kwee-wee

I. Am. Too. God. Damn. La. Zy. To. Up. Date. Re. Gu. Lar. Ly.

There- I said it! I am one lazy pregnant bee-yotch. Every time I write, I promise to update "every other day" or "2-3 times a week" and that becomes once a week, if that. So whatever- I update once a week. I can try to update more, but the god's honest truth is that nothing interesting happens lately. I started this blog because so much crazy shit happened to me on a daily basis that I just had to share. Now, I am 9 months pregnant and sitting at home most of the day. I play around online, I go out to eat sometimes, I do the grocery shopping for the house (even when I'm broke, my dad won't let anyone go grocery shopping without me because I can bring home $100 worth of food for $60 and I know which brands are worth paying extra for- basically I am awesome at grocery shopping!), I go to the library and check out books, I watch tons of movies from Blockbuster, I hang out with Greg and have awkward huge-belly sex (I usually end up hurting my back, but it's worth it), I drink tons and tons of water and milk and Crystal Light, I complain about the baby kicking me and how much my back hurts, I make money online, I watch the wildlife in my yard, I smoke 5 or 6 Newports a day, I sometimes wish I had drugs, I try to make the voices in my head shut up.

That's it- that's my fucking life right now. I have never been so bored, but at the same time I'm too fuckin' tired and fat and achy to really want to do anything. I'm going with Greg to happy hour at TGI Fridays after Jaz is born, have me some booze and some non-huge-belly sex on one of the nights that my parents babysit. Hooray! I'll pump some milk in advance and use those alcohol milk test strips to make sure baby doesn't get drunk too... make it real safe-like. Drugs after she is born? No, no drugs... there is a possibility that I will start smoking pot again (not on a regular basis) but I don't even think I'm gonna go in that direction again. Heroin and coke and crack- that's not even an option. You can be a good mom if you go out drinking one night when you have a trustworthy babysitter, and you can even be a good mom if you smoke pot sometimes. But NO ONE can be a good mom while nodding on dope or tweeking on coke. I miss my drugs, shit I miss them *badly* sometimes, but I'd rather be a good mom than get high. That was a hard choice to make (it shouldn't have been, I know) but I'm 100% confident that I chose right. I can't be a mom and a junkie at the same time, so I choose mom. Fuck being a junkie- I already did that, didn't I? I know what that life is all about, but this new life... I know nothing about it and I'd like to learn. I can't wait.

Plus, I don't need coke- I have been high as fuck lately on nothing but hormones and unmedicated bipolar disorder. This morning I couldn't stop talking at all, my head was spinning and the voices in my head were screaming at me to go get some heroin. They reminded me of the d-boy's phone number (which I had forgotten) and told me that since I had gotten piss-tested today at the clinic that I could get away with a shot. They even told me where I could get a needle! Fuckin' voices in my head. I didn't listen to them, but I did hafta take a vistaril which was prescribed by my ob/gyn because it's safe for pregnancy. I recently switched from generic (hydroxyzine) to name-brand (vistaril) and the new shit knocks me for a loop. I went from totally freaking out- spinning, tons of head noise, babbling, heart racing, laughing and crying at the same time, etc- to damnear comatose in about an hour. I finally passed out, that brand vistaril feels like valium. It does help satisfy my drug craving without taking anything illegal or dangerous to the baby, which is awesome.

And... that's it. Thanks to all who suggested movies and television shows, I added a whole bunch of stuff to my "queue" which I call DA LIST because I don't like that word queue. It looks like it should be pronounced kwee-wee doesn't it?

possible seizure activity

I had a seizure today... I think.

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

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

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

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

7/19 Sat - $4.09

7/20 Sun- $4.06

7/21 Mon - $4.06

7/22 Tues - $4.03

7/23 Wed - $4.03

**** selected replies ****

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

Amen, sister!

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

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

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

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

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

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

good idea? probably not

Wow, that's some venom-spewing if I ever heard any. Thanks for the support Greggie! Ahhhh I only have 11 minutes left online! This is gay! Bob just called now, as I was writing this. Clown shoes, hahahahaha. I drank 20mg of methadone today mixed with a couple valium. Good idea? Probably not. Fun? Hells yes! Haha!

I LOVE YOU ALL!!! EVEN THE HATERS!!!

let me say it before someone else does: "yeah, I love everyone for a hundred bucks an hour." There- it's been said. Now no one needs to say it again cause it's unoriginal and uncreative. I have to learrn carpentry today. Argh! Rob wants me back! I am floating!

Greg quit smoking pot for real. That doesn't mean I have to stop- it actually helps me. I've cut out booze altogether, so that's a good thing.

a terrible person for eternity

So... I think I'm in trouble. I'm not gonna get into specifics on here, but I think I am in a whole mess o' trouble.

Drunk, yes I am pretty drunkish right now. But no h. I haven't done any heroin since Thursday- no, I'm not enjoying it. I have been drinking, not to excess, just enough to dull the sick. Also smoking tons and tons of pot, which is fun while drinking but it a poor substitute for heroin. Wish I had a drink, a real drink, all I got right now is a couple 24s of Natty Ice, last night I was slamming pina coladas with 151 floaters, that was delicious. But you know what, I'm sick. Real sick man, coming off dope sucks. But ya know what, I'm pregnant! Yeah! I can't belieive I finally admitted that on here! So I will quit shooting heroin, or I will be a terrible person for eternity. Go ahead bitches, I'm not scared of hell. This is my best shot, I would kill for some dope but am not doing any, so whatever.

