heh...

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...

taking lemons and making lemonade

I went to court on the 17th. Court began at 845am, and I showed up at 9, like usual. Greg was there, of course, and so was my dad as well as my brother and his friend Travis (who I suppose showed up out of morbid curiosity). The judge called my name around 10, and I told him that I was waiting for my attorney. So I waited, and waited, and waited. I managed to keep little Jaz quiet until noon, when he called me up to the stand. Morning court was damnear over, and my attorney still hadn't shown up. The public defender called her cellphone (which I had already tried and got her voicemail) and she apparently had forgotten that we had court that day. She was at the courthouse, so she offered to run right over in her jeans. I asked the judge if instead, we could reschedule my plea until after the holidays so that I could bring the baby to see my family for Christmas, then waited for him to say NO. He completely surprised me by saying, "well, you've been pretty patient... you've kept the baby quiet too, let's go ahead and reschedule for January [blah]. Go ahead and call [my lawyer's name] and let her know." Not bad, right?

Other than that, nothing much is going on. Jasmyne is the best baby in the world and she is growing a lot, so I just had to get rid of her clothes that didn't fit- most of them! I need 3-6mo sizes now, even though she is not quite 11 weeks old. Anyone who wants to help me out so my baby can have a good Christmas, my paypal virtual-panhandling link is still in the same place.

Still clean, still doing good, still with Greggie, still happy. The thing with me and Greg is this: we disagree about EVERYTHING. Give us a topic- political, economic, social, religious/spiritual, environmental, parenting, fashion, music, movies, families, the temperature outside today, what to watch on TV, how to spend free time, anything at all- and we will argue about it. So we are constantly bickering, sometimes to the point of yelling. But when either me or Greg has a real problem, we declare a temporary truce from whatever pointless "discussion" we are currently involved in and take care of the problem together. That is how you know you're with the right person- if they are there for you when you really need them. Having "soooo much in common" is overrated. Greg and I have NOTHING in common except Jasmyne (and you should hear us argue about her, though not in front of her) and we love each other a lot!

Starting on Jan 24, I get to say that, as a white girl, "the man is keepin' me down." I am gonna use this at every opportunity I get. THAT, by the way, is taking lemons and making lemonade.

By the way, the picture at the top is actually a mom working at Home Depot, selling a snow shovel. But I like it anyway- it fits my blog perfectly, doesn't it?

The Day of Reckoning

Here are my halloween pictures: one of me and one of Jazzy. Above are more pictures of her because it's my blog and I want everyone to gaze upon the wondrous beauty of my little bear cub baby... over and over and over again. :) The weekend before the 31st, my cousin and I went to Fright Nights, one of those haunted house things at the fairgrounds. Here is a free plug, which I know is useless now that Halloween has passed and Fright Nights is over. But here ya go anyways: http://www.southfloridafair.com/frightnights08/ It was one of my few nights out without the baby (by "night" I mean "a couple of hours" of course, hah) and I had a blast. I'll admit, I did drink, but not much- although I visited the beer tent, I left the liquor drinks alone. Yes, there was a cocktail tent : )

The haunted houses were pretty damn awesome. We would say, "someone is gonna jump out from behind that wall right there, be prepared" and when someone did jump out from there, we'd still scream and jump in fear even though we knew beforehand. I guess it was the atmosphere... plus the beer, the strobe lights, and the noise. Near the end of one of the places, a costumed girl stops us and says "are you claustrophobic? No? Well then, go ahead..." Looking back, we should have said HELL YES! There were 2 huge black tarps being blown in from either side, pressing hard against each other, and folks had to squeeeeze through in the pressure-filled pitch blackness. I didn't like that too much (especially since everyone's sweaty body had rubbed all over that black thing that rubbed across my face) but I gotta admit it was a good ending to a scary haunted house.

On Halloween night itself I stayed home with Jaz and Greg who was off work and in town for the weekend (hooray!!) and passed out candy. To be honest, I ate over half of the candy I bought to pass out, but fuck I'm the one who put up the cash so why not eat it myself? I can't wait until next year, when Jasmyne will be old enough to go trick or treating- and every year after that of course. : ) Let her eat as much candy as she wants the first night, she'll throw up, and I'll get the rest! [[yes I am kidding, you Shelley-hating motherfuckers]]

Halloween was also my court date, after two continuances. I was supposed to get my ankle bracelet that day or the Monday after, but the house arrest people haven't gotten in touch with my attorney so guess what happened? Another goddamned continuance!!!! I go back to court on Nov 13th. I suppose I should be grateful for the extra time, but if house arrest never starts, then it can never fucking END, now can it? Lame... I just want that crap over with already.

They canceled the baby's Medicaid and I had to pay out of my pocket to take her to the doctor for her well-baby visit. Very very gay. Especially after I sat in the DCF office twice for a total of [at least] 4 hours trying to get that shit straightened out. First they put her birthdate as April something, then they wrote "black" under her race (for those who didn't know, Jazzy's biological father is a blond white guy, and yes I do know who he is), and now they canceled her insurance altogether. It's starting to piss me off- I don't want the coverage for myself anymore, I just need my fucking child to go see the fucking doctor! She has to get all her immunizations next month- they better have her shit straight by then. I'm going back to the DCF office a-fucking-gain tomorrow and this time I'm gonna piss and moan instead of being so polite, since that obviously didn't get me jack shit.

For anyone who was waiting for me to mention it... it is The Day of Reckoning! That is to say, election day is upon us, and by the end of the day the nation will know if we are in deep shit or not- and I will find out if Greg owes me twenty dollars or if I have to go the ATM and make a withdrawal for him. Yes, I bet twenty dollars on my candidate.........

