TNB: "I know you was wit my husband"

It's 63 degrees this morning. Sixty-fucking-three! In South Florida, and in the middle of October. It's unheard of, especially since yesterday it was in the high 80s. Time to pull out my one and only hoodie, I suppose.

The other night, I was walking through the neighborhood to the store to buy a box of disposable diapers for Jazzie (we use one disposable per day, all the rest cloth, so a box of 64 will last me until damnear Christmas) and there was a car parked blocking the sidewalk. I didn't want to stomp all over somebody's grass, so instead I walked down the driveway onto the street so I could get by. As I started walking my same path, a car pulled up behind me and stopped. I glanced back to make sure it wasn't a cop, saw a regular silver car with a woman sitting in it, and turned back around to walk but the silver car pulls up in front of me, blocking my way. The window goes down to reveal a large, ugly African-American woman, who looked very angry.

"What were you doing in mah house?" she demands to know.

Oh great, I thought. Now I gotta deal with some TNB.

"What house?" I asked, knowing full well that I hadn't been in anybody's place but my own.

"I seen you leavin' mah house, you walked right out the do', is mah husband home? Did he tell you dat he married?"

Yep, I thought, TNB for fucking sure.

"I wasn't in anybody's house, I'm just going to the store to buy diapers." I responded.

"Bitch, I seen you leave mah house, I know you was wit my husband, walk over dere and see if mah husband is home."

"Why the fuck should I? I didn't do shit," I responded, getting angrier at these baseless accusations. "I'm outta here."

"Get back over here white girl!" she yells, and then lunges at me. She grabbed my hair and pulled hard. I was hot, but at the same time slightly amused at the fact that instead of fighting, we were clearly going to be bitch-fighting. I pushed her away, and she slapped me in the jaw and ear. I was really pissed at this point, so I started running my mouth.

"I don't know your husband, but if I were him I'd be fucking anybody who wasn't your ugly ass," I yelled. Or something along those lines. Then she punched me in the mouth. I punched her in the throat and she steps back for a second, growls "whore" and comes at me again. This time I got her first, punching in the ribs. I was aiming for the solar plexus but missed, and my hand struck pretty harmlessly in her chest, and she went for the bitch-slap to the side of the face again.

"Stupid nigger!" I yelled, throwing another punch to the solar plexus but actually hitting the mark this time. She had a hold of my hair but I pulled away as she tried to regain her wind. We were both rushing towards each other again when about 7-8 kids came running out of the house (you know, the house that I was having the alleged clandestine meeting with her husband) to break us up.

"What's goin' on?" yelled one of the kids.

"That crazy bitch was in mah house, she was wit mah man!" the ugly woman screamed.

"You were in our house? How?" asked another kid, a boy maybe 11 or 12 years old. My guess is that the cherished husband was hanging out in the main room with all these kids during our supposed tryst.

"I wasn't in anybody's fucking house, this dumb whore attacked me, apparently her husband likes little white girls, that's not my fucking fault," I responded angrily.

"Just go," said the oldest kid, who looked about 16. So, I went.

Looking back, I don't know which is more disgusting: the fact that that ugly groid was married or the idea of *shudder* banging the man that would marry that. Gross. So yeah, I can't walk down my own street without getting falsely accused and assaulted by some crazy black women who (for SOME reason) can't hold onto her man so she projects her ugly hatefulness onto any chick who looks better than her (and I'm not being egotistical either, a monkey's red ass looks better than her).

And people wonder why I'm racist?

a dark spirit holding a magic wand

Okay, due to popular demand (by which I mean, one anonymous commenter and my friend E) I am going to post an interesting story from the past. Last time I did this, I got quite a few comments about "you're back in the game" and "this didn't just happen you liar", so I'll repeat that this story is from the past. That means it already happened. For further clarification to those of you who don't understand English or just can't fucking read, I went to dictionary.com to help y'all out:

past (adjective)
1- gone by or elapsed in time
2- of, having existed in, or having occured during a time previous to the present; bygone
3- gone by just before the present time; just passed

In case you still don't get it, I will date my story. I might get some details wrong, but it was a long time ago so anyone who was there (Elliott) feel free to comment on what I fucked up on. Happy reading.

winter 2004, age 18

It was me and Elliott (aka 'E') hanging out in a state that is not Florida (but nearby!), and we were quite bored. Aside from a mountain of methamphetamine and some Steel Reserve 211, there was nothing to do. We were barely legal adults and were finished with our childish drug-fueled adventures- we were ready for bigger, badder, more "adult" drug-fueled adventures! So we got in his Range and started driving. We didn't have a particular destination in mind, we just drove (no stops necessary when there's a shitload of crank in the vehicle) until we realized we were near Tampa, Florida. Neither one of us had ever been to Tampa so we decided to finally stop and see what there was to do.

We looked around for the downtown area, figuring that was where the action (if any) was, and found a small, ghetto-looking town called Ybor City, aka downtown Tampa. There was a strip and it had a bar adjacent to a Cuban restaurant and since rice and beans followed by some whiskey sounded like a great idea to both of us, we parked the truck. We pulled out the needles for the first time that week and did a decent shot of speed before entering, since nothing gets an appetite going like being all tweaked out. At least for us.