To Derrick and Niina and Angela- sorry about Saturday, you know I wanted to be there but I was sick as a dog all day and couldn't have enjoyed myself, would've ruined y'alls time too. Hope Gretchen Wilson was good...

I can't download limewire could whoever put that send some mp3s to my email, I got google mail so it holds everything.

REPLIES:

dharmabum: OCD people are too easy to drive crazy, they're no fun at all.

ian: you don't get it yet, do you? I like the flamers! They add excitement to my online-life (which isn't nearly as exciting as my real life)

flamer with a brain: I'm a big fan of free speech dude, that's the reason I leave all the comments up because I like having the freedom to say whatever I want online and I want anyone who takes the time to read my writing to have the same freedom. Of course I like the attention, but that's not the main reason. As for the money thing, even McDonalds has slow days. I make money. Half the point of blogs is freedom of expression, and the other half is entertainment. I'm very entertained by stories of people doing very risky dangerous deadly shit, why shouldn't others be? I put some very personal shit up here on the interenet because it entertains me to write it, it entertains my friends, and it gives me a whole nother group of people to "associate" with, most of whom I'll never meet in real life. So what's wrong with being entertained? Shit! If you can't laugh at yourself, there's no hope at all. You may have a brain, but so do I. I know what my problem is and you aren't doing anyone any good by stating it over and over and over.

anony: I love the back-and-forth on these comment pages

anony: A truly well thought-out response.

anony: Who the hell are you arguing with?

fatal-rage: You are awesome! I'm gonna link to you.

game-playing and ghost-going yellfest

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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.

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!!

if you don't count the baseheadiness

For the past few days, I've been staying at a motel in Gainesville, which has been fun. My first night I found a group of bums (self-proclaimed "tramps") and got drunk and high on crack. Lucky lucky me. I only really smoke that shit when I don't have anything else, which certainly applied in this scenario. Whatever. They were pretty cool people, if you don't count the baseheadiness. Hah, new word.

Tuesday would have been a boring day. I was sitting in the room, watching TV and writing in my notebook. [[Important plot point- when I was packing to come up here, I couldn't find my current notebook so I just grabbed a random one that was less than half full. It was a comp book that I had been writing in between April and May when I was a full-fucking-blown super junkie]] I was laying on my back (on the bed) with my knees up to support the notebook, wishing I was high, when something fell on my shoulder. I thought it was a bug, but when I went to look I seen a dime bag of fucking dope.

"Well hot dog..."

I bet you fuckers think I snorted that bitch up right away. Nope! I called Greg and told him that God had sent me a bag of h and that justified my doing it. I didn't even THINK that it had come from the notebook until I recognized it. Hell, it had been a while since [name deleted] had them gold bags so it took me a second. I wasn't thinking, "where did this come from?" What I was thinking was, "YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!" I hope that's understandable, in my current situation. Greg told me that having shit makes it easier to stay off it, because the hunt is off. There's no need to go find it, cause it's right there. It just takes real discipline.

Well, I have no discipline... at least not when it involves heroin. Everybody knows that. Jesus!

So I decided to go on a mission to find someone that would sell me needles. I was kinda hoping it'd be harder than it was. I was thinking I'd hafta go all over town, but in reality I walked directly across the street from the motel to a Target, walked up to the pharmacy counter, and dude there sold me rigs no questions asked. The 10-pack was even a buck cheaper than it is in West Palm/Lake Worth. Next, I needed a cooker cause its too ghetto to cold-shoot out of the bottom cap on the needle. If I was gonna do the shit, I was gonna do it right. Usually I cook up in Altoids tins but I wasn't about to use my limited funds in that manner and I couldn't afford a restaurant that had metal spoons I could steal. I hadn't even made it across to the motel side of the street when I seen an empty beer can with the bottom not crushed at all.

People, God really wanted me to shoot this damn bag of dope. I procrastinated it as long as I could, what with eating lunch at Wendys and hanging out for a couple hours at Barnes and Noble. Then I went to hang with the bums on the hill (same bums as yesterday) and didn't even smoke crack this time. I drank beers. Lots and lots of beers, because every professional knows not to mix alcohol and heroin. Then I went back to the motel and went to sleep. I slept better than usual, just knowing I had a wake-up.

Wednesday morning, I couldn't believe I still had that bag. Boosh. I didn't have it 5 minutes after waking up. Brown wall. Then I did the rinse later. That was the fucking relief I'd been craving for the past few weeks. I'm not gonna say it was the first bag I've done since leaving jail, but it was the best. Then I hung out at Barnes and Noble, killing time. Time dies easy when you're high on heroin. Now I'm at the college hanging with Lucas. This is the most time I've spent with Lucas since fucking '01. It's ridiculous but true, so I've surely been enjoying myself. Surely surely.

Well, I'm going home tomorrow!!!!! [Lucas says that's how you spell tomorrow, but I'm not so damn sure.] I'm excited to see Greg and even Rob, the one I called The Jailer Dude. Me and him are on good terms now, I know I know but we are. I'm gonna enjoy this last night with my brother since we prolly won't see one another till Xmas. Why I wrote Xmas instead of Christmas I'll never know.

LAKE WORTH OR BUST!!!!!

sure as shit, there you are

I'm addicted to tattoos. No really. I don't know what it is about me and needles, but we just get along famously. I went to get the evil jack-o-lantern done on my (non-rose) ankle yesterday and Tat (the guy who does 'em for me) added a witches hat on its head and gave it red eyes. It's my favoritest tattoo of all. Next (probably today or tommorrow) I'm getting the heart on my back filled in to cover Micheal's name, it's gonna be pink with a black crack in it like a broken heart. Then he's putting big tribal wings from hip to hip on either side of it and adding a halo on top. It's gonna look fucking awesome. After that I want a horse or a unicorn with a mane made out of fire somewhere. And an infinity symbol on the back of my neck. And the first Joker's Card drawing (Carnival of Carnage) from the Insane Clown Posse CD but instead of saying ICP I want it to have my initials. Yeah, so many ideas for awesome tats! Any more ideas would be welcome...