JOHN MCCAIN!!!!!!!!!!!

You know the crazy part, I don't even like him or Palin. But I really really REALLY don't like that fucking Obama clown! He will run us into the ground! There is a Mccain sticker on Jasmyne's stroller, and 2 signs in my yard (neither of which are mine). Go John Mccain!! Go white guy!!

Well, I gotta get off the internet soon, since I am needed to tend to a crazy baby who flat-out refuses to nap. She was throwing up this morning too... do I have a sick baby on my hands? She's spoiled rotten (I never put her down except to sleep and drive, hah) but not sick- I hope! : ( : (

crazy baby

I never get to update anymore because Jaz doesn't let me go online. Seriously, she will be just chillin' or sleeping or someone else will be holding her, no problems at all- until I sit down at the computer. Then she starts howling like a freaking banshee. I've tried holding her in the sling so I can hold her and have my hands free to type, but for some reason she starts crying the minute I sit down in the computer chair. Weird huh? See, I want to make her a playlist for my ipod because in the hospital Greg and I discovered that she likes country music (especially Dolly Parton) but every time I touch the keyboard or the mouse, she goes off. I guess it's cause I'm not paying 100% attention to her, huh? So when I do get online it's always for a short short time so I don't bother coming on the blog. I go on my message boards or I download music on shareaza. Anyone who has emailed me, hah! I haven't checked that either. I guess since my real life got more hectic, my virtual life has taken a beating. Whatever, I'll get over it! :)

Even though she won't let me post, Jaz is a great, easy baby. She mostly only cries when there is a problem (or I'm not paying enough attention to her) such as wet diaper, hunger, bored, etc. She sleeps through the night, usually waking up only once. She hangs out and makes lots of happy noises. When she wakes up, she doesn't scream, instead she makes little "aah aah" noises to get my attention and let me know that she's awake without busting my eardrums. After all, I do sleep a couple inches away from her. :) I have a queen bed, so I put a small 'baby bed' in the middle of the bed and she sleeps there while I sleep on the side of the bed. The 'baby bed' is actually a pillow with cylindrical pillows velcro-ed [is there a word for 'attached with velcro'?] on each side so that I put the baby on the pillow and she can't roll out of it. I like sleeping next to her- it makes me feel safe and it keeps the voices quiet. But the baby bear... she's so good-natured. Except when she's taking a bath- then she freaks the fuck out. She'll get over it.

I'm doing good too, that has a lot to do with the fact that Jasmyne is doing good. I'm still clean amazingly enough. Well to be totally honest, the night before my first court case (last Tuesday) I left Jazzy with my folks for a couple hours and went to the local bar for some beers. I had 3 or 4 Bud Lights and bullshitted with some spanish guys who I met there. Two of them had babies at home also HAH so we talked about that mostly, and also that english is a harder language to learn than spanish (as a second language). I went to the bar because I figured I wouldn't be going anywhere for a while...

House arrest! Did I even write about that on here? My original court date was Tuesday, but it was re-scheduled to Friday, and now it's on Oct 31 so my lawyer can get the proper paperwork to get me "approved" for house arrest. [As we left the courtroom on Friday, I told my lawyer how last Halloween I was in jail and this Halloween I'll be in court.] I am pleading out my old-ass possession charge: 120 days house arrest, with a few exceptions. I can go to the 'done clinic every day, I can go to church on Sundays (weird that the prosecutor agreed to that huh?), I can go grocery shopping once a week, and I can go to all my and the baby's dr appointments. Not that bad, huh?

Time to feed crazy baby... :)

a little knowledge never hurt anyone

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rap music is degrading to bitches and hos

This is gonna be really short, because I gotta go to downtown to meet with the lady who will hopefully become my attorney. I don't know if I wrote about my open case, but if I didn't- I have an OLD possession charge, it's actually from last year and they didn't actually arrest me, just took my dope and then put out a warrant in April. This lawyer is famous for "loopholes" and said that this arrest wasn't done by the books at all, so I got a chance. The judge already said he wasn't gonna throw me in jail because I'm doing good and I had quite a few people in the courtroom (at my first appearance in June) vouching for me- but he wants me on probation. Probation, if you're not familiar with it, means "go to jail later" and I'm not down with that. If you get arrested for anything, from murder to spitting on the sidewalk, they toss you in county with no bond and no court date. VOP, baby- fuck that shit. I just want to squeeze my fat preggo ass through the loopholes. I will be back later, as I want to address the comments left for me on the last post. But for all of y'all who called me an attention whore (no shit, sherlock) and said I only posted that shit for more comments- it worked, didn't it? Haha!

Anyways, I was listening to Marilyn Manson this morning, who I listened to a lot in public high school (1999-2001, no I didn't drop out, I went to private school and graduated early AND at the head of my class bitches!) but not so much anymore. Anyways theres something in one of his songs that I thought was pretty awesome and appropriate for me:

