Happy H-olidays

Gangly legs...so many scars, so little effort.

Fishnets cover a multitude of sins but some sins are just too deep to disguise. And like I told the elite of the SSFBHG (supersecretfacebookheroingroup), YES I dress like Dr Frank N. Furter on any given afternoon and just cuz you don't, doesn't make you better than me! Take that (not so SSFBHG!).
I wasn't planning on posting anything today but due to an unexpected-expected delivery, I am high as fuck and felt like making my presence felt. Haha, like anyone reads this bullshit anyway. If you do, my condolences and I hope you at least get a laugh out of it, God help any poor slob who takes me seriously. I don't take myself seriously and they (whoever they are) do say you should never ask anyone to do something you wouldn't do yourself.
I've been very subdued, chemically and otherwise...well aside from the speed but does that really count? I'm still the mellowest bitch you ever saw, even on gak, so I think it does not. Anyone who presumes to know differently because of some geeked out facebook-ing that was accomplished during my last foray into meth-aphysics, can SHUT THE FUCK UP! Please and thank you.
I am nothing if not polite, even when I'm advising you to batten down the gum bumping and not spend every minute of your day trying to gainsay me. It will get you nowhere, I'll just say more and then you'll have to say more and it will never, ever end because if there's one thing that has been proven time and again...I really don't know when (or how) to shut up. Ever.
Except now, maybe. I'm kind of at a loss but that could be because I'm slowly getting more and more fucked up and soon, if I have anything to do with it, coherent thought will be a thing of the past. For instance, right this very minute, I'm gonna walk away from the computer and shoot some more dope into my thoroughly undeserving self.
Mmmmm, refreshing. And it only took 2 minutes, that vein in my thigh (refer to photo), has stood up to multiple jab sessions like a champ and as of now, has been my go-to spot for....oh, at least a month. The track on it is wicked, like 7 inches long, though you can't see it in the pic. I took that back around Halloween but only posted it in the super secret FB heroin group, haha. Along with some other photos of me in my Darth Vader underoos, doing unseemly things with a rig full of dope, haha. It's ok, everyone there does, I'm not alone and keep in mind that to a junky, doing anything other than injecting a rig full of dope, is unseemly.
I've been working on getting my fav Internet pussy, Mizzzzz K1tten, to come back for another visit, a follow-up to the Joan Jett adventure. Kinda wondering if maybe I overwhelmed her a bit, she was just off the plane when we drove to Espanola and then jaunted halfway up a mountain in (or around) Taos, in the dark of night, to procure a large amount of H. Granted this was a semi scary place, about 40 minutes from another living soul and mostly inaccessible if you weren't specifically looking for it. The kind of place where they can dismember you, scrap your car and no one will ever be the wiser, even if they were, they wouldn't have a clue where to look. So yeah, a little overwhelming but worth it, I think. We sure got a lot of smack for not a lot of cash and that sounds worth it to me, haha.
I've also been there several times and was used to the setup. It probly didn't help that 'someone' felt he needed to make cute little quips about the fate awaiting uninvited guests and trespassers. We were neither of those things. Or maybe she was just tired from her flight? It did get re-routed to Houston due to the plane catching on fire. Haha, talk about a sign from God that you should NOT go to fucking New Mexico!
Anyway, I hope to convince her to come stay for my birthday, it'll be a gasssssssssssssssss. I'm turning 57, that's not something that happens every day! We need to mark the occasion with...well, with drugs. And then more drugs and THEN maybe some debauched sexual escapades. And then, you guessed it, more drugs. HEY! It's MY fucking birthday and I'll dowhatIwant!
Wait-wait-wait...shot time, por favor. Do I really need another? Nope. Does it matter? NOPE. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I'm thankful I got my muthafuckin' dope in time for the holiday, it would be disrespectful not to enjoy it. And Thanksgiving is all about overindulgence, lets just try and keep the 'over' away from the 'doses' *wink* no one likes a blue-faced Betty at the table on Turkey Day!
Alright, maybe I should go, I need to load up another issue, take a shower and then find a cute dress to wear tomorrow to V & R's. I will not be cooking this year, well just a dessert, so I need to look extra adorable to distract them all from the fact that I will likely be drooling into my mashed potatoes. Have a grand one, my darlings,
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Melody.