I had to walk 8 blocks to get here to the library. 8 fucking blocks down Federal fucking Highway just to go online and screw around. Why did I have to walk 8 blocks to the library? Well, the downtown Lake Worth building that I was living in is getting "closed for repairs" (what really happened is my landlord puts all our rent money in his pocket and now the building is in foreclosure, hah) but out of all the people who are getting evicted, me and one other person were offered apartments at another building that he owns. Why us? Well, we're good tenants, we don't cause trouble, no traffic, both cute girls, and both pay CASH!!!!! No checks or credit cards from these chicks, and who doesn't love straight-up cash? I'm grateful I'll still have the same landlord because the cops came to the old building to get me thrown out (they don't like me living in Lake Worth, the fuckers) and my landlord said that he wasn't gonna kick me out, and that until I did something illegal (which I hadn't done in the month or so that I'd been there, at least not where the cameras can see) the cops couldn't tell him who he can or can't have living on HIS property. No one has ever stood up to the police for me like that! *swoon* I had to tell that same cop off on Dixie the other day. I was standing talking to my friend (who has the exact same don't-give-a-fuck attitude that I have so we get along poifect) when Officer Dan drives up in his unmarked and yells MICHELLE!

Officer Dan: "I'm sick of you acting stupid, like you don't know nothing about nothing although I'm sure you know more people in this town than I do and I've been working undercover here for 12 years. I told you I didn't want you living at [old building] and we come to bust that rock dealer there and sure as shit, there you are."

Me: "Well my landlord said I didn't have to move out cause I haven't done shit wrong. In fact, Lake Worth hasn't even seen me fuckin' JAYWALK in 8 months or so!"

Officer Dan: "I'm not somebody to play with. I'll make sure you take a ride for every needle I find in that purse of yours."

Me: "Let's make a deal. I serve 30 days for every needle you find in my purse, right now. But afterwards you gotta agree to leave me alone for the rest of the week."

Am I clean, or is it a good bluff? Either way it works! He drives away without searching me (after telling me to go on the West Palm Beach side of the bridge) which is cool cause I don't like anyone going through my stuff, badge or no badge. PS- I didn't have shit on me that time but I have bluffed before. As in, "HERE search my fucking bag, there's nothing in it I don't want you to see!" when I know for a fact there's 9 or 10 used needles and a cooker and a bunch of Valiums in a cigarette cellophane.

ANYWAYS, now I live on 8th which blows donkey nuts because I'm far from everything and I HATE THE SOUTH SIDE OF L-DUB!!!!!!!!!! It's all pimps and dope boys out here (dope boy = crack dealer, yech) oh yeah and mean ol' cops like Officer Dan. That bitch. I guess once I get to the library, I'm almost on the north side. North side 4 life, yo! I'm sorry my writing is so... ummmm, off today. I am HIGH as a KITE and I just might come to check you out. I'm also on my peroid which I get maybe twice a year and it still sucks!

Let me tell you, Kitty had a hard time moving. We had to put her in a cat cage and she scratched the shit out of me and then opened the cat cage latch herself. I thought you needed opposable thumbs to do that, but she did it. Then she opened a cupboard by swinging at the handle with her paw, climbed in, and hid. Kitty is a fuckin' genius.

Oh, and I don't have the clap. False alarm.

watch me after a red ant bites me

To answer the questions:
1- I don't say my prices or how much money I make on here for tax reasons and because I'm very much in debt, but it's quite a fucking bit.
2- Yes, I graduated from top of my high school class. No college though.
3- I'm in a weekly efficiency, kinda like a motel but I like not having an anchor. As I tell my boyfriend when he points out a mess in my apartment, "I don't clean, I trash and move."

Okay, yeah. Well I moved to a new apartment in the same building because it's bigger and has a big ol' couch, but it confused Kitty. I had to lure her over to the new place by dragging a plate of cat food along the ground. Now she's always chilling outside the new room waiting for me when I get home, just like I want. Hooray! I yell her name while I'm feeding her and when I give her cat treats, so now when I stand outside my door and yell KITTY!! if she's around she'll come. It's fucking awesome, just like a dog. Hah!

Greg almost killed an old man the other day. The guy was crossing the road (not a crosswalk or anything, just the middle of US-1) and for some reason stopped right in the middle of the lane, I guess he was pickin' his ass or something, and Greg didn't see him and put the pedal to the metal. I had to say, "Greg, don't kill that old guy!" He slammed on his brakes just in time, it actually would have been too late but the old man took off running when he realized that Greg wasn't gonna stop just cause he's old. "Wow, that's a huge truck but I don't care, I'm a little old man, hyuck hyuck!" Retard. His mama should've taught him to look both ways.