oh look, you're like a VCR
stick something in to know just who you are

I fucking love it! Although I have learned enough to know that if I listen to Manson and that sort of shit nonstop, I will get depressed and angry. Once in a while no problem, but how can a bitch NOT get depressed and angry listening all day to shit like "we sing the death song kids, cause we got no future and we wanna be just like you" and "we're the nobodies, trying to be somebody, we're dead so we know just who we are." WOW I haven't heard either of those songs for a long ass time, and I didn't look up any lyrics either. I got a head for song lyrics- I hear a song more than once and I will know the lyrics, even if I hate the song. Linkin Park, that's usually what gets stuck in my head... and I hate Linkin Park. Scream all you want, guys, you still don't have any talent. Of course right now I am listening to R Kelly, so I don't think I can judge anyone else's taste in music. I hate that even when I put this ipod on shuffle, it still plays the same 15 or so songs over and over (I have 118 songs on there now). I'm getting sick of listening to "I got hos in different area codes" even if it is a good song. I like the pimp/ho music, is that surprising? Folks who say that rap music is degrading to women aren't listening. Rap music is degrading to bitches and hos, not the rest of the female population. All ya gotta do is decide that you're neither a bitch nor a ho, and presto- the rap songs ain't talking about you! I think that's the first time I used the word "ain't" in writing, although I say it all the time (usually without realizing it). Wow I am rambling- and I am stone cold sober, haven't smoked any weed or even had my 'done yet this morning. Blah blah blah. I will log on later today and answer comments, which will be so very much fun because I agree with what another awesome blogger said: I love that something I said pissed somebody off so much that they couldn't get on with their day until they wrote something mean to me. Awesome!

Now I'm listening to 2pac. I better point this out before anyone else does: yes, I love rap music no matter how I feel about blacks. Why? Because rap is awesome, and I don't actually have to see or talk to any of those people. Holla!

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...

stupid old warrants

Guess where I was yesterday???

http://www.pbso.org/index.cfm?/36236E2D250215130035161D520F070B37523F371E40392C392E20014F1707340A5A1B1B093B3B01170E1F4D3936362C2131080A0420000728595C5E655C5B5B2C1360726B7F7D5F535752713A125A031E00741B0B1E1E436D3B363C6F0F0E080E7A574444515E55665A545F5542207F1278715F22535176513630592A566B2B572942166806660D0D5D57542770564751/index.htm

It was a warrant from June and I was out in 5 hours. The cop even let me change into warm clothes, have a cig, and take some Benadryl (so I could sleep my holding-cell time away) before taking me in, and I got bonded mad quick. It was still a big pain in my ass though! I think it's funny that every "local address" they give for me when I get arrested is different, and none of them are real- ha!

...stupid old warrants...

where are all my haters?

WHERE ARE ALL MY HATERS??? DON'T YOU HAVE SOME BITCHY COMMENT TO MAKE ABOUT MY STORY??? DON'T YOU WANNA TELL ME THAT I'M SUCH A LIAR, THAT THERE AREN'T ANY MOUNTAINS IN FLORIDA AND THAT THEY DIDN'T SEE ANY BUS ACCIDENT ON THE NEWS??? COME ON GUYS, GET WITH THE FUCKING PROGRAM! : )

October 2005

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

don't need anybody else's crazy making me worse

I guess the anti-Shelley tirade is winding down. Cool. And to "anonymous" who left the 9th comment: I don't mind shit-talking, but actually talking ABOUT shit is kinda gross... hah.

Rob (aka the jailer dude aka psycho asshole) has officially gone insane. First, I did him and someone else a favor, non-sexual but I'm not gonna go into details on a public forum... then he puts his car keys in my grocery bag and then gets me to help him look for them. I don't find the sons of bitches until the next day, but my metro pcs bill had been due the day before so my phone was shut off. I called on Greg's phone to let him know I'd drop off his keys after I took my shower and got dressed, since I had just woken up. Then my cell starts ringing- Rob had payed my metro bill for me (I don't know how he got access to my account?) so he could call and harrass me about the damn car keys. His exact words- "I payed your phone bill, pay me back by giving me my car keys right now." So Greggie drove me over to a grocery store where Rob and I met up and I gave him his keys, I went to walk back to my man when he goes, "when are you gonna pay me back for the phone bill?"

Well, that's an interesting question, isn't it? After all, I had never actually asked him to pay it, and he's caused more problems with my phone than anyone else: stealing/breaking my last celly and forcing me to buy another one that I couldn't afford, calling overandoverandover so that no one else could call and I couldn't call out since the calls were placed so close together (phone harrassment, hah! and he calls Greg a stalker!), changing my phone number and making me lose half my customers. When am I gonna pay you back for the phone bill, Rob? How about when you pry it out of my cold dead fingers, is that soon enough for ya?

Apparently it wasn't. He proceeded to ring my phone ALL DAY LONG, making it impossible for me to get anything done on it except press the hang-up button when his number came up again and again and again. Eventually Greg commandeered the phone and each time Rob called he would answer, say "asshole", and hang up. Not very creative, I admit, but dickhead moves deserve dickhead responses. Then, he hacked back into my metro pcs account and changed my phone number, I suppose either to piss me off royally or so that only he could have it. Not only does he not have anything to do, but he's apparently infatuated with my junky ass. Well, it did piss me off royally- I guess he accomplished something. I had to spend about an hour on the phone with metro pcs putting my number back to what it was and then changing my security code (account password) and adding an extra one, making my metro number into a "high security account." He hasn't gotten in since. In fact, I've only answered the phone for him once since all that crapola, and only cause he called from a restricted number. I said hello, and the second I heard his obnoxious sarcastic "yeah..." I hung right the fuck up. I'm crazy enough, I don't need anybody else's crazy making me worse.

Last night I went to the drive-in, which was a ton of fun. I seen The Bucket List, which was good just cause it had Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman in it (it would've sucked otherwise, I'm sure of it). Then we moved the cones out of the way and seen the other movie, since we're cool with the drive-in manager like that- if we hadn't had permission, we would never have made it past the previews. The 9-foot camper truck is kinda hard to sneak around in, ya know? The second movie was Untraceable, which was pretty stupid- 'twas about some guy who was torturing and killing people live on the internet and the "murder weapon" is attached to a counter and they die faster if more people visit the site. The end was gay... no spoilers though.

