Thursday, March 27, 2008

where are all my haters?


October 2005

I call Micheal's cell from a pay phone just as the sun is going down and tell him to come pick me up from where I've been working. I don't have much money, only $60, but I'm perfectly aware that we are out of heroin- it's time to go get more. We only know one person (well, technically 2 people but they are boyfriend and girlfriend and share a phone number) to cop from. I wait outside the McDonalds, but I'm not waiting for very long. Micheal and I never did waste any time when we were ready to cop.

Our dealers, "Pitbull" and his girl "Haitian" (don't worry- these aren't even the names they went by), used to live 7 exits away on I-95 before moving a little further south to Okeechobee Blvd. We would call and say we were beginning the half-hour trip in our Saturn SL4 and would be there in less than 10 minutes, which earned us endless ribbing from both of them. Not that it mattered, to us or them. When we needed h, we needed it now and they never minded our hurrying to give them our cash. But now, they lived closer- a good thing for us, since Pitbull lost his car when he had to bond out of jail and gas was going for $3.99/gallon at the time.

Micheal pulls up in front of the McDonald's grinning, and I jump in the passenger seat. I count out $40 and set it aside for the buy. "I already called Pitbull, and he said he'll get us 6 bags for what we got," said Micheal as he jumped on the closest exit of 95 headed north. We make the trip in about 5 minutes (as usual) but turned into the Taco Bell parking lot instead of down their street. There is a very good reason for this- we had been hassled by the same couple of PBSO cops for buying dope on their beat, and they let us know that we would get pulled over and searched every time they saw our car. I hand Micheal the remaining $20 and take off running down side streets around the back to where I needed to go while he goes inside Taco Bell to wait. Haitian is outside already. We do a quick handoff and I race down the back roads once again to the Taco Bell with the 6 dimebags in my hand- I figure if the cops stop me, I'll just open my hand and they can't do shit to me.

I get back to Taco Bell, hand Micheal 1 of the bags and he shoves a needle and a cooker in my purse so we can go to the seperate bathrooms and get our heads on straight. We used to shoot in the car, but now we are too hot in this neighborhood. He finishes his shot before me, and by the time I stumble out of the women's room he is already at the counter ordering us some food. We laugh and eat and get back in the car, ready to get back on the highway asap and get back to Lake Worth, where our efficiency is located. But right in front of the ramp- cops! We get pulled over with no time to hide the remaining 4 bags, which are found right away by the same cop that had been harrassing us before.

"I could arrest you both and tow the car, but I won't. This time I'm just taking Michelle," says the cop with a goofy grin. "Next time, I take Micheal and if you piss me off once more, both of you are going to jail for a long long time. I told you not to come around here no more." He slaps the cuffs on me and puts me in the back of his sherriff's cruiser. I get to Gun Club Jail with an $8,000 bond and my very first possession charge. I spend the night, and the next morning get released on drug probation. [A heroin addict takes probation- yes, I was a total idiot back then. I was also 19 years old, so there's my excuse.]

Micheal did not know that I was getting probation. He had already robbed a house to get the eight grand necessary to bond me out (in fact he had way more than just eight grand) by the time I call him from the holding cell to let him know I was getting sprung. [I never even went upstairs on a felony heroin possession charge- not bad for a bitch with a record!] I didn't find out about our sudden financial "windfall" until we were pulling out of the jail parking lot, and needless to say I was shocked and impressed. What do 2 junkies do when they have thousands of dollars they suddenly don't need for anything specific? We called up Pitbull and Haitian and asked how much dope they had. Haitian asked how much we wanted. I smiled- "we have a lot of money- how much you GOT?" Haitian asked if we had $500, and I answered in the affirmative. We roll over there, this time getting off I-95 a full exit south of Okeechobee Blvd, parking the Saturn, and getting in a taxi the rest of the way there. No chances this time. We tipped the cab driver $50 to not notice that we were buying drugs, and he was more than happy to oblige. We get back to our car (in a much safer area for us) with 65 bags of heroin and immediately do 3 apiece before driving carefully to a motel in Royal Palm Beach. I figured we needed to get out of Lake Worth/West Palm until this whole thing blew over, plus I was on probation.