We walked into the Cuban restaurant (I do NOT remember the name of the place, although I do recall a huge tile mural covered in colorful fish, which overstimulated my meth-addled brain), a little paranoid, thinking that everyone was going to know how fucked up we were and stare at us. Our fears were unfounded- the only people in there not tweaked out were drunk or nodding out, and I'm including the employees. E and I took a seat in the corner so that we could count and rearrange sugar packets unmolested until our tweaked-out waitress brought us menus.

I made a valiant attempt at reading the menu, but the words were shaking worse than my hands so I looked to E for assistance. He told the waitress to bring something delicious and some beers, which we pounded down in seconds. When the bill came, it was the menu fiasco all over again and we couldn't figure out what the hell the price of our food was. E left a random handful of tens and twenties, and we raced out of there and directly into the next-door bar (with a quick stop in the Range, of course, for another shot and to rustle up our fake IDs).

We sat at the bar, which was filled with just as many tweaked out/nodding/shitfaced folks as the restaurant, and started pounding down Jagerbombs. When the barkeep told us to leave, we suddenly noticed it was 3am- and we had gotten there around 6 or 7 in the evening. We stumbled out to the Range so that we could go home, but neither one of us could grab the steering wheel in two tries let alone drive anywhere. So we decided to take a nice walk around the unfamiliar ghetto to sober up. Great idea, right?

We wandered shitfaced around Ybor City until finding ourselves standing in front of what looked to be a housing project. Or possibly a crackhouse, I'm still not sure. It was 3 stories and surrounded by huge double-humped curbstones, which I wanted to sit down on for just a minute. E reached into his pocket to show me two prepped rigs, which sounded like an even better idea. So we went behind the project/crackhouse and hit that shit up.

The minute I pulled the rig out of my arm, I realized that shot had been wayyyyyyyyyy too much for my already-overloaded body to handle and I was teetering on the edge of cardiac arrest. The entire world went upside down and all the colors changed and got brighter. I couldn't breathe, but my heart sure was beating. I heard a voice saying something, sounded like "eh itegur." Didn't sound like E's voice, so I looked up. I heard the voice again, only now I understood the words: someone was saying "hey white girl." But I couldn't see a person, all I saw was a dark shadow ending in a long shiny object. My cranked up brain gave me a logical explanation for this phenomenon: it was a spirit holding a magic wand. I reached out to grab it.

Suddenly I was pushed to the floor, hard, from behind. Just as my face hit dirt, I felt something whizzing over my head which culminated in a *whack* *thump*, then my hand was forcibly grabbed and yanked very hard. I saw E's face, his eyes wild, staring at me through my fog. He was the one pulling on my hand, screaming "run! Run Michelle, fucking run NOW!!!"

When someone I trust tells me to fucking run NOW, I fucking run NOW. I half-ran and was half-dragged by E down Nebraska Avenue, away from where the "dark spirit" had offered me the "wand." Of course neither of us knew the Tampa city streets from our assholes, so we ran away from rather than towards anyplace. Finally, we saw a taxi and E practically jumped on the hood trying to get it to stop. That was when I looked over at him and for the first time realized that he was holding one of those huge curbstones... and it was covered in blood.

To this day I'm still amazed that the taxi picked us up, although the Benjamins thrown into the driver's window probably didn't hurt much. I asked E what the fuck had just happened, and he told me to just chill. By our description of the tile mural outside a Cuban restaurant, the cabbie was able to take us back to the Range. It didn't matter how fucked up we were, we had to get out of this town before something bad happened. When we finally got to the car and E was driving away from Tampa, we lit up a blunt to calm down while E explained what went down.

Apparently my dark spirit was a scary looking black crackhead, and the magic wand was a huge fucking switchblade. E, who was just as fucked up as I was apparently, decided to take fast action. He picked up one of those huge fucking curbstones that surrounded the project, pushed me down to the ground, and swung that curbstone over my head and directly into the face of my would-be assailant. Then we ran. Why he didn't let go of the heavy-ass curbstone while running, he couldn't tell me except to say "my fist was clenched so hard, I forgot I even had it... I couldn't feel my hand except to drag you." Now that's a good friend AND a hard ass motherfucker, am I right? We never went back to Tampa.

That's my story. Remember, it happened in the past, when there was no baby and I didn't have a year clean. All right E, was that a good story that made you sound gangster enough? And it's true to boot.

so that my girl can steal lunches safely

Lucas dressed as some Watchmen character for a nerd convention

(no offense little brother)

big smiles with grandma

two seconds after the previous pic

see the cloth diapers?

doesn't like the flash

we gave her a Mad magazine...

...and just look at how much fun she had!

we get tons of catalogs that she can rip up too

lucas and dad got her this shirt in NYC- plus matching socks

Well, my girl got sick. Poor baby Jasmyne. I took her to her pediatrician a couple times, and he sent me to a pediatric gastroenterologist. He wanted a sample of her shit, which was of course tons of fun to get into the little tubes: I put saran wrap on her butt before pinning the diaper shut (yes, I old-school flat cloth diapers with diaper pins) and when she shat, I pulled off the saran wrap and squeezed the shit out into the tubes. Fun, right? Hell, I've done worse. Apparently she's shitting blood and mucus, and after some shit-testing figured out why: Jasmyne has food allergies. It makes sense, since allergies run in the family. I got strange allergies- I can't have ibuprofen, mushrooms, maple syrup, or oysters (although other shellfish treat me right).

