year-and-a-half-old candy bars

I'm really stoned on this freaky weed, so forgive if any of the following makes no sense:

I got in a mini car accident today on the way to the methadone clinic. My little bro drove me on over, but he usually stays up until past 5am playing with his little nerdy faggot friends (and they don't know how to shut the fuck up either- I've already threatened violence, I'm gonna look like full of shit if I don't hit one of 'em real soon) so he was falling asleep at all the red lights. I kept having to wake him up when all the cars moved and we stayed put. So I drove back so he could not kill us both, and my liscense is so taken away from me so I'm not supposed to be driving anywhere. Yet, I drove. And we were almost home, all the way at ***** Blvd and ***** Trace and I had to turn left but the left arrow light was red so I pulled up to the red light and I just chilled there, waiting for it to be green. Then WHAM we got hit by some car behind us.

I figured the asshole was gonna call the cops, and here I am driving on a suspended license. Lucas of course was awake by this point, and he and I decided to switch seats real quick. Then the lady who just hit us runs over to the window as we were switching, and she's all like, "I'm so sorry please don't call the cops I don't have a drivers license your car is fine I can see it." I ran outside and checked the back bumper, and it was crazy (because my brother drives a car about as sturdy as a tin can) but there wasn't even a scratch on it. The girl's car was fucked though- the whole corner was up and the headlight was smashed to hell. Lucas was like, "well at least I'm awake now, I'll give ya that." So, the mini accident was totally not my fault! I got hit from behind at a red light- not guilty.

Also, me and Greg bought a Baby Ruth bar at a gas station and the wrapper was some sort of contest winner- for a contest that ended on 5/10/07. I can't figure out which is worse, a gas station selling year-and-a-half-old candy bars, or that I ate one of 'em. Gross.

allergic to tap water

You guys ready for a shock? Okay, check it- I'm a member of the First Baptist Church of Wellington. Me, Shelley, in church every Sunday... and all without bursting into flame. I guess if I had been a member the whole time I was working the streets and whatnot, I'd be one fuck of a hypocrite. But I just started going a couple months ago, and became an official "church member" just 3 weeks ago. One of those pics that was posted last week is from when I was called up by Pastor Townsend to announce in front of the congregation that I would like to be a member of their church and whatnot- it's the picture that was obviously taken in a church, strangely enough :)

After graduating from Victory Christian Academy (an all-girls Baptist boarding school- the kind of place that puts the "mental" in fundamentalism) in which I had to attend 3 seperate church services a day, I had decided that I had listened to enough people tell me that I was going to hell without being washed in the blood enough times to make up for every Sunday for the remainder of my life. I figured sitting in church 21 times a week was above and beyond the call of duty, even for the most pious of Christians.

So, I was through forever- until I got knocked up, and actually started thinking about having and raising a little kid. I decided that I want my daughter to grow up in church, and when she's an adult she can decide if she wants to continue going or not. I figured that since I'm "lukewarm" in the whole God department, I don't want my kid to grow up confused or worse, an atheist. Atheists are stupid- agnostics at least admit they don't know, but atheists can be just as obnoxious, self-righteous, and cocksure as the most annoying of religious folk. "There is no God, because there is no proof of God." Well, then how do you explain, I dunno... everything? The laws of physics that make the world work, the suspiciously perfect distance our planet is from the sun, photosynthesis, miles of intestines all serving a purpose, eyes, even a scab on your knee for fuck's sake! You put a hole in living skin, the hole will eventually be gone because of the processes of your body and it's taken for granted, but when you stop and consider it- wow. It's all amazing, and while scientists may figure out HOW these things work, they still haven't managed to answer WHY they work. Atheists think that "evolution" is the answer to why- even though they have no proof at all that all species evolved from a common ancestor. Hell, they don't have proof that anything ever became anything else! Yes, there are extinct animals that share attributes with known living species- so what? All that shows is that a similar animal died off, not that it was an "earlier evolutionary form". Bunch of fuckin' retards, those Darwin folk. Damn, I could go on for days on this topic (I actually did my senior report on "evolution vs creation" in high school) and I'm not gonna bother, cause it will take too long and I'm trying to focus on downloading songs from Shareaza for my shiny new ipod!