Your Mother Calls You Puta?

Pic by Maniac. I look more like my fucked up self  here & I think I like it.

I looked over at Richie who had his hand in front of his face so I couldn't see him grinning, Maniac was too-too smug while he waited to see what I would do next and Adrian...he just looked constipated.
My previous statement had pretty much expressed everything I needed to say, I walked over to cholo fuckwad and snatched the keys from his hand. It could've been worse but not by much, I told myself at least it wasn't a Smart Car and got behind the wheel.
Richie spoke up, "Uh, can you lean the seat forward so we can get in back?"
Maniac choke/snorted and turned away but I could see his shoulders shaking, the bastard was enjoying this in a big way.
"All you hilarious motherfuckers can go file in on the other side...two door piece a...and the self satisfied brown trash gets in front."
Manny raised an eyebrow and Rich shoved Ade out of the way, which in turn led to more shoving. I saw a fist get cocked back and screeched, "HEY! Cut that shit out or you can just stay the fuck here, much as I'd love to see you bloody each other up, I just don't have it in me tonight. Be civilized or go home."
"If you need someone to put something in y..." Richie drawled.
"STOP! Stop right fucking therrrrrrrrrre. I don't care if you walk back to Colorado, I'm not putting up with you and you're not putting anything anywhere."
Adrian started to perk up and that annoyed me further, " AND YOU...Scott Pilgrim! You need a tampon for that vagina? One more pout or sigh and I will kick the piss out of you myself."
Maniac snickered and adjusted the seat, indicating that they should climb in. It was accomplished with minimum drama and we were off.
Not too happy to be driving a green marshmallow, I thought I might get some payback by scaring the living shit out of Manny. He's a worse passenger than I am and I'm really, really terrible.
We took the back way to the 550 S. and the roads were all wet and slippery, I smiled and floored the gas pedal. 0-90 in 3.2 minutes, stupid hunk o' crap. Before long we were passing Semis, darting and skittering all over the highway. I glanced over at Maniac, "Not so smug now, are we?"
"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about." He clutched the shoulder harness.
"Oh no?" I took my hands off the wheel and reached back to take Richie's cigarette, leaning my head against the rest. The little car swerved and I over-overcorrected...with my knees, fun fact: I drive better with my knees than most people do with their hands, haha.
Out of nowhere came this sound, kind of like someone strangling a tea kettle mid-whistle, if you could indeed do such a thing...and then the tea kettle exploded.
"TEN AND TWO, PUTA...EYES ON THE FUCKING ROAD!!!"
Silence... and then I snarked, "You sound like my mother...if my mother was a pussy." (Tandem chuckles from the back).
He forgot all about flaming wrecks and looked at me sideways, "Your mother calls you puta?"
I laughed, "Not to my face."
He snorted but relaxed his grip on the belt, "You really that pissed I got this car?"
I pointed at the rental info that was taped to the window, "You see what that says right there?"
"What, Ford Fiesta?"
"Nah, before that, where it gives the color, read to me what that says."
"Metallic...Mojito?"
"That's right, dip-tard, it says 'Metallic Mojito'. Not only am I driving what looks to be an aerodynamic suppository, it's a green one and it goes by the loathsome name of METALLIC MO-HEE-TOE!!"
"Insult to injury." Adrian spoke up.
"Thank you!" It was the first thing he'd said/done that hadn't made me want to kick him. I rolled the window down, flicked the cig butt out and tried to concentrate on the next 2 1/2 hours of driving. It didn't last.
Rich, who was right behind me kept running his fingers up the back of my neck and just being irritating in general. Ade seemed to have gotten himself in hand as I didn't hear any sensitive-type sniffling from his direction.
I had been so caught up in all the bullshit that I never bothered to ask why we were going to Rio Rancho in the first place. It's just outside Albuquerque and usually if we were gonna meet up with anyone it was in ABQ proper but whatever. I was already in it, so no point in worrying about the whys and wheres.
So there I was, driving along, minding my own business and I kept hearing this weird scratching noise. It sounded like velcro being uh...un-velcro-ed? Since I'm neither a toddler nor a senior citizen, I knew that *I* certainly wasn't wearing any and I hoped no one else was either. I didn't have a chance to give it much thought 'cause my cell started cranking out the intro to Rebel Rebel, I pulled it out of my bra (yes that's where it was, don't judge me), tossed it to Manny and told him to hit speaker. It was R-man calling for a progress report.
"What's up?" I felt around for my cigarettes.
"How long til you make Rio Rancho?" *scratch-scratch-scratch-scratchhhhh*
"45 minutes maybe, we just passed San Ysidro." *scratch-scratch*
"Call me when you get in and..." *SCRAAAAAATCHHHH*
I couldn't take it anymore, "WHAT THE FUCK...is that noise!?!
"Feet." Rainman supplied over the speaker.
"What?"
"Feeeeeet. Maniac's crusty feet on the car mat."
The boys snickered in unison and it took me a minute to process what I'd just been told. I looked over at M, "YOU are disgusting." Back to R-man, "I don't know which is more disturbing, that his feet are capable of producing such a noise or that you recognized it immediately for what it was." Back to M, "What the hell is wrong with you? They make pumice stones for a reason."
Richie snorted, "His feet would FUCK that stone up."
"His shit would rub the crust off everyone else's feet..." Adrian added.
"Ugh, enough...and EEEW!"

