getting us paying custies north

Well, nothing really has gone down since yesterday but I update every time I have internet access (since I'm not, you know, living anywhere at the moment) so here goes. I got some fun presents yesterday, including a portable radio/CD player which will be fun to carry around during work. Now all I need is some CDs, which I can get for mad mad cheap at the Lake Worth flea market. Hooray!

Last night, after getting lost in Ft Lauderdale with Lorry (my cousin) and Lucas, I got dropped off at the McD's over on Lake Worth Road since I had $15 worth of "arch cards." Greg met me there and we had a decent meal. He let me do a shot first, of course- wouldn't have been able to eat otherwise. Then we went to the Lake Worth drive-in and saw some movie with Nicholas Cage called National Treasure Book of Secrets. It was a decent movie, but I was high on weed and heroin and I was full from a big meal and I had been running around all day so I fell asleep and missed the ending. Whatever. Greg was bigtime pissed at me cause I was sleeping and didn't give him a Christmas bj at the end of the night. Hah! I love that man.

Today I went to work and didn't make very much. I was given some hash and bought some more h, which is cool, but that left me with 70 shitty-ass dollars, $60 for Greg. Then when I tried to make more, police chased me out of town. Now I'm up at the downtown library with 5 minutes remaining online. Glory.

This lady stopped the damn bus! Said she was having a heart attack, I think she wanted attention. Homeless ladies LOVE the hospital, you get a bed, food, doctors, nurses, medicine... all that shit. He sat at the bus stop where she was sitting (she wasn't even a passenger, just chillin' on the bench) and called 911 and waited for the ambulance. I don't know why suddenly it was the bus driver's responsiblity to take care of this old lady- I figured that the only thing he had on his plate was getting us paying custies north on Dixie Highway. Whatever.

come a-knockin' when 3am rolls around

Christmas day and I have writer's block. Last night was a ton of fun. Me and Greggie went to Hops and stuffed our faces with steak and beer. Well, I had beer- Greg's never been much of a lush. Hah, night before last we were sitting up at our campsite (our spot by the intercoastal where we park the truck and sleep in the camper) drinking Captain Morgan and Pepsi, I emptied my second drink so I asked him for his drink (he was saying, "I can't drink anymore") and it was the weakest drink under the sun. He's such a lightweight, it's so cute. Anyways, I've been drinking far too much lately, between hanging at bars and hanging at our campsite and hanging in the city and hanging in downtown. If it didn't fuck with my heroin so much, I'm sure I could be a full-blown drunkie. But we still had fun yesterday. I made tons of money (when you consider the fact that I only had like 2 hours to gather it all, and on Christmas Eve to top that) and found out where my d-girl lived. I just rode by and noticed all 3 of her vehicles parked in front of a house in the area where she always wants to meet me at. So now I know, whether I'm supposed to or not. Doesn't really matter- it's not like I'm gonna come a-knockin' when 3am rolls around.

Today I woke up and immediately started smoking pot. Not sure why, it just worked out that way. Went to Greg's house this morning and took a shower. He cut like 5-6 inches off my hair yesterday, at first I was traumatized but now I like it. Makes me look older- I didn't get carded at Hops last night, or at the store last night after dinner, or at the store in Miami today. I'm 22 and look younger so not getting carded is a new feeling.

So me and Greg smoked pot and went to Dennys for breakfast, then smoked more pot. Lucas picked me up over on Forest Hill and Congress to take me to Miami too see my mom's side of the family for Christmas. We shared a joint on the way over, and this is what we said:

Lucas: do you think they'll get mad at me?
Michelle: they wouldn't suspect you in a million years, not of getting high. I could tell them and they'd think I was lying.
Lucas: you're right, I could probably tell them myself, me and Michelle shared a joint on the way over. They'd be like, yeah right whatever.

So, he's safe and I don't give a damn. Perfect combination. So we got here, exchanged presents and candy and food and Merry-Christmas-to-yous with the relatives, and now we are getting ready to go home. So I gotta go.

Ho ho ho from the biggest ho of all...

it didn't go *thud* and break

Lots to write about today!

Rob, the guy formerly known as The Jailer Dude, kicked me out on Thursday. Let me explain what went down. Okay, so there it was, Thursday at about 8am. I had just woken up (sick like hell, of course, although I hadn't even seen a bag of dope since Monday right before court) and Rob had talked to Greggie the night before and decided that Greg was gonna pick me up at 1230pm and I was gonna be home for dinner. But at 930am I wasn't doing good and I hadn't left the house since Monday, so I really needed to get out. The walls were closing in on me! So I told Rob that Greggie was getting me early, at 10 or 1030. That was when all hell broke loose. He started screaming and ranting and raving like a 12-year-old: "Greg isn't a real man!" "why are you always trying to fuck me over?" "you both gave me your word!" "if you leave now, you better not come back!" blah blah piss piss moan moan. The funniest part was that we had given OUR WORD about 1230pm. Now, I don't know why he thought that we were bound by his timetable. I don't remember writing out a schedule signed in blood, nor do I recall submitting it for his approval. But apparently, in his little Rob-world, if things don't happen at the exact planned minute (even though there wasn't SHIT going on between then and 1230) the universe will just collapse in on itself and we will all die.