Yep, shiny new ipod. My birthday is next Sunday and my folks are getting me a music player because I want one and also because they are sick of me playing music on youtube or playlist.com where they are forced to listen to it. My father is more easygoing, but my mom already decided that any form of entertainment (movies, tv shows, music, etc) that I like is disgusting and terrible. And of course, whatever my mom says my dad supports. I can't blame 'em for that- they are married, and I'd expect my husband to stand behind me in any disagreement. But anyways, I went with my dad to Circuit City to pick out the ipod today, although I won't receive it until next week. It's not a nano- it's 80MB and it's black and it will hold either 20,000 songs or 100 hours of video. The best part of having a music player- downloading music! I'm using Shareaza but it's the same as it used to be when Napster was free and super-contraversial and I used to sit up on Napster going click click click clickclickclick click clickclickclick all night long. I only got 2 songs so far (Inside the fire by Disturbed and Instigator by D12... weird, both songs start with I and both bands start with D, I didn't notice that till just now) but then, I just started fucking with it 10 minutes ago while typing here.

Ah, you know what I hate? People who "don't drink tap water" or even worse, are "allergic to tap water." HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Allergic to tap water! I swear I heard that from a 40 year olod man once. What the hell did he do for the first 25-30 years of his life? He's still alive, so he must have drank it- and he's still alive! Imagine that. My favorite thing to do to bottled-water snots? Pour out one of their bottles and refill it with tap water, then wait till they've drank all the bottles. I've done that to 25+ people, and not ONE has been able to tell the difference between their precious Evian and what comes out of the shower, if they are the same temperature. It's just another way to be a pretentious asshole. Just like only eating "organic" vegetables- don't even get me started on that bullshit. I think it's less about what actually goes into your body and more about other people's opinions about what goes into your body. Either that, or they are straight up deluded by the commercials and honestly don't realize that bottled water is somebody's tap water in a bottle and organic peppers are regular peppers with the pesticide washed off and a "certified organic" sticker on the side.

Anyways, I'm absofuckinglutely on a manic streak: loud voices in my head, constant energy, waking up lots of times at night, super-realistic scary nightmares, panic attacks/seizures, short attention span, can't shut the fuck up, shaking, can't sit still for a second (shoulda seen me in church this morning!), bright colors, all of it. The pills the ob/gyn gave me mixed with the grass take the edge off, but not for long. I'm smoking way too much grass right now anyways, but it is keeping me from smoking as many Newport 100s. Which is worse for us, menthols or fat jays? I'd say the cigs are worse cause of the fiberglass. You know that I wouldn't stop typing ever if I didn't force myself to wrap this up right now? I could go on and on and on and on about absolutely fucking nothing, and I could go for hours. Hell, being manic is a hell of a lot better than being on the other side- it's like a good speed rush without the actual drug being involved. I'm not looking forward to the crash into sadness and sickness at the end of the crazy run.

props!

Absolutely nothing has happened, but I gotta throw some love out there. These are both people already linked to on my blogroll but they deserve some special mention. First off, my little brother Lucas. We both hadn't updated for... well, a while. 21 days for me, and over a month for him. So we decided that we'd both update right at the same time and then point readers in each others' direction. So, here we go. If you want to read a blog that was written from the same house (2 rooms away in fact) as well as the same family but has a TOTALLY different world view than me (a more innocent one), then check out the awesomely written blog that my baby bro maintains:
http://ramblings-of-luke.blogspot.com

And some love for another chick, one who I've never actually spoken to not even online, but her blog speaks for itself. Her name is Melody, and I've been reading her for a while and I think I'm in love. The girl and I just have so much in fucking common... anyways, props to her should be directed to:
http://melodyleeisdamned.blogspot.com

...and that's it

RIP Mr. Carlin

Just real quickly...