It's looking like there will be one more after this, mainly cuz Imma lazy cow and I just don't feel like reading through another butt-load of my writing and trying to make it post-able. I'll get to it, if anyone gives a fuck and if you don't...well then, I'll just run out and drown myself in a shallow pool of my own tears. It bothers me that much, bahahaha etc etc.
Anyway, I have things to clean and stuff to smo...uh, take care of, maybe I'll tell y'all about it sometime.

xo Melody Lee

Oh yeah, if you haven't already, check out my girl at Eyelick, she's a doll.

　

Catch My Fall

I may do a bad thing. Worse than usual, like bordering on...fuck. Literally. I really don't know what's going on with me. I have discussed this with Anna Banana but I can't rightly do so now because I'm not speaking to her due to some melodramatics that irritated me more than they should have. Probably more a case of me being a shit than anything she did.
There's this person *sigh* there's always a Goddamned person! And...Christ, I can't even get it out, it's so unseemly. No. UGH! Another object of fascination has thrust (not yet literally), himself into my life and for some reason it's been sounding like the best worst idea I've had in some time.
Honestly, I'm having difficulty putting it into words because I know just how bad it's gonna sound and at this point in time I'm not entirely sure that it isn't just this side of illegal. Seeing as how the popular consensus is that I'm practically post menopausal, it makes it extra icky. What the fuck is my problem and WHY did he have to approach me in the first place!?!
It's 3 AM and I just had to talk myself out of calling him, I was in bed, staring at the ceiling and so close to having him meet me it was a little scary. The sad thing is that if I really wanted to go bang someone I shouldn't it wouldn't be incredibly difficult. Adrian would walk here if I asked him to and Rich has been in town nearly every other weekend but being my usual cont(CUNT)rary self, I don't want them. I want the new one and yes I'm pouting about it!
Ms K1tten was here visiting and I was soooooo good, well not that good but I didn't take her out whoring around, we just did other...stuff. She met some people but for the most part I told everyone to piss off for the week she was in town.
The plan had originally been to hit up the masses in Albuquerque (collected from a site that I won't be naming here) and it just didn't happen that way. Instead we did something else that semi scared the bejesus outta her and then came home to relax for the rest of the week.
I think I mentioned that it would be a bad idea to ingest anything (Ambien), that would result in a walking blackout, just because I was worried that I would shuffle my zombie ass over to where that kid (most definitely a kid) would be. I'm so SICK, practically a pedophile!
You know what I think it is? I've been too restrained for too long and now I feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin with the unbearable itchiness of it. I need to figure something out in a hurry before I do anything I can't take back. This new interest might just be the one that kicks my butt off the overpass, if you know what I mean.
It's not about the sex (not entirely), sex starved I ain't. It's like there's this feeling telling me I need to do something really, REALLY bad. Something that no amount of Milo therapy can fix, that might have worked when I got here but not now.
In case you're wondering what that is, it's when your boyfriend gets wasted and listens to the Descendents non-stop for an extended period of time. Usually however long it takes for him to come to terms with whatever it is you did to send him off the deep end in the first place. I swear when I first got to NM Casey had Clean Sheets and Bikeage on a loop for an entire month. So dramatic.
I suppose I'm writing this now as some last ditch effort to talk myself out of doing this incredibly stupid thing that I seem hell bent on pursuing. Or...OR, I can make a quick trip to Cali and rendezvous with this other person that has been after me to visit him and it might never come to light that anything even happened. Or I might just never come back. Crap. At least he's older than I am, haha. He really has no clue what a disaster I am, though. No idea how he missed that memo. Shit.
Casey will be in Utah until Saturday, triple shit. I'm not so good at these tests the universe likes to throw at me, I seem to fail them just to spite myself. The really hilarious thing being that I'm pretty sure if I had to talk to this guy for longer than a couple hours, I might seriously contemplate cutting his tongue out. The one here, not the one in CA.
If I was high right now this would NOT be an issue! I would simply be too loaded to care, it's this relentless clarity that's driving me to it. See people, THIS is what comes of clean living, disgusting.
It's been hounding me all day, the damn vid clips on my FB wall can attest to that. I Billy Idol-ed and THEN I Depeche Mode-ed! Twisted shit, right there, using catchy 80's music to subliminally propel myself towards the best worst idea...the very best. Sounds amazing right now, I should go.
Everyone can enjoy this not quite current photo of me looking like a pissed off Transexual with crap hair, decent cleavage and DSL. My new hair is much better and I'll show it to you when and if I come back to tell you about what I may or may not have done by this time tomorrow.
M.

And Another Thing...

Fuck you.