So he starts throwing my clothes and shit out the door, but refuses to give me back my cellphone. To quote him, "I'm keeping this in exchange for all you took from me." The stupid part was, I never took anything from him. Anybody can take, that makes you no more than a common theif. I'm a hustler legit- I make people hand me shit with a smile on their face. But he wasn't gonna give me my phone back. Now, I'm not the type to take that type of shit sitting down. I grabbed his cellphone, which is his money-line. He went to grab his phone without letting go of mine, and that was when I punched him in the face a couple times. [Side note: he's been telling me for months how he knows karate and kung-fu and whatever, but he couldn't block my simple punch to the face, or the kick to the nuts that I gave him later while he had his hands around my throat. Karate master my ass!] We fought for a minute and I ended up with a teeny scratch on my right thumb from where he grabbed the phone away from me, and he ended up with a busted lip from my ring. Hah! Then he threw me out the door not once, but twice.

Greg was on his way, and so were the police at this point. I was so pissed off that I wasn't thinking clearly, so I started vandalizing. I squirted shit all over his door, I knocked over the trash can, I keyed his car with his own house key, I ripped up his fence, I pounded on his door screaming about how he owed me money for the sex last night. Greg would have gone in there and beat his ass for me, but not if the cops were coming because a $100 cellphone (which didn't work too good anyways) wasn't worth going to jail over.

Wow, I've been writing a long time about the same half-hour. Let me make a long story short- the cops came and no one went to jail but he didn't give my phone back. I gathered my shit and went with Greg, and although I was very very sick by that point he made me walk a trail with him at the park. Then he bought some rum and I drank till I could sleep. Woke up in HELL, went and picked up some money, went and picked up some heroin. We made an agreement that I could shoot 2 bags a day while I found, bought, and collected enough pills to taper me off. Then I made some more money and me and Greg got in a huge fight.

Let me say this: I talk a lot of shit about Greggie on here, and it's all true. But I never talk about the good things. He is always, always, ALWAYS there when I need him. He drives me all over the fucking city even though gas is like fifty million dollars a gallon. He makes me breakfast every morning. He lets me sleep in his camper when I'm homeless. He does my laundry. He makes sure I eat, shower, have cigarettes, etc. He always listens when I need to bitch about something, and he pretty much goes along with whatever I want to do. He wants me to quit doing heroin more than anything but he's willing to look the other way because he loves me and doesn't want me to be dopesick. So he takes my money- but really, I give it to him. Trust me, if I didn't want him to have my money, he wouldn't have my money. I'm not the type of bitch to put up with a theif. Greggie is a wonderful awesome boyfriend and I love him. I just bitch about him on here because... well, I'm a 22-year-old girl and if I can't complain about my old man on my own blog, then where the fuck can I? Just had to clear this up... and not because he JUST started reading me, either. (I will admit I'm pissed that this sonofabitchin' blog has been up for over a YEAR and he just asked me for the url a couple days ago). But because he is unfairly portrayed on this blog, I had to fix it.

Anyways, we got in a fight, made up, and went to CityPlace where we drank at a bar and I found a $20 bill (ground score!). I had so much fun, I don't know why I never go to downtown West Palm Beach anymore. It's a fun place to be as long as you stay in the CityPlace/Clematis Street part of town. Wander too far in any direction and there's a scary nigger with a gun to your head! Aaaah! Shit, I'm almost out of time on the computer! Gotta shorten this up. Okay I slept in his truck that night, woke up at Greggie's house sick as a fucking dog Friday morning. Waking up is the worst when you're a heroin addict, let me tell you. He let me suffer for a couple hours before throwing me a bag. Hell, if I'm gonna quit I gotta go through it at least a little or else I'll forget how shitty it is. Hung out all day, worked a little, bought a shiny new cellphone that bounces like a fuckin' SuperBall when you drop it. I love phones that bounce because I am high and clumsy, and if the phone bounces, that means it didn't go *thud* and break. I looooove my new phone, if it gets stolen (which seems to be the fate of most of my cellphones, unfortunately) I will cry cry cry.

We went to the Golden Corrall for dinner Friday night, which is awesome. I don't know how to spell "corrall", that looks wrong but I can't think of a better way to spell it. I gave some choice people my new metro number, which is hard to remember : ( but I'll get over it. I slept in the truck that night again, and this morning he took care of me right away. I started my period today which SUCKS! When I was on heroin real bad, I never got my period. I liked it better that way.

Only 11 minutes remaining! Oh no! I am typing from the Clematis Street library (in downtown, amazingly enough) cause I just got a library card from here. I've read all the interesting shit at the tiny little Lake Worth library anyways, so I needed a change of scenery. I seen my d-girl at the store and gave her my new number (she won't answer if she doesn't recognize the number, it seems) and was therefore able to hook up with her today. I don't get my next shot for 3 more hours, but I can't wait to try her dope. It's always been the bomb diggety. <--- who the fuck still says that, besides my lame white ass? Hah!

By the way- I have a link to my little brother's blog on here, but I read him today and couldn't stop laughing cause it's just so... perfectly him and perfectly hilarious. So I have no choice but to direct my readers to his latest entry:

http://ramblings-of-luke.blogspot.com/2007/12/in-which-toast-can-be-found-in-my-pants.html

I love ya Lucas!

not gonna make it

I haven't done any drugs today or yesterday. I also haven't really done fuckshit since my last shot.

