me yourself since you seem to think it's such an awesome idea? It seems to me that my dying of disease wouldn't be ending my misery, it would be ending yours and why the hell would I want to do that? I much prefer hanging out so that I can stumble on new and interesting ways of pissing people off. I get shit from all sides and I think it's fucking fantastic. I almost wish I was a strung out/satanic Neo Nazi pro-lifer so that I could be really offensive. Oh the shit I could write!
Anyway, I think the best part is that I'm not even trying to offend people, I'm just being me. It's much more delicious that way, when you have to work at being obnoxious it becomes ineffective and lame. Lucky for me I seem to irritate people by doing nothing more than breathing, I'm just awesome like that I guess. I don't even hafta try!
Enough of that bullsheeeiiitt.
We're still planning on doing the summer trip, I have high (heheh) hopes and I will do everything in my power to see that it happens. Ordinarily that wouldn't be saying much because I am unbelievably lazy but since this trip is going to be an orgy of drug debauchery, that makes it a horse of a different color. I always find myself going above and beyond when it involves something I should most definitely NOT be doing. Contrary bitch ain't I?
It's going to be somewhat of a pain in the ass because of the photos/filming etc. Since we plan on slapping the whole thing together into some kind of book it's going to involve image releases and all kinds of bullshit legal crap. The fact that most druggies won't want their faces or actions captured on camera has not escaped me. Not everyone is as adventurous as I. I don't really sweat all that shit because I'm not actively selling dope/hustling and images of drug use are extremely hard to prove in court....unless they were taken by law enforcement. Which they won't be.
So if anyone happens to see us in one state or another you won't hafta worry about the photo crap. Unless you sign on the line and specifically want your face/words displayed, it ain't gonna happen. You can trust me........haha. No seriously though, you can.
I'm thinking that 90% of the footage/pics will be of us doing horribly reckless shit and nothing more. I do promise to make sure that it doesn't turn out like that crap movie The Brown Bunny. Christ what a hunk of shit that was! To anyone who hasn't seen it "IT'S NOT WORTH IT!" Getting a 10 minute scene of Chloe Sevigny sucking dick is not worth suffering through 110 minutes of Vincent Gallo driving......and driving...and driving. Ugh! Watch Freeway 1& 2 instead, you can thank me later.
Now before I get off the movie topic I just want to say that 'Requiem for a dream' has got to be the most nightmarish depiction of heroin use to date! It was heroin right? I a get a lil confused seeing as how every time they do a shot their pupils blow out like they've been licking African tree toads.
Don't get me wrong, I think it's a great movie but WHAT THE FUCK??? I have spent quite a while in the thick of junky shenanigans and I can honestly say I never had the entire state go dry followed by prison,amputation and a 2ft double dong. I'm sure that that shit happens all the time but to the same three people in that time span?
And what's with the ass to ass? I like gratuitous double sodomy as much as the next person but that was like a maggoty cherry on top of a poop sundae.
And speaking of sodomy (we were weren't we?) Regina and I were maligning our friend Becca and her desire to go see The New Kids on the Block in concert. *shudder* After a lengthy discussion on the subject I decided that I would prefer to be ass raped by every last New Kid AND that vomitous Marky Mark rather than sit through one of their concerts. I realize this may seem somewhat extreme but you don't know how much I dislike the New Kids an co. Aside from a few decent performances Mark Wahlberg should have kept his day job dropping trou for Calvin Klein and left acting to guys who can dredge up some kind of believable emotion...like Steven Segal, his sensitive yet tough portrayals leave ol' Marky Mark in the dust...and that ain't saying much since S.S. has the depth of a mashed pea. Funky Bunch indeed!
'The Departed' kicked ass though, Marky nailed it on that one.
Am I in top asshole form today or what? I've bitched about various subjects and not one of them has much bearing on the other. I guess I just got caught up and couldn't stop myself. I'm sure I managed to offend somebody along the way. Right the fuck on!
So that's it for today, I've already heard from Adrian and shit is all set for next week. I'm sure I'll be back before then if only to field comments but if not I'll let y'all know how it went. Kisses bitches XXXXX Melody

When life hands you lemons....you make lemon juice and use it to bang crack: Friday night

Welcome to my wasteland.

Ugh, I'm so tired and this is probably gonna take more time than it(the story) is worth. As you all know every one of my minutes is precious....even if I'm just being my usual ass draggin self.
I'll just go into it, if I don't I'll get caught up in some random rambling and lose sight of the objective...to post about my Friday night rug burn adventure.
It started out as a regular evening, Casey and myself had settled in for a round of movie watching/pill popping/drinking/whatever the fuck when the phone rang. Casey rolled his eyes and gave me a dirty look as is his habit any time this happens. He never gets calls so he knows it's for me (I'm amazingly popular) and for some reason this makes him pissy.
Usually it's the junky underground, sometimes it's Josh (ugh Josh) and sometimes it's Rainman. This time it happened to be Rainman sounding exasperated and frighteningly geeked. He squawked something unintelligible and then demanded to speak with Casey. I held out the phone and my beloved shot me an even dirtier look before he snatched it outta my hand...grabby bastard!
All I got from his side of the conversation was that R-man was asking permission to kidnap me for the night. How sweet! I was feeling a bit insulted when the phone was thrust back at me but R-man gave me no opportunity to tell him what I thought of his high-handed tactics. He was burbling and sputtering at such an alarming rate that I thought he was gonna go into some kind of spasticated seizure.
I was able to make out the words favor,30 minutes,Gallup, babysit, kick down and Oxy. I'm sure y'all can figure out which of those words caught my attention. I glanced over at Casey who said, "Go ahead, it's not like me telling you no is gonna make a difference anyway." Does my honey know me or what?
I blew him a kiss and informed Rainman that yes I would be ready in 30, come and get me. I suffered through Casey's snide commentary while I got dressed and then assured him that it was for the greater good. I was about to subject myself to unknown realms of tweeker shenanigans just so I could bring home something more substantial that Percocet and Xanax. I'm not just thinking of myself when I do these things!
I was out the door just seconds before R-man pulled up in his disco-tweeker mobile *sigh* I opened the door and was greeted by the familiar smell of speed a-cookin in the pipe. I climbed into the car and we were off, it took me a minute to squint past the cloud of cryysy and make out Maniac riding in the back. Haha that bitch was finally learning his place.
He leered at me and shoved the pipe in my direction...and yeah, I took it. Why the fuck not? In for a penny in for a pound...
Anyway we were off and between hits I managed to find out that we were going to pick up some guy and "something else" and then drive to Gallup to deliver these items to Bubba. If y'all don't remember I made that trip once before with Eric, it was the house full of scary dirthead motherfuckers and tweeked out dogs.
We drove out onto the res and pulled up to some godforsaken trailer home. R-man motioned us to come with him and as we were walking to the door Maniac told me that I was in for a treat. He was just about to elaborate when R-man told him to shut the fuck up. Not a good sign.
I was thinking to myself that as long as this trailer didn't smell like speed and dog farts I would consider myself ahead of the game. We were ushered inside by some emaciated girl who could have been anywhere from 30 to 300. The boys strolled in like they were the Rolling Stones, getting treated like some kind of meth Gods. Haha LAME but whatever, some of the awe was sent in my direction since I was lucky enough to be travelling in their exalted company. Pffffft!
The living room was FULL of tweekers in various states of spun out-ed-ness and we made our way through that nightmare and into one of the back bedrooms (there's always a back bedroom).
At this point I was feeling fairly tingly and I was totally unprepared for what happened next. There were two guys in the room (it's not what you think)and they were smoking up on either side of a FAT pile of what looked and smelled like crack. I was inhaling the fumes, not really paying attention when a third guy emerged from the bathroom and walked up to us. Enter the new lust interest.
He smiled at me and asked R-man if I was the girl he'd been telling him about. I was semi-mesmerized by the fact that he was not only hot as fuck but also had Black Flag bars tattooed on his neck hmmmmmm.....
His name was Adrian and he cordially invited me to join him in the bathroom for a shot.He had hellacious tracks on his arms intermingled with prison-y tats and some bruises, Christ could he get any more delicious? The answer is yes. He became damn near irresistible when he loaded a new point with some go solution and handed it to me. Too bad it was speed and not H, had it been heroin I may not have been responsible for my actions. I believe I've mentioned my attraction to guys with neck tattoos, IV issues and weird personality flaws. So what.
He pulled off his belt and offered it to me, what a gentleman! I was about to do my thing when I noticed the lemon halves on the counter. What the fuck? As addled as I was by his nearness (he was way too close) my druggie data bank kicked in and I remembered what such things were used for.
"Am I about to bang crack?" I asked in a calm voice.
He laughed and said, "No." Good enough, I took his word for it and threaded myself in record time. I was enjoying the heart stopping feeling when he crouched down and unwrapped his belt from my ankle, the little darling. I was still trying to catch my breath when he stuck himself and watching him do it was .....nice.
*deep breath* I'll try and refrain from going into superfluous details about how magnificent he looked at that moment....with a point in his hand...and after....bloody...
Sorry.
So I was relearning how to breath when Maniac tapped on the door and said we were getting ready to leave. Just as well, this Adrian thing could get messy. I love Casey and I will NOT be led astray by speed enhanced hormones!
As we walked out Adrian asked if he could call me, Maniac rolled his eyes and R-man chittered out something that sounded like "mlah mlah Casey mlah kill your ass." I ignored them and said maybe it would be best if I just ran into him later, seeing as how my old man might become unhinged if one more guy was added to the phone roster.
He said that would be cool and we left him there in the back bedroom. We had been joined by one of the crack smokers and made our merry way out into the night.
R-man took me aside and told me the plan. We were gonna drive this guy to Gallup, drop him, his vehicle and "something else" at Bubba's and then drive back. Maniac was gonna drive with me and crack boy and R-man was gonna follow in the disco mobile.
I was almost relieved (I have an irrational dislike for the disco mobile) until Maniac pulled around in a van that would have been at home on the set of the A-team. It was an honest to God 70's raper van.
R-man then told me that reason I would not be driving was because he needed me to keep an eye on David (crack boy) who was apparently a wackadoo of Amy Winehouse-like proportions. The wackadoo who had thus far remained silent began to giggle. UGH!
I resigned myself to my assignment and made my way towards the van. I had to climb in through the back doors and whilst crawling into the blackness I felt what had to be shag carpet under my hands. Are you fucking kidding me?
Crack boy scuttled in behind me and we headed out. Maniac promptly began to give me shit for the Adrian episode, telling me that he hadn't seen me act that way since Richie got locked up. He went on to say that it was appropriate since Richie had been 19 and Adrian was..........20. WHAT????
He couldn't be! Though he probably spoke no more than 20 words to me I had thought him to be extremely mature and eloquent and oh fuck it! He was 20 and thus relegated to the hands off pile. *sigh*
The nutcase next to me had started to giggle again and I had to resist the urge to pinch him. I felt like I should have been armed with a tranq gun and some zip ties. Don't get me wrong, I'm definitely attracted to weird but this fool was just annoying!