This is current and really just because I'm jittery and just getting over some moderate dopesickness and I'm home alone. Casey's been gone since Friday, probably found himself a few dimwitted Mormon hookers over in Utah and is even now basking in pre-paid, polygamous bliss.
Aside from a short visit from one of the neighborhood youngsters, I've had nothing to do but complain and slather myself with a weak solution of topical Ketamine and Morphine. It makes me numb, not numb as in comfortably, numb as in novacain.
I spent Friday night wondering if I was ever gonna regain the feeling in my tits (Yes, I put it there too), and trying not to gag on the smell. That shit stinks of something sterile, like bandaids and also mothballs. I reeked like an old lady laid up in an infirmary.
About halfway through Saturday I decided that even though it does take the edge off, it's just too messy and inconvenient for so little effect. Plus it does weird things to your hands. I was only using my left hand to rub it in (cuz it feels funny, duh) and now each time I've taken a shower that hand prunes up in like 30 seconds. It's unsettling.
Anyway, I...oh fuck my life with Depeche Mode, Shake the Disease...really? I need to hear this NOW? Those assholes have ruined more songs for me than I care to admit, for whatever reason it's become common knowledge that the easiest way to unerve me is via music. Not always but if the mood (see: Nicely fucked up), is right and the sounds are too, it gets me. Of course I don't do too  much of anything I might get killed for but if there were a way to wear me down that would be close to the top of the list. I don't think I need to tell you what number one is.
Oh shut the fuck up, it's not like I lay down anytime someone waves a bag around, quite the opposite actually. Even when I was whoring I didn't fuck for dope, it's just not good business. The connect might know what you do but he still values you as a cusomer, fuck/suck him for a fix and he loses all respect for you. It's the whole out of sight out of mind thing, I've see it happen a million times. Bang the connect and he sees you differently and 9 times out of 10 it's not in a positive way. You become just another bag whore and that's that. Not getting down on the Ladies who do it, just saying that in my experience it's better to suck the dick, get paid and buy your own damn dope.
Neighbor came by a second ago, saw that I was practically bouncing off the walls and offered me some Valerian capsules. Took all my willpower not to punch her in the mouth. Valerian? I may as well go outside and eat grass, the cat seems to like it. Fucking Valerian. I know that this is supposed to be what they make Valium out of but there really has to be more to it than just that stupid ass root.
It's like when you tell your doctor you haven't slept in 10 days and he gives you Melatonin. Personally, I believe that a slap in the face like that deserves to get smacked right back. Melatonin, can you imagine?
Back when we used to have Dr Swanson's pill detox, you would get Valium, Soma, Clonodine (pills and derm patches), Chloral Hydrate syrup, Compazine and fucking Melatonin. Every junky in Bakersfield had at least 3 full bottles of that shit because no one ever bothered with it. Maybe it works for a 50 yr old who's never taken anything stronger than a Tylenol PM but for a Dopefiend in withdrawal? Uh-uh.