I got a tattoo! The people in the apartment next to my building always have their door open, which possibly means that there's someone friendly living there, so I decided to go over and introduce myself. I just walked in and said hi. There's something a pretty girl can get away with that a guy would get his ass kicked in for, no? I love being female. Anyways, one of the guys there was a tattoo artist, and he asked me if I wanted one for $10. At that price, how could I say no? I ended up with a rose on my right ankle, tattoo #3. My first one was a butterfly on my shoulder and my second one was a heart with my name and Micheal's name on my lower back. Yep, I got a tramp stamp. Rose, heart, butterfly. Could my tats be any girlier or generic-er? My next one is gonna be an evil jack-o-lantern just cause I've never seen anyone with a tat like of one. He said come over any time (with ten bucks) and he'll draw whatever I want. Fucking awesome, no? When he started doing the rose, though, I had forgotten how much it HURTS getting tats done. I don't have a high tolerance for physical pain. When it comes to emotional pain I'm Superwoman, but watch me after a red ant bites me. I'm in tears. He was doing the tattoo, I'm biting on my hand and yelling and crushing my pack of smokes. Whatever, it was totally worth it. Greg likes it too, I didn't know if he'd like he idea of me getting another tat but he says it came out great. I want more now. Story of my life, no? My first word as a baby was MORE, my mom loves to tell me that story. I believe it.

Some asshole was calling me ALL NIGHT from a motel in Lantana (not the one I used to live at). It started at about 230 am and ended at almost 6. Fuck that noise! I didn't answer not once. Probably some crackhead anyways- "can you get me dope? can you get me this? can you lend me money? can i come over your house?" I hate that shit. I'm already the dope fairy of Palm Beach County, what more do they want? They won't be satisfied until I fall over dead- and even then they'll go through my purse before calling 911. Ha!

I am so high right now, I got hooked up proper today. My dealer gave me almost twice as much as I payed for and it didn't fit in the little bag I had so I poured shit into the cooker until I could close the bag and it blasted me to Mars and back. Blastoff! I'm scared to do anymore, at least until both my eyes are open. Fuckin right nigga. I mean nigg-errrrrrrrrr, hahahahahaha that's what my friend says. He's an asshole though.

Oh, and I think I have the clap.

KITTY!!

Okay, now that I have 7 minutes left on the internet I should hurry my fuck ass, no? I have a cat now, her name is KITTY!! just like that with the capital letters and the 2 exclamation points. I was sick as hell forever yesterday cause my dealer didn't show up Saturday night. I wished him dead. Then I shot some dope and smoked OPIUM for the first time. Yum! Have more at home, wish I had some pot to put the opium on. No pot though, boo! Smoking opium is almost as good as shooting up, not that I'd ever thought I'd say that. God, I've been fucking around on Opiophile and my e-mail the whole hour I was allowed on the computer. Gayness! I guess I'll take my broke fuck ass home now and shoot another bag. I got 4 shots left and a big chunk of opium as well. What the hell am I doing here? Bwahahahahahahaha!

(I did crystal meth last night)
((and I didn't go to the methadone clinic this morning cause I passed out at 4am after smoking crystal meth last night))
(((between the weed, the hash from Saturday, the 3-pack-a-day Newport 100s habit, the crack from yesterday, the meth from last night and the opium from yesterday and this morning- my fucking throat hurts: there, I said it))

'Till next time...

silence is golden, duct tape is silver

Okay I apologize in advance if this post isn't upto my usual standards because I am quite fucked up right now. I've been complaining about my left shoulder for months (I thought I had what street hookers call "date shoulder" which is caused by leaning over to the drivers side during car dates) and the chiropractor was only helping a little so I wnet to a pain management doctor. He did an x-ray and checked it out and discovered a hairline fracture on my shoulder blade and pinched nerves. That didn't surprise me. What did surprise me was the prescriptions he wrote me: 60-count OxyContin 40mg and 60-count Soma 350mg. I never thought I could walk into a doctor's office with trackmarks on my arms (and hands, and wrists, and feet, and legs, and ankles) and walk out with scrips like that! So I filled them and took 2 Oxys and 2 Somas. Right when I started to feel them kicking in, I shot 2 bags of bomb heroin.

Bam!

Joe's obituary was in the paper today, so I went out and bought a copy. It was the first time in my life I ever bought a copy of the sickeningly liberal Palm Beach Post, in fact I didn't even know how much it cost! I took out the local section, ripped out his obit, and threw the rest of the paper away. Didn't even read the comics. God, I hate the Post. All newspapers are slanted, but this one is ridiculous. Greg also printed me out a picture of Joe, he's gonna print another one with me and Joe and also he's taking me to the funeral on Thursday. I'm scared that his relatives heard that there was heroin in his system and blame me for it. I'm gonna be sad enough at the funeral without a lot of hate aimed at me. I'm gonna go ahead and brace myself for it though, especially from his mother. When your kid dies, you have a lot of anger and need someone to throw it on and I guess I'm perfect for the job. The hard part is gonna be if she actually starts something with me, to not make any kind of smart remarks. An old woman doesn't need smart remarks coming from some snot-nosed brat at her son's funeral, that's for god damn sure, but if someone attacks me verbally I can't just let it go. I don't have it in me to ignore mean comments. And I don't just defend myself, I attack back. And I get personal. I think it'd be better for everyone if I showed up at the funeral home with a giant piece of silver duct tape plastered across my mouth. Silence is golden, duct tape is silver.

I still have no cell phone because it was pouring today so I could barely make any money and the cash I did make payed for my scrips and my chiro appoitment and heroin and my ride home with Greg. Tommorrow, I guess...

My 19-year-old brother hangs out with kids between the ages of 17 and 20, which is totally cool, then there's this one creepy guy who is like 24. He finished college and moved right back in with his parents. He doesn't work, doesn't date, doesn't drink, doesn't get high, doesn't go out, doesn't go to school, doesn't do shit. He hangs out with high school/college kids, plays Magic: The Gathering and Dungeons n Dragons, and goes online. As my brother puts it, the kid never grew up. It's sad. Sure I'm staying with my family right now but that's only because my best friend died less than a week ago. I'll be back on my own by Friday, not only do I want to be but also I don't have a choice in the matter. Even if I'm not ready to leave I'll be dragged out kicking and screaming. Fucking bitches heh.