Feel like shit...

...not gonna make it!

cross-referencing my own life

I need to begin by apologizing if I don't make any sense in this update. It was actually supposed to go up on Saturday night but it was past midnight all of the sudden. But I know my writing isn't up to it's usual awesomeness because I'm pretty blasted on Cisco and beer and pot and far too much heroin. So... yeah. That's what's going on with the retardedness of the following.

I went to my grandparent's house yesterday, tons of fun. My brother drove me because his stoopid mama has decided that she doesn't wanna see me anymore. Dirt off my shoulder though- she's kind of obnoxious to begin with. So it was just me and Lucas, all the way from Lake Worth to Key Largo (the northernmost part of the Florida Keys, right below Homestead) and when we were almost there we stopped and smoked a joint. It wasn't much, but I was already halfway there and Lucas isn't exactly a huge pothead so we were laughing hysterically at just about nothing by the time we got to the house. We were riding in the Tracker with the radio (which worked perfectly, and we had the same favorite station with perfect reception) turned off while each one of us had one ear bud in so we could both listen to his mp3 player. Then again, we're both weird.

The "family reunion" went well. I think I wrote about the whole "gag gifts and/or candy among the relatives" tradition last Christmas in this blog... yes I did. For the explanation, click here:

http://michelleldub.blogspot.com/2006/12/family-reunion-and-still-no-photos.html

I got a throw blanket and chocolate and money, so I was happy. Me and Lucas clung to each other in the sea of old people like the champs we are. God I love my little brother.

...this is Monday afternoon now...

Today was Judgement Day! Which, in more precise terms, means that I had to go to court for sentencing today, for my arrest on November 10. For that story, click here:

http://michelleldub.blogspot.com/2007/11/parlance-of-prostitutes.html

God, that's fun. It's like cross-referencing my own life story! Anyways, my first offer was 30 days and my second offer was 90 days. I served 13 before bonding out, so I was pissing-my-dideys-scared that I would have to spent Christmas and New Year's Eve in that fucking hellhole on Gun Club Road. So I show up for court today with my own cheering section- Greg, Lucas, and Rob are all there, and (this must've been a Christmas miracle) they were all getting along! Bullshitting amongst themselves, no less! Make no mistakes, they all dislike each other. Well actually none of them dislikes my brother, but then again- he's fucking awesome.

Anyways, I was late to court, then I had to wait in line at the clerk's office, then I couldn't find what courtroom I was sposed to be in. After all that, I still had to wait and wait and wait for my public defender to get to me. When she did come over, I was ready to beg for a continuance so that I wouldn't be in jail for the holidays and she tells me I'm nolle prosse. What that means is, the case was stupid and all the charges are dropped- the shit won't even be on my record. The reason? Because my charges are, according to my court paper, "not likely to be proven." If that's not the judge calling bullshit I don't know what is. I was so goddamn excited. Freedom! Judgement Day has come and gone!

I would never have made it through court if I didn't save a bag from all the ones I did last night. I'd still be sick now.

Yesterday- that was Sunday. Sunday really sucked. I told Rob that I was going out to see Greg whether he liked it or not, and that I was moving out unless he promised to STOP talking shit about my fucking man. I walked out to meet Greg, and Rob followed me in the car. He was yelling out the window, pulling back and forth in the street I'm trying to cross, waving his arms at me, getting out of the car and running towards me, and my personal favorite: "I swear I'm gonna ram Greg's truck with my car and we're BOTH going to jail!" I wanna know who he meant by "both"- is that him and me or him and Greg? Either way it's not gonna happen. "Maybe you'll go to jail, Rob, but we won't." I guess he expects me to go into quiet, fearful submission when he speaks the magic word [[...jail...]] but if he does, then he obviously doesn't know me very well. What an asshole, huh.

So I go hang with Greg. He takes the $20 my grandma gave me. He sends me out on the street and takes the $90 that I made. God forbid he leave me ten fucking dollars! He gives me dope, tells me to go in the back and do my shot, then yells at me for being high 30 minutes later. He does the same thing a second time, only this time we've been playing chess and smoking pot with a black dude down by the intercoastal. He goes into a temper tantrum over how many cigarettes I smoke. Then he says, "I'm taking you back to your boy's house, it's amazing that anybody still wants you" before throwing the last 2 bags of heroin in my hand and dropping me off. What an asshole, huh.

It must be asshole season.

also, the crazy ground score!

It's hard to type with a joint in one hand, and it's too small to hold it in my mouth (I don't like smoke in my eyes, especially pot smoke). I'm sittin' here, listenin' to Eminem, smokin' my pot, typin' with one hand, itchin' from my pain pills. Usually painkillers don't make me itch, and with the exception of large doses of methadone or name-brand OxyContin I only get opi-itchies when i shoot up heroin. And the scratch-scratch-scratch is my main tell. I could be walking straight, eating, driving, not nodding out, no one would ever guess I was on dope. But I can't stop the scratching when I do that damn shit. Gives me away every fucking time- even people who don't know me that good will watch me scratch like I have crabs all over my body for about 5 minutes before asking, "dude, Michelle, what the hell are you on?" Not that I'm complaining- dope itchies kick ass.