Oh no...am I boring you? Is this too mundane for those of you seeking entertainment? Well guess the fuck what, I ain't a Godamned acrobat and I'm not here turning somersaults to keep you amused. Your lack of enthusiasm for anything I post here is not my problem.
And for all those people combing past posts for mis-matched info, read the disclaimer bitches. For all anyone knows I'm a Bi-polar housewife living in obscurity and I make all this crap up just to keep myself from taking a long drive in a tightly sealed garage. Stranger things have happened so suck it and shut the fuck up already. That's what I'm gonna do and your welcome.
~Melody

Afterthoughts.

Just read my comments and want to say that anyone who imagines I would remember more than an aproximation of the dates when shit went down, is a bigger fucking idiot than you assume me to be. Exact dates...really? Grow the fuck up and leave the petty bullshit to the people who know how to do it properly. Holy CRAP, an inconsistent heroin addict, what WILL they think of next? Fucking Christ, is it any wonder that I only come by 4 times a year? Conflict and confrontation I can handle but nitpicking is a bit too juvenile, even for me.
Gleds, I love ya and the same to anyone else who's still reading after all this time. Anyone who wants to stalk me on Facebook can do it at my little ol' FB page and anyone who doesn't can fuck off cuz I didn't want you there anyway. I'm on there more than here but even then I go AWOL sometimes, however, chances are that for now it's a tad more informative than this place.
XO~ M.L.

Outstanding Emasculation & an Eco-Turd. Part 2 (of whatever the fuck that story was called)



It had been a long couple of nights, that's why I look so amazing.

Right, so I've been a very bad girl (on so many levels), but especially when it comes to updating, I can't really tell you why except that when I think about it I get this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach akin to anxiety and when something makes me feel that way, I like to pretend it doesn't exist. The only explanation I can come up with is that my head has turned writing into a responsibility and seeing as how I try and avoid those at all costs, it's making me spazzy. I'll work on it but make no promises.
Also, I know what today is and since I like to think of myself as a kind of national disaster, I thought it would be appropriate to post. OK so maybe I'm more of a regional disaster but you know what they say- act locally, think globally. My plot to bring the world to it's knees is still mostly in my head, as I'm too lazy to actually carry anything out but it is the thought that counts *wink*
So here's the second installment of...whatever the last post was involving my boys, I'm writing this on some word program and can't remember the stupid title. Yeah, I'm super fucking committed, haha. It's been sitting in this lame file just waiting to be posted but I couldn't bring myself to bother with it, don't ask me why, I'm just a twat like that. Anyway, here it is.