Okay, this is goddamn hilarious...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2spZ-NDfS4&feature=related

Nothing else has really been going on... the cops are really up my ass lately. That's just about it- the library is 'bout to close anyways.

if he wasn't, I'd never have a ride

The great debate continues! "Michelle is nothing but a whore, blah blah blah shit-talking!" "No, I love reading her, blah blah blah props!" It entertains the shit outta me, really it does, I encourage the shit-talkers and the props-givers to continue to excercise their freedom of speech on my blog. I'm all excited every time I log on (bout twice a week) to read all the crap that has been posted. That being said, I gotta answer a couple things...

"The phone you found is bugged" I believe it! Good thing the battery died and I don't have a charger for it.

"Do you really think that Greg is real?" If he wasn't, I'd never have a ride although I'd have a lot more money. Actually that's not true- I'd spend ALL my money on dope if Greg were make-believe. So praise the lord for my Greggie.

Libby: "How on earth did you find that?" I had found it a whiles back. I typed my url into google to see if anyone had been talking about me and- bingo! You probably did bring traffic here, so I appreciate it.

"Seems to be exactly what blogs are here for: the open sharing of viewpoints and ideas." Damn skippy! That's why I don't delete any comments, even though I have the power to as the 'blog-master'.

Anyways, I was sitting on a bus-stop bench in front of my store, doing sudoku out of a puzzle book, when I hear my name being yelled from the parking lot. It was the liutenant (however that's spelled) and he was all sorts of pissed off. The following is what went down between us (more or less):

Lt: Michelle! Get over here right now!
me: What's up?
Lt: Get the fuck out of my city right now!
me: Okay. [start to walk north into the bordering city]
Lt: [yells something I can't hear] Oh, you're a dead bitch! [pulls up in front of me] Don't you ever fucking walk away from me!
me: I thought you told me to get the fuck out of your city?
Lt: No, I told you to get over here!
me: I can't do both at once, you know.
Lt: Don't fuck with me! Where's your stem? ["stem" means crackpipe, for those of you who don't know]
me: I don't have one.
Lt: Yeah, bullshit. Put your hands out! You're under arrest!
me: For what?
Lt: Because I felt like it!
me: Is that gonna be on the police report?

Okay, okay, I'll admit I didn't say that last line. He did say "because I felt like it", that I didn't make up. But I didn't ask him if it was gonna be on the police report, although I had to bite my lip to keep that line from tumbling out of my mouth. Truth is, I wouldn't have been able to say it with a straight face and if I had mouthed off and laughed at him, I'd be in jail right now. This is not a cop to fuck with. Anyways, he told me not to come in his town again, blah blah blah. I don't know what struck me so humorous about the whole exchange, I thought it was great though. Maybe I wouldn't have thought it was so great if he actually had arrested me "because he felt like it." Guess that would stop the laughter.

http://www.taylorgroup.net/pete-ebel.htm
Would you like to be against THIS guy in a court of law? Thought not. He's a fucking community hero!

God damn I am stoned.

cross-referencing my own life

I need to begin by apologizing if I don't make any sense in this update. It was actually supposed to go up on Saturday night but it was past midnight all of the sudden. But I know my writing isn't up to it's usual awesomeness because I'm pretty blasted on Cisco and beer and pot and far too much heroin. So... yeah. That's what's going on with the retardedness of the following.

I went to my grandparent's house yesterday, tons of fun. My brother drove me because his stoopid mama has decided that she doesn't wanna see me anymore. Dirt off my shoulder though- she's kind of obnoxious to begin with. So it was just me and Lucas, all the way from Lake Worth to Key Largo (the northernmost part of the Florida Keys, right below Homestead) and when we were almost there we stopped and smoked a joint. It wasn't much, but I was already halfway there and Lucas isn't exactly a huge pothead so we were laughing hysterically at just about nothing by the time we got to the house. We were riding in the Tracker with the radio (which worked perfectly, and we had the same favorite station with perfect reception) turned off while each one of us had one ear bud in so we could both listen to his mp3 player. Then again, we're both weird.

The "family reunion" went well. I think I wrote about the whole "gag gifts and/or candy among the relatives" tradition last Christmas in this blog... yes I did. For the explanation, click here:

http://michelleldub.blogspot.com/2006/12/family-reunion-and-still-no-photos.html

I got a throw blanket and chocolate and money, so I was happy. Me and Lucas clung to each other in the sea of old people like the champs we are. God I love my little brother.

...this is Monday afternoon now...

Today was Judgement Day! Which, in more precise terms, means that I had to go to court for sentencing today, for my arrest on November 10. For that story, click here:

http://michelleldub.blogspot.com/2007/11/parlance-of-prostitutes.html

God, that's fun. It's like cross-referencing my own life story! Anyways, my first offer was 30 days and my second offer was 90 days. I served 13 before bonding out, so I was pissing-my-dideys-scared that I would have to spent Christmas and New Year's Eve in that fucking hellhole on Gun Club Road. So I show up for court today with my own cheering section- Greg, Lucas, and Rob are all there, and (this must've been a Christmas miracle) they were all getting along! Bullshitting amongst themselves, no less! Make no mistakes, they all dislike each other. Well actually none of them dislikes my brother, but then again- he's fucking awesome.

Anyways, I was late to court, then I had to wait in line at the clerk's office, then I couldn't find what courtroom I was sposed to be in. After all that, I still had to wait and wait and wait for my public defender to get to me. When she did come over, I was ready to beg for a continuance so that I wouldn't be in jail for the holidays and she tells me I'm nolle prosse. What that means is, the case was stupid and all the charges are dropped- the shit won't even be on my record. The reason? Because my charges are, according to my court paper, "not likely to be proven." If that's not the judge calling bullshit I don't know what is. I was so goddamn excited. Freedom! Judgement Day has come and gone!