What Micheal didn't tell me is whose house he robbed. It was about 2 miles from the Royal Inn, where our car was parked right in the fucking lot. We had just done more dope and were munching sleepily on a pizza when someone pounded on the door- the way cops pound on doors when they are gonna arrest the person on the other side. I grab the 50+ bags, which are all gathered into a bigger bag, and shove the whole thing up my pussy- I am NOT violating my probation in less than 24 hours for fuck's sake. The cops burst in the room and slam Micheal against the wall. "You're under arrest for burglary!" They search the room for drugs, but there aren't even empty bags laying around. Needles and cookers, yes- but they didn't take me in because I still had my paperwork from the jail, proving that I had been incarcerated while the house was being robbed and therefore couldn't have been involved. The cops had seen our car in the parking lot- if we had gone somewhere ELSE, he would have had at least a couple days before he went down, maybe longer. [And you guys thought I was stupid!]

So, Micheal is in jail and I am asked to leave the Royal Inn. He was holding all the money, which means I couldn't just take it and bond him out, but I have all the dope plus the car. At least the bastard didn't leave me empty-handed. I call Gun Club a couple hours later and ask what his bond is- no bond. Of course. I decide to stay at my dad's house until I figure out what I'm gonna do. Two weeks later, I'm back in jail. The charge? VOP possession of heroin. Tons of fun, right?

The moral of the story is- crime does pay, but you lose everything if you act like an idiot.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

defender of justice and giver of great blowjobs

Last night was really fascinating. I was sitting there, watching TV and eating hot dogs cut up into baked beans when I see on the news that there is a school bus teetering on the edge of a mountain. The bus driver was apparently running from the Overlook Hotel from The Shining, which in the movie was located in Colorado but was relocated to the scenic mountains of West Palm Beach about a year and a half ago. The school bus was full of preschool kids, but the driver was still half-possessed by the power of the Overlook and decided to kill himself and all the kids he was responsible for. But, if you recall from the movie, the hotel's power over a person weakens the further away from it they get. So right as he was about to drive the bus over the peak of Speis Mountain (the highest point in all of Florida), he realized what he was about to do and slammed on the brakes. He was almost too late- the bus didn't go over, but he had gone too far to just put the thing in reverse and drive the kids back home to Lake Worth/Lantana where they lived. They needed help!

Now, usually news coverage on an event like this comes complete with police/fire rescue/EMT intervention. But as the bus threatened to go over Speis Mountain, the police had other problems. Every bank in the entire county was being robbed at the same time- anyone who lives down here will be able to vouch for me because it was on every news channel. The funny part was that the bank robberies were NOT related- each was a seperate incident involving a seperate group of people, although all of the bank robbers were heavily armed and had hostages including women and children. So the police were too busy to help- can you belive it?

Greg looked at me and I realized that I needed to do something to save those kids. I raced into the camper to change from Michelle into... SuperHoe, defender of justice and giver of great blowjobs! Hooray! First, I shot up about 30 bags of heroin at the same time, because h is SuperHoe's equivelant of Popeye's spinach. I felt the superpowers flowing through me and was ready to into the Great Florida Mountains and save the day. Flying is not one of SuperHoe's powers, so Greg had to drive me in the camper truck until we saw Speis Mountain with the bright-orange school bus half-on and half-off the edge.

He parked and I got out. I was going to have to suck harder than I ever sucked before if I was going to pull that bus back onto solid ground. So I got down on my knees, wet my lips and sucked HARD, like I was hitting the world's largest rock pipe. The bus moved back- but just a little bit. I needed to do better than that. I banged another 10 bags and felt my superpowers increase- I sucked long, hard, and deep until I almost gagged. Success! The bus was sucked right back to safety! I spit on the rocky ground as I heard the children cheer. Then the driver came out and gave me $20 and asked where I needed a ride to.

When I got home, my arm was really hurting and I was tired so I took a percocet and went to sleep, dreaming about justice and heroin.

Come on people- lying about breaking my elbow and getting a prescription for weak-ass percs? I may be a loser, but I'm at least creative. If I'm gonna make up stories for this blog, I can do a better job than "I got hit by a car." But everything on here is true. Especially this last story- it really happened! You can see it on the news tonight, I'm sure it's bigger than just local news between the multiple bank robberies, the Overlook's powerful grasp, the children in danger, and the arrival of SuperHoe. But, friends and haters alike- you must promise not to reveal my secret identity! I can't have my arch-nemesis StraightEdgeMan knowing who I really am! Also, you NEED to believe every word I type here- all of you! If people that I've never met and never will meet think I'm a liar, it affects my life... somehow! After all, I didn't start this blog for fun or anything. I started it to impress people I don't know.