　
I took a seat among the paisa gear and was able to breathe easy now that the thorns in my uh...side were out of view. M had recovered nicely from my beaner comment and was now rummaging around in the kitchen looking for something to eat. He came back with a can of chocolate frosting and a loaf of white bread. He backhanded all the hats and belts off the coffee table and set everything on top. Popping open the can, he took a slice of bread, scooped out some frosting and then jammed the whole mess into his mouth.
I sat in silent, (disgusted) fascination, watching him repeat the process several times before I found my voice and asked, "Uh, what the fuck are you doing? That's gotta be one of the most repulsive things I've ever witnessed."
He paused mid-cram and said, "What? It's fucking good, tastes like chocolate cake."
I snorted, "I promise you that it does NOT taste anything remotely like chocolate cake...cochino." *dirty or pig (in this case both, haha)
He ignored me and kept shoveling until he was down to the last bite, then lunged across the table and smashed it into my mouth,"Told you, cake."
I wiped the chocolate off my chin and spat the remnants in his direction, "It doesn't taste like cake, asshole, it tastes like...welfare. You just raped my face with welfare!" I looked to see if I'd hit him and luckily I'm a good shot, it stuck to his neck so I didn't hafta clean it off the carpet.
He got up, mumbling, "Psssht, rape your face...who the fuck wants to rape your face any-damn-way?"and walked back into the kitchen
While he went to go wash half chewed bits of public assistance off himself, I got up and crept down the hall to make sure that everyone had made it to their assigned bathroom. I heard showers running and turned to go back...and ran smack into Maniac. He gave me a smug look and said, "Trying to get a look, weren't you? Don't gotta lie to kick it..."
"Fuck you, maricon. I think that's where you were headed and I foiled your plans. Peeping Tomas, hahaaaaa." *Homosexican
He looked pretty pissed so I ducked around him and ran back to the living room. I probably shouldn't keep teasing him about that stuff but I'm just being a good friend trying to help him come to terms with his (obviously) repressed sexuality. It's because I'm so kind hearted, ya know? One of these days he's just gonna shoot me and be done with it, can't remember who said that...everybody, most likely.
He stalked back into the room and asked, "You like what I did there, with the two pendejos, how you gonna dance around this one, esa?" *dumbasses
I was feeling quite droll, "Can't dance anymore, none of you jerk offs will go to Effex with me." (the boys were unimpressed with Tiesto and even less impressed with all the sweaty man meat that was trying to pick them up.)
"Fuck that noise, first time...last time, end of story." He smirked at me, "You didn't answer the question."
"Didn't I? Fine, I was hoping one or both would show some balls and tell me to go to the Devil, just snatch it out of my hands so I can avoid the headache of it all. Is that too much to ask?"
Maniac snickered, "How's that shit supposed to happen? You got their balls in your back pocket."
"Hmmm..." I said under my breath, "Is that what I keep sitting on?"
"Well," he pointed at a now clean Richie, "Maybe just one of his but that guy," He gestured to Adrian, "You left that vato con nada." *with nothing
"How outstanding of me." I rolled my eyes and avoided eye contact with the emasculated, partial or otherwise. Making my way towards the scattered western wear, I picked a cowboy hat off the floor and dropped it on my head (not something that happens too often), but I needed something to feed off of and it was the first thing that came to mind.