What I didn't know about food allergies is that you can't test for them in a baby under 11 months. So the specialist gave me a list of foods that she should avoid until they can do an allergy panel and said that if she's still got the same symptoms in 2 weeks then he will try something else, but he seems pretty confident that it's allergies. Here's the fun part: Jasmyne doesn't eat solids or drink formula, she is *exclusively* breastfed. Therefore, she is reacting to something that I am eating, and this list of no-no food applies to me. Shitburgers. It's called the "breastfeeding elimination diet". Here is the list of food I cannot eat to protect the bubby:

• soy (check food labels, EVERYTHING has soy in it)
• dairy (my favorite foods on this earth are cheese/butter/milk-based)
• eggs (no baked goods or sweets)
• nuts (this wouldn't be so bad, 'cept I really love peanut butter)
• seafood (no more sushi or crab legs)
• whey (that's in some "non dairy" or "dairy-replacement" products)
• lecithin (an additive; always follows the word "soy" so it's redundant
• casein (part of cheese, also redundant)

So not only did I give up my drugs, my job, my money, my independence, my adventures, and (I'll admit it) my good writing ability for this kid, but it's not enough. Now I can't eat any good food either. It is very, very, VERY obnoxious and I have been walking around the house pissing and moaning about how I can't have anything delicious. Also, Jaz can't start solids until about 8 months because of the food allergies. Even the organic brown-rice first-food infant cereal has fucking soy fucking lecithin! What kind of shit is that, organic infant food containing a common allergen? Lame! I'm gonna be one of those bitch moms who wants the entire school to ban peanut products so that my girl can steal lunches safely. Wait... I forgot, I like freedom! I believe that taking care of problems like this is the parent's responsibility, not the schools' and surely NOT other parent's problem. My e-friend's first grade niece got yelled at, humiliated in front of her classmates, and suspended for 3 days for the cardinal offense of... eating peanut butter crackers at lunchtime. That's fucking retar... I mean, mentally disabled. : )

So anyways, I stopped eating anything that tastes good and Jazzy is already getting better (the doc told me 2 weeks for a full improvement) and then some other shit happened to her. I was at [non-specific playplace in which I feel very safe with her and will not jeopardize that by giving out the location to you shitwhores] and she was laying on her belly in the infants section, pushing herself up and down and grinning like a maniac. She is such a happy baby. Then I see this little boy, couldn't be more than 2 years old, running full speed ahead to our left. At the last second, he turned and jumped right where Jasmyne was playing.

I was standing right next to her to keep her from rolling onto the floor, but this kid was so damn FAST that I didn't see what was about to happen until it happened. He kicked her right in the side and she tumbled off the [non-specific shape of playplace climbing item] right on her face. She screamed like... well, like someone had kicked her onto the floor from about two-and-a-half feet up. I scooped her up and the little boy's mama ran over and pulled him aside to yell at him or whatever. I calmed my girly down in about 2 minutes- she was angry and more than a little scared, but she wasn't actually hurt (yes, I got her checked out just to be safe). The other mom made the little boy apologize to both me and Jasmyne, and then she apologized too and asked if my girly was ok. I know that little kids exist that will hurt a baby on purpose, but one look at his face (especially his sad brown eyes) told me that he wasn't one of them. He was torn up over the fact that he hurt the baby, plus he was only two years old. What a little sweetheart.

The next day, I found out once and for all that poor Jazzy just canNOT catch a fucking break. She has a fungal infection all over her diaper area, which apparently is from all the watery bloody mucous-y shitting she's been doing before the doc gave me the no-no list, and needs a prescription diaper cream to get rid of it. My poor little baby girl. She is so happy though, even through all this nonsense, she barely ever cries and has such a gorgeous full-face smile.

There is my update- y'all fuckers happy now? I am down to 15mg of methadone per day, which is awesome since I went up to 100mg/day at my highest point. See y'all bitches later.

the toxicity of her diseased sloppy bat-wings

Okay, I have something to say to Jake. He reads my blog and makes comments on my ignorance, so now I shall talk about some of the stupid things I read on Call Me Jake's "Because You Know I'm Right". And there are some stupid fucking things there! Maybe we have more in common than he'll ever admit to himself...

First off, props:
"Why can’t I hate gays? Plenty of people hate me in this world, so what’s wrong with me hating people back?"
Prejudice isn't the worst thing in the world, and what kind of country do we live in where you can only hate a man if he's straight and white? People make too much of a big deal about racism and "homophobia." But then he finished his hateful rant with one of the funniest things I've heard in a long time:
“What, faggots can take a dick up their ass but they can’t take a joke?”
Okay, shit- that's hilarious. They want equal rights, then take equal ribbing and hatred. Even shitty self righteous sons of bitches can be right (and funny) every once in a while.