Monday, March 24, 2008

foreshadowing... dun dun DUNNNNN

I finally have something interesting to write about, but I guess I gotta go in order...

Okay, so I've been staying with Greggie and his ex-wife at their house since leaving where I was, and what a relief it's been. He is almost done building the apartment attached to the house (used to be their laundry room, living room, and bathroom) and I helped by painting a bunch of wooden for-rent signs which we then put on stakes and put up around his neighborhood. [side note- I had just finished reading Salem's Lot by Stephen King and it entertained me walking around with all them wooden stakes, hah] They are good signs, really professional-looking, so people are either stealing them, stapling their signs right on top, or piggybacking. There was the same for-rent sign in front of 4 of Greg's signs which got him frustrated. The first one he left alone, the second one he moved a little bit, the third and fourth ones he just took because they are obviously inconsiderate assholes.

Later, my dad took me to the doctor because I haven't been sleeping good since quitting the h and wanted a prescription, and also I wanted a pregnancy test done by a doc. The test came up positive (just as I suspected) so he wouldn't write me any scrips for sleeping pills, telling me that the only safe thing to take is diphenhydramine (benadryl, unisom, sominex, etc) which is gay because it only works for 2 nights in a row. At least I'm not dopesick at night anymore- benadryl when I'm dopesick just makes me toss and turn. I asked him for a piece of paper stating the results of the preg test so I could show Greg, and gave me a page from his scrip book (signed and everything) that just said "Michelle is pregnant!" I'm trying to figure out a way to post that on here- but hell, I'm on a library computer and therefore have no scanner. Greg has a digital camera though, so new pics will be coming soon. I know I'm gonna need a pic to prove what happened next (not that I have to prove anything to the haters, it'll just be more fun that way, ya know?)

So the next day (Saturday), Greg and his ex had a yard sale and then all 3 of us went to Golden Corall for lunch with the money they made. Later that night I was kind of schizing out and my head was going a mile a minute, so I decided to go for a walk in the rain even though it was getting dark out and I was wearing jeans and a dark blue coat (foreshadowing... dun dun DUNNNNN). I walked north all the way to [the next major street] and back in the rain, which was a long walk and by the time I got back to the neighborhood I was dog-tired and my feet hurt so I wasn't really paying attention to where I was walking. So I'm tired, achy, half-crazy (drug cravings that I refuse to give into, mostly), walking in the road, wearing dark clothes, at night, in the rain. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened next.

WHAP! Got hit by a car and knocked into the grass. A car and a truck immediately pulled over and asked if I was ok, and did I want an ambulance. I was a block away from Greg's house and didn't think I was too badly hurt, so I said no and walked the rest of the way back. When I got there, Greg helped me take the coat off and I seen a huge hard lump sticking out of my elbow. I touched it, and for the first time realized that I might be hurt for real. My whole left side was throbbing, especially my elbow and shoulder, and my right knee was burning because that's what I landed on when I fell. Still, it took Greg half an hour to talk me into going to the emergency room.

A note about ERs- I fucking hate them with a passion. I know a lot of junkies hit ERs claiming severe pain just to get pills, but that's just not my style. If I want drugs, I don't have to fill out a bunch of paperwork, wait for hours, and tell a bunch of lies- I simply make a phone call and get what I want quickly. But whenever I have to go to an ER, the docs/nurses just look at my tracks and assume I'm trying to pull a scam. I hate that. But my arm was really starting to smart, so I let 'em take me. I sat in that stupid hospital from 830pm to almost 4am, what with taking x-rays and waiting for them to come back. Everyone there (as usual) thought I was bullshitting to get some narcotics, and they wouldn't let me go out and smoke, plus my arm really did hurt, and I was there forever, and the tv volume didn't work, and I was hungry and thirsty. Obviously I was getting increasingly pissed off as time went by. The x-rays were torture because they were yanking my hurt arm every which way and were reluctant to give me painkillers because a) I told them I was pregnant, and b) they still thought I was full of shit.