Shit! I have another appointment to go to, so I'm afraid the rest of this will have to wait til I get back. It's probably for the best since this is getting long as fuck. Loves you, Melody

The power of prayer

Ask and you shall receive! I was just whining about how I haven't gotten any negative comments in like FOREVER and presto, some fucktard left a steamy pile of smug douchebaggery for me to shovel through. Thank you Jesus!
I still feel like crap and a senseless rant is just the thing I need right now.

Anoymous~
["Sooooooooo *long pause* Melody, what exactly is it you think I can help you with?"
Why does that bother you-- you know that you are beyond help. Actually, it sounds like the psych has you figured out real good. You do love to play the crazy fucked up loser and have made it your identity. Probably cause you're too scared to try to accomplish anything in life. You just don't realize how pathetic it is for an adult to act like a fucked up teenager. Do you plan to be 40 and act like this?]

Anon as usual you missed the point of that entire post. What I have been saying all along is that the fact that she (the psych)asks questions with NO intention of waiting for my answer...that is the issue. She should at least attempt a pretense of listening to what I'm saying. Me being beyond help is beside the point, when did I ever claim to be redeemable...or want to be for that matter?
I may be a loser but at least I'm not trolling the internet believing I have some kind of special insight and leaving inane ANONYMOUS comments. Why not try expressing your opinion without coming off like an embittered old fuck? What's wrong anon, was your mommy a junky and you just can't let it go? No? Let me guess, you're just a decent upstanding citizen speaking for the rest of the repressed masses? Or maybe you are *gasp* a sheisty quack of a psychiatrist who has gotten offended by my opinion of that particular profession?
You have a problem with my irresponsible actions and irrepressible need for adventure and I couldn't care in the least. That's the beauty of it all don't you see? I can act any way I please....and so can you for that matter. I just choose to be what I am ...and you choose to be a douchebag.
I don't have to pretend to be anything because I have nothing to lose by being myself and I just don't care enough about the status quo to try and do otherwise. I should think it would be much more offensive for me to be a hypocrite and play at being something I'm not. Believe me anon, the world has more than enough self satisfied assholes scurrying about, I don't think I need to add myself to that number. I may come off as an asshole most of the time but I'm a likable asshole, you are just an asshole. So I'm immature? So fucking what! Why don'tcha come over here and say that to my face you pussified assclown? Heheh......how's that for immature?
I've been in situations (legal and illegal)that would make people twice my age shit their pants. I'm not really afraid to try anything, I'm just apathetic about the so called "American dream" I'm supposed to be striving for.
Why the fuck should I work my ass off for something I don't even remotely want....or believe in for that matter? Just so I can be considered productive in the eyes of other self righteous windbags like yourself? I think not.
Also I'm not exactly living in the gutter, not that it would change my opinion if I was. Regardless of what I do and the things I get myself into I live pretty much like any other person, I pay bills, work and all that other shit, so you can stuff all that insight up your anus.
I'm having fun and I'm content which is probably more than you can say for yourself. I don't think you're very happy anon, I mean assholes like you give assholes a bad name. If you were truly secure you wouldn't have to search out conflict just to make yourself feel better. I know all about this for I am supposed to be as insecure as it gets! My clever witticisms allegedly mask an inferiority complex as big as it is vicious but unlike you I make it work for me.
All this bitterness is not good for you! I feel for the people who are forced to endure your superior attitude, mostly because you have nothing to feel superior about. I don't care if you are the most successful person on earth, you are still an asshole and nobody likes an asshole......unless the asshole happens to be me. *smirk*
Am I gonna be this way when I'm 40? Hmmm one can only hope. My worst fear is that by that time I'll have declined into a pompous shit for brains that believes that the whole world should be one safe little cookie cutter existence. God forbid!
I think if anything you're the one whose scared anon, scared to face the fact that as fucked up as I am I can still live and function without having to open myself up to the drudgery you "upstanding citizens" call your everyday life. You can't possibly be satisfied, if you were you wouldn't be so fired up about me and my nonsense.
You think I should find something more "adult" to occupy my time? Haha that's rich coming from someone who spends their time leaving lame comments on a blog. Do you know me because I could swear I've dealt with this particular brand of vitriolic commentary somewhere before....or maybe it's as I've always said, y'all are cut from the same anal retentive cloth and have started to sound alike as well.
Haha, I do feel a bit better now although this probably would have gone on for days had Regina not called and distracted me. She seems to be worried about me and this chick's pervo cousin becoming enamored of one another and jumping a plane to some unknown destination. HAHA that is so not gonna happen, he's just not my type of perv.
I'll clue everyone in on Friday's mayhem tomorrow after I get back from my EMG. Is it just me or is it extremely anti-climactic to get poked with needles and then feel NOTHING!! I hate that shit, my heart gets all fluttery and then they poke me and I'm left waiting for a sensation that is never gonna come. I've been a hype for too long, needle+me=high and anything less is a disappointment. Just like watching dope movies, I can't do that shit unless I'm loaded because it makes me edgy and expectant. Trainspotting and Drugstore Cowboy are like porn for junkies.
However I should be able to enjoy both those movies shortly......y'all know what I mean. I can't wait! It's been positively ages since I got to shoot anything better than Oxy and it's about damn time for some dope if you ask me.
Son of a bitch! Fat mike is currently shredding my new amp and no amount of pleading, shouting etc will get him to leave it the fuck alone! He is so freakin' cute I can't even stay angry at him, I guess the amp gets lugged to the garage.
Well anyway goodnight all, hugs and kisses galore til next we meet. XOXOXOXOXOXOX, Melody