God, do I love OxyContin...

shitty, sober, broke, hungry, stinky, painful, sick nights

I haven't posted for a while, been lazy. It's not my fault though. My roommate (Joe) rolls up 3 or 4 joints and actually wakes me up so I can smoke them with him. But of course I have to get a shot in me first, then blaze, and at some point we turn on cartoons and bring food over to the bed. You'd be lazy too. So I guess the way to keep y'all up to date is by posting stuff from my personal journal. I'm gonna leave out all the names and incriminating details that I include in my writing when it's not going on the internet. The deal is it's not edited or thought out or anything, it's just pretty much spilled guts on paper so pardon me if I'm not my usual storytelling self.

July 25, or Micheal's 23rd birthday
Very stoned writing! If you are really a junkie, it will show up in parts of your life that don't involve drugs. It's either that or my white-trashedness showing it's face, but I guess it doesn't matter where it came from. I'm stoned shitless, laying on my back at 1:30 in the afternoon eating. Suddenly, I had a random thought: "Nothing beats a swallow of cold mild straight from the bottle after a handful of cereal." That's some junky white-trash shit right there. The worst part is that I was smoking a cigarette the whole time. I'm proud to be an American.
I'm not quite sure why I decided to carry this notebook around today. After all, I am pretty fucked up. There's been nothing in my head lately. I'm so used to the voices, the whispers, the noise in general filling every little spot in my brain that I don't feel right without it. The Lithium creates the emptiness that nearly drives me fucking bonkers!
Scary dream alert! Well, it was scary while I was having but once I spelled it out it was kind of stupid. I dreamed I was sitting in a restaurant holding this ancient cellphone. It was a big box that looked like a graphing calculator with buttons of both sides and ants crawling out of it. Then we realized that there was a monster in the restaurant but we couldn't run and couldn't call for help because the cellphone was such a piece of crap.

July 26, or the day after my phone bill is due
Good day, bad day? I'll let my attitude after I write this be the judge. Last night I payed my phone bill the day it was due because I didn't want it turned off at all. I awoke this morning to a turned-off phone. Oh boy was I pissed! [[boring details about how I got my phone turned back on]]
Then I made some money and called [[dealer's name deleted, I'll call her "C"]] in a hurry because I had to go with my dad to lunch and to get a blood test for [[my psychiatrist]]. Bitch didn't answer! Once my dad scooped me up and we were sitting at the Grumpy Grouper, guess who calls? Stupid "C"! Dad and me ate and went to get the blood test. The blood lady got a vein on me on the first try, which was kickass because my veins blow dead rats in hell and the phlebotanist (however that's spelled) usually ends up digging around like I do.
Then my dad bounced me off on the strip, by that time the sickness was creeping up on me and none of the dope people were picking up. I was sitting outside CVS crying and sweating when all 4 of my dealers called me back in a 3-minute period. It was awesome cause I got to pick whose dope I wanted. I chose "C" cause 1 bag of her shit knocks me flat on my ass. It creepxs up- first it fills my sinuses and my throat and it all goes kinda numb and tingly, then it grabs me real tight by the shoulders and then my head feels real heavy and hard to hold up right before my eyes either roll up or mostly shut, Then the full-body wave hits me. And that's all from one dime bag.
Then Greg came and got me. Me and him and Joe got mega-stoned and I went back to work. At one point I did too many bags and started flipping out. I was walking around the apartment falling down and crashing into things talking nonsense. Joe got scared and made me lie down. Strong dope and powerful smoke make for one fuck of a high. Oh yeah and also me and Greg had a fight, we haven't made up yet. I'm gonna have to stop writing cause I'm too high and my eyes keep rolling up in my head,
I just sent dirty pictures to a guy I met online (through my blog). Aren't I a total slut? Hah! Until next time... tons of dope, tons of dick, and tons of dough.

July 27, or the premiere of The Simpsons Movie
Woke up, shot up, smoked up, washed up, shot up, came up, hooked up, came back up, shot up, snorked up a copule Valiums, then went with [[my cousin]] Lorry and [[my brother]] Lucas to Crazy Buffet and to see The Simpsons Movie. God it was hilarious- Bart gives us a full frontal! Came back up, hooked up again, shot up again- this time blowing my hand up like a balloon. It's on fucking fire, aaargh! Funny story- I was at this guy's house giving him a blowjob when his wife came to the door. He ran me out so quick he didn't even let me grab my shoes! I had to hide in his backyard barefoot amongst rotten mangos waiting for him to tell me it was okay to go and give me back my sandals. Then the fucker nade me give him his change back! Shit, I deserved it all, stupid prick. I just put a Valium under my tongue, Scott told me it'd hit quicker and stronger that way. So far- nothing. All in all though, it was one fun fuckin' Friday night.

July 28, or Valium hangover day
I did too much Valium last night and didn't wake up until past 3pm. I've been pill-high all day, and mixing it up with the heroin and marijuana I've been using since I opened one crusty little eye has been a hell of an experience. I've been sleepy and itchy and dumber than a bucket of hair all day. Right now I'm smoking a Newport and trying to keep my eyes from crossing. I talked to Micheal last night and told him that I had 19 days clean. What a fucking liar I am! I just wanted him to be proud of me, to like me, to have a reason to see me. I would do anything to quit heroin for real and for good. The problem with rehab is that I'd be miserable there and if I was miserable in my early sobriety I'd say fuck it real quick. I need to have other shit going well for me if I ever expect to quit.