I was almost relieved when the doc came back and told me that I had a "left compound radial head fracture", which is medical-school lingo for my elbow was broken in two places. The hard lump I seen sticking out wasn't just swollen, it was the bone almost puncturing the skin. I started getting a little more respect after that because they seen that I wasn't just wasting their time trying to get drugs- I also got percocet without even having to ask. Then they put a big ugly cast on me, and a sling which took 3 people and 30 minutes to puzzle out. I hate hospitals, yes I do. In addition to the busted elbow, I have a sprained shoulder, bruised ribs, a bruised knee (the right knee, while everything else hurt is on the left side), sprained knuckles, a hyper-extended ligament, and mild whiplash. Tons of fun, right? You know how hard it is to type with my left hand all swole up like a balloon? I put all my rings on my right hand cause they don't fit my left fingers at the moment- super gay. Well, at least they found out I wasn't bullshitting. Also I don't have a long history of ER visits where I'm complaining of pain- really the only times I've gone to emergency rooms is when I've overdosed or had a real bad seizure that I can't come out of, or when I actually WANT to get committed to the mental hospital (it's happened). This cast is a big pain in the ass, but I'm sposed to make an appointment with an "orthopedic specialist" to get this fiberglass cast off (and I guess a different cast on?) which my dad said he would pay for. He also payed for my percocets, which I am NOT abusing. I got a scrip for 15 5mg pills on Sunday morning (the sun was almost up when I left that stoopid ER) and have only taken 2 of 'em. I'm really trying as hard as I can to stay clean- hell I'm not even smoking pot or drinking right now. Crazy but true.

That's really it for now- I officially have over a month off heroin, although I stopped counting the days cause I'm not an AA/NA faggot. I can't say a month "clean" because I did use coke and 'done and weed and other shit over the past month, but definitely a month off the boy. Hooray for Shelley! And I know what the responses will be- "you're not clean, you're full of crap, I know you're not using, blah blah blah." As Yoda would say, you matter not. What matters is that I'm no longer a slave to the spike, and even though my craving sometimes kick my ass across the room and back I don't make the phone call to get any shit. If Micheal and Shane could quit heroin, hell- so can I.


dumbass- I'm not, and I don't care what you think. Thanks for signing your name at the bottom, I wasn't sure who you were but now I know that you're a dumbass!

anon 1- Yeah, I have tons of fun.

chris- I know it- I just needed to get high on something and didn't want to use heroin.

anon 2- See above for the answer to your question. I didn't know you knew my stepmom- she hasn't posted on here and in fact doesn't like to read me because I talk about drugs too much. It's amazing how much you "know".

lori- Make fun of yourself before others can, that's my philosophy.

victoria- I will if I have enough interent time left after this update, k?

anon 3/greg- I can always tell which posts are yours- you don't have to put your name or nothing!

bill- Guys my own age are immature assholes- I like older men and that's not even a rare thing for girls in their 20s, especially here in sunny South Florida. Kimmy Dixon was a close friend, so please don't talk shit about her. Talk shit about me all you want, but the dead can't defend themselves and it's just plain fucking mean, ok? I don't have fake tits- mine are all natural although they grew from a B-cup to a large C-cup since getting pregnant. Who says prostitution is a job that doesn't help others? There are many worse things you can do to a person than give them an orgasm. Palm Beach County is pretty crappy, I'll agree with you on that- cesspool is the perfect term too. Props!

heatherrreloise- Thanks, that gives me warm fuzzies.

skillz- I wasn't trying to get wasted, just wanted my head to shut up for a second so I didn't "think big". When I was shooting I usually did 1 or 2 bags at once, 3 when I was feeling particularly self-destructive (although 3 bags of what I get tends to make me barf and then pass out, which is dumb cause I'd rather enjoy my high). I think it's hilarious that people that hate me read every single thing I write just to spew venom- if I find a blog I don't like, I avoid it. But, some people have even less of a life than I do!

anon 4- Not fake humor, but real life trashy!

anon 5- Hahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

lori- You're in AA or NA, aren't you? I'm just guessing that by the way you write... could be wrong though.

anon 6- ...

coke addiction kinda sucks- It's easier than I thought it would be, but that's about all I can say.

taxitalk- Enjoy!

All right, my arm is screaming bloody murder so I'm done typing. Glad I got to update though- ouchies!