Now, on to the stupidity:
"Below are some of the dumber arguments people have tried and the reason WHY they’re stupid statements... “A dollar bill says In God We Trust. If you don’t believe in god how can you believe in money”? RNJ LOVE this argument because it shows that they have actually seen a dollar bill before and that they can read. Just because I use American currency does not mean I have to believe in a god. I use currency because I have no choice. Its how this country works. The same as I have no power over who prints what on it. But as far as religion I DO have a choice."
I understand that most of the people that Jake hangs with are his special-ed classmates and inbred family members (mama-gramma and uncle-grampa, among others), so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt that he's actually heard people say that you have to believe in God to spend money. But to repeat it... how mean can you be to these people who have always given you a shoulder to drool on? Why don't you just explain to these people that... wait, your cousin-wife just started banging her head on the wall again and your daughter-sister is screaming... fuck it honey, just take away their money so they can't use it to preach the word any longer!

This is my favorite:
"There is a phrase I’ve been hearing a lot of lately and it’s finally come to the point where I want to puke. When either a woman, or a man, says “We’re trying to get pregnant” ... I got a newsflash for people. You’re not “trying to get pregnant”. You’re having sex and “hoping to get pregnant”. Trying to get pregnant would involve a big ass needle and a doctor. Hoping to get pregnant involves a whole lot of humping."
A woman doesn't get pregnant with a needle Jake honey, she gets pregnant with a penis. Most of us learned that in 5th grade sex education. It's the way it's been since humanity was created. Trying to get pregnant involves sex. Hoping to get pregnant involves crossing your fingers and praying to Allah. But once again, I understand. I think I understand why he believes that sex isn't the way to get pregnant. See, to understand Jake, you must know a little something about Jake's origins.
His mother used to be a $5 whore, but no one would go near that kitty of hers without double-bagging their dicks. Usually when the sex was over, most of the first condom was sizzling, having been eaten away by the toxicity of her diseased sloppy bat-wings- making the second condom not just useful, but necessary if you wanted to keep your dick. Sometimes they even triple-bagged, although the third bag went over her head (a necessary measure if you wanted to keep your lunch down).
Anyways, she couldn't get pregnant because no one could possibly be drunk or horny enough to hit that toxic poon raw (until Jake did, but that's not until much later), but she really wanted a kid so that she had a less-suspicious coke mule for her black pimp. So she went to the doctor, who removed her last crusty egg and placed it in a test tube for her, which she fertilized with a couple spoofuls of cum from her bedside spit-bucket, and then put the whole mess into a turkey baster and slammed it home.
Six and a half months later, Jake was born premature. HIV positive, and with severe brain damage. As he grew, she proudly told him how he came to be instead of the normal discussion about 'the birds and the bees'. So you can't really blame him for that kind of stupidity- although it's pretty funny, no?

Last but not least:
"Everything on this page is copyrighted, but I know it won't stop people from stealing it and claiming it as their own."
Riiiiiiiiight. Keep telling yourself this, Jakey-poo. I wouldn't claim this tripe as my own if I wrote it on my own and it took me years to figure out. Just in case anyone mistakes this shit as mine, I will add my own disclaimer:
Everything in italics on this blog post was NOT written by Shelley, it was only made fun of by Shelley. And for people like Jake, this is what italics look like.

Next post (maybe later today, maybe next week) I will discuss my baby girl and the disgusting things I am willing to do for her. Peace out, bitches. And by the way, the first person to find something I posted on Opiophile in the last year (or any other site I post on) discussing CURRENT (that means now) illicit drug use, you get the prize. And no, marijuana is NOT a drug so don't bother playing that game with me.

"the cones are pretty self explanatory"

I am the laziest bitch ever. I've been walking a lot lately, and now my knees hurt so fucking bad I can't even stand up from the couch or my bed without my knees hurting like a son of a bitch. Fucking arthritis, I'm 23 years old. :( The laziness extends to my internet usage. I can use Jazzie as an excuse all I want, but I have plenty of opportunities to get online and update- I just don't do it. There is no excuse. I am just lazy as can be.

Okay, let's start with the weekend- not last weekend, but the weekend before that. Greggie's father was turning eighty and invited the whole family over, so Greg drove me and Jaz up to central Florida to see his parents. His mom had never seen the baby and all her grandkids (except one) are adults, so she was very excited to see Jazzie. Greg's sister was also quite fond of my girl, and she brought her 11-year-old son who is Jasmyne's youngest cousin. He has always been "the baby" of the entire family (my brother Lucas was "the baby" of my family) and was happy that FINALLY there was someone younger than him. :)

We stayed there for Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and the beginning of Monday. It was SO FUCKING COLD!!!!!!!!!! I guess it was all right, because it was more norther than where I live, but it was still cold as shit. Greg's parents had a fireplace which they lit one fridgid morning during our visit, since I had never in my life seen a lit fire inside. Obviously, neither had Jasmyne. She behaved very well, although I think she got homesick near the end of the visit- I helped it by bringing her into Greggie's [famous] camper, which she is used to spending a lot of time in. She just needed some familiar surroundings was all, I guess.

