so excited!

The guy is getting out of jail tomorrow and coming to see me! I'm so excited! He sent me the sappiest card (late valentines day thing, ugh) and said he's coming over around noon.

Jasmyne put on one of my chef hats and ran around the house. I got pics, but my pic uploader is being silly so when I get em uploaded I'll post. Also some new pics of me, looking sexy and slim at 130 pounds :) I can even fit into my pre-baby size 6 jeans which is awesome.

finally, right? wtf?

Been busy, not really too busy to update. Just too lazy. Whatever, not like I'm getting paid for this or anything. Plus I have shit to do all weekend.

So, I started culinary school. I go 4 days a week in the afternoons, and Jazzie goes to daycare. She picks up every cold and every flu and every virus and gives it to me. I then can't even attend class without hydromet cough syrup so I end up with a bottle of that a month (and I might need another for Monday) because I will get thrown out of class for coughing. Lame. It works really well though. School is awesome. I love to play around with recipes in that enormous well-stocked kitchen, with their Meyer lemons and Hungarian paprika and 5000-year-old pink Himalayan mountain salt. Everyone at my entire school smokes pot, which I think is hilarious. I think my chef does, and he's a Chinese man in his 60s. My chef (my teacher) is awesome, we make tons of delicious food and I love everything about school except the bus.

I don't always have to take the bus, but since I don't get my stupid govt-issued driving permission slip until March (and even then, just the hardship license since it's been over a year since my non-driving felony conviction and I am almost eligible) I have to take it home from school often. It took me a while to figure out the best route from the school to my house. At first I was waiting 25 minutes for a connection, which was lame. Also that bus was just filled with smelly Haitians. Before anyone says "racism!" you gotta understand that I live in South Florida, filled with Haitians, and that no amount of sensitivity training in the world is gonna change the fact that these people constantly reek of fish, vinegar, and fetid garbage. I was waiting for my bus at [whatever] sitting on a divided bench, and an older Haitian man comes and sits right next to me. Not on the other side of the divider, not on one of the 3 empty nearby benches, but rubbing up against me so that his vinegar stank was touching my school clothes. Barf. He asked me what my name was, I said Leslie or Lola or something with an L. Then he asked if I was single. DOUBLE BARF! I told him I was married with three kids, which I figured was four problems too many to overcome. Then I got up and got the hell away from him. The smell was really bad. But other than Haitians, I don't mind the bus much. I don't really have to focus on anything like I do during the rest of my life, I can smoke at the bus stops, and now that I've figured out the proper route I don't have to smell any stinky people on my whole ride.

My daughter is awesome. She's almost 17 months now and not as chunky as she used to be. She walks by herself (kind of a penguin waddle, but fast), she goes to the potty every morning, she says sentences (example: "I drink it all"), she loves Dora the Explorer and Go Diego Go but hates Ni-Hao Kai-Lan (which is a pretty annoying show), she eats so many different delicious healthful foods, she puts her toys away when she's done, she loves to empty cabinets and drawers, she has tantrums all over the floor, she giggles when you touch her, she's afraid of guys and doctors, she loves to play with blocks, her favorite food is a cracker, she's still allergic to soy, and she's finally growing a little bit of hair!

Words that Jazzie can say include, but are not limited to: mama, grandpa, abuela, ball, block, cracker, hi, hello, bye, no, mine, yeah, yum, dora, map, backpack, orange, color, walk, park, shoes, dog, woof, meow, bird, up, oh no, uh oh, cheese, bread, drink, juice, panda, want, shit, poop, boob, now, more, and tickle.

Being clean is awesome. I got 2 years this month, by my rules of course. :) I don't do any of those bullshit meetings, but instead when I want to get high I man the fuck up and don't do it. That disease crap is all crap anyway.

I met a dude. He's actually in jail at the moment, but he's awesome. I met him when he was dating my neighbor, and she called the cops on him and said that he was beating her. I don't believe for a second that he was beating her. My neighbor also said that a friend of ours stole $300 from her and held her daughters head underwater, and that someone broke in and took a safe containing $700, and that someone else got arrested for having dirty needles all over the apartment, and that she got in a car accident and told the cop she was on roxys and the paramedics did a scoliosis test to determine whether or not she needed to be prescribed roxys, and a host of other fantastic stories which throw her trustworthiness into question. So yeah, he didn't beat her. But he is really sexy and a lot like me (scary huh).

Yesterday I went to the zoo with baby brother (who is here for the weekend) and our friend Rick and Jazzie of course. Jazzie loves to walk around the zoo and mimic all the animal noises. We had lunch at the overpriced zoo cafeteria, where I discovered that my kid won't eat french fries or chicken nuggets. Won't even TRY french fries or chicken nuggets, or for that matter hot dogs either. She wanted her yogurt, raisins, blueberries and pieces of cheddar cheese. I guess I've done a good job feeding her healthy, but she wouldn't even taste a french fry. What kind of a weird toddler?

I wanted to do this sort of general update so that I could update my boring daily stuff more often.

it didn't go *thud* and break

Lots to write about today!

Rob, the guy formerly known as The Jailer Dude, kicked me out on Thursday. Let me explain what went down. Okay, so there it was, Thursday at about 8am. I had just woken up (sick like hell, of course, although I hadn't even seen a bag of dope since Monday right before court) and Rob had talked to Greggie the night before and decided that Greg was gonna pick me up at 1230pm and I was gonna be home for dinner. But at 930am I wasn't doing good and I hadn't left the house since Monday, so I really needed to get out. The walls were closing in on me! So I told Rob that Greggie was getting me early, at 10 or 1030. That was when all hell broke loose. He started screaming and ranting and raving like a 12-year-old: "Greg isn't a real man!" "why are you always trying to fuck me over?" "you both gave me your word!" "if you leave now, you better not come back!" blah blah piss piss moan moan. The funniest part was that we had given OUR WORD about 1230pm. Now, I don't know why he thought that we were bound by his timetable. I don't remember writing out a schedule signed in blood, nor do I recall submitting it for his approval. But apparently, in his little Rob-world, if things don't happen at the exact planned minute (even though there wasn't SHIT going on between then and 1230) the universe will just collapse in on itself and we will all die.