If you're not pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, it means that sometimes when I get into certain situations, I fall back on a song or maybe something I'm wearing (like my 16 lbs of eye liner), or any other prop that I can use to fuel/sustain my attitude. Not sure what type of insecurity that is but it does make a convincing argument for the opposition, who are always insisting that I'm putting on an act, haha. Fuck 'em all anyway.
So with my new security blanket firmly in place, I sat down on the couch and lit a cigarette. Smoking is another good tool of avoidance. I scootched down so I was leaning waaaaay back, ass on the edge of the cushion, legs stretched out before me, my crossed ankles propped up on the table. I probably looked ridiculous but what can I say, I'm like 5'9, gangly legs are just a given. Tipping the hat down over my eyes, I puffed away and started humming to myself, it was Devo, 'Big Mess'...you know, 'Cowboy Kim I am...' If you don't, you should...philistines!
Anyway, there I was, using my little song to buy some time when I felt someone pluck the hat off my head. I looked up and saw Richie smash it on his, he gave me that cheeky look that he does so well and sang, "I'm a man with a mission, a boy with a gun, I got a picture in my pocket of the lucky one."
Maniac made a gagging sound and I tried to sink deeper into the couch, muttering something about him knowing the words and if he kept it up maybe he really would get into my pants. Adrian looked pained. His expression made me irritable and slightly nauseous so I sat up and put out the cig. Then I took a few deep breaths so I wouldn't leap across the room and knock it off his face.
I remember when Rich tried that kicked puppy bullshit on me and I couldn't stand it then either. I know you're basically children but I am so not your fucking mommy, save that crap for someone who's obligated to kiss it and make it all better. *I* have a low tolerance for neediness and sufficed to say it does not put me in a mood to comfort or accommodate anyone.
Turning my attention back to the room at large, I asked, "So what the fuck are we doing tonight, please tell me it means getting outta here, if R-man's skeez shows up, I may hafta strangle a bitch."
M snickered (he doesn't like her either), and sauntered over to the bookshelves. He picked up some keys and started jingling them in his hand, "Road trip to RR?"
Fuck.
The first thing that came to mind was me having to drive that 10 ton monstrosity parked outside. See Rainman will not let Maniac take his toys further than town and sometimes not even there. Me he trusts, don't ask me why.
"I'm not driving that rolling inferiority complex. You've bumped your fucking head if you thought I was gonna navigate that tank all the way to Rio Rancho, that thing is a Godamned bust."
"R already thought of that so we're parking it, I picked up a rental earlier and left it at Jackie's, it wouldn't have made it half a mile in this mud but on the 550 we're cherry."
"Fine, lets get on with it." I walked to the door and waited for someone else to go first, so they could deal with the dogs and I could make a run for the truck-thing.
We made it back to town without incident and that's because I 100% ignored everyone around me, it was better than unintentionally instigating some crap with an offhand comment. You know me and my comments, so I shut the fuck up and stayed that way til we pulled up to the apt complex where JJ (Jackie) lives. The parking lot was pretty full so there was no way to tell what I'd be driving until Maniac took my hand and led me a couple rows over.
I shoulda seen this shit coming, "Fuck me running with a...Ford Fiesta!?! You. Prick." *insufferable rolling eco-turd