Overstimulated and underappreciated

I have no earthly idea why the fuck I am still awake. I had a somewhat eventful Friday but......Ugh! One of the reasons I decided heroin was so choice was that in the beginning (before I got strung out) I could get high as fuck and then feel absolutely fine the next day. Not so with speed, it takes me days to get normal after one night.....or so. You are so right Kelley, we are indeed downer girls....but boredom is a motherfucker.
I could go into all the little details about what went on Friday night/morning but I haven't the presence of mind to do so right now. My inner story teller is on a bit of a hiatus, she's a moody cunt and has decided to hold my recent bout with the cryssy against me. So I'm gonna do what I do best, some misc bitching interspersed with random news of my less than interesting life.
First the bitching...heheh what a surprise. My bitch-cunt psych put me on Cymbalta. Words cannot describe the dislike I feel for that woman and her condescending ways...but I'll try anyway. I think what stands out the most about my last visit was when she looked down her nose at me and asked, "Sooooooooo *long pause* Melody, what exactly is it you think I can help you with?"
That asshole didn't even wait for an answer before she started uh-huh-ing me and scribbling notes on her stupid clipboard. Then she asked me how I did on the last crap she prescribed me. Uh clonodine and Elavil....? Hmmm how did I do on what amounts to blood pressure medicine and an anti-depressant older than my mother? Well the clonodine dropped my pressure so low I was having heart palpitations and that lame-ass 29th generation tricyclic made me twitch like a marionette with turret's! Not a pleasing combination and definitely not what I was looking for in a medication. I'm not particularly depressed and my blood pressure is just fine. For whatever reason she can't wrap her mind around the fact that I'm not suffering from some kind of depressive disorder. These days the only thing that makes me feel blah is the fact that I've been denied the pleasure of shooting H for months. *grumbling*
I'm supposed to be getting treated for anxiety and some other shit that makes them want to put me on anti-psychotics HAHAHAHAHAHA! I am so not psychotic! I have no idea why they think that, it started with the tray incident when I was in lockup and has plagued me ever since. I understand why my actions at that time might have been interpreted as a psychotic episode but come the fuck on! I had been on an INSANE run, shooting dope every day and/or taking methadone for YEARS and I do mean years! All that time with no break made for the most miserable withdrawl experience I have EVER been through. I had been guzzling methadone for months in an effort to lessen my habit, so when I got gaffled up I had to kick that shit cold.
Luckily I had been on self destruct mode for a few weeks and when they caught up with me I had eaten about 20mgs of Klonopin and done a crazy big shot. Seriously, it was the kind of shot that you know is too much even as you draw it up. I remember chewing K-pins while I was loading up the outfit thinking "shit the bed Loretta this is way too much dope"............and then sticking myself with it anyway. I was not really caring that day. I have a vague recollection of walking to Rite aid and then getting slung over a cop's shoulder. Then I was in an ambulance....then I was getting booked....then I woke up 3 days later when the COs were dragging my ass into the showers to get ready for court. The lucky part being that I slept through the first few days of my kick....too bad it lasted for 3 months.
I wish I could get a copy of my mugshot, I was so wasted that I had 3 cops holding me up, one on each arm and a third holding my head. It's fucking hilarious, you can see them in the shot and my eyes are rolled back in my head, I may even be drooling. Haha if I ever manage to get my hands on it I'll post it up.
Sorry. got carried away with my war story, back to the bitch-cunt psych. She ignored me as usual and then told me she thought I was suffering from several disorders but that in her opinion I enjoyed being afflicted. She said (in so many words)that I have been so batshit crazy for so long that it has become a huge part of who I am.
Hmmm she may be right for once though I don't really think I'm crazy.....but that's probably what a crazy bitch would say. A circular argument at best and I'm too burned out to pursue it right now.
I found my "sensitive" Casper on myspace and I'm happy about that. He commented some poetic nonsense on my myspace blog that basically amounted to telling the world that I made him into the junky mess he is now. Oh well, he's not gonna surprise anyone with that info, Bako is the kind of place where everybody knows your business...and loves to discuss it on a regular basis. They know all about me, Casper and everybody else.
I can only take credit for a small part of Christian's junky journey. I got him started and then pulled my usual bullshit and ditched him for Casey. We ended up selling to him and his misc girlfriends over the years and he and Casey are cool now. I was with Casper for maybe 6 months but it was long enough for him to decide that he wanted to be as retarded as I was and shoot some dope. After much whining and pleading I gave in and the rest is Bako junk history. Now he's as big a Dopefiend as I ever was and he talks like a character out of a W.S. Burroughs novel. I think this is ridiculously funny and tell him so, he also has a fixation with Johnny Thunders but that's cool 'cause The New York Dolls were the shit. I do think the J.T. is a lil (ALOT) whiny though, shh don't tell Cas, his sensitive nature couldm't take another betrayl.
So yeah, I miss Christian and it worries me to see him look so wrung out and skinny but what can I do? He's my friend and I love him, we have history together. His family thinks I'm the devil.....can't say I blame them. As far as his mom is concerned not only did I wreck his heart, I ruined his life....yep, that sounds like me at 17. Hell, it kinda sounds like me now. Nah, I'm way more responsible about shit now. I AM!
I think Regina is gonna make the trip with us as far as Cali, she wants to go to Bako and look up friends and enemies alike. It should be interesting to say the least. Reg has rage issues and will probably start shit with half the town....as usual. After that we're gonna head to LA and Ventura and maybe go see Jerry, then she'll fly back to Washington.
I got a call from Anna last night, she told me she's packed and ready to leave....to come here. I'm happy and I really want to see her but her kids are like a 3 ring circus. She has an 11 yr old son who has grown into a serious discpline problem. I love the kid but he's a prick and I swear I will drop him in the desert if he pisses me off. I've been getting taunted with auntie Melody comments from all sides and Casey has enjoyed reminding me that I will be suckered into babysitting on a regular basis. UGH! I will too, I know it.
I feel like sheeeeeiiiiiiittt! Wow, this is not going to end anytime soon, I feel it in my aching bones. I am going to be feeling like crap and acting like a sawed off cunt for at least another day.
I have to go in for an EMG on Wednesday, my doc tells me that I have somehow acquired peripheral neuropathy and since I'm not diabetic or HIV positive they need to do some tests to figure it out. I got another pint of blood taken and they ran the usual panel and came up with jack. I'm disease free and everything is working as it should. So this tingly thing is either idiopathic or I have some unknown degenerative nerve disorder. SWEET! Maybe I can look forward to a facial tick and incontinence sometime in the distant future. Sexy!
On the upside, I hear you get some choice meds for that shit and if I'm gonna spend my twilight years twitching and pissing myself I may as well do it loaded on Dilaudid and Oxy. HAHAHA, see I'm not depressed! I think that this is a very positive way of looking at things.
That psych can go get fucked where she breathes, I will NOT be taking the Cymbalta! I checked with some of my junky underground and heard nothing but horror stories connected to it. It sounded way too close to what happens when I take Seroquel...NO THANK YOU! If I want to feel like I have a hellacious case of cotton fever I will do it the old fashioned way.
So enough of this, I'll leave y'all now. I'm gonna go eat a few percs and try and pass out. I'll post Friday's meth moron-a-thon next time, I'm spent. Love to ya kids, Melody.

I'm not really crazy, I'm just eccentric.....and brilliant.