I would never have made it through court if I didn't save a bag from all the ones I did last night. I'd still be sick now.

Yesterday- that was Sunday. Sunday really sucked. I told Rob that I was going out to see Greg whether he liked it or not, and that I was moving out unless he promised to STOP talking shit about my fucking man. I walked out to meet Greg, and Rob followed me in the car. He was yelling out the window, pulling back and forth in the street I'm trying to cross, waving his arms at me, getting out of the car and running towards me, and my personal favorite: "I swear I'm gonna ram Greg's truck with my car and we're BOTH going to jail!" I wanna know who he meant by "both"- is that him and me or him and Greg? Either way it's not gonna happen. "Maybe you'll go to jail, Rob, but we won't." I guess he expects me to go into quiet, fearful submission when he speaks the magic word [[...jail...]] but if he does, then he obviously doesn't know me very well. What an asshole, huh.

So I go hang with Greg. He takes the $20 my grandma gave me. He sends me out on the street and takes the $90 that I made. God forbid he leave me ten fucking dollars! He gives me dope, tells me to go in the back and do my shot, then yells at me for being high 30 minutes later. He does the same thing a second time, only this time we've been playing chess and smoking pot with a black dude down by the intercoastal. He goes into a temper tantrum over how many cigarettes I smoke. Then he says, "I'm taking you back to your boy's house, it's amazing that anybody still wants you" before throwing the last 2 bags of heroin in my hand and dropping me off. What an asshole, huh.

It must be asshole season.

breaking and exiting

I want to eat a bullet. One silver pill should do the trick.

Just kidding... I guess. "Dude" has now been upgraded to "The Jailer Dude" because he thinks he's a police now. All talk about calling his lawyer and getting me 6 months for my lil ass misdemeanors and new charges and bond revocation and "your goin back to Gun Club, hyuck hyuck, I'm a snaggle-toothed fruitcake", he thinks he's got more game than Scrabble but he doesn't know me very well, huh?

So, I took OxyContin yesterday. Sweet fucking relief. The Jailer Dude didn't stop calling my phone the whole time I was out. I have a BOYFRIEND. He needs to understand that I HAVE A BOYFRIEND. People out on bond are allowed boyfriends. Criminals are allowed boyfriends. So are hookers. So why the fuck not me? Was my [victimless] crime so bad that I deserve what I'm experiencing? I've never even thrown a first punch in my life. So, finally Jailer Dude comes and gets me, and then tells me that he's taking me back to jail. I called his bluff (he didn't take me back to jail, obviously) and so I knew for a fact that he is all talk. If I'm in jail, where's the money at? Where's the white girl pussy at? On the other side of the glass, bitch! He doesn't want that. He wants CONTROL!!!! Oooooh big scary word, control.

For example...

This morning, I called my brother. I had a pressing question to ask him about getting me the fuck up outta this bitch. Who do I have to turn to, no one here in Palm Beach County that's fer damn sure. After I hung up with bro, I deleted the number so that The Jailer Dude wouldn't have it because it's my brother not his. MY cellphone, MY money bought it, MY money pays it, MY family, why not do what I want with it? Right? Right? Well, first he did the whole "yer-goin-back-to-county" spiel which was kinda gay but I can almost say his speech along with him by now so whatever. Then he left to go do a job- and locked me in the trailer and took my cellphone. I am locked in the trailer right now. See why he's The Jailer Dude???

He told me I better not break the door. But... I know there's a law against breaking and entering. But is "breaking and exiting" illegal? I remember one time, when I was with Micheal (my ex) we got in a fight, and he locked me in a bathroom and wouldn't let me out. My friend (not my friend no more) called the police and his charge was "false imprisonment" aka second degree kidnapping in the state of Florida. God, if only I had my cellphone.

I wanted to turn the gas on last night when The Jailer Dude went to sleep and just walk out the door. Sleep... sleeep... don't bother waking up bitch! Just kidding about that too. I would never kill anybody. I will kick a bitch in the nuts though if he runs any more god damn game with me. He doesn't know how to play CHESS and that is the game. In chess, you anticipate their next move and stay ready for it. Ribbons and ribbons of possibilities. I can play chess, motherfucker. Your move.

So, goodbye friends if I do end up back in county jail. At least there I'll have people to talk to that don't constantly threaten me. Cause I am CUT OFF. He deleted all my numbers, changed MY number, keeps me in, and won't allow me contact with any of my friends or family. Except my stepmom, but only cause she's a bitch and she's on The Jailer Dude's side. Not that she knows the whole story or anything...

person who keeps me

Shit's just going from bad to worse. Still no heroin though... yuk. Whatever. I can't talk about it... hell, I don't even have a damn journal to write stuff down that I can't post online. It's catharsis ($0.50 word) to write all your shit down, and usually I use this blog, but certain things wouldn't be prudent to discuss on an open forum such as this.

You know that song by the Smashing Pumpkins, that old-school song 'Bullet with Butterfly Wings'? That's me right now. Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage and there's some who would say what is lost can never be saved, despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage. I feel so... kept in. It's like when I was in jr high and I'd get grounded for dumb kid stuff, such as shoplifting lighters or cutting class or smoking pot. Every time I got grounded, I would sneak out my window first chance I got. Hell, I haven't "snuck out" of a place since I left boarding school. It's always been more like. "Yo, I'm going out, I'll be back at blablabla time (or I dunno when I'll be back)" Now...

...ummmmmmmm.....