That weekend was the first weekend of the South Florida Fair, when my parents went. Since they went the first day (Friday Jan 16) of the fair, they got a free ticket apiece which went to me and Greggie. Hooray!! A quick note about the South Florida Fair before I continue my story. I've gone to the fair every single year, even before I lived in Florida- it moves, so it's the same fair all over the southeast. Last year was the very first time I missed the fair, which is only in town for 2 or 3 weeks per year and *always* in January. When I started seeing ads for the fair, I got extremely sad because at that point I still thought I was going to end up on house arrest for 4 months, therefore missing the entire thing. A few days after court (when I learned that I got time served instead of house arrest), I was riding down Southern Blvd and saw the big ferris wheel and nauseating spinny rides, I was once again filled with sadness until I realized, "waaaait a minute... I *can* go to the fair!!!! Hooray!! I was so very very excited, because this year I wasn't just going to the fair- I was going to the fair with a 4-month-old baby!! Once again I say, hooray!!

So last Friday, Greg and I took Jazzie to the South Florida Fair. I figured one of two things would happen: either she would stare at the lights, the animals, the people, the rides, and the games and love every second (this is what I was expecting); or she would get overwhelmed in a matter of minutes and cry the whole time. Well, she didn't cry for a single second. We went in the late afternoon, so she could see the animals AND the lights at night. I don't think I've ever seen that baby so impressed- she didn't even blink! She would start to cry about something (wet diaper, hunger, etc) and then she'd be like, "ooh, lights! ooh, look at that!" and her eyes would get really big and wide and she'd forget what she was sad about. I went on one nauseating spinny ride (by myself of course) and also took Jazzie on the merry-go-round, which she loved. All in all, it was a great fucking experience, although just buying a couple snacks and a SIX DOLLAR LEMONADE damnear broke me, heh.

All good things must come to an end, so we left the fair before Jazzie could start to cry. Greg started to drive out of the fair parking lot and asked me which way he should go, so I pointed in the right direction which involved a u-turn. He turned the way I had pointed, and a cop stepped out in front of the camper, gesturing for Greg to stop. He rolled down the window and there was this exchange:

cop: Where do you think you're going?

Greg: I'm trying to get to Southern [Blvd], am I going the right way?

cop: What are you doing going to the Culture Center?

Greg: I don't want the Culture Center, I'm trying to get out of here and get to Southern so we can go home, do you know which way it is?

cop: So why would you just drive right around the cones that are set up?

Greg: I didn't see any cones, I thought this was the way to Southern.

cop: Do you see those cones? The cones over there? Well, the cones are there and it's pretty obvious which way you SHOULD be going- you should be following the cones instead of driving through the cones. The cones are pretty self explanatory.

me: [laughing because of how many times he said 'cones'] It was an accident, I told him to go this way, can we please just get through? We have a baby in the car who needs to get home.

cop: Next time, you gotta pay attention to the cones, all right? [grumpily lets us pass]

Oh my god, did we laugh on the way home. The cones! "Its pretty obvious because of THE CONES hahahahaha" we said, over and over again. Greg lamented his failing 'cone school' and how it wasn't very obvious to him, while I decided that the cop must have been a 'conehead'. Jaz, still wide-eyed and interested in everything, laughed with us- although she probably didn't know why she was laughing. Cones- hah! Fucking hilarious. :) :)

In other news, it's been FREEZING down here in sunny SoFla! It got BELOW FORTY degrees a couple nights, can you believe it! I don't even know what forty is, as a temperature. Next person who talks about global warming gets kicked square in the nuts. I mean if man-made global warming is real, we sure are doing a shitty job if it gets to be under 40F here in the southernmost part of the country.

In case anyone wanted to know (or even if you didn't want to know, since it's MY blog) I started an adult-ed writing course on Monday nights and later this week I'll be volunteering at a pro-life pregnancy center. I need to do something besides feed the baby and sleep next to her before I go more insane than I already am.

Pictures! The first one is me (duh) and Jasmyne being held by her 11-year-old cousin; the second one is Jaz and him playing together on the floor; the third is Jaz sleeping in a drawer while I sleep next to her on the bed in Greg's folks' house; the fourth is mine and Jaz's very first indoor fire- it gives the room a nice lil glow, doesn't it? I DO have pictures from the fair in addition to the pictures I already posted, but I can't seem to find them at the moment. But don't worry, they will be displayed on my next post- be patient, all righty?

THE CONES!!!!!!!

anything that might be mistaken for credibility

Me and Greg took Jazzie to the zoo, and Greg got a little 'trigger-happy' with his camera. We got in for free because he knew someone that knew someone, and Jaz talked to the birds.

The next day (Friday) I went to court. Finally, after months of continuances, the judge was gonna sentence me to four months of house arrest for getting high a year ago. But when I arrived at the courthouse (15 minutes late as usual) my attorney has good news: she had gotten the DA to agree to 'administrative probation', or as the judge later called it, 'cosmetic probation'. Basically, I'd only meet with a PO once, and after that they'd basically trust me, and I wouldn't get the dreaded VOP charge if I got in more trouble (although I would get nailed to the wall, because I'd end up in front of that same judge). That last part was most important, because when you get a VOP around here, you just sit in county with no bail and no court date- and they'll violate you for anythiung too. Fuck that noise.

Anyways, I'd been going in front of this same judge once or twice a month to get continuances since fuckin' April. [note: I have already told this story a billion times on this blog, so PLEASE don't ask "what were you in trouble for?" Just check out my posts from April- it's there.] Back when I got arrested, I didn't have anything that might be mistaken for credibility: I had about a month clean and was pregnant and fresh off the streets. But he's seen me bunches of times with Jaz, as time went by, so he doesn't think I'm just putting on a front for in front of the judge.