July 30, or rent day
I worked all day. All day, from about 2pm to past 11pm. I was trying to make my $140 rent, which I must have made 4 or 5 times over but I kept buying heroin. It was an unstoppable force- I'd have another hund (and dope) in my pocket and think I was finishing up but, like a robot, I'd pick up the phone and call the dope girl ("C"). I made 4 buys today before I begun collecting the fucking rent. Also I ate and bought cigs and scratch-off lotto tickets, but over $280 went straight in my arm. This shit really needs to stop. I also took OxyContin. My rent is paid in full (on time), my phone bill is paid for another 3 weeks, the dishes are done, there are groceries here, my clothes are clean, I'm feeling awesome, and I got heroin for tonight and the morning. What a pleasant change from the shitty, sober, broke, hungry, stinky, painful, sick nights I've been through lately. Hooray!

Aug 1, or check day, aka "wake up, wake up, wake up, it's the first of the month so grab your checks and come up"
I wish I had nail clippers.
That fucking asshole! Another 20 minutes I gotta wait? This is the part of being a junkie that I hate, it's a really anxious, depressing, dopesick state of mind.
[[to the tune of Papa Roach's "Scars"]]
Tear my arm open until my eyes shut
The secret is not to do too much
But these scars remind me that I have no vein
But if I can find one, it'll kill the pain
[[to the tune of Taylor Swift's "Teardrops on my guitar"]]
You're the only asshole I want in my life
You treat me good but also cause me fucking pain and strife
You're a dick, you're pure gold, you're a creepy dirty old man too
Greg, I'm in love with you!
[[my day]]
I was supposed to see Micheal today, but dickface didn't call. It's all good though, I wasn't really expecting him to go through with it. On Friday night while I was watching The Simpsons Movie he sent me a test that said, "I need to have sex with someone. Wanna be fuck buddies?" That's even better than getting back together with him! We get to spend time together, we get to be friends, we get to have sex (that boy is great in bed; hell, I taught him everything he knows), and we don't have to put up with any of that jealous bullshit and fighting that goes hand in hand with a serious relationship.
I just shot 3 caps of incredible stuff. Just now, like 2 minutes ago and I am rushing hard! Whoo! It's all I can smell and taste and my chest feels swollen with the shit. Also I took about 3 Valiums sublingually along with 3 chewed up Percocet 10s so my head is kinda rolling around on my neck. It feels light enough to be hollow and too heavy to hold up correctly all at the same time- I guess it's hard to explain any better than that. I've always got people asking me, "What does it feel like to shoot up heroin?" I do my best to describe it, but it's kind of hard to find the right words to portray the experience. I usually say it's just fucking awesome. What else can I say? Fucking awesome is a good way to describe it anyway. There aren't really any good metaphors worthy of describing a bangin' dope shot. God, I can't barely keep my eyes open! I passed out for half an hour just now. I was sitting up in bed writing with my feet in front of me and when I came back my left leg was totally dead. It's the morphine / Valium / Percocet / heroin / weed high and it's completely kicking my ass right now. I better go to bed, or at least lay down in the dark and watch the end of South Park or King of the Hill which were both just starting when I layed my head down "just for a couple seconds". Now the cartoons are over and all that's on is Fresh Prince of Bel-Air which is a really good show, so is Full House. And Step by Step. Yum, crushed-up Tostitos... zzzzz.
News flash: I got my dope at 11:40pm and immediately blasted off. It is now 2:20am and I haven't even touched the shit, even though I have 6 caps plus pills left. That is fucking unheard of! Usually I'd be down to 1 1/2 caps 2 hours ago and jonesing for my wake-up shot. After waiting this long, I fucking deserve a couple caps in my arm. What an idea!

Aug 5, or the day I finally updated my blog
I just woke up, shot up, got SSTTOONNEEDD, and I'm amazed I made it to the library. I slept all through my Friday night last night and didn't make shit for money cause I'm sick. Not dopesick, flu-sick. It really sucks. I'm gonna go home and go smoke more pot. Here's some questions for anyone who cares to answer in the comments section or in my email:

1) In your own words, what does it feel like to shoot up heroin?
2) What the fuck happened to Opiophile? I'm in mourning over here!
3) Anyone want my phone number?
4) Isn't Scrubs a fucking great TV show?

sick, depressed, and miserable

Yo, it's me...

I know I haven't written in a minute. I got thrown out of where I was living for using heroin. Imagine that. So I moved into a shitty motel in Lantana, the town right south of Lake Worth. I was living there with a guy I don't even like to split the rent and even with that I barely got my rent payed. I spent 20 hours of the day sleeping and when I was awake I was constantly sticking myself with needles until (duh) my veins went away. I got none left. My last hit of my whole life was a skin-pop.

Yeah, my last hit. I'm going to detox. Again. Maybe it'll work this time because I'm sick, depressed, and miserable. I haven't been able to really get out of bed for days, except to go do Extacy and shoot benzos with this awesome guy I met on Opiophile. Well he didn't shoot benzos, but he gave me the benzos to shoot.

I don't think I've ever hated my life more than I do right now.

another perfect opportunity

This morning I woke up before anyone else did- what a perfect excuse to do a shot. Then my mom went to church- another perfect opportunity to get off! Then, she and my dad and my brother and his friends went to the International House of Pancakes. leaving me alone in the house. So you can imagine what I did. Then about an hour after they all got back, my mom had to go to Publix. Back I went, into the bathroom since I had 7 shots left and I'm going out tommorow.