I pretty much had to sneak out this morning just to see my damn boyfriend. Person who keeps me is soooooo uber-concerned with me not seeing my boyfriend that it's just ridiculous. Did I spell that right? Who cares. Today it was like, "I'm revoking your bond. You're going back to jail cause you don't do what I say and you have a mind of your own and are acting like a grownup instead of the little kid I'm treating you like." Ahhhhhh.... everybody's someone else's nigger, I know you are, so am I. But I wasn't born with enough middle fingers so I don't need to choose a side.

I am the property of no one. Shit on a damn biscuit. Shit, I can't even spell that word! I'm not doing so good.

"I'm taking you right back to the jail. My lawyer told me yada yada yada. Revoke your bond. Sit in there. No bail. Blatta-blatta-blatta." Frustration abounds. I know that I am doing somewhat good, no needles but everything has a price. I just dunno if I was willing to pay and still don't know God damn! Nother song quote: "tonight I can't sleep, we livin' in hell first they put us to work then they throw us in jail."

I guess that's my vent. I got more but... silence is golden. But my eyes still see, yo...

Drinking beer in the hot sun
I fought the law and I won
I needed money and I got mine
I fought the law and I won
I fought the law and I won
I shot George and Harvey's brains out with my six-gun
I fought the law and I won
Pretend I'm like the leader of the Ku Klux Klan
Cause my fat friends think it's fun
You can get away with murder if you got a badge
I fought the law and I won
I am the law, so I won

-Dead Kennedys (semi-cover)

pot smokers and serial killers

Oh lordy, there is so much going on that I am not at liberty to discuss on an "open" forum. I wish I could say everything that is going on, but so far only one person knows all the "deets" and frankly, I can't trust a motherfucker I never met. Basically my legal situation right now sucks. I'm scared of getting my bond revoked, which this bondsman I/we talked to said that dude who bonded me out (from here on out: Dude) couldn't revoke my bond without talking to a judge, and even then he'd have to have a damn good reason. And I'm not on dope, I'm not on crack, I'm not on meth. I'm drinking like a sumbitch and smoking pot, but who cares? I'm not on probation or anything, and even if I was, I'm not a drug offender. Well, not this time around at least. But since I'm out on 2 different bonds for 3 different misdemeanors (prostitution, resisting arrest without violence, and withholding information) all my cases are gonna come up at the same time next year. Yeah, I said next year. Those bitches CALENDAR-CALLED me so I could sit in jail till halfway through January. Now I'm glad my court date is far- I got Christmas and New Years Eve, bitches!

The one thing I'm bitching about more than anything is the fact that I can't leave. I'm stuck in Dude's house for most of the day and when I finally do get a breath of fresh air, I'm forced to swear on a stack of Bibles not to see anyone I care about. Why? My boyfriend doesn't get high, it's fucked up shit. I got plenty to bitch about, all about my legal sitch but maybe I should just shut my damn mouth.

I called the person I didn't snitch on and left an "anonymous message" telling them what was up. I guess my voice was recognized and they called my phone and promised me a freebie just for looking out. I dunno if I'm gonna take it or not. Yeah, this is me talking. Michelle, turning down free heroin. I'm not sure if I want back on points, I mean yeah a shot would be fucking lovely but... I don't like waking up with the feeling that someone just kicked your ass an hour ago, stomach in a knot, every tendon and nerve and muscle and vein in your body screaming FEED ME YOU STUPID WHORE!!!! So at least if I go back, I won't be going back blind. I'm a junkie, and I've been a junkie for a long time. I know what I'm getting myself into.

But now, I guess I gotta write about jail. All county jails are basically the same, pot smokers and serial killers chilling together and awaiting their sentences. But I didn't have as rough of a time as I thought I would, after the withdrawals slowed down. I would say "after the withdrawals ended" but I'm still fucking dopesick. I still wake up sweating and crying, god I'd suck a thousand dicks for ONE BAG!!!!!!!! Any volunteers? Hah, just kidding... but not really. (That's from the movie Dodgeball, the best comedy of all freakin' time!) Too many exclamation points, no? Anyways, I went to jail and I had some open sores (fucked-up track marks) so they threw me into the medical unit. That sucked. You sit in your cell for the whole day, on your bunk by yourself. At 8am we got out of the cell to shower and make legal calls (attorneys, public pretenders, court clerks, bondsmen, etc) and then at 8pm we got out of the cell to make personal calls. So that makes about 22 1/2 hours of bed-sitting a day. And let me tell you, that heroin withdrawal doesn't make it easy to sleep. I was up for my first 9 days. Finally I was cleared by medical and allowed into general population, aka GP. That was more fun, cause at least there were bitches there to talk to and I knew half the dorm. Hell, I had hooked up half the dorm when we were on the outs. I never sold heroin in my life and I was still known as the "dope fairy" cause I hate seeing people sick so I was always like, "pay me back if you can" and now I'm sitting in jail with these same hoes, sick as a dog, and not a BITCH is gonna offer me a piece of chocolate. Two-faced whores.

Oops, I think my ghetto is showing. Let's get back to reality.

I need to do something differently. I'm not even allowed to go make money!!! I'm claustrophobic as it is, and I can't be inside inside inside. Ever see that movie 'Cabin Fever'? Well that's me if I stay inside long enough. I told Dude that I wasn't an easy person to live with, that I need my own... well, I really need my own everything and that's why I usually live by myself. I mean, my last "roommate" before Dude was Joe, and he was the perfect roomate and after he overdosed on that fucking smack I decided I didn't want another roommate. Just another fallen soilder in the Dope War. Sometimes I wish that was me, you know? I could just take that one shot, out of the blue, through the black, and into that shining white light. Oops, I better watch myself. They might put me in the looney bin which won't look good in front of the judge.