George Carlin, the best comedian in the damn country, died on Sunday. I gotta give my props to this man- no one has made me laugh more than Carlin. No one! The title of my blog is actually a George Carlin quote: "Those who dance are considered insane by those who can't hear the music." All him, stolen by me cause I thought it was cool. So, mad props to the funniest, raunchiest, not-giving-a-fuckiest comic ever to grab a microphone. GEORGE CARLIN!!!!!

And this just happened and I hafta say it: I just received a survey in the mail from the Palm Beach County Sheriff's Office (PBSO), stating that I had "received their services at my home" and they wanted me to fill out the survey about that experience. You know how I received their services at my home? I got arrested for an old-ass warrant! He came to my house to take me to jail, and now wants to know how I feel about that? HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Florida LEOs just fucking suck, but at least they give me funny stories to tell.

pictures... as if ya didn't know

that makes it ok to point guns at a pregnant girl

No more excuses, no more bullshit. I am gonna start updating AT LEAST twice a week and hopefully more often than that. I've just been going through a lot of bullshit, mostly caused by my psych issues ("manic-paranoid schizophrenia" and "rapid cycling bipolar disorder") and also I haven't been feeling good physically. So, haven't updated much. I tried to once, when I was totally under attack by the voices, but I couldn't come up with a coherent sentence and babbled on and on and on about absolutely nothing. And I already babble and make no sense, so imagine! Then I started having anxiety attacks that manifested them as seizures, so my ob put me on a pill called hydroxyzine which he said acts kind of like a weak version of valium but doesn't affect the baby at all- very cool. Mixed with a little grass, it works wonders! So now I shall make an attempt to write. The following isn't in any real order, since I forgot the order- it's just the important and/or interesting things that have gone down in the 3 weeks that I have neglected my blog, and the internet in general:

Last entry, I said that one of the bats had died. Well, just a couple days later my mom found 3 more dead bats and so we all got scared of rabies. Being an emotional basket case lately (pregnancy hormones + barely suppressed drug addiction + psychiatric problems = a very very crazy little girl), the last thing I wanted was for the all the bats to be killed. I love watching the little squeaky stinkmonsters (or stinky squeakmonsters?) flap around, and the sound they make comforts me when I'm feeling scared and stressed out, which lately is a lot of the time. So we decided that if more bats started dropping dead, we'd call animal control and let 'em test the bat corpses but if no more died we'd keep our mouths shut. And guess what? No more bat bodies! If it was rabies, they'd be dropping like flies so we all feel safe. After all, we can't have rabid flying animals lodging in our backyard.

Jasmyne, my unborn baby, is mad healthy! I'm having some problems, but not her. While I was chilling with Greg at the drive-in, she started actually dancing within me. You could see my stomach moving from the outside- it was cool! My little white girl is gonna dance better than all the... well, all the others! She is over 3 pounds now, and I weigh almost 155!!!!! I have never been this fat before, so it's kinda discouraging. But, it is what it is.

Speaking of the drive-in, Greg and I are there (Lake Worth Drive-In Theater) every single weekend now. It's awesome because I hate regular movie theaters: you can't talk but you gotta listen to others running their mouths, you can't bring in your own food, you can't smoke (cigs or weed), you can't drink booze, you can't have a cooler with you, you can't take off your shirt if it gets too hot, and it costs a fortune. None of these things apply at the drive-in (it costs $6 instead of the average $9+ at regular theaters), so for the first time in years I'm up-to-date with the new movies instead of having to wait until they hit DVD. So far we have seen: The Happening, The Incredible Hulk (Lucas came with me and Greg to see this one, and we all 3 got stoned and had a great time), Zohan, Kung Fu Panda, Sex and the City, Get Smart, the new Indiana Jones, and definitely other stuff that I don't remember. My favorite out of all those is Get Smart (that shit was over the top hilarious) and my least favorite was Sex and the City. I've never seen one single episode of that show, we only watched it because it was on after Zohan and we didn't feel like leaving yet, and I don't think I have ever used the phrase "petty bitches" that many times in a 2-hour movie and had it apply each and every time- what an obnoxious man-bashing pile of crap!