On one hand, I'd enrolled in the methadone clinic over a month before I caught that charge. On the other hand, I was on my third-strike drug felony in a conservative, southern, three-strike state. Not good. The judge asked if I'd take the 'administrative probation' with adjudication, and (at the advice of my attorney) said yes. He told me that my charge could catch me a nickel- a 5 year prison sentence, and that once I'd pled guilty he could legally sentence me to the full five. He asked if I trusted him to sentence me. I looked again at my lawyer, and she nodded, telling me to say yes. I said, "yes." The judge says, 'time served, pay court costs.' I had been in jail from 1pm to a little after 6pm.

If I get another felony though...

colorful, pessimistic, inaccurate predictions

I am gonna begin twice-weekly (or possibly more often?) blog updates, if Jasmyne lets me of course. She isn't a big fan of me being online. But today, instead of me babbling on about what the baby did today [Oh my god, she BLINKED!!! That's soooooo cute!!!!!!] I'm gonna go over my favorite predictions from last year's comments. You know, all those Nostradamus wannabes posting what was gonna happen to me, for sure this time? I find it very entertaining, and what I find entertaining is of course what I post. So, with no further bullshit, I give you...

--MICHELLE'S FAVORITE ANONYMOUS PREDICTIONS '08--

February

"First, the attention whore is not pregnant. Second, she will never get off drugs. She has no desire to."

"I've never once said anything bad about michelle... but it's so obvious that this new "pregnancy" story is a fake… who can blame her though? If people will continue to believe her fabrications and still show sympathy for her invisible children, why should she stop?"

March

"I'm going to go ahead and make a prediction here. I predict that in a few days/weeks Michelle will make a post about how she is no longer pregnant, and that she miscarried because of this "accident", and how we should all feel sorry for her...."

"If she really is pregnant, that kid is going straight to social care."

"It seems to me she just dont care about anyone but herself otherwise she would do the responsible thing and be seeking prenatal care and help for her addiction."

"If you have this baby, face it- this man Greg ain't going to take any responsibility."

May

"And you are an idiot if you believe she is not still doing heroin."

"Of course, the chances that you are actually pregnant are pretty slim. So if you really are pregnant why don't you post a pic."

June

"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."

July

"The only name you should give your (maybe) kid is "Temporary"."

September

"6 months from now you will either be on mmt or back to being a full time junkie. don't kid yourself."

November

"I heard Michelle is back on Dixie Highway..."

"[Jasmyne] IS going through withdrawal… be prepared for your kid to hate you.Once an addict, always an addict; way to set your daughter up for failure."

December

"Your "success" has not driven me away. I'm still waiting patiently for the inevitable train wreck to happen. It's not a matter of if... it's a matter of when. You can spew all you want about how well you're doing, and you're clean, and woo woo woo. But just because you write something in your blog doesn't make it true. And I never really expected you to admit here when the inevitable fuck up happens."

"I give you 3 months before you're back whoring on the street full time. And custody of the kid will be long gone."

"It's all good as your kid will have a better chance once you lose custody-- which you will."

You know the best part of these predictions? None of them came true. Zero. Not a single fucking one. I wasn't pregnant? I was gonna miscarry? I couldn't quit drugs while pregnant? The baby would be taken away immediately? I'd ditch her in her first week? I'd start getting high again soon as she was born? DCF was gonna take her away? Hah! Success is it's own excuse, and this list is proof-positive that you shit-talkers don't know a fucking thing about me. You read, but you don't comprehend.

I look forward to more colorful, pessimistic, inaccurate predictions in '09! Keep 'em coming guys, maybe you'll get one right! : )

*not* for widespread people-pleasing

The first comment on the last post is hilarious! "i thought i was a blog about dancing. turns out its a blog about being a fucking idiot." Hahahahahaha, that made me laugh pretty hard. I appreciate Greg and the second anonymous standing up for me, but being called an idiot online doesn't make me sad all righty? In fact, it cracked me up hardcore- and I needed a laugh! : )

Anyways, the diss/joke/confusion about my blog title tells me that I need to explain where the title of my blog came from, although I'm sure I have posted this same shit at least once in 2 years of bullshitting. If I did, oh well, here it is again. The full title of my blog is the title AND the heading together: "Those who dance are considered insane by those who can't hear the music." It is a quote from my comedy hero- the late, great, rude, crude, always angry and incredibly hilarious George Carlin! The quote was too long for a title, so I split it up into the actual "title" part as well as the thingy that goes under it (I can't remember if it's called the heading or description or something totally different) using this "..." 3-dot crap. That is why my blog is known as, "Those who dance..." For those of you who already knew that, you didn't hafta read this paragraph. Ha ha.

Greg wanted me to clarify something from the last post: there is a story behind the illustration that I posted. A little kid drew that picture for school and handed it in to her teacher, who thought that the girl was drawing her mother as a stripper or pole-dancer. So she called in the girl's mama and asked her what she did for a living, and the mama said she worked at Home Depot as a saleswoman. They asked the girl what was up with the drawing, and she answered, "It's you at Home Depot, mama, selling a snow shovel to people!" I just thought it would be funny to post, because I have a little girl and I was a stripper... whatever.