I bet Rob $20 that I could go out to West Palm today and not get fucked up., He defined "fucked up" as using any drug other than marijuana (and hash counts as pot for sure) or drinking more than 3 beers (or 1 shot of liquor). I guess he figured it'd be easy money because I been getting fucked up non-stop when I go out. Hell, that's the main reason I want to go out! Acid, dilaudid, heroin, coke... I be finding that shit. I came THISCLOSE to copping, I actually walked by "my main d-boy's" house 2 or 3 times. But I didn't call, I didn't knock on the door, nothing.

Also, the crazy ground score! Now, to those unfamiliar with the wild junkie - baser - bag lady - hustler - bum term "ground score", I shall explain it. A ground score is finding something that you need or that is worth money. There are ground score rules though. Like, if someone you don't know drops a $20 bill and doesn't notice he dropped it and walks away- that's a legitimate ground score. But if it's your friend that dropped it, it's not a score, it's just being a theif. Or if you see something you want but it's sitting RIGHT NEXT to someone and it obviously belongs to them, that is also stealing. Ditto for "ground scores" inside people's houses or cars- that's big-time stealing.

Anyways, I was walking around by the d-boy's crib (like I said before) trying to decide if I wanted heroin or not when a bum on a bicycle rolled up next to me and asked me for a cigarette. He was asking me if I smoked rock, if I partied, he knows where to get the best rock, etc etc etc. Just then, I spotted something on the ground. A little bag, enough to hold about a gram and a half of powder of any sort. I always be spotting things like money (I've found Ben Franklin twice in the same month) that's laying around because I walk looking at the ground. It has paid off many a time. So I picked it up and it was about half-full of white powder that looked very much like cocaine. I didn't taste it or test it so it coulda been fake. Now, my first instinct was to stuff that son of a bitch in my pocket and shoot -it up later, if it proved to be real coke. But instead I called the bike-bum over.

me: "dude, look what i just found on the ground."
bike-bum: "wow, lucky! Is that real? What is that?"
me: "could be anything, I told you I just seen it right there in the grass. Looks fucking real to me."
bike-bum: "that's pretty cool"
me: "do you want it?"
bike-bum: "I ain't got no money."
me: "I didn't ask for money, I asked if you wanted it. I don't want it but I can't walk away from a perfectly good ground score."

Of course he took it off my hands. Didn't think I'd hafta twist his arm. It would have been nice to do a big fat juicy bell-ringy coke shot. But fuck that shit- the seizures/overdoses on that shit are scary as hell. If you shoot too much heroin, they can hit you with narcane and it reverses the overdose. Bt there's no narcane for coke shots- if you cross the line, there's no coming back. Scary as hell.

So I didn't buy no drugs. God I wanted to more than anything and I was sick as shit at 4pm (thought I was gonna DIE!) but I didn't. I just took the medicine and smoked more pot and it made me so starving. I ate a pound steak and rice with asparagus and cheese bread and beer. Glory.

breaks into your house and puts shit in your socks

Now I don't wanna get off on a rant here, but...

...25-year-old felonies. You didn't apply for the job because of your 25-year-old felonies. Who cares? I know that George Bush has destroyed the economy, and "unemployment is down" (since he only counts people actually receiving unemployment checks and makes them damn near impossible to collect) but come on now. You say you want $20/hr but it's apparently not gonna fucking happen. Minimum wage sucks, but $7/hr beats the hell out of $0/hr and bumming off me, like you're doing now. Not only do I hafta hear about your broke-ness the whole time we're together, but you put me on the street in the hottest part of town while I'm out on BOND to put cash in your fucking pockets! I haven't left your vehicle with over $10 since leaving Gun Club Jail! Today you didn't leave me a buck. Walk into McDonalds, man up, swallow your pride, and go flip some fuckin' fries. It'll suck, but I had to do it and what are you, better than me?

...free from heroin. Oh, if only I wasn't stuck with this horrible crippling habit, imagine all the things I could accomplish. It'd be marvelous, said I, but I can't do anything or go anywhere because I'm scared to kick. That was nothing but a fucking excuse to avoid shit I didn't wanna do. I didn't ever want to end my love affair with the needle- who would? Well, I'm not physically addicted no more. I'm "free from heroin!" But fuck, I'm miserable and I don't want to to fuckshit but smoke pot and play on the internet all day. When I was shooting up, it wasn't constantly in my head because I had some and knew where to get more. But when I don't have, it's all I can think about! No h all day, but I get one tomorrow. I can wait that long.

...Santa Claus. He sees you when you're sleeping? He knows if you've been bad or good? Kinda creepy, no? And who made up Santa Claus, anyways? Why do parents tell their kids a big fat whopper of a lie every single year, why can't they just give the kids their presents? St Nicholas was a saint, but now he's been perverted into a cookie-chomping fat dude who breaks into your house and puts shit in your socks. I hate Santa Claus.

...but that's just my opinion, I could be wrong.

[[yes, I ripped the intro and ending from Dennis Miller. But the rants are 100% me]]

Good points- get out and walk bitch, eggs for breakfast, pirate coloring book, rain, round pencil sharpeners, sudoku, a lot of half-a-joints, getting lost in Boca, CiCis pizza, West Palm Beach!

yer daddy can't save ya now, sum-bitch!