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

good idea? probably not

Wow, that's some venom-spewing if I ever heard any. Thanks for the support Greggie! Ahhhh I only have 11 minutes left online! This is gay! Bob just called now, as I was writing this. Clown shoes, hahahahaha. I drank 20mg of methadone today mixed with a couple valium. Good idea? Probably not. Fun? Hells yes! Haha!


let me say it before someone else does: "yeah, I love everyone for a hundred bucks an hour." There- it's been said. Now no one needs to say it again cause it's unoriginal and uncreative. I have to learrn carpentry today. Argh! Rob wants me back! I am floating!

Greg quit smoking pot for real. That doesn't mean I have to stop- it actually helps me. I've cut out booze altogether, so that's a good thing.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

a whack in the nose with a hair-care product

So I left where I was staying. The guy I was with started a long rant about how I never "show my feelings" and how I "don't care about anything including him". Hell, he's not wrong, it just got on my damn nerves. So I decided to leave, and I was attempting to pack up my shit when he gets about thisclose to my face screaming about "GO BACK AND DO YOUR DRUGS GO BACK TO GREGGIE HIT THE FUCKING STREET DRUGS DRUGS DRUGS" and I happened to be holding a bottle of leave-in hair conditioner in my hand and I was screaming STOP STOP SHUT THE FUCK UP STOP YELLING I'M LEAVING!!! and trying to back away from him. So I did what any woman would do in that situation. I whacked him in the nose with the conditioner, making it bleed. Then he thumped me in the head, which hurt but also amused the hell out of me because he likes to go on for hours and hours and hours about how he's a "real man" and "real men never hit women, even if the woman hits them first. Hah! All it takes is a whack to the nose with a hair-care product to turn him from a "real man" into an sniveling adolescent boy. Fucking clown shoes.

As a result of this, I really didn't have time to pack my shit (hell, I walked out of there barefoot cause he refused to give me my shoes) so I pretty much lost most of my possessions. I'm back with Greggie, who said he will help me only if I stay clean. I haven't been doing TOO bad a job of that, I'm not exactly "living sober" but I'm not addicted to heroin anymore and that's a hell of a start. I'm not doing any more coke, either- sure it was fun. But that shit gets old, especially when you run out and your veins are thumpin' for more. Yyyyeeeaaahhh that sucks. So, no more coke. I still smoke tons of weed and take valium or muscle relaxers when I'm feeling really shitty (not daily with these, cause I know benzos are addictive too) but yeah. Soon I'll cut everything out- but right now I'm not strong enough. If the cravings start kicking my ass and I don't have a v to pop or a blunt to smoke, I will search out a bag of dope. And that's exactly what I don't want. Shittin' me. I've gone through too much pain, too much sickness, and too much of Bobby's bullshit to go back to the spike. I would've suffered for a month FOR NOTHING if I went back. No turning back, nigga!

So I guess I'm gonna look for a job today, a real job. Can't be that fucking hard, I've done it before. I no longer have internet access in the crib and have to go to the library (not like this is a new thing for me). I am starting a new life, and probably a new blog over on LiveJournal, I'm not sure if I'm gonna do that project or not but it helps to stay busy when you're feeling too irritable to talk to other people.

I nearly got a month off heroin- no turning back, no turning back.

Oh by the way- as I was leaving Bob threatened to call the police on me for a used needle that was in his house. Get it? The needle is in his house. I, on the other hand, am way down the fucking street (plus I rinse my rigs so there's no blood in 'em). Possession is 9/10ths of the law, mothafukka!

Saturday, March 15, 2008

at least it's not heroin

I did coke last night. It wasn't a lot, hell I only got 2 good shots out of it even though it was quite powerful. Usually when I do coke I do a shot of heroin to come off it, but this time I didn't have any (and wasn't planning on buying any) so I came down the only way I could- by getting stoned out of my fucking gourd. At least it's not heroin. I guess I just opened the door for shit-talkers, but I don't much care. Blah blah blah with your bullshit and your hate. I know I don't lose any sleep over it. This blog was created and is maintained for 2 reasons: 1) because it's fun, and 2) because I support free speech. The haters are just having fun (?) and using their right of free speech, so why should it bother me? That's exactly what blogs are about- open forums of discussion.