Next story takes place in Boynton Beach at the park where Greg and his friend Hector and I like to congregate and bullshit, smoke, fish, eat sandwiches, and hang out. It was about 10pm when Hector left, and I was hurting (if I stand and/or walk for too long without resting, I get B A D cramps in my lower abdomen which go away when I sit or lay down for a little bit) so Greg and I went into the camper to relax. We weren't fucking, or getting high, or planning on spending the night there- basically we weren't doing shit wrong. But just as I was climbing into the camper, I seen a long white van and said to Greggie, "there's a van out here going slow, looks like one of those wannabe buses the Mexicans ride in" or something to that effect. I went into the camper where Greggie was already laying down and shut and locked the door. Less than 5 minutes later, we hear BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG "POLICE!! OPEN UP NOW!!"

Okay, so even though we weren't doing fuck wrong, I'll admit it: those cops scared the living shit outta me. We opened the door to see 6 Boynton cops with their guns drawn, like we had just robbed a fucking bank or something. I was shaking scared- when I'm shooting up and turning tricks all day long, I'm kind of expecting something like this to happen. But I haven't been in trouble since last year (save one old-ass warrant that JUST got brought up in April) and a police-issue .45 in my face was the last thing I expected to see. They separated us and asked questions: "Who is this man to you?" my boyfriend "How long have you been together?" going on 2 years now "What is his full name?" Greg ****** "Whose truck is this?" his "What were you guys doing back there?" relaxing- I'm 6 months pregnant and sometimes I get tired of standing.

I gave him my ID and they let us sit together (out of the goodness of their little hearts, I suppose... the bastards) while they proceeded to search the entire truck and camper with no reason and no permission. Apparently the park was only open until 10pm, and it was (gasp!) 1013pm when they saw us climbing into the back. I guess that makes it ok to point guns at a pregnant girl- being 13 minutes late to leave a park and all. I asked Greg (NOT the cops, although I didn't whisper) if he had given permission for them to search, and all the cops started screaming at me at once. "Okay you wanna play it that way? Then you're under arrest. We're gonna tow your truck, Mr. ******, because of your girlfriend's smart mouth."

Greg immediately sprang to my denfense: "she's pregnant and kind of emotional, she wasn't trying to be rude, she was just asking her boyfriend a question, you don't really have the right to yell at her like that when neither one of us have done a damn thing wrong, there aren't even any signs saying what time the park closes, leave my girl alone, you got no reason to be upsetting her like that." I guess one of the cops smelled a harrassment complaint in that, because he told his boys to lay off on me and just finish searching the truck and let us go with not too many more threats. One funny thing though- the cops found our bag of pot, which was obvious because the container with the bag and our elephant-shaped bowl had been moved to the center of the floor and was re-arranged, and didn't say word one or take it or anything. I guess they knew that they were performing an illegal search, although I bet if it was coke or heroin they would've taken us both in and let the law sort itself out later.

Also funny: last year I got arrested for running from Lake Worth cops and the charge was "resisting arrest without violence." When the cops ran my name to check for warrants (after pointing out that my driver license was suspended and asking Greg if he was aware of that, hah), they referred to me as a "combatant" because of my "history of fighting cops." HAHAHAHA!!!! One of the cops asked me, "you like fighting with cops, huh?" I answered, "I ran once" and he asked, "how far did you get?" Only one way to respond to that: "Not very far." But it's still funny- combatant! "Calling for backup, get the SWAT team over here right away! We got ourselves a combatant, and she looks like she's pregnant!" Buncha fucking assholes, walking around with a gun in one hand and their dick in the other. That's why so many of 'em wear their badges on those gold ropes around their necks: they need their hands free to wave their tiny pricks around the city.

Next: another harrassment story, but it wasn't cops this time. It was some random black asshole making threats. Me and Greggie were in West Palm Beach, sleeping in the back of the camper (we both have houses, but if we want to spend the night together it has to be in the truck so we occasionally camp out) and it was like 3am. I was woken up by someone banging on the [locked] camper door and asking if he could come in. I told him to go away, we were sleeping, which made sense because we have some "friends" in that area and sometimes they come over when they see the truck and will go away if we ask nice. But this guy didn't go away- instead he started banging harder, waking Greg up. It was obviously a black guy, and he was trying to set us up by getting us to open the door, then he would have tried to rob us or hurt us. In other words, he was a nigger- a low class, violent, thuggy black person. Greg told him that he wasn't gonna open the door, and then the threats started. "I want my money, y'all better open this door, don't think I'm playing, I'll cut you both up right now, open the fucking door white boy or I'll cut all 4 tires."