Damn that was one deep dive into my fucked up psyche wasn't it? Don't worry, it doesn't happen too often, I blame an excess of shrooms, wine, percs etc for my lapse into "deep thinker" mode. I was also listening to Christian Death for 2 days straight...pretty sure that didn't help either. I love C.D., that's why I'm gonna leave it on my default a bit longer, so y'all can enjoy it with me haha.
I wonder if digging C.D. makes me a hypocrite? I wonder if I care? Regina has accused me of being a closet emo-goth lesbian (ugh emo) on several occasions....I think she just wants to get in my pants hahahaha.
I have an unfortunate affection for The Killers and she sees it as a personal affront. What can I say, their latest album excluded, I do indeed love The Killers, how current of me. Brandon Flowers is a pontificating jackass but so am I, maybe that's the attraction
I also have an un-natural love for ABBA so I guess I can burn my music snob membership card right now. Eh it was good while it lasted.
Anyway, it's my nature to try and make light of things that I would rather not go into but.....the things I wrote in my last post were...are absolutely true. I miss them every day and it's a double edged sword to see them in dreams and then wake up to lose them all over again. So cheerful....
Anyway, today I am strawberry ice cream and I'm gonna exploit that and be even MORE brilliant than usual. I am brilliant.....just in case y'all hadn't figured that out yet heheh. I could be all melted by tomorrow, so today is all I get.
Now that I'm mobile I....we have been thinking of taking a cross country junky adventure. A fellow junkster girlie and myself have decided we will start on the West Coast and zigzag towards the East, hitting up every contact we know on the way.
Casey calls it my Dopefiend underground railroad haha so true. We are gonna document the whole trip on paper and film, possibly 8mm to give it that grimy 70's home movie feeling. Oh and positively zillions of pics. It will be the junkie's guide to North America or some such shit. We'll figure out a clever title when and if we complete our trip. I have a feeling that we might have a bit of a problem...you know, living through it and all but I'm up for the challenge.
I also realize that slamming our way across America is a little ambitious but we are both pretty confident in our abilities and with enough confidence you can rule the world...or at least shoot your way around it.
Casey is NOT impressed! He made a smart assed remark about us "banging" our way through our lil adventure and I don't think he meant dope. HAHA,I would NEVER!EV-ER!
This is quite possibly the worst and most genius idea I have ever come up with, if I live through it will have been totally worth it and if I don't, it'll be too late to care anyway.
Nihilistic? Fatalistic? I don't think I'm either of those things, for me to try and pull those off would be way too contrived and a big hassle to boot. I'm too lazy to keep up the charade, it'd be like trying to play vegan while snarfing down McDonald's on the sly. HAHA I love McMurders (obscure vegan-ish reference).
I'll keep y'all posted as the plans develop. My Russian friends could probably add to the fun and then we could hit TJ as well. The big problem being that the communist despises heroin........hence the kidnapped to rehab episode.They dig coke though....hmmmm, something to think about.
I finally got the lame-o camera to read so I'll up some pics now and then. Can't have too many random pics of random bullshit.
Bye bye babies, Love me...I promise I'll love you back. xoxo Melody

The dead come out at night

Well not every night but pretty regularly. If I dream I see them, all my friends, the ones who are gone. Sometimes I dream weird, random scenes but mostly it's them.
We are always in some in-between place that I've never been to but seem to recognize in bits and pieces.......bits and pieces of my life. Places I've lived,passed through or just vaguely remember. It's all stiched together... cut and paste, a Frankenstein nightmare....of my memories.
They exist in this purgatory and it's a world all it's own, it has streets and domiciles. Rooms upon rooms filled with scattered remembrances, insignificant trifles that become frighteningly meaningful if I gaze at them long enough.
I see the Saint Michael candles I gave Mikey when he got his first apartment, the Hello Kitty radio Ash kept in her motel room, the books Sarah left in my car years and years ago. It makes no sense at all and all the sense in the world.
Walking down a dirt road towards a lighted window, knowing that someone is waiting for me. The house is familiar, our old place on Monterey but when the door swings open it's a room at the Tower. It smells the same, cigarettes and smack, the TV on with the volume down....some song I can't make out playing on the radio...Ash's radio.
Mikey walks out of the bathroom and smiles at me and it's like he'd never gone...only he has. I hug him and we sit on the bed and talk, I recall nothing but the fact that we talk and laugh and I miss him terribly, even as I see him sitting beside me.
Suddenly outside and the dirt road is replaced by the parking lot behind the Padre. We're walking to Ripper's, I've made this trip a million times but it's different somehow. The street signs are blurry, everything is out of focus. The harder I try to make it out the hazier it gets.
We see Sara and she walks with us, saying she's headed to Rip's as well. After a few blocks she puts her hand on my shoulder and stops me, "You can't tell anyone about this, you know that don't you?" She's looking into my eyes...so earnest, almost pleading, "You'll only hurt them if you do."
Tell them what? I'm confused, the dread starting to knot my gut, I know I'm not going to like this.
She's telling me they're all there, living in this in-between place, living in old memories and forgotten occurrences. Not dead...not alive...truly in limbo. Not because they had done wrong but because that's where they...we belong....all of us....eventually.
I look to Mikey for confirmation, he gives me a sad smile, nods his head then looks away.
Turning, I see my sweet baby Ron run across the street towards us. He throws his arms around me and I start to cry.
Ron my beautiful boy, my 19yr old baby, like a little brother, gone for more years than I care to remember. He looks the same...smiles the same smile, wipes my tears and asks what he can do to make me feel better....sounds the same...the same sweet kid. My angel faced boy, that innocent face hiding the mind of a born hustler but he was my baby bro and had a good heart.
I've missed him so much it hurts to look at him but I won't look away, afraid that if I do he'll disappear. I love him like a kid brother, he may as well be my flesh and blood...I love him... my own private tragedy.
I smile and mourn.
He takes my hand and it's like the years melt away, I feel his fingers twine through mine, so real...so warm...so familiar...so alive.
It's a lie.
My Ronnie is gone away...just like Sara and Mikey, just like Ash and Ripper...just like all the others.....
We wander through the dream scape and I see it shift, swirling into new locals with every step. Our destination is the same but we travel a far different path than any I have ever taken. Sara's arm through mine, my hand clutching the deceptive security of Ron's hand, Mikey slightly ahead.....we walk.
I see Sammy working in the old shop on Chester and I know that Ash is somewhere out there as well, I can feel her....I can feel them all. Such sweet devastation and I don't care, I'll bear it just to have them near me again.
The dream ends before we reach our goal but it doesn't matter, it was never about the destination, it was about the journey. The time I spent in the presence of my long gone babies.
I wake up,tears on my cheeks, I can still smell the scent of Sara's perfume and feel the strength of Ron's hand in mine....Mikey's arms hugging me goodbye, almost tangible...almost.
One long convoluted trip but my fondest hope is to go back, to see their faces once more. The not quite dead.
It's all a lie, a glitch in my subconscious.....something I've created to keep them fresh in my mind and ever closer to my heart. I'm deceiving myself on some basic level and I don't care. It's all I have of them and I'll take whatever I can get, that single, hideous lie is better than a million beautiful truths.
I feel like I've cheated, like I dodged a bullet I so deserve....I should be there, alongside them. They weren't perfect but they were mine. Most of them better people than I will ever be...yet they're gone and here I sit.
Content to be worthless...proud to be hopeless and without an once of shame for the things I've done. Irony hangs thick in the air this night.
I'm thinking about the whys and what ifs...something I rarely do. Hindsight is an insidious form of guilt, it sneaks up on you ....and guilt is a useless emotion.
Guilt will get you nowhere, it changes nothing....damages more than it heals. It promotes self loathing and uncertainty...self pity. Misspent energy....rehashing events that have come and gone, look to the future. As a people we rarely learn from our mistakes, we're stupid that way.
So says me as I hope against hope that I will dream of in-between places and the not quite dead. I'm a contradiction, possibly an abomination and I don't care...all that and more, I'll take it....make it mine, make it work for me. Make you love me for it or hate me all the more, you decide...never any middle ground with me.
The people who know me in real life will read this and recognize it for what it is, see me for what I've always been. Adored...abhorred, two sides of the same coin...flip it, see what you feel for me today...
A place I love, where half the denizens prize me and the other half despise me......but either way they all know my name. Not a pretty sentiment but honest....always honest.
Profound nonsense but I record it anyway lest tomorrow wash it from my mind, I need to remember. It's not funny, it's not entertaining and it's surely not clever, it is what it is, it is what I am...for the moment.
A fantastic disaster in love with a hideous lie.

