Wow it's been a while since I updated, but before I continue I have to bring something up. This is directed to the person or people that like to take everything I say on opiophile.org and bring it onto here in order to talk shit. See, opi is a MESSAGE BOARD. That means that if you don't like something I say on there, you can respond right there on the same page. If you don't like something I say on here, by all means talk shit on here. But I like opi because no one on there knows me personally (only online) so I can chat in relative anonymity, while there are quite a few people I know who read this blog on a regular basis. I don't tend to lie on here, I just don't write about every aspect of my existence- I can say things more freely on opi because they seem to have less folks over there who think their shit smells like freshly cut roses. I'm wondering why you're so infatuated with me that you follow me everywhere I go on the internet and drag shit from one website to another just to make me look bad. The bottom line is: if I piss you off on the blog, respond on the blog. If I piss you off on opi, respond on opi. It's not hard- hell, it's free to sign up and also it's a lot of fun. I posted pretty much the same thing over there, and hopefully that gayness will cease. Hopefully.
Anyways, I'll start where I left off. Friday and Saturday I didn't do anything interesting, mostly I just helped Greg paint my folks' house. Technically I didn't do much painting (Greg is the professional carpenter/jack of all trades and I'm just a shmuck), I just vacuumed and washed the baseboards and layered painter's tape on the carpet and tile so that his job would go faster. Greggie told me that painting my parent's crib was one of the best jobs he's ever had: pays good, not very difficult, inside the air-conditioning, can go swimming in the pool during breaks, free lunch (I made us lunch every day that he was working here), and of course I was hanging around the whole time either doing prep work or bothering him or smoking pot out front. Speaking of which, I'm not smoking as much pot as I used to- I didn't quit but I have slowed down.
Sunday is the day I usually spend with Greggie and it was his day off, but I didn't end up seeing him because my grandparents came over to go to a "Sweet Corn Fiesta" over at the fairgrounds. That's some redneck shit, no? Not quite as redneck-y as a chili cook-off, but hell. One of the attractions at the Sweet Corn Fiesta (cornfest, from here on out- it's shorter) was corn-shucking and corn-eating speed contests. There were 3 different eating contests: amateur men, amateur women, and professionals and the basic idea for the amateur contests was to eat as much corn on the cob as you could in 1 minute. An eating contest sounded perfect for my pregnant ass, so of course I signed up. There were cash prizes ($100 for 1st, $50 for 2nd, $25 for 3rd) but I figured that even if I lost I still would get my corn for free instead of paying $2 per ear like everyone else. I only ate 3 ears, which wasn't a great number compared to some of the other women at the table, but my 3 ears were completely devoid of any kernels. I ended up winning 3rd place! I got an envelope with $25 and a trophy that says "International Foundation of Competitive Eaters, Ladies Amateur Sweet Corn Eating Contest 2008, 3rd place." My dad has a couple pics, one of me shoveling corn down my face and another of me with the 1st and 2nd place winners and our trophies. I will post those pics when he gets home because they are on his cell right now and his cell is with him on a business trip to God knows where.
Oh yeah, and this is a great opportunity to make a "pigs eat corn, you're a fat corn-eating pig, did ya eat it out of a trough, did ya snort while ya ate?" joke. So... fire away!
Monday I helped Greggie paint once again. Tuesday I went to my ob/gyn to get my first ultrasound. It was so exciting, the baby looked like a little skeleton on the screen and his/her heart was visibly beating so damn quickly. The PA couldn't tell me the sex, though, because junior's legs were curled up under his/her body. Maybe next time, right? Someone gave me a suggestion to eat a lot of sugar before I get my next ultrasound because it makes the baby hyper and he/she moves around a lot more. It's worth a shot.
Wednesday I (amazingly enough) helped paint. One of the best parts about him doing a job here is that I don't have to take the bus home from the methadone clinic every morning. He lives close to das klinik and is headed to my crib anyway, so I just call before I get on the bus and tell him when to pick me up. Usually we do the exercise trail before heading to work, but I flat-out refused that day because I was in my sandals. The exercise trail in John Prince Park is made of red wood chips that get caught in my sandals and stab my feet, which is gay. So we went to get pastries at our usual spot- Greg likes Dunkin Donuts and I like this little privately-owned bakery and the two spots happen to be right across the street from each other. Good deal, huh?
While we ate, one of my old crackhead friends comes over to say hi. As he came up, me and Greggie were arguing (not angry arguing though) because he wanted me to do the stupid trail and I told him I wasn't gonna walk that fucker in my sandals. My crackhead friend (Chuck) heard us and said he had a brand new pair of sneakers hidden over by where he goes to smoke that he'd be willing to give me if they fit. They were a little big, but with socks they fit ok. Chuck wasn't trying to charge us (doesn't that show that he's a real friend? a crackhead that gives something for free?) but we gave him five bucks anyways cause he's a cool guy. The pic on the top is me and Chuck that was taken on the same day as the chili cook-off (I think? I'm just guessing that since I'm wearing the same outfit as in the chili pics). I wish I could post a picture of my Greggie, but he doesn't want his picture on here and if I put one anyway it would be pretty fucked up.
