Saturday, December 22, 2007

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:

I love ya Lucas!


Anonymous said...

I went thud and broke when I went from a life a lot like yours to one I only dreamt of and now I don't know how to forget it - I read you ... I read you ... I read you ... and I remember what it felt like to pimp and sell dope and I still know how to get high, but I don't know how to go back to the place I was mentally ... before she showed me the light ...

da ice queen said...

Shelly your life is more dramatic than my own. I knew you had a thinhgy didnt know for how long though. Going on a year huh. See you Saturday for northbeach

your girl

Anonymous said...

Shelly, you have posted before that you would never want anyone in your family to read your blog. Don't you thing that they might follow the link from your comments on Lucas's blog? Are you close with your Mom and Dad? Does your family know about the ninja card?

Michelle said...

My family done been known I have a blog. They don't want to read it, wouldn't read it if they found it. They know what I'm about, and they'd rather just not know.