At this point, we realized we were dealing with a violent asshole. Greg was watching him through the curtained windows while I listened to the threats. Once he said the thing about the tires, I told Greg to call the cops on him. After all, we weren't doing shit wrong, and Greg said he saw. So Greg called 911 and explained the situation, calling the violent asshole a "black gentleman who has decided that my girlfriend and I owe him money and plans to take it out on my truck tires." The "black gentleman" started cussing us out, but left when he realized that Greg was really and truly on the phone with the cops. West Palm Beach police showed up, banging on the door just like they did in Boynton although we were the ones who just called. Is that the only way they can knock? When a cop goes to visit his grandma for Thanksgiving dinner, does he bang on the door like he's trying to bust it down? BANG BANG BANG "Grandma, it's me! Open up! BANG BANG BANG. Gay! That's really it for that story.

Except for the fact that I'm scared of nothing a lot of the time and hear crazy voices in my head begging me to do ONE LAST SHOT of heroin, that's it. Been clean and sober (not counting pot and my prescribed 'done) the whole time, and doing lots of research on the baby stuff. Also, I need a lawyer for my upcoming felony case (ya know, the one from a long time ago that they are just now pissing and moaning about) so if anyone knows any GOOD criminal lawyers in South Florida... well, please let me know. Thanks!

No replies to the comments today- this has gone on long enough, I think. Just know that I love all of you readers, even the meanest of the haters, because you all make me feel popular which is of course the most important thing in my life. Hah! I wish...

whatever bats have in place of blood

<---- alpaca


This will be short and sweet- I just wanted to write about the alpacas (I looked that word up, so yes I am spelling it right). The alpaca pictured over there is NOT one of the ones I saw, I found it online. So don't start with the "you didn't see any animals, you just got that pic off Google you liar!" Greg did take some pics though, which will be up later.


Anyway, an old friend/acquaintance of Greg's owns an alpaca farm, and a big dog jumped over the fence and killed one of 'em. That must suck, since dogs naturally go for the throat to kill another animal and those poor bastards are all neck. So, Greg has been asked to help build a new fence for the alpacas, to protect 'em. He went over yesterday to Loxahatchee to look at the fence and give his professional opinion, and I got to come with. Alpacas are like llamas and kinda like goats- they are cute as all hell. Folks buy and sell them for their fur, which (I think?) is close to cashmere. There was an awkward-looking baby alpaca, and a caretaker was in their yard hosing them all down so they didn't overheat. They refused to let me touch 'em at all, but I finally stood still long enough with my hand through the fence so the male came up and sniffed me- then I petted his head real quick before he could run. He made a moaning noise and backed away from the fence. I guess I outsmarted an alpaca- what an accomplishment, right? : )


Also, the bat-house. I live with my parents, and my mom likes bats an awful lot so she bought an artificial bat habitat (we just call it the bat-house or simply "the bats" as in, "what's going on over there in the bats?") which is on the side of the house and currently houses (according to mama) 50+ bats. I've gone outside right after the sun goes down to try to see them, since they fly away to get food around that time, but I either miss all of them or I see dark shadows flitting away. Those fucks are way too fast to see, or to catch on camera (one time Greggie sat out there with his camera set to "no-flash night vision" for over an hour just to take a picture of absolutely fucking nothing, hah!).