So he starts throwing my clothes and shit out the door, but refuses to give me back my cellphone. To quote him, "I'm keeping this in exchange for all you took from me." The stupid part was, I never took anything from him. Anybody can take, that makes you no more than a common theif. I'm a hustler legit- I make people hand me shit with a smile on their face. But he wasn't gonna give me my phone back. Now, I'm not the type to take that type of shit sitting down. I grabbed his cellphone, which is his money-line. He went to grab his phone without letting go of mine, and that was when I punched him in the face a couple times. [Side note: he's been telling me for months how he knows karate and kung-fu and whatever, but he couldn't block my simple punch to the face, or the kick to the nuts that I gave him later while he had his hands around my throat. Karate master my ass!] We fought for a minute and I ended up with a teeny scratch on my right thumb from where he grabbed the phone away from me, and he ended up with a busted lip from my ring. Hah! Then he threw me out the door not once, but twice.

Greg was on his way, and so were the police at this point. I was so pissed off that I wasn't thinking clearly, so I started vandalizing. I squirted shit all over his door, I knocked over the trash can, I keyed his car with his own house key, I ripped up his fence, I pounded on his door screaming about how he owed me money for the sex last night. Greg would have gone in there and beat his ass for me, but not if the cops were coming because a $100 cellphone (which didn't work too good anyways) wasn't worth going to jail over.

Wow, I've been writing a long time about the same half-hour. Let me make a long story short- the cops came and no one went to jail but he didn't give my phone back. I gathered my shit and went with Greg, and although I was very very sick by that point he made me walk a trail with him at the park. Then he bought some rum and I drank till I could sleep. Woke up in HELL, went and picked up some money, went and picked up some heroin. We made an agreement that I could shoot 2 bags a day while I found, bought, and collected enough pills to taper me off. Then I made some more money and me and Greg got in a huge fight.

Let me say this: I talk a lot of shit about Greggie on here, and it's all true. But I never talk about the good things. He is always, always, ALWAYS there when I need him. He drives me all over the fucking city even though gas is like fifty million dollars a gallon. He makes me breakfast every morning. He lets me sleep in his camper when I'm homeless. He does my laundry. He makes sure I eat, shower, have cigarettes, etc. He always listens when I need to bitch about something, and he pretty much goes along with whatever I want to do. He wants me to quit doing heroin more than anything but he's willing to look the other way because he loves me and doesn't want me to be dopesick. So he takes my money- but really, I give it to him. Trust me, if I didn't want him to have my money, he wouldn't have my money. I'm not the type of bitch to put up with a theif. Greggie is a wonderful awesome boyfriend and I love him. I just bitch about him on here because... well, I'm a 22-year-old girl and if I can't complain about my old man on my own blog, then where the fuck can I? Just had to clear this up... and not because he JUST started reading me, either. (I will admit I'm pissed that this sonofabitchin' blog has been up for over a YEAR and he just asked me for the url a couple days ago). But because he is unfairly portrayed on this blog, I had to fix it.

Anyways, we got in a fight, made up, and went to CityPlace where we drank at a bar and I found a $20 bill (ground score!). I had so much fun, I don't know why I never go to downtown West Palm Beach anymore. It's a fun place to be as long as you stay in the CityPlace/Clematis Street part of town. Wander too far in any direction and there's a scary nigger with a gun to your head! Aaaah! Shit, I'm almost out of time on the computer! Gotta shorten this up. Okay I slept in his truck that night, woke up at Greggie's house sick as a fucking dog Friday morning. Waking up is the worst when you're a heroin addict, let me tell you. He let me suffer for a couple hours before throwing me a bag. Hell, if I'm gonna quit I gotta go through it at least a little or else I'll forget how shitty it is. Hung out all day, worked a little, bought a shiny new cellphone that bounces like a fuckin' SuperBall when you drop it. I love phones that bounce because I am high and clumsy, and if the phone bounces, that means it didn't go *thud* and break. I looooove my new phone, if it gets stolen (which seems to be the fate of most of my cellphones, unfortunately) I will cry cry cry.

We went to the Golden Corrall for dinner Friday night, which is awesome. I don't know how to spell "corrall", that looks wrong but I can't think of a better way to spell it. I gave some choice people my new metro number, which is hard to remember : ( but I'll get over it. I slept in the truck that night again, and this morning he took care of me right away. I started my period today which SUCKS! When I was on heroin real bad, I never got my period. I liked it better that way.

Only 11 minutes remaining! Oh no! I am typing from the Clematis Street library (in downtown, amazingly enough) cause I just got a library card from here. I've read all the interesting shit at the tiny little Lake Worth library anyways, so I needed a change of scenery. I seen my d-girl at the store and gave her my new number (she won't answer if she doesn't recognize the number, it seems) and was therefore able to hook up with her today. I don't get my next shot for 3 more hours, but I can't wait to try her dope. It's always been the bomb diggety. <--- who the fuck still says that, besides my lame white ass? Hah!

By the way- I have a link to my little brother's blog on here, but I read him today and couldn't stop laughing cause it's just so... perfectly him and perfectly hilarious. So I have no choice but to direct my readers to his latest entry:

http://ramblings-of-luke.blogspot.com/2007/12/in-which-toast-can-be-found-in-my-pants.html

I love ya Lucas!

nothing like a little near-OD to put you in that holiday spirit

Yesterday was a ton of fun. I got to talk to Micheal a lot but not see him, which was slightly gay. Those sons of bitches treat him like a prisoner! Hah! So I spent the day in Miami with my friend Jughead. I call him Jughead (which he hates, not that I care or anything) because of the character Jughead from the old-school Archie comics. He was always hungry and ate EVERYTHING and lots of it, kinda like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo. That's like my friend Derrick so I call him Jughead, not always to his face though.



Unless I get drunk, which we did. First we went to Biscayne to cop some h (Jughead is a worse junky than me) which was so goddamn incredible that I could only do half a dimebag at a time and even then it was scary-good. The best heroin high is the one so fucking intense that you're terrified that you are seconds away from dropping dead on the floor, yes girl. Nothing like a little near-OD to put you in that holiday spirit. I walk the line, I walk the line. Then we smoked some pot (how unusual for me- hah!) and went to the liquor store, where we bought a 1.75L of Jack Daniels and a 12pack of Sam Adams (the best beer in America, hands down, no one else even comes close). We hung out on North Miami Beach all night getting drunk and stoned and hiding in the backseat of the car banging small amounts of the" DOA dope." DOA, for those who don't know, stands for dead on arrival. We started calling it that because Jug said that by the end of the night one of us would be DUI from the booze and the other would be DOA from the dope. Was he kidding? Was he kidding? I think just trying to make light of the seriousness.