Is there such a thing as a selfless asshole? There is now!

Wowee! It's been a few days huh? I have no excuse as usual....just because. The kitty pic becomes relevant later on in the post, just thought I' let y'all know. I have some new friends online that came my way via Regina. Junky girls, you can never have enough of those around! I'm being totally sincere! I like 'em.....excepting the freaky cousin of one of these girls who seems to have become obsessed with banging me at some point in the future.
Interesting, I seem to have made another conquest by doing nothing more than being my usual charming self. Understandable really, I am unbelievably charming and infinitely interesting haha.
Not too worried about the pervo cousin, he's in NYC and I don't imagine I'm gonna be there any time soon. Since I'm on the subject I might as well tell y'all the story of the Hot Topic goth drama, I was just oooooooozing personality that day hehe.
My psych appt had been forced upon me and having just left the office of the condescending cunt that is my therapist I was in an amazing mood. Add to that the fact that I had to walk my lazy ass 6 blocks to buy some cigarettes and you might begin to get an idea of what I was feeling that day. Uncharitable to say the least.
I bought my smokes, called Casey to pick me up and sat on the curb to light up and calm down. There I was, minding my own business when I was accosted by the noxious aroma of a clove cigarette. I hate those things on principal, I consider them a prop for the terminally hip. Plus they taste like shit, I could achieve the same effect for far less money by spritzing my Marlboro with some hairspray...NASTY!
Anyway, I look behind me and there's this girl wearing something that looked like Edward Scissorhands en route to the Renaissance fair. I could have overlooked the fact that she was dressed like a moron, it wasn't the outfit per se, it was the fact (one of several),that she was in full costume and make-up at the Citgo,11am Monday morning.
She had to have been in her late 20's and had that snotty look on her face that says she's desperately trying to pull off her look but actually feels insecure as fuck. If you can't pull it off, don't wear it! It could look like absolute shit but as long as you have the savoir fair required to sport it, then it's cool. She didn't.
I was already in a pissy mood and the dirty looks she started shooting in my direction didn't help. I took a long drag off my cig, smiled at her and asked her what the fuck she was staring at. She didn't have a specific answer, just mumbled something....but I didn't really care for her tone haha. I stood up and smiled again, she was still wearing her ultra-cunt expression. Think you can be bigger cunt than moi? Haha, NOT gonna happen, I reign supreme! She rolled her eyes and that was it, I flicked my cigarette at her head and asked her again, what the fuck was she staring at?
First let me say that the outfit looked even more ridiculous as she dodged my lit cig.I never knew lame could move so fast haha. I started from the bottom, telling her exactly what I thought of her retarded Demonia buckle boots and slowly working my way up.
I gave her no opportunity to get a word in as I expounded on what I thought of lames who wore queer My Chemical Romance wristbands and more make-up than the entire cast of Hedwig and the Angry Inch......just to go fetch a Slurpee at the gas station.
I had just finished telling her that if she didn't get that bovine look off her face, I was gonna take her pretentious Dijarm ciagarette and put it out between her over made-up eyes.......then I heard Casey say, "Leave the girl alone, maybe that's just the way her face is, maybe she can't help looking like a constipated gopher"
HAHAHA, that killed it! I started laughing because the unfortunate girl did look a bit gopher-ish. Casey led me back to the truck and my pissy mood was a distant memory.
Now I'm sure y'all are thinking that I'm an insufferable asshole.....and you're probably right. I'm not one iota better than that lame-ass girl. Chances are I'm worse. I wear some retarded gear and my eyeliner bill could probably support a small third world country. I wouldn't be caught dead in a MCR wristband but that's just me. The thing that makes us different is that while I may walk around dressed like the junky makeover that wouldn't die, I have no qualms about it whatsoever.
I have an innate ability to disregard whatever doesn't suit my purpose, that includes the opinions of people who think I'm dressed like an idiot. I don't care, go suck yourself.If you don't like it, then don't fucking look at me.
Same concept as what I tell my anon haters, if they don't like it they can go get hit by a truck, not gonna ruin my day. Speaking of, I'm feeling unloved! I don't think I've had a negative comment in weeks!What the fuck people? The last whacked out e-mail I got was over a month ago and I'm starting to feel neglected.
Oh well, fuck 'em. I have my little circle of blogger buds and all you other misc.fuckers who leave me helpful comments. I loves the comments haha. Even the ones from my nemesis Josh and his unflagging sidekick Eddie. I loves my Eddie too.
So yeah, I'm as lame as anybody else, I just wear it better. I had thought to go into a diatribe attacking metal posers but I'll just summarize. I think that metal is the last refuge for aging hipsters who are trying desperately to cling to some semblance of cool. In circles where punk is considered passe the last gasp is to become a connoisseur of various types of metal music. I have no objection to metal, I listen to my fair share. What I object to is some fucktard who I knew back in the day suddenly swapping his Exploited T for a Motorhead shirt and babbling about Black Sabbath. I love Black sabbath and Motorhead..........I do NOT love morons who go on and on about Iron Man and Ace of Spades yet they look confused should someone mention Tommy Iommi or Eddie Clarke. Plus could you pick two more obvious songs? The whole thing gives me the same disgusted feeling as when I saw a pic of Miley Cyrus wearing a New York Dolls shirt. Fuck! I am a stuck-up cunt SUPREME! Haha, I don't give a FUCK! I think my opinion is justified and brilliant... and that's all that matters. Long fucking summary hehe.
I'm not really a music snob...or am I? Whatever. Just so everybody knows, the fact that I have repeatedly called myself lame only makes me that much more hardcore hahahahaha, riiiiiiight.
Anyway, my mom will be here on Monday, I am so stoked! For the first time in my adult life I can honestly say that I want my mommy. Before I was just too much of a selfish asshole to spare any thought for anyone who was not in my immediate vicinity. I'm still a selfish asshole, it's just that I'm a slightly more considerate selfish asshole.....and boy do I wear it well!
I spent loads of money on presents for everyone and I really don't care what they bring me, my birthday is on New Years and Casey is taking me to get a kitten which is so AWESOME I can barely even begin to verbalize it. A kitty...yay! I looooove kitties. I was banned (by Casey) from having kitties when the last two became strungout.........with NO help on my part.....long story.
Anyway, I'm gonna cook up a storm as soon as my family gets here, insane dishes like Beef Wellington and all that kinda shit. I'm totally excited!
I'm going to the doc tomorrow because I noticed some red splotches on my foot and I'm not gonna wait for it to get worse. They told me that since the infection had been in my blood that it might come back and that I needed to watch it because it could go septic and get into my heart and blah, blah, blah. Meaning......if I ignore it like I am prone to do, I could end up having to have some weird heart surgery or die....so I'm going in tomorrow. Whatever, my biggest worry is that they'll ship me back to the hospital and I'll spend my family's visit there.
Not really worried about the whole septic death (haha) thing, we'll just hafta see what develops. Casey is gonna CRACK if I have to go back in. Is it fucked up that his mental well being is foremost on my mind when I'm thinking about the hospital? I feel like I should be more worried about myself...but I'm not. Hehe maybe I'm becoming a self-less asshole? Naaaaah.
So here's hoping everyone had a kick-ass holiday and if you didn't....stop sniveling, it's over til next year. I love all y'all motherfuckers and don't forget to hit up my girl k1tten on her blog and leave her a comforting comment, she just had to go under the knife for a gnarly abscess and she could use the support. Plus you get to see a gory pic of her gaping wound,post lancing. Who doesn't want to look at that shit?
Later on kiddies,XOXO, Melody Lee

Lovable hopeless me.............