If you didn't like it, I don't much care; this blog is for me, *not* for widespread people-pleasing. I may want everyone to be happy, but I tend not to care what anybody thinks about me personally. But of course anyone who has been reading me for a long time already knows that. Till next time...

2 years is nothing to sneeze at!

It's November 17 2008, and my long-time readers know what that means- it's my 2-year anniversary of this blog! Hooray for being so interesting for so long! I actually didn't get any readers until around June/July of '07, but hell. No one said getting "famous" would be easy. I like my fame in my small circles, the online ones and the real-life ones. I like hanging out in town and half the city stopping to say what's up while the person hanging with me asks, "does everybody know you?!?" Anyways, my father is taking the baby for a stroll in the cold [can you believe it's 60 degrees here in my hot tropical paradise?] and the time I have online I need to spend doing something else which will make me money. And trust me, I NEED money- I gave up on Medicaid and am now faced with paying for 4 immunizations (plus the doctor visit!) by myself in a few weeks :(

What I really wanted to do was congadulate myself for being on here for so long (and yes, my arm does hurt from patting myself on the back) and of course thank my online social circle for being such loyal readers: my followers on Blogger, the few pals I got over at LJ, many of the folks at opi.org, my friends at SDP, my friends on WTE, and anyone else who knows me from online. Okay, fine, I'll name some names! Melody of course, Tori, Carrion Girl, Kelly, Lilygirl, Cocaine Princess, Libby, Boston Joe, Jamie, Polgara, Trish, Poppylovr, Narkotikon (even though you hate me), hater Jake (where have you been lately, did my success shut your mouth once and for all?), and of course the ever-popular ANONYMOUS!!!!!! And my readers who know me IRL: Lucas, my parents, my wonderful Greggie, Greg's "friend" who has asked not to be named but has been a loyal reader for a while now, Elliott aka 'who runs da souf?', Diamond aka 'ice queen', and Johnny from down the street- I know that's not your name, but I told you why I call you that, didn't I? I LOVE ALL OF YOU, EVEN MY HATERS AND SHIT-TALKERS!! KEEP READING AND COMMENTING, AND MAYBE I'LL HAVE 3 YEARS IN!!

If I missed anyone, GET OVER IT!!!! :) :)

like a stereotypical gap-toothed southerner

^^There was an anthill under this stop sign and I got my feet tore up...

<-- Me and Greg's friend Hector.

Well, these dope dreams are sure getting out of hand. I'm up every single morning at 5am or earlier because the dope dreams scare me awake and I can't lay there cause I feel like shiiiiit! It stays on though, nights and mornings suck now and I think maybe I should try to get my dose upped, I'm trying to just maintain but whatever...

Greg has been over pretty much every day this week, which is cool. He finished the counter finally which is cool because now he can come over without that pretense. Last night we saw X-Files 2 at drive-in and it wasn't very good, all that noise with a priest-turned-pedophile-turned-psychic was kinda stoopid.

Oh, and I think I'm gonna lose one of my teeth- all that crack and coke and meth and heroin catching up with me I guess. I've never even had a *cavity* before, crazy huh? Now I got a loose hurty tooth and lucky for me it's right in the front. Of course Medicaid doesn't cover dental, even dental emergencies. Hopefully I don't look like a stereotypical gap-toothed southerner- although I know I must sound like one at times!

Gas prices are going down! Sure, I'm technically keeping track of only ONE gas station in my city, but they are going down everywhere. Here is "my" gas station, prices be going down every 2 days like clockwork!
Thurs 7/24 - $3.99
Fri 7/25 - $3.99
Sat 7/26 - $3.95

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"once you start having seizures from coke shots you can have them even when you not high."

I got a mild seizure disorder from fucking my nervous system with tons of uppers when I was younger- the coke came later. The scariest part is that I never remember actually having a seizure, usually just come to with my tongue bit open and people looking at me weird. With coke seizures I start screaming hysterically and everything- not cool in the middle of the night with drugs all over the room and everyone all coked up!

"My friend Joe had a seizure from hitting in his neck. It happened a couple times after that even though he was off the neck for good... Any of these dumbfucks that want to say you are still using need to take a closer look at your pics. You are far from what still slammin' preggo junky looks like."

I never hit in my neck, not ever. Too scary. And thanks for that, I sho' nuff don't look like a crazy junky bitch no more. I've asked Greggie to come up with some of my old pics, from when I was working the streets and bangin' on the daily (ya know, before I got knocked up) and I'm gonna post them. Compare and contrast, bitches!

"hey angel member when you did that hugee shot of crystal and herion and kept yelling evryone to shut up even though no one was sayin nothing and then ran to evry room in the crib before finaly haviung a seizure, wow that was wild"

E, my bestest friend in meatspace! Why always on here sharing crazy stories? Don't you have an empire to run or something? To answer your question- yeah, I remember that, but I remember it differently. I did that ridiculous powerball of course and I remember telling people to shut up, but I didn't know no one was saying anything and didn't care either because suddenly the noise in my head was fucking INTENSE and seconds away from breaking my sanity forever. Then I ran to the kitchen, probably to get something cold to drink. I don't remember any other rooms- in fact after my feet hit the tile floor of the kitchen, the next thing I remember is being in the *freezing* shower with all my clothes on with you and Victoria holding me up (was Micheal there?) and your dad was standing in the doorway saying "I don't want to know what's going on, I don't really care, just keep that goddamn noise down would y'all? I had a hard day at work" or something. Damn, what was that- 8 or 9 years ago? At least 7 years ago, if Victoria was still with us [[moment of silence]]. Thanks for the memories either way, I guess.