Woke up this morning with neither booze nor dope, feeling like hell. We each lit a joint and walked down to the open-air market to get some brown and when we got back to the car and got right we realized that this shit was stronger than last time. Jughead did his half and passed out on his own steering wheel, unable to be woken up. Glory. I shot a quarter of mine and THAT shook me. I wandered around Bayside Park trying to clear my head (and killing time before Jughead woke from the nod) and came across an all-you-can eat breakfast buffet for only $6 apiece. I dragged Jug over there and his eyes opened when he smelled the food. As I said, the boy is an eating machine. He went back to the buffet 8 or 9 times with 2 full heaping platefuls each time. He'd have every hot buffet item on one plate with syrup and cheesy hash browns all over the whole mess, because as he liked to say, "fuck, it all ends up in the same place anyway." I went back to the buffet 3 times, but that was damn plenty. I had grits and corned beef hash and cheesy hash browns and scrambled eggs and a ham/cheese/onion omelet and pancakes and yogurt and 2 apple danishes and coffee and more than one helping of most of that. And look at me, calling someone else a pig!



We went back to North Beach to "shoot up in the lifeguard sand and go in the water, or whatever" in the words of Jughead. That goddamn ocean is freezing. It doesn't matter where I'm from originally, I am turning into SUCH a SoFla princess. Here it is, the middle of fucking December and 85 degrees outside and I'm in the beach tanning in my 2-piece swimsuit complaining about how cold the water is. It's not July anymore. Also the waves were surfworthy and kept smashing me into the rocky sand when I tried to swim. Not the best beach day, but the sun still felt good when we lay on his towels that had been in his trunk for god knowns how long. We were both at least two shots over the line and knew it, so we just went straight home. Well, we stopped twice to go through Burger King drive-thrus and once to eat at Pollo Tropical. They have FAJITAS now- glory hallelujah. I scraped my fucking plate after the fajitas were gone- I wish I could eat those things every day. Every goddamn day. But for Jughead, only 3 food stops is a non-stop trip.

We ran into a friend of mine and I split the last of my heroin with her because I knew I couldn't handle the whole rest of it but I wanted to run out. I really don't want to get myself stuck on that damn heroin again and I have a feeling it's a little too late because this is the 3rd day in a row completely blasted on opiates. FUCK!!! I really hope I don't get re-hooked. Shooting dope when I haven't had any for a while is awesome! The shit hits you in waves, like you start to come down a little then BOOSH, it's as if you did another shot but there's no need for another shot- it booshes you 6 or 7 times. Boosh boosh boosh, brown wall after brown wall. It doesn't work like that when you do it on the daily. That wave effect stops after about a week and a half of daily use, especially since most "daily" heroin users don't exactly use once daily. More like hourly or minute-ly. I guess I'll see how I feel in the morning. Right now I'm pretty lit between the h and the pot and the booze and the xanax and the hypoglycemia hunger making my diabetic ass dizzy. I've never actually been tested for diabetes, but I have all the symptoms and my family is always on my ass about getting the damn test. I guess it'd be easier to buy needles at pharmacies, no?

Today I ate something I was allergic to until I could actually feel my throat closing up. My breathing was getting fucked up and I forced myself to puke out all the garlic (even though I also lost my fajitas). It was scary, but hell. I didn't survive fatal overdoses, gunfights, homicidal tricks, car accidents, alcohol poisoning, knife standoffs, driving drunk, 18 months in juvy, cirrhosis, the roughest neighborhood in my home city, 4 surgeries, getting jumped, being married to Micheal and multiple suicide attempts to die at the hands of a bag of FUCKING GARLIC PRETZELS. I'm a survivor! Hells yes!

I'm now at Rob's house about to eat dinner. I miss my Greggie. I know Jughead has more dope, he bought at least 3 packs. Maybe I should give him a call... hmmmm. Oh hell I'm gonna be shooting $100 worth a day by fucking Christmas.

I hate Christmas... but that's a story for another day.

Good points- good friends, my public account vs my private account of the same situation, North Beach, DOA dope, waves and waves and waves and waves, no death by garlic, Pennywise the Clown saying "beep beep Richie", controlled drinking, Barbara Butts, no cocaine for my veins, Kimmy is a big liar, chicken dinner, wet sand, belt-whuppin, the whole damn internet!

85 million years (give or take)

It's so glorious to be back in my city. Well, I really haven't spent any time in L-Dub but maybe that's for the better. Greggie picked me up at the bus station, as I was approaching he called me and said, "there's a skinny bald dude here with 2 police, is that about you?" Of course he was kidding but still- what an asshole. I asked him for a bag (he's holding at least 3 for me) and he said hell no. Instead we went to the intercoastal (where the water-cop was, hah!) and smoked pot and then went to Burger King (after I made a little scratch, that is). This one black dude was following us into BK and when we got a table, he ignored allllll the empty tables and came and sat down with us. I guess he had to have known us... which eventually we figured out he knew me. From where, the world may never know. I thought he was trying to sell us crack.

I spent the night in Greg's camper and the next morning went to his crib to shower and have breakfast (he makes kickass scrambled eggs) and smoke more pot. He did my laundry whilst I was still sleeping. What a nice guy. Then I worked for a minute before we went and ate lunch at the Southern Kitchen in Lake Park/North Palm Beach, where I had eggs again. I hafta work up in the north county if I need to "hit the block" because I am too damn well-known in Lake Worth and south-side West Palm. That sucks, cause all my regulars are south. Gay! Anyways, after lunch Greggie and I went to Singer Island and discovered that just because it's going on 90 degrees outside doesn't mean it's not still December. The ocean was fucking freezing. Then we had dinner at some sports bar right there on Singer Island. I'll be damned if that isn't the prettiest beach in Palm Beach County. Fuck Lake Worth beach.

After dinner he dropped me off to make more money with a promise that I'd get heroin after I was through. I am such a conniving bitch though, I ended up ditching him and going to Rob's house. I took mad pills, smoked mad pot, and continued the drinking (beer, not liquor, although I did pass the 12-pack limit) that had begun while I was with Greg. Glory hallelujah. I didn't need the dope- I was chillin'. We hit the drive-in and seen the new Vince Vaughn movie. I fucking love Vince Vaughn, even in a cheeezy hippie-dippie feel-good Christmas movie like this one. He's such a hustler.