I've been eating percs like candy and was surprised to find that the Neurontin gives a better nod. Interesting.......
Several things happened yesterday, first I got a call super early(8am),from Rainman tempting me with the promise of Oxy if I went on some stupid errand with him. I said, "No!".........then "Maybe"........then "Well I suppose"...........which turned into "Hurry the fuck up already!"
He called back around 12pm to say that he had gotten tied up replacing the fuel pump in one of his cars. Uuuuuugh! Motherfucker!!!! Talk about a tease!
Although I did get some awesome IV drugs in the hospital, it has been way too long since I had any H and Oxy is a decent substitute. So I tried to tamp down that feeling of denied expectation and move on with my day.
Then I get a call from Anna telling me that she overnight-ed me a 1/2 oz of powdered shrooms and 4 syringes of spores (they came yesterday). Over the next couple of weeks I will slowly get all her equipment via US mail.
Why the fuck she sent it to me remains a mystery, I know JACK SHIT about growing shrooms! She's still in Oregon and as far as I know plans to stay there. She's a headcase....and coming from me that's a pretty harsh judgement HAHA. Oh well, I love her anyway. I guess I'm a shroom farmer now.
Oh and my shipment of Persian white and Afghani red poppy seeds came as well. I had to order about 50 packs because they are just biological samples and one is not enough seeds to germinate. What am I going to do with them you ask?
Three guesses and no I'm not retarded enough to think I can refine them into heroin......opium on the other hand I can make. I helped out a friend a few years ago and I have an excellent memory( and if I don't I can just call and ask him). It's a pretty basic process and not half the pain in the ass that it is to make smack. If there's one thing I'm not (and the list is looong) it's a chemist.
It did cross my mind that Rainman might be a help if I decided I wanted to try for some H. He may be an idiot but when it comes to manufacturing substances he is Mr. Wizard. He seems to know his way around chemicals and all that bullshit and I'm sure he would be able to score whatever was needed and............
Yeah, yeah bad idea.........*whining* "But I was only gonna make enough for me and Casey..........." Yeah, right!
Next thing you know I'm the Heroin Czarina of New Mexico!
I has it's appeal but as I have NO desire to cross swords with La M. I think Opium will be juuuust fiiiine. They won't be finding pieces of me scattered across the desert!
I told Casey that I was gonna turn the garage into a hydroponics bay and he just rolled his eyes and reminded me that I can barely remember to water the house plants much less manage to regulate the temps required for fruiting mushrooms. The poppies would probably get fried under the heat lamps or never break soil at all!
Thanx for the vote of confidence babe.
He's right though, I'm way too lazy to stay on top of all that shit..............but that won't keep me from trying. Anna is sending me the dutch oven or whatever the fuck it is (pressure cooker?), the fruiting chamber and all the various odds and ends needed for growing and harvesting shrooms. All I have to do is buy some kind of flour and something called vermiculite(????), if I can't find it here I'll just order it online.
As for the poppies, they thrive in a desert climate but since this is the cocksucking "High" desert and it just snowed here last night, I'm gonna have to go the whole greenhouse route. Who wants to bet $50 that by next fall I'll be neck deep in Opium? What!! No takers? Doubting bastards!
Around 4 I got bored and made Casey take me to Wal-mart where I bought a PS2 and about 20 games. I also made him stop by the Tattoo shop where I purchased a few different labrets, some captive rings and a couple of barbells. I also got some 14G piercing needles.........wonder what I'm gonna do with all that stuff..........
Boredom is an ugly thing!
Casey left for work this morning in fear that he might return and find me looking like Pin-head from Hellraiser. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I'll probably just put a few more holes in my ears and settle for that, I'm too old to be sporting 29 piercings in my face. I was considering my septum but that shit hurts!
Funny how I have no problem sticking rigs in my back and muscle-ing shots of tar so thick they burn like acid. Spinal tap anyone? I did say I was inconsistent.
So I talked to k1tty last night for a few minutes and then decided to go to bed. I took 1200 mg's of Neurontin and 4 percs and was feeling all snugly in my nice warm bed when the phone rang.........and rang and rang. I let it go and it finally stopped. I was awoken from my drug induced snooze around 5 this morning by another series of unending rings. I finally got my ass up and answered it, it was Rainman.
He launched into a tirade about people who don't answer their phones and then told me to be ready at noon. I wonder if I'll go?
I'll be sure to let y'all know in my next installment, MUAHAHAHAHA.........
And I will be sure to sterilize myself before I go injecting any foreign substances. I cringe at the thought that I might have to *shudder* waste the Oxy by eating it.
As my latest anonymous commenter stated, I'm hopeless!!! But that's what makes me so interesting HAHA AND lovable.
Now before I go, I'll leave y'all with a question from my endless store of useless knowledge/trivia: What was the name of the starlet who was squashed to death by Fatty Arbuckle in an orgy that included being penetrated by a champagne bottle?
Christ I love Kenneth Anger!
Bye, Bye angels, this is Melody Lee signing out.

A *few* day(s) in the life.............

So since I'm still feeling crappy I figured I would regale y'all with "The Raid" story. After all it's not like I have anything better to do than re-live my past insanity. It makes me feel..........accomplished HAHA. I can say that I have lived more unreal shit in my life than most people so that is an accomplishment of sorts.
If I wasn't such an unmotivated asshole I woulda typed all this crap out long ago and sold it to some trash mongering publishing house but...........I am a useless cunt so y'all get the privilege of reading it here for free. HAHAHAHA.......
Fuck, this is gonna take awhile.......It all went down like this:

I was living with this chick Kristen (the one who got hit by a truck) and Casey was there, NLR Brad, Frog, Kristen's mom Reverie and some other misc fuckers. Anna lived out in the converted garage as well but she was clean and stayed away from us junkies.
Casey and I had moved in a few months before when I had received a substantial amount of $$$ for marrying some Indonesian guy (long story). It wasn't our intention to start slinging again but the location was choice and as soon as all our junky brethren found out we were there it turned into a regular stop for everyone. It wasn't so bad 'cause even though we weren't yet back in business we got kicked down all day long for letting people fix in our room. I was still on methadone at the time but going to the clinic maybe 3X a week. It was so inconsistent I could still get loaded as fuck off a $20.
There came a point when we realized that we had just as much traffic as if we were selling so why the fuck not? It's not like we didn't have the experience and connects and we were already middling for alot of people who couldn't score.
It was fate when our friend/connect Ripper asked us if we would take some of the heat off his place and sell bags for him. It wasn't running our own gig but we got 10 bags for every 20 sold and we sold 'em non-stop. This worked out well until all of Rip's other way stations started getting popped and then he himself got gaffled up. His house was set up big time by the cops but I won't go into that, it would take too long.
So there we were with somewhere around 40+ people copping from us on a regular basis as well as all the ones who had been going to Rip. The shit hit the fan when the dope dried up so Brad looked up an old Prison buddy who was swimming in Tar and would cut us a sweet deal on pieces.He was bringing 'em back across the border himself so it was way below retail. We got hooked up with 28 G's for less than a thou which was pretty damn good.
That house turned into the hottest shop in Bako for a minute. It was non-stop phone ringing and we recruited Frog as a runner to keep traffic down....not that it did. I quit the clinic and concentrated on our new enterprise. We were making so much $$$ 'cause we sold mostly dimes, sometimes big chunks but mostly $10 and $20 bags.
We were able to eat out every day,stay in cigs and beer, shoot as much H as we wanted and amass an impressive collection of electronics. We traded for pills, speed(fuckin Brad!) tattoos and boxes of new outfits. Brad even came up on a car for less than 8 Gs.
It was an idyllic existence, I was still doing phone sex but I hadn't had to cash any of my checks for months, they were piling up in a drawer along with a hell of a lotta surplus cash that I put away for a rainy day.
It was mainly my thing because it had been my $$ that financed it but Brad got a cut for having the hook-up and Casey got his for being my honey and helping out with running bags and collecting cash. Frog was my paid bitch and did everything from make bags to deliveries and even hustled his ass to the store when it was required. Fuck I miss that!
Everything was cool except for the fact that we had CRAZY traffic and it had been going strong for about 8 months. We had people coming through the back alley and we sold out the window after 10pm. It was when Frog mentioned that he thought he was being followed that shit got kinda tense. I took his word for it because even though he was a paranoid motherfucker, he wasn't speed-delusional like Brad.
One day we took our lil junky family to the Green Frog Market to buy some groceries (I was feeling domestic) and Frog says, "Fuck there it is again, that truck was following me all morning!"
We looked around but didn't see anything suspicious, the only thing on the street was a Mother's cookie truck. I was starting to have serious doubts about Frog's paranoia. "Frog, there's nothing here!" I said turning in a circle,"Casey, do you see anything? Brad?"
"Nothing but a cocksucking cookie truck" replied Casey.
"That's it!" grumbled Frog "That fucking cookie truck has been on my ass all day.....I'm NOT fucking around!"
I said the first thing that came to mind, "Are you fucking retarded? This is NOT a Cheech and Chong movie!" Casey echoed the sentiment but I could see that Brad was liking the idea more and more. He had been up for a few days and it suited his mindset perfectly, why not a cookie truck? as far as Brad was concerned that made perfect sense.
We went into the store and when we came out 45 min later the truck was still there. I shushed Frog and we walked back to the house. Cookie truck, yeah right.
*A lil later that day* "Son of a bitch!" Frog came huffing into the room, "I just came back from dropping those bags at Sharky's and that God damned cookie truck is in the alley behind the house! I told you motherfuckers but you wouldn't listen......it's the fucking cops!"
"Calm the fuck down" I told him, "Show me." We went into the back yard and looked over the fence, sure enough, the Mother's cookie truck was parked about half a block down. "Christ" I mumbled, "Are you fucking kidding me? This is the most idiotic thing I have ever been a party to. Are those cops smokin' the rock or what?"
We went back inside and told everyone that we were apparently under surveillance.....by fucktard cops in a lame-ass cookie mobile!
We tried to tone down the traffic but it was next to impossible so we had to all start taking turns running bags just to keep as many fiends away from the house as we could. During that time we were stalked by a ghetto looking delivery van with a fake as hell FEDEX sign in the window, several black windowed SUVs and the infamous cookie truck. By that time in was pretty much a forgone conclusion, we were next on the hit list. Then it escalated, people started getting stopped in our area, getting hassled and threatened if they didn't rat us out. Those cops wanted some controlled buys to go with their surveillance. To top it off Brad's paranoid rantings were starting to become reality, he had been out tweekin off one night and upon investigating the broken down moving van in the lot across the street he found a camera filming the house through a hole cut in a board covering the broken windshield. My house phone was making stupid clicking noises and ringing back my last call every time I hung up.
I started wondering why it was that we were getting so much attention, I mean we were holding a pretty fat sack but it's not like we were the only game in town. We all got pre-paid cells and I only used the land line for work. Only our big custies and close friends were allowed to come to the house anymore. Brad implemented the stupid ear-spy plan. He also packed his ass with the dope whenever he went to pick up. Gross! I know it was necessary but I always made sure that he triple wrapped that shit before it went in his butt......and he got to unwrap it as well! Good thing Brad was institutionalized from way too many years in Prison and had no problem hooping the clavo. YARG!
Anyway we tightened things up as much as we could but the house was still junky paradise, we had boxes of new rigs stockpiled and a gang of 2 liter bottles full of used ones. Spoons...check! Plastic, foil and balloons.....check! Mass amounts of unexplainable cash.....double check! Not to mention all the probably stolen crap we had traded for and my pharmacopoeia of Benzo's, pain pills and antibiotics.
The night before we got hit we saw this shit on TV saying that as of that day the cops no longer needed 6 mos surveillance + 3 controlled buys to get a warrant. All they needed was probable cause. We watched in horror as the TV crew followed the Bakersfield Sheriff's dept all around Oildale while they kicked in doors and arrested tweekers left and right.
We took all our dope and put it a couple of big balloons, the pills in another, the used outfits went into a dumpster a few blocks away (Frog was unthrilled with this errand)and we scrubbed all the dope off our bathroom counter and the various plates and surfaces that we used to bag up on. The foil went into the kitchen along with the plastic bags. The unused rigs stayed put and all we kept out was our own kits. Brad tweeked off and found several forgotten bags under and around the bed and dresser.....we had gotten too comfortable and had been sloppy as fuck!
That whole night Brad kept us up while he tweeked off on the noises coming from that retarded ear-spy speaker, Frog pussed out and went to his parents for the night and it was about 5:30 am before Brad fucked off and left us alone. He was in a bad way and had started to strip his clothes off, gibbering in his Donald Duck voice. It was such a relief when he went outside to wash his car! We had Arron come by to cop before work and Mikey came by for a few bags as well. It seemed like we had no sooner shut our eyes than we heard "Bakersfield Police Department.........open the fucking door!" *Boom, boooooooom......crash*
I vaulted over Casey and off the bed, grabbing the dope/pill balloons and kits on the way, making it into our bathroom just as we heard the front door slam open. I looked at all that dope and hesitated for about 3 seconds before I threw the balloons in the toilet and flushed it! Even in that situation it killed a lil piece of me to let it go.
They had made it as far as the hallway because I could hear Kristen yelling, "It's the PIGS" while Striker (the dog) barked his ass off and Reverie screamed, "What the hell is happening?" I was washing the spoons and breaking rigs when I heard them kick in the bedroom door and yell at Casey to get on the floor. It had only taken a few seconds but it seemed like longer, the toilet was still running and as they kicked in the bathroom door I heard them yell."We have a FLUSH!"......right before they dragged me out and threw me on the floor next to Casey. They were all vested up and the trigger happy motherfuckers punctuated their commands by sliding the pumps on their (overkill!) shotguns. We got knees in our backs while they talked shit and handcuffed us before yanking us up by our arms and dragging us through the hallway. There was this weird white foam all over the walls and floor and it wasn't until they took us into the living room that I realized what it was.
Kristen and Reverie were handcuffed on the couch covered head to toe in white foam, the cops had busted in the door and come in.......with fire extinguishers blazing! HAHAHA they hosed down anyone who crossed their path and that just happened to be Kristen and her mom. Kristen was also totally naked at the time.
I felt this hysterical urge to laugh come over me and tried to stifle it as best I could but when Kristen started fucking with the cops I lost it. They had wrapped her in a sheet to cover her up but she kept wriggling to make it fall open. Let me tell you, Kristen weighed about 220 and had enormous long okie titties....not a pretty picture! She would shrug of the sheet and some disgusted cop would cover her back up. She did it over and over until the task leader came in and threatened to hog-tie her if she didn't stop offending his eyes with her nakedness! At this point I was full out laughing, not giving a fuck anymore, Casey was too. Naked Kristen taunting the cops with " Hey look at this PIG" and "oink oink" was just too damn much. Especially since her and her mom were still covered in chem foam, they looked so ridiculous!
The cops were way uptight and not amused by the fact that their intimidation tactics were failing. After all, the Dope was gone down the pipes and all they had on us was some very clean spoons, broken outfits and boxes of unused rigs. They tried the whole spiel about having us on tape and phone and charging us with felony conspiracy to commit sales but it was an empty threat. They took each of us outside and tried to scare us into giving up the connect(who just happened to cruise by while this was going on)but that didn't work either. As a last ditch effort at catching me with something they called in a female sheriff and I had the pleasure of being finger banged by a dyke with a full on mullet and gropey hands! They actually fucked up when they did that because there was no witness in the room and they are not supposed to penetrate you unless they see something in your snatch.....which she did not. The infamous stinky bank..... their code name for dope in pussy, fucking hilarious!
They trashed the house, dumping food, cosmetics, anything and everything all over the floors. They poured out all the soap and shampoos in the shower on top of our clothes and slashed the mattresses and furniture. They even pulled up the toilet in the bathroom in hopes that they would find the dope,the same thing they did at Rips house. Bastards!
We saw them take Brad to the swat van.....gibbering in nothing but his boxers and one shoe......typical. By this point I was irritated and needed a shot and was anxious to have this whole thing come to it's conclusion, either I was going to jail or not. Decide please! They ended up talking alot of shit, telling us about all their evidence and that someone close to us had ratted us out. They made the comment about 24 hr drive thru service and harassed me about my phone sex log....idiots thought it was a record of H sales. They took all the electronic stuff as evidence and said we were fucked for receiving stolen property. They wanted to take the $$$ as well but couldn't because I had my checks to backup the fact that I had legit income. It was all a joke, they actually had the chance to bust us right in their hands but were too cocky and stupid to realize it.
Frog had left 2 lil foil squares in a pill bottle on the dresser and when they had cuffed us and pulled us to our feet I saw a cop grab it and hold it up to the light. Me and Casey could see those 2 dimes in there, I have no idea why he didn't. They were against the side where the label was and I guess he didn't look too closely......retard! In the end all they did was hand out a bunch of citations for paraphernalia and bitch alot. They threatened us with everything under the sun and even told me that they were biding there time til they could catch me for sales. They wanted me in Prison and a piddling paraphernalia charge was not gonna get me there. You would think I was Pablo freaking Escobar the way they carried on......LAME!
They finally left us to the colossal mess in the house. About 25 min after they pulled away the fiends started calling and trickling in the door. We found out that Mikey had been cuffed naked in their swat van the whole time we were getting raided. They had pulled up next to him while he was happily riding his skateboard back home and snatched him right off it and into the van. He swallowed his bags but they strip searched him anyway. Poor Mikey! We laughed our asses off picturing his skateboard flying through the air as he got dragged into the still moving van.
It took us all day and quite a bit of help(paid of course) to get shit back in order but we were up and running by the next morning.....we were so smart! It took some very slick talk on our part to convince the connect to play with us again, he didn't like the fact that nobody went to jail and I can't say that I blame him. Even Brad walked because they had nothing on him.
We were back in business for another 3-4 months before they hit again and we had a mixed task-force of Sherifs and BPD/ K-net on our asses from that point on but that's another long-ass story and I think this one is prolly enough for now. I told y'all it was gonna take awhile.........
So goodbye for now, hope it was as much of a kick for you to read as it was for me to remember it. I think as far as raids go that one was pretty interesting. Laters Loves, Melody

