I'm not gonna bother with a play-by-play. New years eve sucked nuggets. I was with my friend from my hometown, who came to Florida to take me back west with him. He was kinda pissed when I decided I didn't want to go, I might still go but I might not. We were supposed to leave tonight, but I have until tomorrow to decide. Whatever. Anyways, new years eve was spent in Miami. I didn't drink and barely got high, just enough heroin to keep my head screwed on right, I was just sad. I made the incredible mistake of calling Rob and confiding something in him, now he's on my dick and won't get off. That man doesn't seem to understand that I don't want what he wants for me. Rob if you're reading this (and I know you read this)- LOSE MY PHONE NUMBER. I'm sorry I called you, but hell, I didn't know you were gonna drag your skinny ass back to Florida just to give me shit and piss me off all day! I'm not Miss fucking Cleo, but here's a prediction anyway: call my boyfriend again and you'll be sorry.
2008 has been good to me so far. I almost got robbed- there's a good story. I was walking down Okeechobee Blvd (near Congress) minding my own shit when this big white dude comes up and starts asking me for a dollar or something like that. I told him I didn't have, and then everything happened real quick. He pushed me down on the concrete and grabbed at my purse and my foot just swung out. It wasn't till he hit the ground that I realized what had just gone down- this bastard had tried to steal my purse and I had kicked him in the balls. Once I figured that out, I was straight-up pissed. This mofo is gonna come up to me and try to abscond with my measly-ass $39, my toys, my identification, my Clematis Street library card, my cigarettes, about 20 Newport points that I had collected throughout the day, my candy... what the hell? So I started yelling, "how are you gonna come up here and rob a bitch? You can't do that shit!" and delivered another swift kick to the nuggets. There was a taxi watching the whole thing, and he yells out, "damn girl, you a gangsta!" I ran over there (I knew better than to be a couple feet up the road when the wannabe purse-snatcher managed to stand up) and asked him how much it would cost to get a gangsta to downtown, and rode out. I never felt more like a G in my life.
I've got a big fat secret... I made the mistake of sharing with one person (Rob) and his stupid bitch ass told Greggie my secret. I denied it- "he's just trying to make me look bad, don't listen to Rob, he's fucking clown shoes, I don't know WHY he would make up something like that." I'm a pretty good liar... had a lot of practice. This is really my "honest place" since I gots no reason to lie to a buncha folks I don't know...
I made big moneys today! The minute I leave the library I gotta call my d-boy and try to get some shit, since I'm down to one bag and I need another for tonight AND one for the morning. I got the bread to cover it, it's just that out of the 4 people I deal with only 1 is holding and he told me to call him back... actually around now. Hooray! Hope it goes through.
I been writing short essays, trying to be a comedian, and wanted to share my essay entitled "Christmas":
Christmas used to be a religious holiday, and I suppose in a way it still is. We worship money, materialism, shopping, good food, and who could forget Santa Claus. The original Santa Claus was a saint, Saint Nicholas, but he's been transformed into an old fatty who breaks into your house and puts shit in your socks. If I hear someone coming down my chimney in the middle of the night, especially if he's carrying a big sack (presumably to dispose of the bodies?), I'm grabbing the fireplace poker or a baseball bat or something. Not that I've ever had a chimney. I remember when Santa Claus was explained in my kindergarden classroom down here in the South, that was the biggest concern- a lack of chimneys. I guess then he's forced to pick the lock and break in the back door instead. It doesn't really matter, because if he continues to subsist on nothing but milk and cookies he won't be around much longer. Santa's gonna have an infarction and I don't think red-nosed reindeer are particularly adept at CPR. Either that or one of the "naughty" kids who Santa's been leaving lumps of coal for is gonna whack him in the head with a shovel and take his whole bag o' gifts. These kids are on the shit list for a reason.
The following are replies to the comments left on my last post. I stole this idea from my little brother's blog, but it seems to work out real well for him, so here goes...
Diamond: It was Donna. Did you know her mom just died? She must've been 100 years old, cause Donna sure is old.
Anonymous #1: I give him my money, but he makes sure I never need anything. He pays for my food, my clothes, my cigarettes, my rent, my phone bill, my drugs, gas to drive me around, candy, and anything else I ever need out of the money I "give" him. It's not like he's lining his pockets.
Taxitalk: Aww, how sweet. I linked to you, in case you didn't see.
Anonymous #2: Yeah, I'm at Clematis Street library right now.
Anonymous #3: No, my middle name starts with A.
5 months ago