Today my mom went outside to clean the guano and found a dead baby bat lying under the bat-house while the rest of the bats carried on loudly- uncharacteristically loud for the fact that it was 930 in the morning. We think they were mourning the dead baby bat. That could be anthropomorphizing, but they are mammals so who knows, right? My mom came inside and asked everyone in the house (dad, brother Lucas, this other kid Travis, and I even called Greg on the phone and asked if he wanted me to take a picture) if they wanted to see it. The baby bat wasn't squished or gross in any way, no guts or brains or whatever bats have in place of blood squirting out- it was recently dead. No one wanted to see it! Except me and my mom, everyone was too sicked out to look. Buncha pussies : )


That's it! My parents are BOTH leaving on a trip today, not back till the weekend- leaving just me and my college-age brother. Nice, huh? We will have fun...


http://www.pegspalmbeachalpacas.com/Home.html
^^the website for the alpaca farm I visited- it says they moved to CA, but I saw the damn things down here so I dunno...

selected replies

"i dont beleive any thing you say"

Finally... someone consistent. At least this I can respect.

"What you resent is that you're being forced to be responsible for the first time in your life, and that scares you."

I think that's a pretty good point- I've never even acted responsible for myself, much less anyone else. Mostly because I never had to. But yeah, quite true. I guess I'll get over it, right?

"Can you link my blog Shel?"

I will when it has more content. No offense there babe, but you got 2 entries 2 years apart. You know your first post is 2 days after my first post? Keep on writing, I'll link to it when it's more fuller (yes, I know I didn't just grammar good).

nice job in limiting your cigs to three??!! Are you serious??

Today I smoked only 1 1/2. Think it's easy to quit? I been smoking cigs for over 10 fucking years, since before I even heard of heroin.

"There's no way in hell you're going to not go back to being a junkie whore as soon as it's born. The kid will be left with your parents before it's a week old. I guarantee it."

It's funny how the hate evolves as my situation changes. First, they say that I wasn't really pregnant, I was just lying because I wanted attention. When that got retarded, it was all about how I'd never be able to stop doing heroin and coke and pills and shit while I was pregnant and how I was gonna get shot on the streets, etc. But wow, I have stopped. I got ONE slip in over 4 months now- more than ANYONE expected of me. Now I'll never be able to STAY stopped after the kid is born. I'm breastfeeding, so at first I don't really have a choice, just like now. And you with your "I guarantee it" probably guaranteed I wouldn't stop in the first place. You can take your predictions and stick 'em real far up that dusty caverous snatch of yours, if you're a guy you can shove them up your tiny dickhole because I have done what no one, including me, thought I could do. And I will continue to do it. So fuck you!

that lemon-sucking-lookin' old hag

I'm having a girl!

Just found it out on last week's ultrasound. I'm 23 weeks (damn near 6 months!), the baby is at 1 pound 12 oz and extremely active and healthy, my stomach is ENORMOUS (I've never weighed over a buck thirty-five in all my 22 years on earth, and now I'm close to a buck fifty!), and the baby is almost definitely female. I wanted a girl right from the start, when I first learned I was pregnant- well, maybe not right away, more when I first accepted that I was pregnant and had to do something about it besides shooting heroin and hoping everything would work out ok. I'm gonna name her Jasmyne- Jazzie or Jaz would be the nickname, which I like also. I should be happy about all this...

...but for some reason I'm not. I'm starting to seriously resent this little girl, and she isn't even born yet. I suppose that makes me a bad person, and honestly I don't care one way or another if folks think I'm awful. I don't live to impress a damn soul on this earth and I'm not gonna start now. But I don't like feeling like a terrible person to myself- that matters to me while other people's opinions never have. Part of me is excited about having a kid - especially a daughter! - while part of me wishes this whole thing had never happened. I wish I hadn't got myself knocked up, wish I hadn't signed up for the methadone program, wish I hadn't been forced to move in with my parents, wish I could still shoot coke every once in a while without agonizing over the repercussions. I find myself blaming poor little unborn Jaz when I know full well that all of this is my fault and my decision.