I've got 5 4 3 2 1.......and a fascination with sub-standard porn

(Yeah I know they're not red but they still kick ass!)


So it's no big surprise that I'm at home this weekend, I'm still quarantined. Not really but I may as well be. I'm bored and have been falling back on some of my more eccentric forms of self entertainment. No not that kinda self entertainment pervs!
I've been listening to alot of my old records and CDs. Going back to stuff I haven't heard in years. My taste in music is so weird on any given day I can be listening to The Electric Eels one minute and then switch over to Hank Williams and then maybe some Dusty Springfield capped off with Gwar and Softcell. Today it was Crass and Billy Holiday. My stereo is like the world's most fucked up mix tape.
I've always liked Crass but I never really gave a shit about their politics. I'm the least politically involved person I know. I just don't give a fuck about any of it, I'm selfish and could care less about the state of govmt in this or any other country. I don't care how ignorant it sounds, it's the truth. I've been hearing about drastic shit going down in this country for as long as I can remember and I never really had it affect me one way or the other therefor I don't give a fuck. Yeah yeah I know, every person makes a difference blah blah blah whatever.
Anyway, I was listening to Crass- Penis Envy and was reminded once again that my mind works in weird ways.
For instance when I hear Eve Libertine screeching out Bata Motel, I don't think about the (supposed) ongoing repression and objectification of women.....I think about how rad it would be to put on "My red high heels" and have some guy "Drive me fast and crash me crazy" so I can " Rise from the wreckage as fresh as a daisy" and have him "Strap my ankles,break my heels, make me feel, make me kneel...."
Fucked up right? I have a feeling that this was NOT the message Crass was trying to get across. Oh well, it is what it is....not the first time my thought process has been a lil twisted. HAHA is that ever an understatement!
I'm not really a masochist. What appeals to me in theory would NEVER fly in real life. I've gotten my ass beat enough times to know that it's not as fun as it seems even if sex is eventually involved. Gracias Grant, you ruined my chances for a career as a submissive bondage slut!
As for all that safe-word, controlled S&M shit, that just seems retarded to me. A word that makes everyone stop if it hurts too much, where's the fun in that? No follow through, no commitment!
I'm too bitchy and mean to ever be a true submissive anyway, I would just end up turning the tables and brutalizing some poor B&D dork with strap-on sex toys for wasting my time with his stupid plasti-cuffs, and gay leather hoods!
I'm sure you-all really wanted to know that.........that's why I shared.
Another thing I've been doing is indulging my love of really awful low-quality amateur porn. I don't watch it to get off, oh no,no,no! I watch it because it is sooooo bad and soooo ridiculous that it's funny as hell and I can laugh for hours. As far as I'm concerned there are few things better than watching some amateur wannabe pornstar try and look hot while some hairy, fat-assed douchebag is trying drive his penis through the back of her head! Priceless! It's my version of America's funniest home videos and way more entertaining than watching a toddler kick his dad in the nads for the million-th time.
I saw one last night that had me pissing my pants it was so funny. This Paris Hilton look-a-like was giving what may possibly have been the worlds worst blowjob and believe me, I am more than qualified to judge. *snigger*
She was trying hard to look sexy but you could tell that she was so not into it. The guy had a HUGE cock and he kept shoving her head down onto it. She did her best to keep this from happening by wrapping her hands around it but he was relentless. The end result was her with dick so far down her throat that her eyes kept crossing. I shit you not, every time he pushed her down on it the bitch went cross-eyed and blew snot bubbles. It was fucking HILARIOUS and only made better by the fact that she kept trying to say naughty-provocative things while is was taking place.
As close as I could tell, she kept asking, "Do you like that? Is that good?" but it sounded more like, "Ooo ooo ike at?*bluahrg-snort* esh at ooog? *aaack ugh*" Poor stupid thing, looking for approval and reassurance from a jerk-off whose one goal in life is to fuck her stomach through her mouth.
I have no problem laughing at her expense either because just like no one forced me onto the streets no one forced her to suck giant cock in front of a camera. If you submit to letting yourself get fucked six ways from Sunday in some amateur gang bang then I can chortle to my hearts content and not feel bad for one filthy second.
Tis also the season for holiday themed porn, which is another of my hobbies. I love those goofy titles, they are almost better than the movies themselves. "Deck the balls" and my personal Thanksgiving favorite "Humkpin Pie."
I'm really disappointed that they haven't come out with a re-issue of A Clockwork Orgy, a shame really. It's a classic!
Fuck! I cut my finger earlier when I was cooking and it's still oozing! Thanx to those anti-coagulants they pumped into me, I've been bleeding and bruising like a hemophiliac. I look like I have leukemia, there are bruises all over my arms, neck and stomach.
I have been cooking alot as well, just because I have nothing better to do. Between having k1tten call me a domestic slut and Josh whining about the fact that these domestic skills were all but non-existent when I lived with him, I think I may have to lay off the Martha Stuart routine. I am NOT a domestic slut.....I'm imported! HAHA and clever too!
I was watching TV and came to the realization that as far as actual acting goes, I think Bill and Ted's excellent adventure may be the best thing Keanu Reeves has ever done. Am I the only one who thinks his acting is comparable to watching paint dry? A razor blade enema holds more appeal! Sitting through most of his movies is torturous, like watching a man sized puppet being put through the it's paces by a guy with a monotone voice box and zero personality.
Anyway, I have to go smoke now so I will end this convoluted tour through my psyche, I'm not actually this random and scattered in real life.....at least I don't think I am. Hmmmm, something to ponder. I'm normal, it's everybody else that's fucked up. Heh heh, riiiiiight.
Au revoir mon chous, Je t'adore. Melody

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