I woke up this morning feeling like dogshit. I kinda regret ditching Greg last night and my phone is just about dead. I'm gonna go see Micheal today! That's kind of exciting, since I haven't seen him in 85 million years (give or take). Need a beer- god I'm such a lush.

My brother and his woman broke up! Argh! That girl was gonna be my sister-in-law and I love her to death. Hopefully, they get back together. Shit, they have 3 years in... hope it works out with the 2 of them. He does kinda act like a jackass.

Good points- Victoria's extra bus ticket, Greg has a sense of humor, "fuck cute and whore", Magic players are flaming homos, gorgeous game-meister, free food, pterodactyl from The Mist, bus hamster, being home again, good sex and good scrambled eggs, the cop on the water, "he must know us!", painkillers, the other side of the fort, Taco Bell for alcoholics, honey ham, me and Samuel Adams!!

"on the road to recovery"

I did crystal meth again today. I also bought a new notebook, so here's my brain emptying itself into it. I wrote 4 words: "live" "work" "Greggie" (my bf) and "die". Then I wrote the first thing that came into my mind. Here's what I came up with.

LIVE
Live for yourself
Love others
Deserve the best or
Get what hell you deserve
Karma sure is a bitch

WORK
Work your way up the ladder
It's a long way up
It's the only way up
Lots of ways down
All of them a lot faster
Because no matter how high you climb
Hell is just a couple rungs beneath you

GREGGIE
I wish we had more time
You work too much
And never have any fucking money
I sleep too much
And put my money in the wrong places
I wish we had more money
I wish we had more time

DIE
Die because of what I live for
Live for what I will soon die for
They say death is only the beginning
But if the starting line looks familiar
I don't want to run

Some other shit...

I've heard the same shit 50 million times
And I've still got 50 million rhymes
For every brain cell
And yet I sit in a cell
A homemade prison of my own creation
Like living in a foreign nation
A little brown universe all on it's own
Millions of people live here
But we all live here alone
To throw away the needle is to unlock the door
But I always come back for more

this is your brain on crystal meth
i sit back and wait for the attack
the rush that i crave and the energy i lack
eyes pop open like they were never closed
sleep is just an elusive dream
every muscle clenches up and starts to scream
it's almost hard to believe i ever dozed
the heat fills my head till my brain cells boil
my hand involuntarily crumples up my foil
and throws it to the ground
my heart beats- once, twice, and it's the loudest sound
i ever heard in my life
feel like my ears are gonna bleed
this may be what i want but sleep is what i need
i can't believe i gave this up for so long
my arms are like twigs but i feel so damn strong
like i suddenly have superpowers
and i know they'll last for hours
but hours turn into days
until i don't even know how long i've been away
but fuck that- this time i won't become a head case
cause all i want is one little taste

Enough with the notebook. My last heroin buy was last night at around 930. I managed to stretch the shit to last until about 6pm but now I can't get more. I'm not sick yet but I'm terrified to go to sleep because I'll be fucking crawling on the ground when I wake up. Staying awake until I'm too sick to sleep isn't an option though. Not only that, but when I wake up I have to go to the DMV with my mom and wait in fucking line to get ID cause if I don't I can't get a motel room which means it's the spillway for me tommorrow night. So after waking up in a pool of cold sweat and throwing up stomach acid for half an hour, I still have to wait several hours, some of them in the hot sun, before I can even start going to town and getting "on the road to recovery" so to speak. Why isn't the dopeman answering? I know he'll deliver to Wellington if I ask him to and I have fucking money. I'm so goddamn pissed off right now.

On a good note, I saw Shane today. We just bummed around the mall. Got to see Greg today too. He took most of my fucking money, that bastard. I love them both.

[[several hours later...]]

Dopeman answered and is on his way. Life is looking up.

the robot voice

My entries sure have been few and far between. Shane (my bestest buddy) wrote a poem for me! Here's how it goes:

She sleeps with the sun and walks with the moon
She stares at her reflection in a spoon
You can't judge her for that
She knows where her head is at!

Shane is such a sweetheart. I threw my roomie out in the street. She promised a thousand times over that she'd have her half of the rent payed on time and come rent day, she's nowhere to be found. In fact, I still haven't seen her. Hope she didn't get roped off! Actually, I couldn't care less. I gathered her crap and put it out on Dixie Highway. Now when I say I "put it out on Dixie Highway" I don't mean I placed it on the sidewalk or at a bus stop. I mean I scattered her shit all over US-1. She picked the wrong manic-depressive crack-smoking heroin addict to fuck with, you know? Joe (my old roomie) served his 10 days in the county lockup and is back to living with me at the motel. He used to snort a lot of heroin, and he asked me specifically not to offer him any and if he did ask me for some, to tell him no because he doesn't want to get back involved in that. Props! I wish it was that easy for me. Sometimes I wish that all my connects would just disappear into the stratosphere so that I would be forced to quit. Ah, wish in one hand, shit in the other, and see which one fills up first...

Me and Greg are back together after the son-of-a-bitch dumped me on my birthday. I hated him for a couple days over that, but I can look back and see what he was pissed off about- me and Shane! But Shane's old lady is out of jail too (she gained about 15 pounds- girl looks good!) so now it's back to Me+Greg and Shane+Kim which is the way it should be. I'm not gonna say I don't like Shane, because that would be a lie. Sometimes I think about giving Greg the ol' Fuck You note and taking Shane as my own. But I'm really in love with Greg, although no one understands it. I've heard people say that he's a creepy old man (he's 49) who is taking advantage of a young girl (I'm 22) but it totally doesn't seem like it. That could be part of the whole "taking advantage" part though. Whatever, I'm not your average 22-year-old. I know where my head is at! I'm more like 22 going on 50.

My heroin habit is spiraling out of control. I shot 15 1/2 bags yesterday and finally had to go to sleep at 8pm to prevent me from doing any more. I also shot coke yesterday for the first time in almost 2 months. Just 2 shots! It was nice to hear the robot voice again (that's Micheal's term for how odd everything sounds right after a big coke shot) but I was glad that I barely had any. The last thing I need is to go through a whole pile of the shit to where I'm shaking too bad to hit a vein and end up with 2 totally numb arms from missing. Ugh. I did them 2 shots back to back, followed them with a shot of dope, 2 joints, and another shot of dope. I was shitfaced! Felt great. Argh, that's the problem- that it feels great! I wish getting high felt shitty, then maybe I would quit. Actually I don't think I would stop getting high just cause I didn't enjoy it. I would be a lot more depressed though. Fuck! I thought I had it that time.