So anywayz, even though I write this mostly for myself, I'll keep on posting as shit happens just in case anybody out there in cyberspace gives a fuck about The Misdemeanors of Michelle.

the parlance of prostitutes

Would you believe, I spent the last two weeks in county. I wasnt out for a damn week this time.

The real reason I was in there was because I possessed knowledge about a situation which I refused to tell police about (that's all the detail I'm giving). But it is a hell of an "arrest story" and I heard a comedian say once that when you're at a crossroads in life, always do what makes the better story. So now I will share my newest tale of wackyness.

OKAY, so I'm walking down US-1 when a cop pulls up (liutenant) and asks me, "are you working" which to those unfamiliar with the parlance of prostitutes means that he wants a date. I knew who he was, he used to bust my balls over at my old coke-copping place (I don't do coke no more) so I kept walking. Realizing that he's not gonna get me that way, he rolls back alongside me and says, "Michelle, we just wanna ask you a couple questions." and pulled out a set of cuffs. That's all I had to see, were those metal bracelets- I took off running like Dracula was attacking. Looking back I dunno why I ran- I was riding clean with no warrants even. So he jumps out of the unmarked and chases me and grabs me by my tanktop, ripping it mostly off then wrestles me to the ground. Then he tazered me in the stomach (I still have a scar, 2 weeks later) and yells "NO ONE RUNS FROM LAKE WORTH POLICE BITCH I'M THE GODDAMN LIUTENANT!!!" (btw I can't spell 'liutenant' from now on it will be Lt) But see, I already knew all of that. He cuffs me and thauls me in and writes up a ticket for "resisting arrest without violence" and says I have a court date on Dec 11 and I'm free to go on my merry way.

...IF...

me: Okay, what do you wanna know?
Lt: [asks about a situation that I'm not stupid enough to post about]
me: Well... am I under arrest?
Lt: Damn straight you are.
me: Then don't I have the right to remain silent?
Lt: (all pissy now) No, you have the right to go straight to county
me: So what else is new?

So I went straight to county. That damn police pulled strings with the state, they are trying to give me 90 days (I'm out on bond right now) and when I pled not guilty the state fucking calendar-called me and my court date isn't until January. NOW do y'all believe me that L-Dub PD is riding my ass? I'm staying with a friend right now who made me an awesome Thanksgiving meal last night and even brought ciggies to the jail when he picked me up. I'm 75% detoxed but the dragon is still biting me...dunno what I'm gonna do. I guess I'll try to be good, but no promises. I've never been too good at being good.

Free all the hookers and pimps out the clink! -ICP

dreams of incarceration

I apologize to my loyal readers for being "away" as long as I was. But now you may rejoice, fans of me! For I have returned to entertain and titillate with my tales of junkydom and poetry of woe and anguish. Hah, I'm just kidding. I swear I'm not that full of my damn self. Just bein' a jackass, I guess.

So, yeah, I got arrested on Halloween. I didn't actually, you know, break the law. But you don't even have to break the law to get arrested by Lake Worth Police. Convinient, no? When's the last time you sat back and thought to yourself, "hey, I sure would like to go to county jail right now, but I don't wanna go through all the trouble of actually committing a crime." Well, you're in luck! Just head on down to Lake Worth's south side and walk down the street. If you see a cop, completely ignore him and don't do anything wrong. He will pull up on you and your dreams of incarceration will become a reality!

^bitter, no?

My official charge was Loitering with Intent to Solicit for Prostitution. I wonder if they can do that for other things, other "intents", when you get caught Loitering. Like maybe... Loitering with Intent to Rape a 12-Year-Old Boy or Loitering with Intent to Climb Up the Church Steeple and Shoot At Everybody. "Well, we finally caught them breaking a minor city ordinance so we can arrest them (hooray!) but if we just hit 'em with a loitering charge, they'll be out come morning. How do we keep 'em in there? We don't have anything to plant on these people. I know! I know! Let's add what we think she might have been planning on doing later! That'll add at least a couple more days. Seriously, does Miss Cleo work for LWPD now? How in the FUCK would they know what I intended to do? I thought I was just hanging out in the Burger King parking lot bullshitting with someone.

But anyways, they took me to jail where I stayed for 4 days, which is long enough to go through hellish heroin withdrawals but short enough so that I was still going through them when I got released (broke) at 11pm. I can't cop at midnight with no money. I camped out at a friend's house that night, and he ended up shoving pain pills down my throat cause I was so sick and couldn't stop crying out. God I hate coming off in jail.

So the next morning I managed to borrow a Grant from Greggie and copped from somebody pretty early in the morning. But I had no needles, and it was Sunday morning so none of the pharmacies were open until 10am. At that point I snorted a bag of dope for the first time since I was about 18. I didn't care. I needed to get well. Then I got my apartment back and we picked up Kitty from my family's house where she was staying.

I couldn't BELIEVE who bonded me out... hah!

protect and serve my ass

Went to my mom's church today for a change. Just got back, now I'm at her house and getting ready to have lunch.

I'm gonna quit doing h if it's the last fucking thing I do, which it just might be. Whatever. What doesn't kill me can still maim me and break my spirit, right?