I'm pissed off because I lost my freedom to choose what I wanted to do to myself and my body. Mind-altering chemicals and botanicals have been my comfort and my crutch for many years, and suddenly these same substances could turn me from a casual drug user committing a victimless crime into a cold-blooded murderer. Shit, I don't want to be a fucking murderer! So I got on methadone in order to stop heroin (my ob/gyn told me that because of my substantial habit, even a medically controlled detox would put the baby at risk for neonate abstinence syndrome [NAS] which could cripple or even kill her and that methadone maintenance was the best and safest route for both me and the baby- so all those haters who diss me for my 'done habit can go fuck themselves), stopped sticking needles in myself, stopped taking xanax and valium, stopped chewing up strong painkillers, stopped abusing psych meds (or taking them at all), stopped my occasional coke parties, stopped smoking rock, stopped even THINKING about meth, stopped working the streets, stopped taunting the police, stopped hanging out with my junkie buddies, stopped eating so much McDonalds, pretty much gave up my life. I can hear the shit-slingers now: "What life? Sucking dick on the street for a pathetic shot of dope to keep you from puking and seizuring isn't a life!" and all that bullshit. But believe it or not, you can get used to anything and once you get used to something, it becomes familiar and comfortable. I may not have been happy doing what I did, but there was no doubt in my mind that I was very comfortable and had no real thoughts of changing my life. That is, until Jasmyne's existence was discovered and made a reality.

Now, I'm even trying to quit smoking cigarettes! I'll admit I'm not succeeding, but I am down to 2-4 cigarettes a day which is less than I've ever smoked. Even when I stopped drugs and started doing good for baby, I couldn't go below 10 cigs (half a pack) per day. Greggie took me to Cracker Barrel and bought 100 of those candy sticks to help with the oral fixation. He told me that I needed something to suck on when he wasn't around. Jaz is currently very healthy with no ill effects from my smoking, but if I keep going with it, things may change for the worse- so quitting smoking (or even cutting down a lot, which is what I've actually accomplished) is a very good thing.

So why do I hate it so much?

I stare longingly at the 3 coffin-nails I've allotted myself for the day and anticipate lighting them, smoking them, tasting them. Mmmmmmmm, delicious nicotine. I don't know if I can stop, I'm having a hell of a time just keeping my smoke-intake down to a couple. I feel like it's the only chemical pleasure I have left, and it's being taken away from me like the rest of it was- yes, I know, all my fault, the baby is innocent and I am guilty as charged. This is just how I think a lot of the time and my blog is the perfect place for these irrational thoughts since it's my blog. I'm smoking more pot than normal, substituting a joint or bowl for a cig when I have really bad nic-attacks. Reefer may be bad for us (me and Jaz), but it's better for us than cigs, especially since this pot-overload is only temporary until I either manage to quit completely, or give up and start smoking my 10 cigs a day again. I hate not smoking and am very resentful that I'm being "forced" to stop, but in reality no one is forcing me- I just want this little girl to have every chance I can give her, especially after all the BS I put her through, intentionally or unintentionally, in the first 2 months of her pre-existence. I don't want to give up on this smoking cessation thing. I've got an appointment with a drug-free hypnotist who claims to help folks kick the habit- can't hurt, right? I'm gonna come outta this a winner. Jasmyne is gonna come out of this a winner! Hooray!

I've been having bad nightmares interspersed with drug-dreams every night, in fact just about every time I sleep at all even to take an hour-long nap. I'm gonna try to increase my dose at the meth clinic which is supposed to combat cravings and put the brakes on those dope filled dreams. They wouldn't be a problem, but shooting up in my dreams feels so goddamn real that when I wake up I'm actually dopesick (although only for a few minutes), shaking, and drenched in nasty cold sweat. It sucks!

The clinic isn't running real smoothly at the moment though. Apparently there was some sort of illegal shit going on behind the scenes (to the best of my knowledge it involved money but not drugs) and corporate came and fired just about everyone. There is one counselor left (not mine) and 2 nurses. Today both nurses had a sour-faced old lady (I assume someone from the corporate office?) hanging out literally over their shoulders while they gave out the bottles of 'done. The poor nurses were doing everything super obviously, explaining shit that didn't have to be explained and basically making the very long line move slowly. All take-homes have been put on hold, which makes the daily lines 4x longer than usual. I feel bad for the nurses- obviously they did something right since they kep their jobs, and yet they are being watched by that lemon-sucking-lookin' old hag. Sucks to be them- and sucks to be us, in them long-ass lines!