I met a new friend out on Dixie. She works at one of the "jack shacks" and says she gets at least $200 per custie. Why do I care? She says she can get me a job there! Yey! Problem is, my tracks are so noticable that I wouldn't hire me if I wasn't me. I found an awesome vein on my inner arm between my wrist and my elbow and I managed to put holes down the entire length of it. Once you mix my lack of common sense, my desperation and my need to get high, anything can be done. But it's all bruised and swollen, and... well, I'll take a camera-phone pic and see if I can't get some new pictures onto this mo-fucker. I guess that's all I really have to say- I don't know what I came on here to really talk about.

I'm hooked on these smoothies called Naked Juice, especially the one called Green Machine. Props!
http://www.nakedjuice.com/main.php

our daily thunderstorm

Happy birthday to me! Now I'm 22 years old.

Just checking in after being gone a while. My dope habit is better than it has been, but it's still there keeping me in check. Yesterday I was sicker than I've been in a while, and none of my 4 dealers felt like answering their phone. Out for the weekend, bitch ass dealer? At least answer the phone and let me know so I don't continue to dial your number for the next few hours and burst into tears when I get your answering machine.

I left detox and moved in with a male roomie. He payed half the rent and drove me around all the time. Last night he got arrested taking his chica on a crack run, and he doesn't even smoke. Got pulled over for only having one headlight and found a warrant for a failure to appear. I checked pbso.org police blotter and found out that no, they didn't do a process and release and yes, they did take him upstairs. I might have to find myself a new roomate/ride around the city.

Shane is staying with me. He doesn't have a heroin habit so when I throw him a bag he gets twisted. Jealousy jealousy. Greg hates that Shane is living with me. More jealousy. Truth is, I am sleeping with him. But so what? He doesn't have to know that. He doesn't even know about this blog. Har!

Went to Miami Beach for the fourth, it was pretty uneventful. I didn't bring enough h with me so I was sick as a dog pretty much from the time the sun went down on. We watched a movie, which I continued to say seemed like we had walked in right in the middle. After watching most of it, my cousin read the DVD box where it clearly stated: "Disc Two". I asked if we could watch Disc One next time I came over.

Been smoking tons of pot lately, mostly because of my room mate (Joe) is a major smoker. Been off the coke though, with a few exceptions. The weather sucks here in south Florida in the summer- hotter than hell all day and all night except in the afternoon, when we get our daily thunderstorm. It's pouring right now. Don't know what else to say really... except that I MISS BLOGGER AND OPIOPHILE!!! I wish I had a laptop or something.

Until next time.

siiiiiick

I'm siiiiiick. Got the flu, I think, got it real bad. And it came on in a matter of 15 minutes, last night. I was laying out on the porch, smoking a Newport 100, on the phone with Micheal, when suddenlly my nose started to clog up. By the time I finished that cigarette and a second one, I couldn't breathe at all and my head was killing me, so I took some Nyquil and went to sleep. I woke up with my nose running down my face, ran to the bathroom and proceeded to throw up my guts. A large chunk of heroin directly into my vein helped, but I was still feeling like shit.

Still, my addiction must be fed, and I was nearly out of dope. So off I went to Dixie Highway, where I made a measly $100 and spent $90 of it. I called my mom for a ride home and had a quick drink at the Sandbar with 'E' (a guy I date, who I had informed that I was in no shape to do anything) while I waited for her. I got home, banged another bag (I've been hitting veins perfectly all day! What a refreshing development!), and went to lay down which is what I've been doing since then. I got 5 bags left out of the 9, plus a chunk of the raw that I bought from my Westgate guy on Monday. That's not too bad, considering I'm going to town tommorrow for my date with Micheal. I gotta score before then, cause he won't want me to work or hook up with my dealer while I'm with him. Even if he said he doesn't care, it would still be disrespectful. I hope I feel better tommorrow.

They say we're going through a drought, but I'm always getting rained on. I don't know how both can happen simultaneously. Like today, I did a date with a guy whose passenger side window didn't go up, so the whole time I'm sucking his dick I'm getting soaked. I was pissed the fuck off.

I'm in the middle of reading Hearts In Atlantis by Stephen King. It's been out for a while, but I already read his new book (Cell) and I haven't yet read this one so who cares how old it is? People read Shakespeare, and his stuff is older than fuck.

pay me for the privelege

I am totally excited! I managed to save $380!! In just 4 days!!! Hooray!! Also, I pissed Greg off enough that he's "taking 2 days off", which means he won't be holding onto my dope while I walk the streets and giving me rides places. But also, I won't have to pay anybody!!! Except possibly a taxi driver to get me home at 10-11 at night. But oftentimes I get a ride for free!!! And I get people to pay me for the privelege of it!! Hooray for Michelle!!!

Today I hooked up with a couple regulars that I hadn't seen in a long time. Sometimes I bitch about not being able to remember guys at all, sometimes I actually miss the guys I date regularly. You sleep with someone forty times or so over a couple of years and you really get to know each other, you know? Even if it only is a "professional" relationship. I have one customer, I'll call him 'A', who I've dated since I was 18. I'm almost 22, that's just about 4 years now. He's taken me out to dinner, given me thousands of dollars, driven me where I needed to go, handed out his phone number, and always treated with the utmost respect. After a while, he made me feel comfortable enough to talk about my life (at the time): my fights with my boyfriend Micheal, our IV heroin/cocaine habits, the motel ice buckets filled with vodka and a splash of soda that we consumed nightly, everything. 'A' never made me feel bad about myself for any of my problems. He just said he hoped things would get better for me.

I saw Trick today. I hadn't seen him in 6 months, I told all the girls to stay far far away from him because he's got full blown AIDS. Today when I saw him he looked like a fucking zombie. I've never seen anything like it. He's been sick for over a year, never getting any meds, smoking crack, running the streets. Made me want to go get an HIV test.