Lots of shit has gone down since I wrote (twice!) yesterday...

Okay, when I left the library Greg dropped me off and I went to hang with Jughead and his sister (A) and his girlfriend (N). A and N are best friends, so them 3 always seem to hang together. They were talking about some big score and then turns out, they were all planning on tripping together that night, and would I like to partake? I can't say no to free drugs, so even though I've had terrible nightmarish experiences with hallucinogens, I dropped half a hit of acid.

It was a mistake.

I didn't freak out or anything like I have in the past, no monsters came out of the wall to try and kill me, no drowning in the club or my flesh dripping off. I know I refused to remove my sunglasses, even though it was dark out. I was at the beach with Jug and the girls and I'm scared of sharks and giant squids and "sea monsters" so every few minutes Jughead would point out at the water (which we were all about knee-deep in) and yell, "look out, Shelley, there's a sea monster!" Hilarious. They drove me back to Rob's and I swear we got in 3 fucking car accidents on the way there- although no one seemed to notice but me. Rob was cool, he made sure I didn't freak, and he took me for a drive so I could see all the lights exploding like supernovas as the car went past. The worst part about acid is that you get sick and tired of it, start to get scared, and the shit just refuses to wear off. Finally I was able to go to sleep, but I woke up every 15 damn minutes and I'd open my eyes to see a swelling of colors and shapes that were just impossible and shouldn't have existed. That was scary.

Here's the shit I wrote while I was tripping, all spelling and grammatical errors are left as they were written in the notebook:

Some acid notes:
-I can't take off my sunglasses.
-Fuck a rat who can cook, better for the fooood to be shitty than filled with stuff a rat touched.
-But where are the WMDs the real ones? It isn't fake we just like to kill brown people into parking lots. I'm gonna fucking kill him! Who? That asshole! Yer daddy can't save ya now, sum-bitch! <-- I think this means Gorege Bush
-him"the brown ppl" me "Fuck em"
-How can my mind me flying everything I love will soon fade away unconscious or not it doesn't make no changes so just fucking lay back light one up and listen to the screaming of bloody fucking fear. Fear takes us to the next level of crazy. I'm not scared but maybe I'm crazy! What will become of this? Does this story have no end? Conclusion? Fuccking fairy tales killed them all so maybe I will next! Oi oi oi <---skinhead moment
-Why did I do this to myself

I woke up dopesick. Glory hallelujah. Not just dopesick, but completely DRAINED of all my energy, like I was a car battery that needed a jump. I took a pain pill which took the edge off slightly, but I was still draggin' ass. Finally I went out and made my way to Westgate with intentions of copping h. I was all set to go see my d-boy, but then realized that I couldn't be gone for weeks and then just show up at his house with no money demanding drugs. Life doesn't work like that. So I went out to see Jughead again. We drove out to Boynton Beach (aka B-Town, just like Lake Worth is L-Dub) and I tried in vain to beg some dilaudid off him. He said that he wasn't giving any out, he wasn't selling any, and that we were all sons of bitches for even asking. He did give me a fat shot of heroin though.

It sucks so bad, everyone can tell when I'm high. EVERYONE. Even if I can control the nodding and wear sunglasses (during the day), I can't stop scratching. That shit makes me itch to rival the fucking chicken pox. I'm madly scratching right now. I almost went into alcohol DTs today. I chugged a beer the second I got to Rob's and feel better now. Isn't that a son of a bitch, I shoot heroin and am STILL sick because of the damn hooch. Cross addiction is a big fat pain the ass.

Gonna eat steak and watch The Mist, which is a Stephen King short story-turned-movie. I've seen bits and pieces of it on Lucas' computer while I was in Gainesville, but only a couple monsters and I've read the book so I knew chronologically when the monsters were gonna pop up. Awesome monsters. We were gonna watch it last night, but Rob thought that acid + horror movie + a chick that tends to freak out on hallucinogens because of her own weak grasp on reality = trouble.

I am officially a South Florida girl, through and through. I can't make it through a day without going to the beach at least once, even now "in the dead of winter." It is 830 at night and it can't be under 75 degrees. I have become... a beach bum. I guess there are worse things in life to become, no? Today LW beach was covered in jellyfish and those blue fuckers, them man-o-wars. I stepped on a couple (barefooted) but the heroin was so glorious that I didn't feel a damn thing. Maybe it'll hurt tomorrow.

Good points- sunglasses at night, sea monsters, WMDs, delicious heroin shot, throwing money around the vehicle, having money to throw around the vehicle, major decision to be made, steak for dinner, The Mist, a jump-start, a second website film, jellyfish and Portugese man-o-wars, "I can't tell how cold the water is cause I can't feel my fucking FEET!!!", heroin itchies that never fade away, "I think our designated driver just passed out with the key in the door- what do we do now?", Wicket aka babydog aka snuffy aka fluffy stuff aka nooners, Derrick!

that's me not the whole internet

I guess I can finish this tonight, so here's a "quickie." Greg was applying for a job and even passed the pee test, but there are extenuating circumstances and he won't be working there. That really sucks, man. I was all excited over him working, too. I'm not gonna write why cause it's his business, he told me but that's me not the whole internet. He wants to see me cause he's all upset. Hope he has a bag- no, no, I know he fucking doesn't. Plus if he's pissed the last thing he's gonna want to hear is that I'm a junkie and want to get high.