Other than the random hate in my head, things have been pretty cool. I been to the beach 3 or 4 times in the past 2 weeks (but haven't been to the same beach twice yet- a definite perk of living in SoFla!) and swimming in the pool even more than that. I got my first sunburn of the summer, followed by the second and the third. So far I've visited Singer Island beach, Lake Worth beach, Boynton Beach boat docks (which has a beach within walking distance), Ft Lauderdale beach, and Hollywood beach- summer hasn't even started yet! I love the beach, and the ocean, and going swimming- basically I love living in this part of the US. Greg and I are each buying a water donut (he calls it an "inner tube" or "tire tube", but it's still a water donut) to take in the ocean so we can tan right in the ocean- get dark without getting overheated. Floating around on the waves on a big inflated water donut... I'm so excited. I bet they sell big water donuts at Walmarts, seeing that they sell damn near everything.

That's it! Now just replies... and I've been looking forward to answering these comments since I started reading 'em!!

**selected replies**

"As your kid starts growing up, like all children, he'll be FULL of questions. So are you going to tell him the truth? Will you tell him you are a heroin addict and a prostitute?"

When she is old enough to understand? Of course I will! I'm not gonna lay the truth on her on her first week of kindergarten of course, but I'm gonna try to be honest with my kid. If she asks, I'll tell her all about the bullshit I went through with drugs. Hell, maybe she'll learn from MY mistakes instead of having to make the same mistakes of her own. And I'll teach her that her body is nothing to be ashamed of! Hah! I swear, I'd be a nudist if it wasn't against the law. Stupid indecent exposure laws. What retard decided that the human body was "indecent" anyhow?

"And you are an idiot if you believe she is not still doing heroin. And smoking pot every day also means you are a drug addict."

Why do you believe me when I say I smoke pot every day, but you don't believe me when I say I'm not doing heroin? Am I a liar, or not? You can't have it both ways. Either doubt every word I write on here, or believe it all- otherwise you're just a stupid hypocrite.

"I was 'staying' somewhere michelle was. Greg came to pick her up. I even saw the famous camper. Remember?She took this picture in a RV show. Always a liar."

Before you accuse me of lying, read. When did I claim that camper as my own, or even Greg's? No, it was not taken at an RV show, and neither does it belong to Greggie. It's Greg's parents' camper, parked in their front yard! I just posed for and posted those pics because I had been called trailer trash a couple times and thought it would be appropriate. But no, I did not lie because I never said that was my/Greg's camper. Cool? Good.

"Hey Rob, how far did you chase after camper as it was leaving ?Are you more pissed that she's told everyone that you have a needle dick or that she's told everyone that you have a needle dick that you can't even keep hard ?You still going to push for a paternity test big boy ?"

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Jesus H Christ on a fucking rubber crutch, that is the funniest thing I've read in a long time! Thank you, whoever wrote that! Hahahahahaha!

"What happened to the DC Madam???"

I have no idea what that's about...

"Who is Margie Schoedinger?"

I have no idea what that's about...

"A dead nigger who accused Bush of rape ? -Shelley"

I have no idea what that's about either, but I didn't write that anywhere. Sure, I throw around "the n-word" but I don't know what any of this is about. Remember, anything I write on the comments section is signed with the blue name (michelle or shelley) and it links to one of my profiles. If it's by "anonymous" with my name typed at the bottom- it's an imposter! Hah! Why would anyone actually WANT to be me, even for pretend?

"Those bathing suit pics. How many weeks are you in those?"

20 or 21 weeks- that was right at the beginning of my 5th month.

"Your blog was so good only with the stories that you write.Don't put more pictures, sorry but is not working."

Did ya see the first part of the sentence that ya wrote? The part where it says "your blog"? Well, what that means to me is that I can post whatever the hell I want. Thanks for your random uncalled-for opinion though. I like my pics and am not ashamed of what I look like, even though I am getting quite fat and round. So, in the immortal words of Eric Cartman of South Park: "Whateva! Whateva, bitch, I do what I want!"

Thank you all for reading!