Wednesday was also the last day of Greg's painting job : ( and after he got payed he gave me a check for helping him do the prep and fixing lunch every day. It's nice not to be broke. Thursday we were supposed to spend the day together to celebrate a job well done, but there was some drama over at the clinic and they refused to dose me. By about noon I was S I C K and incredibly pissed off, so I ended up doing a bag of heroin. My first shot in approximately 3 months- and it fucked me UP!! It was a one-time thing though... I won't do it again. I started getting sick again around 8pm and ended up staying up the entire fucking night tossing and turning and crying. I didn't call for more dope, I didn't try and find pills, and I didn't even go get drunk (yes, I had plenty of money). I just got through it, thought not exactly with dignity. I showed up at the clinic at 530am, right as the doors opened (hell, I was awake anyways) and there were no problems. I went to see my counselor, and she asked me if I got high yesterday. I lied of course- if I had said yes, I wouldn't have been dosed today either and I really don't want to do any more heroin but at the same time I really really don't want to be sick. Pregnant bitches aren't supposed to be in withdrawal at all, ya know? Plus it sucks!
So... that's about it.
$$ SELECTED REPLIES $$
"In the first picture, are the dark spots on your arms track marks? I don't really know what they look like, but your arms don't look that bad. You had blogged about horrific track marks."
Yes, those are tracks. Greg says he has a picture of what my arms and hands looked like about a year ago- they are B A D !!!
"Any word on the father of your baby? Do you even know?"
I do know- I'm not a candidate for the Maury Povitch show, I guess. But while I'm about 95% sure, I don't want to throw a name out until I'm 100% on it. The person in question agreed to get a DNA test, which will confirm (or deny) his paternity. But I got a very very good idea of who it was.
"if anyone believes you haven't done heroin they're idiots"
It's pretty funny that when I say I'm doing bad (shooting up every day, smoking rock, living on the streets, going to jail, working the corner, etc) everyone takes me at my word. But when I say I'm doing good... "bullshit!" You either believe what I write on here or you think I'm a liar, ya can't have it both ways you know.
"BTW... I guess your a lefty"
Nope! Right handed. I had tracks on both arms though, because when my left arm and hand got used up I switched. I also hit my feet, my legs, my chest, pretty much everywhere except for my neck. Neck shots are too creepy- I'm scared I'll miss and it'll look like I attempted to swallow a golf ball and it got stuck.
"Do you love being a whore or do you now admit that you are scum? PS I always knew you were trailer trash, but I just found out that you actually live in a trailer too. How fitting!"
No, I don't "admit that I'm scum" because I know I'm not. I'm doing my best, even if my best is equal to someone elses worst. It's okay, things are getting better. I enjoy tricking- it's a high all by itself. When I get out of a car with cash in my hand... hard to explain. I don't need YOU to bum me a cigarette, I don't need HIM to front me anything, I don't need HER to lend me a couple bucks, I don't need ANYONE to buy me food. Who got Shelley? Shelley got Shelley! But all good things must come to an end. PS who said I lived in a trailer? I stayed in someone elses trailer for about a month, but I'm staying in a 4-bedroom house right now with a laundry room and a swimming pool and porches in the back and front. It's my parent's house of course, but it's surely not a double-wide.
"So your parents are paying your pimp to paint their house! No wonder you turned out like you did."
Hey, it's hard out there for a pimp when he's tryin to get the money for the rent. Plus he did an awesome job painting- that's all that matters if you want your house painted. Thanks for the laugh anyway- that's a pretty funny comment.
"i just noticed...why'd you take micheal's picture down?"
Because he's not really a part of my life anymore. I would put up Greg's picture, but he doesn't want his face on the internet so I respect that.
"i really hope your child makes it through without being seriously harmed/retarded/diseased and gets adopted by a loving family that can give them the care and special attention they will probably need"
So far, junior is perfectly healthy and at the correct weight and developmental stage. Hooray for junior! He/she won't get adopted by anyone- I will provide whatever is needed although I'll probably need help doing it. But it's ok to ask for help.
"how the hell did you get preg? who the hell would knowingly have stuck their dick in that cavernous snatch of yours...talk about risk!"
Hah! You'd be surprised... :)
"I heard you used heroin again, liar."
You're right, I did. Not sure how you "heard" it, but I don't much care. I shot a bag yesterday, and I didn't lie about it (well, not here at least).
"Yeah, when you're a junkie whore living in the ghetto of course it's easy to buy drugs"
"You're so fucking ignorant it's pathetic. And since you have now said on opio that you plan to resume being a junkie and crackhead when you are not prgneant (though you're also talking about calling your dope guy tonight) what do you plan to do with the baby???"
Show me where I said that I'm gonna resume being a junkie after the kid is born. Post the link right up on here. Oh, you can't? Probably cause I didn't say that. Yeah, I was talking about calling my dope guy the other night, and I did call. But I didn't get anything from him that night either... so who cares? Dude can't slip a bag through the telephone.