I woke up SICK this morning and didn't even do any h yesterday. I went with Greggie and we had "sober fun" cause he couldn't even smoke pot cause of the UA for the job. We went to the library and went online so he could see where he has been mentioned in my blog. There was one blog entry on here, from like 6 or 7 months ago, where it says "it's fucking Greg's fucking fault." He laughed for an hour at that. He was like, "I don't even know what happened, but apparently it was my fucking fault!"

Then I came to Rob's house, bought a 6pack of Sam Adams, drank. Rob got all pissy because I wouldn't fuck him, made me sleep on the couch. Jesus. I gotta get in the shower, there is a beer left, might have it.

...hours later...

I dunno what else I was gonna put. "I'll finish this later," I said. But really, what I put was pretty much it. Blah blah blah. I'm getting sick and tired of my dangblasted situation. There's always someone there telling me where and when and how to do everyfuckingthing. I miss having my own apartment, somewhere to stretch out and do as much dope as I want without someone yelling at me about I needa quit, or watch whatever I want on TV without someone telling me that they hate King of the Hill, or wake up at 630am without having to worry about waking anyone else up, OR wake up at 230pm without anyone having poked me all day. Shit. I need some space. I need some heroin. I need some space and some heroin, because the two go together. I don't like getting high with people watching me, and after doing it I like being able to nod and smoke and drool and pretty much do whatever I want. Nothing is illegal behind closed doors, ya know? I'm damn tired of people always there, blah blah blah, running their fucking mouths. Like the stupidity last night. I was like, "when you're done crying me a river, would you build yourself a bridge and get the FUCK over it?" I guess that wasn't very nice of me, but I never claimed to be nice! I am fair. But I can't take people thinking they are above me somehow, like I have to ask em for permission. WHAT'S YOUR NAME? That's what I thought, you ain't my daddy, now get the fuck outta my way.

...rant over...

Whatever. I can still enjoy the day, right? Argh, 99 problems like in that one song. I burned my fucking finger on the toaster. That was pretty gay. Had lunch at Wendy's today with Greg, that was fun... ummmmmmmm I guess that's long enough.

nothing like a little near-OD to put you in that holiday spirit

Yesterday was a ton of fun. I got to talk to Micheal a lot but not see him, which was slightly gay. Those sons of bitches treat him like a prisoner! Hah! So I spent the day in Miami with my friend Jughead. I call him Jughead (which he hates, not that I care or anything) because of the character Jughead from the old-school Archie comics. He was always hungry and ate EVERYTHING and lots of it, kinda like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo. That's like my friend Derrick so I call him Jughead, not always to his face though.



Unless I get drunk, which we did. First we went to Biscayne to cop some h (Jughead is a worse junky than me) which was so goddamn incredible that I could only do half a dimebag at a time and even then it was scary-good. The best heroin high is the one so fucking intense that you're terrified that you are seconds away from dropping dead on the floor, yes girl. Nothing like a little near-OD to put you in that holiday spirit. I walk the line, I walk the line. Then we smoked some pot (how unusual for me- hah!) and went to the liquor store, where we bought a 1.75L of Jack Daniels and a 12pack of Sam Adams (the best beer in America, hands down, no one else even comes close). We hung out on North Miami Beach all night getting drunk and stoned and hiding in the backseat of the car banging small amounts of the" DOA dope." DOA, for those who don't know, stands for dead on arrival. We started calling it that because Jug said that by the end of the night one of us would be DUI from the booze and the other would be DOA from the dope. Was he kidding? Was he kidding? I think just trying to make light of the seriousness.



Woke up this morning with neither booze nor dope, feeling like hell. We each lit a joint and walked down to the open-air market to get some brown and when we got back to the car and got right we realized that this shit was stronger than last time. Jughead did his half and passed out on his own steering wheel, unable to be woken up. Glory. I shot a quarter of mine and THAT shook me. I wandered around Bayside Park trying to clear my head (and killing time before Jughead woke from the nod) and came across an all-you-can eat breakfast buffet for only $6 apiece. I dragged Jug over there and his eyes opened when he smelled the food. As I said, the boy is an eating machine. He went back to the buffet 8 or 9 times with 2 full heaping platefuls each time. He'd have every hot buffet item on one plate with syrup and cheesy hash browns all over the whole mess, because as he liked to say, "fuck, it all ends up in the same place anyway." I went back to the buffet 3 times, but that was damn plenty. I had grits and corned beef hash and cheesy hash browns and scrambled eggs and a ham/cheese/onion omelet and pancakes and yogurt and 2 apple danishes and coffee and more than one helping of most of that. And look at me, calling someone else a pig!



We went back to North Beach to "shoot up in the lifeguard sand and go in the water, or whatever" in the words of Jughead. That goddamn ocean is freezing. It doesn't matter where I'm from originally, I am turning into SUCH a SoFla princess. Here it is, the middle of fucking December and 85 degrees outside and I'm in the beach tanning in my 2-piece swimsuit complaining about how cold the water is. It's not July anymore. Also the waves were surfworthy and kept smashing me into the rocky sand when I tried to swim. Not the best beach day, but the sun still felt good when we lay on his towels that had been in his trunk for god knowns how long. We were both at least two shots over the line and knew it, so we just went straight home. Well, we stopped twice to go through Burger King drive-thrus and once to eat at Pollo Tropical. They have FAJITAS now- glory hallelujah. I scraped my fucking plate after the fajitas were gone- I wish I could eat those things every day. Every goddamn day. But for Jughead, only 3 food stops is a non-stop trip.