You know what's been plaguing my mind lately? Thoughts of h. I know it takes a while to get rid of the cravings, but hell. I got almost a month off- 23 days, or perhaps 24, I haven't been keeping such good track lately. Here's my current obsession involving h. I haven't called my main dealer "Jose" in a while, and he lives very close to where I am staying. If I called him, he'd be here in like 3 seconds with a couple freebies just to get me back on the bus. He's used to hearing from me every day, and I know he left voice messages on my turned-off phone. Then I sneak the shots and have to start over. What a fun fantasy, huh? NOT! is down! I am a sad sad girl, and I think I need to fix my links now that half the sites I "promote" are down or pieces of shit by now.

Greggie if you're reading, I sent you an email.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

back to your stable

A quick message to whoever fucked with my google account so I couldn't get in- you SUCK! That inconvenienced me for like, 10 minutes you fucker!

Back to your stable, Greggie? Who you got workin' for ya? Anyone I know? Where you gettin' the crack for them hoes? Hahahahahahahahahaha! I really miss you and I'm glad you're letting me do what I hafta do. I'm glad I've known "the pimp dude" long enough to be able to tell his posts from the posers.

2 1/2 weeks off by now, fucking marijuana maintenance. Talk your shit. I don't care. I haven't done anything at all for weeks, my phone has been off, anyone who knows me in person can attest to that. I'm scared of getting stuck back on heroin and I'm not gonna let it happen. Even if I have to move back home.

I like the "classics" of shit-talking. Are you actually too dumb to come up with your own shit to spew at me? Come on- you couldn't ask for an easier target.

Friday, March 7, 2008

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

"people liked her, and she had friends"

Not dead, not in jail. You people actually check the PBSO mug shots for me when I haven't posted in a long time? Wow. For those who don't know yet, my full name is Michelle Angelina Moreau. I guess it doesn't matter anymore. I'm not working the streets anymore. You want to know why?

That girl in the article (Kimberly Dixon, we called her Kimmy) wasn't just some random ho to me. I lived with her. I did dates with her. Hell, I had a threesome with her and her ex-boyfriend just for fun a long time ago. This is a girl who would come to ME if a date beat her up, or the cops were after her and she needed a place to hide out, or if she was dopesick, or sad, or lonely, or had no place to stay and it was raining. I KNOW, without a shadow of a doubt, that I've written in this blog about "Shane and Kim" being friends of mine. That's the Kimmy that they found in a fucking plastic bag. Blunt force trauma to the head by a motor vehicle- that's not in the article but I was contacted by Lake Worth detectives, since we were pretty close friends for "street people". The article does say this though:

"People liked her, and she had friends, said [the cop], and a woman at another hotel, who asked not to be named said the same thing."

Yes, she was a crack-smoking heroin-addicted street hooker. Yes, she was on the shit list of every police department in south Florida. Yes, she had a hell of a criminal record (all victimless crimes though, if you look closely- hooking, drugs, failure to appear but no robbery, no violence, no theft, no fraud). But people liked her, and she had friends, and once you proved to her that you weren't her enemy- that you were on her side- she was one of the sweetest, most compassionate, loving people I've ever known. Her and Shane, (who has been in a drug program for 8 months and stayed clean that whole time- he isn't a suspect AT ALL if anyone is thinking that) were the best friends I've ever had on the street. Well, one more name comes to mind- but that doesn't matter.

Those of you who have been reading me since last summer already know about Joe. He was my roommate at one of the motels I used to live in, and we got very close. At one point, we let a couple stay in the motel room with us- Shane and Kimmy. The 4 of us were great friends. Then Joe overdosed on heroin and died, back in August (I wrote about it here). I'm the one who found him. Out of that group of people- me, Shane, Joe, and Kimmy- half of the group is dead. Jesus.


So, yeah. I'm off the streets. I still do some dates, because I gave out my phone number to my favorite clients and they call me and arrange stuff, but I don't hit The Horror Mile anymore. (BTW Ron from Delray- the horror mile!!! I haven't heard that in like 2 years! Laughed my ass off- thanks.)

I've been off heroin for 2 weeks so FUCK ALL Y'ALL HATERZZZZ!!!!

*lights joint*

I don't need that fucking boy anymore anyways. Also, I broke up with Greg. For real this time- haven't spoken to him in over a week (although I do need my stuff back).