Micheal and I are talking again. I got to missing him, wondering if he was still missing me so I went to Publix on his day off and asked another bagger to tell him to call me on Sunday. I took the first step and waited to see what he would do. It was safer than going there and trying to talk to him, cause rejection hurts. I figured if he didn't call, I wouldn't bother him again. But he did call. Two days in a row. I don't know if it means anything, I really don't. I analyze everything too much. Supposedly we're seeing each other on Friday. I hope it works out. He's clean now! I'm proud of him, but that means I have to be careful around him with my dope, which kinda sucks, but shooting up in front of him would be more than cruel.

I just realized, I wouldn't want anyone in my family reading any part of this blog. Maybe I shouldn't have my name and photo all over it.

I found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
And the reason is you

[[Hoobastank- the reason]]

one step ahead of the game

It's time to move out. I'm always one step ahead of the game, seconds away from getting caught doing something wrong. And on top of that my brother's friends are a big pain in my ass and they're always fucking here. They're here now, and I was laying out back with the doors shut and all i hear is those little bitches screaming and hollering. Plus I got my mom up my ass to get all my doctor shit done and she's the most pissed off person ever. I wonder why she never takes her anger out on the brats in the living room. Fuck all of them. It's time to move out.

Last night I made $100 off the neighbor. I did him real quick, but I hung around for a while, snorted a little coke, shot a little dope, smoked a little weed. I figured out that I like snorting coke. Shooting up coke is like a bomb going off inside my brain and going all the way down my body. Snorting coke is... well, it puts a spring in my step. But I don't jones for the stuff like I do when I'm banging it. Snorting it is much better. And no chance of getting a real scary rush like you can with IV or crack.

God, those sons of bitches need to shut the fuck up out there!!

Today, before my brother's useless people came over, me and him went out for lunch at TooJays at the mall. I like hanging with him solo. He's a cool kid when he's not with those other losers. I'm waiting on one of my dealers who is delivering for me out here in Wellington. Awesome. I wish he would fucking call though, it's been like 3 hours. I'm about to call him.

a sick voyueristic nature

I was kidnapped Tuesday night. Held against my will in a date's house, he had remote controls for the doors and wouldn't let me out. I suppose it was my fault for putting myself in that situation- I have to look at my part as they say in NA. Fucking NA. Haven't been to a meeting in a while, praise the good lord above. Of course, now that Christmas is over, the 'rents are gonna jump back on my rear about meetings, meetings, meetings. I go, if only to placate them, but I seriously believe those bullshit sessions do more harm than good. By the time the hour is over, I'm shook up by everyone talking about how good it would feel to do one last shot. I could have done a hit right before the meeting, I still leave feeling sick. If it's not that, it's people talking about the stupid shit they did while smoking crack. We've all done stupid shit. I didn't realize these meetings are designated Story Hours, focusing specifically on stories that make the storyteller look like a total asshole. I think the only reason people keep coming back to those meetings is a sick voyueristic nature deep inside everyone. Listening to the struggles and the fuck-ups of strangers is riveting, and it keeps you from thinking about your own problems. But does it help? I'm sure it helps some, but most people I know have either left the program or go in-and-out, following a relapse/recovery relapse/recovery pattern. It's all a pile of shit.

The reason I got kidnapped was because I was making money to keep Micheal and I high and in a decent motel room. I love spending time with him, talking to him, holding to him, having sex with him, sleeping with me. Sometimes I wish I could stop loving him, but I can't. If shit doesn't work out between us this time, I'm joining the other team. I'm sick of men, they are all pretty much the same and I've heard it all before. But with Micheal, the biggest problem is his mama, Connie the Cunt (CtC). A couple hours after he left the house, CtC started calling me- and she didn't stop.

"I know Micheal is with you."

"Let me talk to Micheal!"

"Don't lie to me, tell me where he is."

"I'm going to press charges if he doesn't show up for work tommorow."

I covered for him, of course- I never saw him and he never saw me. We did have a great time together and got real high. Then I went to Miami to see my family, where I shot too much dope in the bathroom and almost fell out in front of my parents and aunts and uncle and everyone. It was wonderful and awful.

try me with pain, try me with fire
just deliver me my one desire
bind me, gag me, beat me up
but when you're through, fill up my cup
make me cry, make me bleed
but give me everything I need
stretch me on your torture rack
steal the clothing off my back
make my path a dreary black
just give me all that I lack
lock me up and toss the key
charge for it a deadly fee
make me miserable and blue
why even ask? you always do
destroy my joy, my faith, my trust
all I ask is that you're just
make sure the misery you serve
is exactly what I deserve
and when you finally kill me dead
send me back to hell instead
nothing to lose, nothing to gain
and by this point I like the pain
give it free and snatch it away
just like every other day
love me like a mother would
then take away all that is good
fill me up with all your lies
but when I'm god, everyone dies
amen

not a charity worker

[[Insane Clown Posse- See you in the killing fields]]

Well, Christmas is finally over, meaning it's time to get my lazy ass out of this house, hit the pavement, and go back to work. I finally got through to Greg, the guy who "stole" my money and dope on the 23rd and then turned his phone off. Yesterday I woke him up, apparently he was coming off a "huge coke binge." He didn't even have a full gram, which (if I remember correctly) goes pretty quickly if you're only snorting it and completely disappears from your body in a couple hours. I guess shit affects different people different ways. Either that or he was making an excuse so he wouldn't have to come give me my money. Today I'm working though, so I'll be right in his part of town. No excuses, motherfucker- just give me what's mine!

[[Kottonmouth Kings- Life ain't what it seems]]

On another note, I'm out of heroin! Argh! I tried to hold onto my last shot for as long as possible. I woke up at about 9am and managed to hold off sticking myself until almost noon. By then all I was doing was moving all over the couch in an attempt to get comfortable, and I found my most comfortable position was sitting on the edge of the toilet pushing the last of my heroin into my arm. It's almost 1pm right now, I'm leaving for work in about an hour and I'm actually looking forward to it. Sitting around the house is a luxury, but it's been 3 days and I'm starting to get cabin fever. Last night I took a ridiculous amount of pills just to get to sleep, in addition to the h. I miss weed, wish I knew someone besides Greg who could help me out with that. I hate asking him for anything besides a ride. It's not that I'm shy, it's that he annoys the fuck out of me and thinks that if he does anything at all to help me out, even something as small as letting me use his camper for 3 minutes so I'm not shooting up in the McDonalds bathroom, I have to suck his dick for free. Well fuck that! I'm a hooker not a charity worker, plus he's got money.