We ran into a friend of mine and I split the last of my heroin with her because I knew I couldn't handle the whole rest of it but I wanted to run out. I really don't want to get myself stuck on that damn heroin again and I have a feeling it's a little too late because this is the 3rd day in a row completely blasted on opiates. FUCK!!! I really hope I don't get re-hooked. Shooting dope when I haven't had any for a while is awesome! The shit hits you in waves, like you start to come down a little then BOOSH, it's as if you did another shot but there's no need for another shot- it booshes you 6 or 7 times. Boosh boosh boosh, brown wall after brown wall. It doesn't work like that when you do it on the daily. That wave effect stops after about a week and a half of daily use, especially since most "daily" heroin users don't exactly use once daily. More like hourly or minute-ly. I guess I'll see how I feel in the morning. Right now I'm pretty lit between the h and the pot and the booze and the xanax and the hypoglycemia hunger making my diabetic ass dizzy. I've never actually been tested for diabetes, but I have all the symptoms and my family is always on my ass about getting the damn test. I guess it'd be easier to buy needles at pharmacies, no?

Today I ate something I was allergic to until I could actually feel my throat closing up. My breathing was getting fucked up and I forced myself to puke out all the garlic (even though I also lost my fajitas). It was scary, but hell. I didn't survive fatal overdoses, gunfights, homicidal tricks, car accidents, alcohol poisoning, knife standoffs, driving drunk, 18 months in juvy, cirrhosis, the roughest neighborhood in my home city, 4 surgeries, getting jumped, being married to Micheal and multiple suicide attempts to die at the hands of a bag of FUCKING GARLIC PRETZELS. I'm a survivor! Hells yes!

I'm now at Rob's house about to eat dinner. I miss my Greggie. I know Jughead has more dope, he bought at least 3 packs. Maybe I should give him a call... hmmmm. Oh hell I'm gonna be shooting $100 worth a day by fucking Christmas.

I hate Christmas... but that's a story for another day.

Good points- good friends, my public account vs my private account of the same situation, North Beach, DOA dope, waves and waves and waves and waves, no death by garlic, Pennywise the Clown saying "beep beep Richie", controlled drinking, Barbara Butts, no cocaine for my veins, Kimmy is a big liar, chicken dinner, wet sand, belt-whuppin, the whole damn internet!

85 million years (give or take)

It's so glorious to be back in my city. Well, I really haven't spent any time in L-Dub but maybe that's for the better. Greggie picked me up at the bus station, as I was approaching he called me and said, "there's a skinny bald dude here with 2 police, is that about you?" Of course he was kidding but still- what an asshole. I asked him for a bag (he's holding at least 3 for me) and he said hell no. Instead we went to the intercoastal (where the water-cop was, hah!) and smoked pot and then went to Burger King (after I made a little scratch, that is). This one black dude was following us into BK and when we got a table, he ignored allllll the empty tables and came and sat down with us. I guess he had to have known us... which eventually we figured out he knew me. From where, the world may never know. I thought he was trying to sell us crack.

I spent the night in Greg's camper and the next morning went to his crib to shower and have breakfast (he makes kickass scrambled eggs) and smoke more pot. He did my laundry whilst I was still sleeping. What a nice guy. Then I worked for a minute before we went and ate lunch at the Southern Kitchen in Lake Park/North Palm Beach, where I had eggs again. I hafta work up in the north county if I need to "hit the block" because I am too damn well-known in Lake Worth and south-side West Palm. That sucks, cause all my regulars are south. Gay! Anyways, after lunch Greggie and I went to Singer Island and discovered that just because it's going on 90 degrees outside doesn't mean it's not still December. The ocean was fucking freezing. Then we had dinner at some sports bar right there on Singer Island. I'll be damned if that isn't the prettiest beach in Palm Beach County. Fuck Lake Worth beach.

After dinner he dropped me off to make more money with a promise that I'd get heroin after I was through. I am such a conniving bitch though, I ended up ditching him and going to Rob's house. I took mad pills, smoked mad pot, and continued the drinking (beer, not liquor, although I did pass the 12-pack limit) that had begun while I was with Greg. Glory hallelujah. I didn't need the dope- I was chillin'. We hit the drive-in and seen the new Vince Vaughn movie. I fucking love Vince Vaughn, even in a cheeezy hippie-dippie feel-good Christmas movie like this one. He's such a hustler.

I woke up this morning feeling like dogshit. I kinda regret ditching Greg last night and my phone is just about dead. I'm gonna go see Micheal today! That's kind of exciting, since I haven't seen him in 85 million years (give or take). Need a beer- god I'm such a lush.

My brother and his woman broke up! Argh! That girl was gonna be my sister-in-law and I love her to death. Hopefully, they get back together. Shit, they have 3 years in... hope it works out with the 2 of them. He does kinda act like a jackass.