By that point, I was 4 shots of heroin into the day and it wasn't even 1pm. This is where I figure I need to slow the fuck down. My brain and body can't handle all the dope. I've spent the entire day (until about 715pm, when I finally got in the shower because my mom was having friends over for dinner) laying outside, smoking cigarettes, nodding out and dropping books on myself, and scratching various parts of my back and arms and legs and ass. I haven't done a shot since 1 and I'm still nodding and itching.

The friend my mom invited over is the mother of this black girl who was my best friend when we were about 10 or 11. I don't know if she wants her name printed here cause she might be embarrassed to have ever been a friend of mine ("Hey, you know that heroin-addicted whore who lives with her parents and has scars all over her body? She used to be my BEST FRIEND! Aren't you proud of me?") so I'll just call her C. Back then, the two of us were totally infatuated by that stupid sitcome Step by Step. I can't understand what I ever liked about it! It's not even good enough for Nick at Nite for Chrissake. Full House, Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Roseanne, America's Funniest Home Videos, Boy Meets World, Growing Pains- they all made the NaN cut. Step by Step was just too stupid. I think they still might play one episode at noon on weekdays on ABC Family. When you're unemployed or working nights, you watch a lot of daytime TV and when you take away news and soaps (both of which bore me to fucking tears) you end up watching ABC Family. And lots of SpongeBob SquarePants.

...I can't lie. I love SpongeBob SquarePants. I TiVo the episodes and watch them after my last shot of the night and drift off to the voices of Patrick, Squidward, Mr Krabs, Plankton, Sandy Cheeks, and good ol' SpongeBob himself. I know I'm legallly and physically an adult, but I never claimed to be mature, did I? I would never make a claim that I couldn't back up. It's just not my style.

Well earlier today I attempted to write on my other blog, attempted being the key word. I was nodding like a mother. I kept almost dropping the keyboard and almost certainly drooled on it. I kept having to backspace because my hand would land on the keyboard as I nodded, leaving something like this: lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll only 3 or 4 rows longer. Finally I got sick of trying and sick of fixing typos so I named the post "too high to finish" and left the typos at the end. I think it ends something like "thou loooooh" but I'm not exactly sure. Some sort of nonsense. I need to go somewhere where I can do a shot without feeling rushed. I'm needin' one. After being high all day then suddenly I'm not, it doesn't feel too good at all.

fire engine red

I am way way much too high for my liking right now. When I woke up at 10am I did a monster shot, perfect vein on the first try, the best hit of heroin I've had I think so far this year. I was scared shitless, I was the only person in the house and I wads trying to walk itoff by walking slow laps around the pool and deep breathing and eventually I was ok to lay on the out back bed and burn a cigarette which I burnt my self with caus I kept nodding out and burning my book too which I really couldnt read at that point I was just holding it on the first page. My book was One Flew OVer the Cookooos Nest and I have read like 50 pages into it so far today its a pretty good book plus In ever seen the movei so I don't know whats' going to happen next. I like that.

Then my mom came home and by that time I was even more ok and we went to the Dreher Park Zoo which was a ton of fun. I haven't had such a good time with my mom in a long time, since she found religion. Jesus suckde the fun right out of her or something cause ever since she was "born again" she's been a very boring uptight judgmenntal lady! I love her though she's my MAMA!!! My favorite animals we saw were even the same as hers- a Tiger, a Florida Pathner, some birds that were literallly fire engine red (so bright and beatufiful), and I forget what else. But then while we were at the zoo I decided that I needed another shot- a BIG shot like before. I popped the same vein open first try in the zoo bathroom by the Cafe and just about fucking fell out again. It scared me all over but it wasn't nearly as terrifying as my wake up shot had been. And it was easier to walk it off because we were marching around the zoo looking at all the animals. I nodded out in the car the wholeway home.

Then we got home and at about 7pm (an hour ago) my mom left for an Al Anon meeting which she goes to because I'm a junkie. It's kind of ironic that I wait for her to leave for Al Anon so I can shoot heroin right there on her couch without having to hide in the fucking bathroom, no? Well I did another biggie. At first I poured out so much that it scarred me just looking at it so I put some back.

I'm so glad I put some back!!!

Now I'm worse than I was this morning, the rush was excellent and only slightly scary but now I'm overheating and can't catch my breath and my pupils are itty bitty small and I can't feel anything and my throat feels weird like my heart is pounding right in it and I'm on the verge of throwing up but I know I'm not going to. This dope is fucking powerful. I need to be A LOT more careful. There's about 2 shots left if I make em as big as I've been making em, 3 shots left if I just put enough to get me high. I think I should make it into 3. But when I come down enough to forgethow scared I was all thre times, I'm gonna pile that shit into the spoon and do this all over again. I almost hope I miss some of my next shot cause it seems Ican'tt help myself I always put too much. And when I go to put water I even KNOW it's too much and I do it any way. Why, cause I'm a stupid fu cking junky and Im willing to rish my life for a good high. Brilliant huh.

**crappy Nokia** VS **shiny new Samsung**

I haven't felt like writing in a while... I think it's partly the meds I'm on, partly stress (arguments), and partly total disappointment in myself for going right back where I used to be before I went to detox. There was a stranger, some skinny dude in a white work van, asking my good friend Shane where I was.

"Come on dude, I've seen you with her dozens of times. Do you know she just got out of rehab and she's back to the same old shit?"