"Have you ever thought of getting a JOB before whoring yourself, on camera, no less?"

Define "job." That's something you do for money, right? Well then... whoring myself for money isn't any less of a job that working alongside you at Starbucks: "I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to put cream in your coffee, yessir of course you said milk, I'll fix that right away sir, I don't know about a free upgrade though, let me get my manager!" Sorry, I like renting my body for $$ and will continue to do it as long as I can. I know I'm not the hottest bitch on earth (although I *am* hot enough to not care what YOU think!) but I do all right for myself.

"Do you think you could've fainted, or are you sure it was a seizure? Hopefully it doesn't happen again."

I guess I could've fainted, but the whole keyboard thing ws on the floor and the resulting scratch on my arm is mighty deep (it's deeper than I originally thought it was) so I'm guessing I slammed it with some force.

possible seizure activity

I had a seizure today... I think.

I was sitting at the computer, I honestly don't remember anything else although I might have been on the floor at one point. If I was, I got back on the chair really quick because when I "came back" and looked around the room, shit was all wrong. I was sitting in the same place on the computer chair, but next to me there is an empty box that used to hold golf clubs and it was on its side when it used to be standing up. And my arm hurt! My wrist was cut slightly and I had a lllooonnnggg scratch (super shallow, like a giant paper cut) down my inner arm. Then I noticed the garbage can next to the 'puter was tipped over, and the keyboard was on the floor. It usually sits on one of those pull-out keyboard things that you slide into the desk when you are finished with it (that's the best I can describe?) and the whole pull-out wooden thing was on the floor too with the keyboard, also the little wheels holding the pull-out thing onto the desk. Judging by the scratch, I think I whacked the corner of the pulled-out keyboard with my arm hard enough to knock the whole mess onto the floor. It's a scary feeling, waking up and all your shit is on the floor and you don't know what the fuck happened.

I told my mom, and guess what the first thing she asked was? If Greggie had brought me any coke! She has seen me have a coke seizure after a particularly vicious shot, so I guess she assumed, but I have seizures without cocaine occasionally. I told Greg my mom had asked that, and he asked if my mom had given me any coke. I don't blame him, I would've taken that as an insult. Hell, I would love a good coke shot but I don't think I could find a bitch that would sell to my pregnant ass. Plus... I just wouldn't do it is all. Only reason I told her was cause I couldn't get the keyboard back on the pull-out thing correctly, and didn't want her to think I purposely trashed it cause I was mad or whatever. That's pretty lame, as I use the 'puter more than she does!

I love blogs and message boards. Is it possible to get hooked on blogs and message boards? I was invited back on opiophile.org today. Actually I was invited a few days ago, but didn't check my email so I found out today. I wasn't gonna go back there on the GP (I got banned for calling Barack Obama a nigger on a site where "your dirty language is accepted, and fucking encouraged") that the admin is a hypocrite. But most of the folks there are mighty cool, plus I get to add my blog link as my post signature! Hooray! I think I'm part of 5 message boards now, and keep up with god knows how many blogs. Fun fun!

The Sunoco gas station on Forest Hill and Fla Mango speaks volumes about what is going on with fuel prices in my part of the world, and I ride by it daily so I will write the price of [regular] gas each time I post. If you don't care... well, I can't do much about *that* now can I?

7/19 Sat - $4.09

7/20 Sun- $4.06

7/21 Mon - $4.06

7/22 Tues - $4.03

7/23 Wed - $4.03

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"at the very least they need to seperate the real pedos from the guys who got caught fucking a teenager. there is a big difference."

Amen, sister!

"if i started a blog would you red me?"

If you started a blog the feds would read you. Stay anonymous and free!

"Pregnant woman glows!!! You look so pathetic, more like Dulcinea.I hope your boyfriend is not Don Quixote."

Ummmmmmmm....... what? I don't get it.

"One of the reasons I love your blog is you're so honest and upfront. You hold nothing back and I admire that."

Thanks baby, it comes with not caring what people think about me or what I say. Why should I hold back? We are all entitled to our opinions, and a blog is the perfect forum for uncensored sharing.

I feel so *violated*

Okay, so my boy "E" weaseled his way into my Blogger account. Assholio! I do forgive him, since I called and he offered up the new password [which I changed, ya jackass!] in exchange for leaving up his "post" saying that if I deleted it, he'll just take my account over again. What an asshole way of letting me know he's coming to town, huh? Bitch coulda emailed me, called the house, left a message NOT using my s/n... lotsa stuff he could have done. Crazy mo-fucker. So E, as you can see you won. I left your shit up, although the least you could've done is give it a title. Like, "I hacked Shelley's account" or whatever. There- I posted! Are ya happy now??

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.

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!