[[Disturbed- The game]]

I want to go see Erick today, the guy who lives over by the Blue Cricket. He's such a good guy, awesome tipper, but he's also one of the weirdos who wants me to move in with him and be his girlfriend. He knows I'm on smack, and still wants me there. Here's the problem: his apartment is tiny, filthy, and full of cats. He gets high, but not on the same drugs I like. There are actually 2 couches in the "living room," which is so small that the couches are practically on top of each other. He says he makes good money, but if he did, why would he live there? Seems to me that we have different definitions of what "good money" really means. If I'm gonna stop working and make some guy my sugar daddy, I want him to at least be a homeowner, and I want a guy who doesn't get high. Is that too much to ask?

[[Weird Al Yankovic- Confessions III]]

Perhaps so- rich, drug-free men aren't exactly the ones lined up to get with me. That's not to say nobody wants me. Lots of guys do, and that's not bragging, that's just a fact that's proved by the amount of money I make in a given working day. Mexicans, middle-income white guys, construction workers, ex-gangsters, musicians, artists, homeless guys, married men going through a mid-life crisis, niggers, junkies, crackheads, dope dealers... these types all love me. But that's not what I want. I want me a VIP, or a CEO, or someone who owns their own business and a house that I can go to because he doesn't have a wife at home. I want someone who I don't have to pretend I don't know them if I see them with someone because (shhhhhh) he could be with his wife or kid or some other family member or employee or boss who he doesn't want told that he picks up hookers. Ah, but I don't really mind. I brought it upon myself really.

[[D12- Keep talkin']]

God I love this song. We still smokin' crack, nigga! Speaking of smoking, I must now retire to the porch to burn a cigarette. I am getting some weed today. It's just a matter of where.

[[Marilyn Manson- This is the new shit]]

...do I smoke what?

I'm dreamin' of a 90-degree Christmas... because that would be an improvement on how hot it is now. Here in glorious SoFla, the only way to have a white Christmas is to do a lot of cocaine. On that same note, I'm almost out of heroin. Well, I'm determined to have a good Christmas even if I can't have a "brown Christmas." Whatever. I got some decent gifts: a small TV with a game cube to hook up to it, an mp3 player which I am currently filling with shit from yahoo music (a total rip-off site which I don't recommend- they make you pay for a subscription and then you have to pay for individual downloads, what a crock of shit!), cash, candy, shower stuff, gift cards, pajamas, and a big ol' stuffed dog identical to the one I got on my first Christmas. Awwww, how sweet. Can't stop listening to Yahoo music, not actually downloading anything but I can listen for free, after paying the 'scrip fee of course. On to the story of last night...

I was at *Debbie's house last night, eating dinner with the fam and while I was outside smoking a cigarette I ran into a couple guys (walking a dog) who were H-O-T. I mean, lordy lordy they were attractive. I was silently admiring when one of the guys started talking to me.

"Hey girl, do I know you?"

No, I don't think so, what's your name?

"I'm *Brock, this is *Shawn. Do you smoke?"

Um, do I smoke what??

"Crack."

Are you serious?

"Naw, we're just fucking around. Do you want to smoke some fentanyl though?"

I didn't know you could smoke fentanyl...

"Come over, I live just a couple houses down."

So I went over, gave them a little striptease (which they immortalized on film) and smoked a couple fentanyl patches. Shit got me so high I got lost on the way back to *Debbie's (literally, 4 houses down). What a hot little duo they are. They got my number, hopefully they'll call again. What a slutty little dope fiend I am. I found these dark glasses yesterday on the sidewalk a couple houses down from my parent's house and love them, but the 'rents informed me that the glasses belonged to one of Lucas' friends, a kid named *Jake, and that I had to return them or else I would be stealing. Now, finding them on the sidewalk and refusing to return them to their rightful owner is not (by my loose moral standards) stealing. Stealing would be if I took them from his pocket, or grabbed 'em off the table from next to him while he was involved in an intense round of Magic: The Gathering. What I did isn't stealing. So fuck 'em. I'm not giving them back to this *Jake loser, now it's the principle of the thing. Now, I'll "lose" 'em in Lake Worth or step on 'em by "accident" before I return 'em to that kid. My mama wants me to go to the doctor just cause I have a huge swollen gland on one side of my throat. Whatever, I love antibiotics, they make me feel so-o-o-o healthy. Yeah. Listening to some old skool shit now, CRIMINAL by Eminem. Time to go blast off...

[names have NOT been changed... sorry guys]

love is an action, not a feeling

So go ahead and get gone
Call up that chick and see if she's home
I bet you thought that I didn't know
What did you think I was puttin' you out for?
Because you was untrue
Rolling her around in the car that I bought you
Baby, drop them keys
Hurry up, before your taxi leaves
Standin in the front door
Telling me that I'm such a fool
Talkin' bout how I'll never ever find a man like you
You got me to say
You must not know 'bout me, you must not know 'bout me
I could have another you in a minute
Matter fact, he'll be here in a minute
You must not know 'bout me, you must not know 'bout me
I could have another you by tommorow
So don't you ever for a second get to thinkin'
You're irreplacable
[irreplaceable]

I got stood up today. I got all showered, blow-dried, made up and dressed up to see Micheal today (we were gonna meet at the mall, Palm Tran over to a Lake Worth motel, buy some dope and fuck all night) and he never showed up. It wasn't the first time he's done that to me. He will pretty much do anything his mama tells him to do, I'm not into that. I don't even know why I still talk to him, I know I love him but all we got really is love, sex, and heroin. It's a thrilling combination, but it makes for a bummer of a relationship.

So, I waited at the mall for hours until he called me and told me his mom would kick him out of the house if he went to go see me. I heard them fighting on the other end of the phone. I told him that if he couldn't see me, that was that, and there was no use making a big deal of it. Yet I couldn't follow my own advice- the tears began to flow the second I hung the phone up. I felt so pushed aside. He says he loves me, but love is an action, not a feeling. I've sold my ass, gotten robbed and beat up, and been to jail over this man, and to him I'm not worth getting yelled at over. It was a crushing blow. I can't even go into his workplace because his mom works there too (she got him the job). I was in there the other day buying ice cream with my gift card (oh, I gotta explain how I got my gift card!) and his mom made him hide upstairs in the break room. Seriously, what the fuck is that. You'd think the man was in his early teens, but no. He's 22, only a year older than I am, and still a total mama's boy. She has her head firmly lodged up his ass and has no intention of moving or relocating. Why? A: because she's overprotective and fears him returning to his old (heroin- and crack-filled) ways, and B: because he lets her. When we lived together, he let me share his mom's puppet strings, allowing me control over half. I guess whenever he gets close to a woman, he bends over so her whole hand can fit inside and control his every thought, word, and action like a ventriloquist dummy.