There's one more post to finish this bitch up and though I did threaten a certain charming yet pushy sheep (goat?)/Children's show host with reams, (and reams) of previously un-posted material, I think I'll hold off for now. I'm best in carefully measured doses and as enthralled as I am with myself, I don't think even I can handle 15+ posts in one go. Just know they're there, waiting to creep in and annoy you all at some further date, knowing me it'll be a much, MUCH further date.

Night-night, don't let the Terrorists bite,

XO~Melody Lee

　

　

　

　

　

Manic & Senseless~Coffee & Coathangers

This is an old one from a few weeks ago that never got posted because I said fuck this shit and went to cop and then basically forgot about it. Think of it as a placating gesture so that I can stop getting yelled at (Rufus!) for not posting enough. Haha, I'm sure I know exactly which gesture he's thinking of right now. I'm just kidding, you know I love it and I need more than the occasional kick in the ass or I would never get anything done. We all know there's only one real internal motivator in my life and that's dope or maybe self interest but they usually turn out to be the same thing so...
I'm working on getting everything sorted out so I can finish up that other post and should have it up soon, mmhmm, I sure will. This one reads a little manic due to me being suuuuuuper sick at the time and maybe doesn't make much sense, enjoy.



I'm stuck in that unbearable frame of mind that is more often than not brought on by doing too much dope for far too long and then suddenly having none at all. I could go get some if I really wanted to I guess but I haven't yet. Not that I'm trying to get clean or anything, I'm just kinda stuck. A long ass drive isn't looking very appealing but one more night of no sleep and I may very well change my fucking mind.
There's nothing here and anyone who could track down a worthy substitute is either in jail (Frances), or visiting his Mama in AZ (Adrian), at some unspeakable commune where old hippies go to die. I barely missed out on the former and almost choked on my own bile when asked if I cared to join in on the latter. Commune...really? Not in this lifetime, ya fuck!
Gross! My sense of smell is off the charts right now and it's a constest between which overpowering odor will cause me to vomit first. The coffee grounds/garlicky greens in the trash are vying for superiority with the ashtray just outside the open window. If I had to pick I'd say that the trash wins, hands down because there's just something about the smell of old-fresh minced garlic and wilty collards mixed with coffee that is undeniably stomach churning. Excuse me while I:
a) take out the trash
promptly followed by:
b) wretch all over top of said rubbish.
Uno momento, por favor, back in 2.
(Roughly 10 minutes later)
That took a bit longer than I expected as I had to stop several times along the way to distance myself from the garbage bag and regain composure. I did not throw up...yet, but the day is still young.
Fuck, this coffee is making me sweat like a dock worker. I know they say ladies don’t sweat but if we’ve established one thing it’s that I ain’t no lady, haha.
My coffee always has a gallon of creamer in it because I can’t take it any other way. It was once suggested to me that the reason I can’t drink it straight is due to the fact that it smells like Heroin. To which I replied that if this person’s Heroin smelled like Nescafe he had bigger problems than how much cream I put in my Godamned cup. The nerve!
So that drive is sounding better and better, especially as the caffeine sweats turn to plain old cold sweats and make me feel like my skin is trying to find a new place to live. Traitorous bastard! And after all the trouble I’ve gone through to decorate it with bad tattoos and continuous track marks. Some things just never give you the appreciation you deserve, am I right? Of course I am, I don’t know any other way to be, haha.
Having recently been exposed to Donald Ray Pollack, I am more than a little disappointed than any aspirations I had towards writing a novel about Hillbilly meth-head serial killers has been thwarted. Flushed out of the womb of creation more effectively than a zygote at the mercy of a back alley abortionist. The genius that is DRP has unwittingly slain what could’ve been my crowning achievement, as effectively as if he had wielded the rusty coat hanger himself.
I do know how to paint a pretty picture, don’t I?
Whatever, not too broken up about it, how can you be when someone does something so much better than you ever could? I just wanted to be able to throw in that bit about the coat hanger, that’s all that really was.
I think I’m going to start recording all my phone conversations like Andy Warhol or was it Brigid Belin? Both? Whatever, I thought of that last night and it’s sounding better and better. Of course if anyone finds out they’ll lynch me, so maybe it’s not got as much merit as previously decided. One of those things that sounds good at the time but is best not carried out. On to the next big idea...
I feel like such a rip-off right now, people ask me to write and I don’t think this is quite what y’all had in mind. Speaking of huge disappointments, I tried to like Duran Duran’s new(er) thing they have going on but after sitting through a few seconds of their first single (can’t remember the name), I gave up. The closest I can come to describing it is that it sounds like it was produced by Trent Reznor on Quaaludes. Like he wanted to pull a Ray Manzarek and play on their track but fell asleep at the synthesizer and then promptly had a seizure. No bueno.
I swear if another asshole tells me it’s time to ‘Greet the day’ I’m gonna fucking lose it. Greet this, you prick! Easy for a gakked out tard to be cheerful, especially when he’s only just begun his tweek Odessey for the week. Even that douchebag has gotten more sleep than I have!
I need to go cough and gag around some more cigarette smoke, so I’ll wrap this bitch up. Back soon, I suppose.
~M.L.