Good points- Victoria's extra bus ticket, Greg has a sense of humor, "fuck cute and whore", Magic players are flaming homos, gorgeous game-meister, free food, pterodactyl from The Mist, bus hamster, being home again, good sex and good scrambled eggs, the cop on the water, "he must know us!", painkillers, the other side of the fort, Taco Bell for alcoholics, honey ham, me and Samuel Adams!!

if you don't count the baseheadiness

For the past few days, I've been staying at a motel in Gainesville, which has been fun. My first night I found a group of bums (self-proclaimed "tramps") and got drunk and high on crack. Lucky lucky me. I only really smoke that shit when I don't have anything else, which certainly applied in this scenario. Whatever. They were pretty cool people, if you don't count the baseheadiness. Hah, new word.

Tuesday would have been a boring day. I was sitting in the room, watching TV and writing in my notebook. [[Important plot point- when I was packing to come up here, I couldn't find my current notebook so I just grabbed a random one that was less than half full. It was a comp book that I had been writing in between April and May when I was a full-fucking-blown super junkie]] I was laying on my back (on the bed) with my knees up to support the notebook, wishing I was high, when something fell on my shoulder. I thought it was a bug, but when I went to look I seen a dime bag of fucking dope.

"Well hot dog..."

I bet you fuckers think I snorted that bitch up right away. Nope! I called Greg and told him that God had sent me a bag of h and that justified my doing it. I didn't even THINK that it had come from the notebook until I recognized it. Hell, it had been a while since [name deleted] had them gold bags so it took me a second. I wasn't thinking, "where did this come from?" What I was thinking was, "YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!" I hope that's understandable, in my current situation. Greg told me that having shit makes it easier to stay off it, because the hunt is off. There's no need to go find it, cause it's right there. It just takes real discipline.

Well, I have no discipline... at least not when it involves heroin. Everybody knows that. Jesus!

So I decided to go on a mission to find someone that would sell me needles. I was kinda hoping it'd be harder than it was. I was thinking I'd hafta go all over town, but in reality I walked directly across the street from the motel to a Target, walked up to the pharmacy counter, and dude there sold me rigs no questions asked. The 10-pack was even a buck cheaper than it is in West Palm/Lake Worth. Next, I needed a cooker cause its too ghetto to cold-shoot out of the bottom cap on the needle. If I was gonna do the shit, I was gonna do it right. Usually I cook up in Altoids tins but I wasn't about to use my limited funds in that manner and I couldn't afford a restaurant that had metal spoons I could steal. I hadn't even made it across to the motel side of the street when I seen an empty beer can with the bottom not crushed at all.

People, God really wanted me to shoot this damn bag of dope. I procrastinated it as long as I could, what with eating lunch at Wendys and hanging out for a couple hours at Barnes and Noble. Then I went to hang with the bums on the hill (same bums as yesterday) and didn't even smoke crack this time. I drank beers. Lots and lots of beers, because every professional knows not to mix alcohol and heroin. Then I went back to the motel and went to sleep. I slept better than usual, just knowing I had a wake-up.

Wednesday morning, I couldn't believe I still had that bag. Boosh. I didn't have it 5 minutes after waking up. Brown wall. Then I did the rinse later. That was the fucking relief I'd been craving for the past few weeks. I'm not gonna say it was the first bag I've done since leaving jail, but it was the best. Then I hung out at Barnes and Noble, killing time. Time dies easy when you're high on heroin. Now I'm at the college hanging with Lucas. This is the most time I've spent with Lucas since fucking '01. It's ridiculous but true, so I've surely been enjoying myself. Surely surely.

Well, I'm going home tomorrow!!!!! [Lucas says that's how you spell tomorrow, but I'm not so damn sure.] I'm excited to see Greg and even Rob, the one I called The Jailer Dude. Me and him are on good terms now, I know I know but we are. I'm gonna enjoy this last night with my brother since we prolly won't see one another till Xmas. Why I wrote Xmas instead of Christmas I'll never know.

LAKE WORTH OR BUST!!!!!

a re-nigger

Oh my god, I have been having just the bestest time. First, I thought I was in the toolies because I couldn't find a McDonalds. Then I found downtown and it was all good. I bought beer for a bunch of kids (18 and 19 year olds) and they payed for my bottle of Captain M's in exchange. Me and my brother gulped the entire bottle in one night, it was fun. "Why is the rum always gone?" The next day was spent trying to get arrangements for me to live here, but the person I was supposed to live with re-neged (which makes her a re-nigger) so I got a motel room until I'm ready to go back to West Palm Beach. There are so many hot guys in this town it's ridiculous. Oh, I don't care if anyone knows where I am NOW. I'm in Gainesville! I wasn't originally, but now I am. I'm visiting my brother and he's so much fun to hang with, every fucking word out his mouth is hilarious. I don't know why that is but it's true. Last night we watched the Futurama movie on his laptop because the internet was broken.

Still no drugs- just booze. Whatever...

safe, sound, and free

It would not be prudent to discuss my location at the present moment. I am safe, sound, and free from tyranny of Lake Worth Police. If you are reading this Rob, yes, I am planning on going to court so don't try me. I'm clean and craving bad. My phone doesn't work where I'm at. Email me if you want to talk to me.