It just occured to me, he's probably gonna see this.

I doubt he'll actually read the words, unless he sees his name on it somewhere. I better start a new category... there we go, "Micheal." I really don't mind if he reads this, cause it's honest and he really did hurt me today.

But anyways, I worked and it was actually fun. My first date was this young newly-married guy who took me to his friend's apartment on the Island, that was worth a bill. Then I met up with R, who usually pays a bill also but hooked me up with $200 after a 15-minute session (15 minutes is actually being generous- I think it was quicker than that). Did one last date, a Spanish guy. This was less than a minute long and only worth $40 to me, but every little bit helps. I bought some groceries and some h. Then, about 5 or 6 hours after standing me up, guess who calls. He's at home, his mama stepped out momentarily, and he wants to see me. Of course, he's not going to make an effort to make it happen. He's just gonna sit at the crib while I pay $50 of my escort money to take a taxi over to Royal Palm Beach where he is. Once I get there, he carries my groceries and asks me for a bag. He ends up trading me a $400 IPOD (not his) and a diamond wedding set (engagement ring + wedding ring, also not his) for 5 bags. I accept, knowing that I could have more coming if I called my dealer, who for the sake of confidentiality we will call "45R". If I refer to any of my other dealers, they will be "45B" "Garden" "Jog" and "Lockz". I need a charger cord now for the IPOD, what an awesome Christmas present that was. He told me I could pawn the wedding set if I was short on cash, seeing that it was neither his nor mine. Well... I suppose now it's mine. I payed for it, no?

To enter Micheal's subdivision (La Mancha) on foot, there are 2 ways. The first way is the main neighborhood road, which is the only way you can drive to his house. Then there is a bike trail that cuts between a wooded area and a church. We dubbed it "da path." So as we're walking closer to La Mancha for him to go home and me to call another cab, we decide to go down da path and I start sucking his cock. This, of course, led to me bent over a fucking bulldozer while he banged me from behind. It's the first time I've fucked him for months, and I was hoping it would be terrible so there'd be one less thing to like/love about him. But it was good, pretty much as good as it can get outside bent over a tractor keeping an eye out for headlights and bicyclists. Does this mean we're back together? Argh, I don't know! I should've asked or something, huh? Maybe I don't want to know the answer. That's probably what it is. Anyways, we had finished up and cleaned up and were sitting at the gas station across the street from his subdivision and his mama pulled up in her van. At that point, I knew the date was over. He flew over to the drivers'-side window like an obedient little puppy, and (just as I had suspected) he left with his mama without so much as a hug goodbye. Sure, he walked to the end of his neighborhood and gave me stolen merchandise. But that's not the kind of effort I want to see from him. If he wants to be with me, that asshole better fucking start showing it through his actions. It seems to me like he'll hang with me when "he's got nothing better to do" or "he can sneak out after his mama goes to bed." Why does this shit sound so familiar? Oh, now I remember why. I used to do the same shit- in junior high. Maybe ninth grade too, but not really past then. But it didn't faze me this time because I knew what to expect from him.

Eventually I left Royal Palm, rented a GameCube game called "Paper Mario" which I've never heard of but my brother (the ultimate nerdy, video-game-playing, D&D-obsessed, Magic-card-collecting, anime-watching, computer-worshipping FanBoy, no offense to him) says it's the type of thing I'd enjoy. And that boy knows his video games! The only type of games I like are the Mario-type "running-man" games where you move your guy along through the various enemies and "bosses" and all sorts of obstacles. He said it was less of a running-man and more of an "RPG" whatever the fuck that means. RPG = role playing game, no? How can a video game be an RPG? Something like Dungeons and Dragons, that's an RPG. A video game is a video game. Some people take that shit way too seriously. My brother was one of the ones camped outside the store waiting to buy a Nintendo Wii. I saw a T-shirt that makes me laff hysterically: Mario, with bloodshot eyes, burning a blunt with the caption "Wiid". You can't tell me that's not funny!

Finally, I got home and 45R came out and didn't have change for a Benjamin so I was forced to buy 9 bags of heroin. Poor poor me, huh? The rest of the night was been spent bullshittin' around. It's 2:49am, I really should be going to bed since I have a fucking NA meeting at fucking noon. I hate NA, not as much as I hate AA but it's still a terrible concept. "Here's my idea, let's take a large group of people who love drugs, know where to get drugs, and are trying not to do drugs, and put them all together in a room for an hour and let them talk amongst themselves." How many people you think have scored in or during an NA meeting? I know I have. I didn't even ask either, it was offered to me. What a fucked-up world we live in. I guess I have time to post one Micheal-related poem:

Why did you betray me?
Is there nothing left to say to me?
When I needed you the most, you were a fucking ghost
Where were you when I went to jail?
Why didn’t you at least send me mail?
Why don’t you answer when I call?
Why won’t you answer me at all?
For you, to everyone I lied,
For you, I kept my ass inside,
Because of you I have no friends,
So I’m alone, is this how it ends?
For you, I’ve gotten raped and beat,
For you, I worked the fucking street,
If you asked, I would not say no,
But now what do I have to show?
A broken heart, arms full of tracks,
A worthless tattoo on my back,
A shadow of my ring’s old spot,
Do you love me? Apparently not.

***update!!***
Last night, right as I was finishing this post, Connie (Micheal's mama, from here on out "fat ugly whore" or "FUW" came over here yelling and threatening to call the police on me because I had given him dope (which I did). Of course I denied it. It was hilarious. She actually drove over here (pretty far) just to bitch at me in person, but before that she called my HOUSE PHONE at 3 AM, waking up my parents who could give a fuck less about Micheal or his FUW. They were not pleased with the whole new development. Micheal got caught with the dope and the first thing he said was my name. I don't think I wanna see him no more.