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...