I had to move into a new apartment. I'm in a giant pissing match with the cops. Protect and serve my ass, who are they protecting by kicking me out of every place I've ever lived? Stupid pieces of shit. I'm keeping it on the DL where I'm staying now, but (haha) it's still in L-Dub. Fucking Lake Worthless Police. It's a 1br and the bed is very uncomfortable, so I sleep on the couch so I can watch TV. Kitty claimed the room, and has turned pretty antisocial ever since. She scratched the shit outta me, that bitch. She deserved a smack on the head but instead I just gave her lunch a couple hours late. Ha ha! I can't hurt Cat, I love her too damn much. Also the fridge in there didn't work, and all my fucking food went bad. Good thing my folks brought over a mini-fridge and are taking me shopping for milk, eggs, cheese, etc. All the shit I lost. Hooray for my folks!

No more heroin. For god's fucking sake, no more heroin.

dead of a drug overdose on our bed

The day my cellphone got stolen, I got arrested. There was a fight going on at the convenience store near my house where I was buying cigarettes and when the cops got there they ran everyone's name. I had a warrant, for a failure to appear in court on a paraphernalia charge. So, they cuffed me and brought me to county. I refused my first appearance twice, because I was simply too sick to get out of bed. Not that I was sleeping anyway, but whenever I stood up I started to get dizzy and chilled and pukey. Detoxing in jail was a son-of-a-bitch! I literally shit my pants twice. You can imagine all the shit-talking there! I didn't really care though, I was too sick to give a flying rat's ass what some hoes in jail had to say about me. As long as no one was beating my ass (or touching me in any way) they can shit-talk till Jesus comes back. Day 3 I finally went to my first appearance and was given time served.

So I got out today and Greg came and picked me up. I was still sick and he lent me the money to get straight and we had an agreement on how I was to repay the favor. I fulfilled my part of the bargain, and then he started being an asshole so we started fighting and he stormed out, telling me never to call him again. But he took my house key. Joe was all fucked up when I left to go make some money, and since he had repayed Greg for me I went to get the money to pay him back. When I got home, I banged on the door for 5 full minutes and no one answered. I didn't have my key, so I got the key from my landlord and let myself in. That was when I noticed the peculiar way that Joe was lying on the bed, with his head and one arm dangling off. His eyes were open too, but he wasn't breathing.

His heart wasn't beating either.

I had found my roommate and VERY close friend, dead of a drug overdose on our bed.

Joe is dead.

I raced back over to the landlord's office, SCREAMING at him that something is wrong with Joe, call 911, I think he's dead. The paramedics and police came, but nothing could be done. They think he od'd on his psych meds and he did a little heroin too but he's never shot up before. When I walked into that room, finding him dead was the last thing I expected. I was in shock, screaming and babbling and dripping sweat and crying my eyes out. I managed to fill out a police statement, just writing when I left and when I came back and found him and what I did. They asked if I cleaned out the room. Hell, all I did was put his weed away! There was no dope in that room.

I can't believe he's really gone. No more tiny little joints and a pile of roaches laying on the bed. No more waking up to the Weather Channel (his favorite). No more laughing about stupid shit in bed together. No more yelling at him for answering my phone (which was a non-issue anyways, since my phone is still stolen). No more getting woken up because he's lonely and wants to spend time with me. No more him lending me money to buy dope so I didn't have to go out, so I could hang with him in the room instead. No more of his mom's homemade chili, which she made special for the two of us who have acid reflux and can't really handle normal chili. Well, he had acid reflux. I'm having a really hard time believing that Joe is DEAD, gone forever. I couldn't look when the coroner and the cops brought him out of the room, I think if I had watched that I would have started screaming and been unable to stop. My mom came and picked me up. While they were bringing him out I was hugging her with my eyes shut, but I heard the clunk of the wheels and I passed out, spilling my bottle of water and cutting my knees. My mom said she would have held me up if she could, but I was just too heavy. I was weak, from not eating since Wednesday (I was too sick to eat ANYTHING, especially county chow) and in shock. The paramedics almost had too give me a shot. They were like, "are you the one who found him dead?" Yes, yes I was. The worst part about it was his eyes. They were open and staring right at me. I haven't seen a dead body in a while, and not experienced the death of a close friend since my girl Hana overdosed on an IV heroin/coke combo in high school. I didn't find her though, her sister told me about it. Joe... well, those dead, open, overdosed eyes are going to haunt my dreams tonight.

I just wanted him to be okay, and when the paramedics told me he was gone and that there was nothing they could do or that I could have done, and that I did the right thing by calling 911 the second I got home...

...that's when I went into shock. I was screaming, "MY BEST FRIEND IS DEAD! JOE IS DEAD! GOD, I LOVED THAT GUY SO MUCH! HE WAS ONLY 36! HE'S DEAD! MY BEST FRIEND IS DEAD!"

God, if that doesn't hurt. My heart is aching. I'm waiting on dope to ease the pain right now, my guy is delivering out here to Wellington at 4 in the morning because I told him I needed him and told him what had happened to Joe. My dealer is always good about delivering no matter where I'm at. He loves my money and I love his shit! But he's a nice guy too, real sympathetic about the whole Joe thing. I was actually crying on the phone to him! Now that's unheard of, me spilling my guts to the damn dopeman.

I miss Joe... god damn I really do.

SAD
When I'm sad, the whole world goes away
When I'm sad, nothing can make it okay
When I'm sad, nothing sounds like fun
When I'm sad, I feel like the only one
When I'm sad, I can't even turn a trick
I get so sad I feel physically sick
When I'm sad, I don't have a single friend
I'd give anything just to make the sadness end
When I'm sad, nothing can ever fill that hole
It's like depression of my motherfucking soul
When I'm sad, everything just makes me cry
When I'm sad, I just want to curl up and die
When I'm sad, I'm on the way to going insane
When I'm sad, all I can feel i soul-destroying pain
When I'm sad, I stick a needle in the perfect place
Because that's all I have left that puts a smile on my face