Turns out, we've never officially met. He's seen me walking down the street (a lot of the time with Shane cause he's just the best guy ever) and reads my blog (didn't specify which one..?) and now he's chasing my friends up and down the strip trying to talk to me and I guess scare me straight like that TV show [[scared straight]]. I need to stay away from psychotic assholes. Maybe I shouldn't have pictures on my blog- hell no! I just got a new phone FINALLY and it's a camera phone so the blog pics might change or be added to a lot in the next month or so.

That is, if I have the energy to figure out how to send email from my phone- so far I end up in the same little cycle and it doesn't let me type anything but numbers for email addresses. What a big pain in the ass. I'm glad to have a nice phone now, where I can download and check email and take pics and whatever. My old one is 2 more bounces off the concrete away from just disintegrating in a pile of plastic and dust. Problem is, I bought it off the street for $20 from some crackhead named John and his service isn't cancelled until the 20th. So until then, I'm stuck with my crappy Nokia until I can get that number onto the shiny new Samsung. I'm not changing my number for anyone.

I was away on a road trip to South Carolina with Greg it was fun except for our twice-daily arguments ending with FUCK YOU!!! YOU'RE JUST A HOOKER!! WELL YOU AIN'T SHIT BUT TRANSPORTATION!!! If you don't argue with somoene, you don't really care about them. I believe that from the bottom of my heart.I made a little money. But check it- I was gone 6 days and I didn't even go through the 12 bags I brought with me on the trip. That makes me feel so good about myself...

...gee whiz, Michelle, you're only sticking a needle full of poison directly into your veins twice a day, you must have this thing licked!!!

Dixie Highway Daily CrackHead News

Yes! I'm back!

Let me explain... I haven't been able to log into here for god damned ever. Lake Worth and Lantana library 'puters seem to have something against Blogger because it would take me to the login screen then when I typed in my password and whatnot, left it "loading" for the entire hour allotted to me. Fuck all that noise. I logged into my GMAIL first, then when I put in my url it automatically took me to the dashboard and I was all like hell yes. I like this better than JunkyLife cause it's more... what's the word... normal. JL is kewl, I gotta admit that, but sometimes it's better not to be set apart just cause of my habit. My entire life revolves around heroin- why do I have to blog on JL also? It's just another reminder. Hell, what am I talking about, I love blogging on JL. But this is my real home. And no, no one is paying me for my testimony. Ha ha.

So... I overdosed on heroin. That was fun. As I was waiting for my cousin to come pick me up and take me to Orlando, my girl came over with some heroin:

----

"Michelle, I just copped this stuff off [[you wouldn't know him anyway]], it is ridiculous, you gotta try it."

How can I say no to that face? Set me up, my quip is in the drawer.

"How much do you want? It's super strong, I did a pinky-nail-full and I'm balls to the mo-fuckin' wall. I wouldn't do a lot if I were you."

Gimme a break, Tara. I got way more of a tolerance than you. I do more dope than a rock star- I can handle it.

"It's my dope, and unless you feel like flipping me some cash I'm giving you how much I want to give you!"

Christ, have twenty. Set me up a big one.

"Kay, but don't say I didn't warn you!"

----

So I stuck myself and registered r-e-a-l quickly. "Awesome, I'm in on the first try!" I said to no one in particular, and that's the last thing I remember. Next thing I knew, it was 2 days later and I was in JFK hospital. Words started running through my head at random-

...overdose...

...CCU...

...Baker Act...

...gotta get out of here...

For those of you not from Florida, the Baker Act is a little something unique to the Sunshine State. It states that if you are (or someone believes you to be!) a danger to yourself or someone else, you are sent to the nearest locked mental health ward for up to 72 hours for a psychiatric evaluation. I've been BA'ed so many times they should call that shit the Michelle Act. I was NOT going back to South County Mental Health Center! Fuck that! So I left the hospital. Plus I was dopesick as I'd ever been and needed someone to give me a play.

The weekend got better after that. I pretty much continued getting high because "I won't make that mistake again!" or whatever. So the next week was just a crazed sequence of events that I'll just write down in no specific order. Mikey (crackhead Angela's man) got out of jail. Shane and Kim and I finally had a 3-way. [[some other dealer]] got chased by cops who knew he was coming and thought Shane set him up with the police so it made the headline of the Dixie Highway Daily CrackHead News (we wrote a letter to the editor, and they printed a retraction cause Shane hates cops more than I do). My stalker tried to break my door down. I fucked up my hand. I hung out with Chuck and his roomate shooting coke all night. I almost had to move AGAIN. Greg got fired and I tried to make him feel better with a meatball sub. [[another dealer]] is a total bitch and I don't understand why. Micheal hates the fuck out of me and still hasn't called. My cousin is super pissed at me for ditching her, even though I over dosed. I tried K for the first time and hated it. I have yellow shit leaking out of my arm. I think I have Herpes (in my mouth, nowhere else!!). I told Greg I loved him. My neighbor got arrested for selling crack. I met a new junkie and we want to be best friends but she shoots up in her neck-ew. I made a solemn promise never to shoot up in my neck.

Can you tell I'm high (hallucinogens? special K?) while I'm writing this?

[[...i feel ready to die but it's takin' so long; the world's so wicked, the world's so wrong; i keep holdin' on, keep tryin' to stay strong; the world's so wicked, the world's so wrong...]]

"my crack capital was $250"

Yes! Finally the library computer lets me log onto Blogger! Fucking excellent! So much has happened since I left my folks' house...

1) I moved into an efficiency in Lake Worth which is currently being painted, so the owners of the apt building moved me into an apt twice the size of the efficiency for the same price. Now I have couches and 2 TVs in case I ever want company (which I usually don't).

2) I got on methadone and have (pretty much) quit shooting up. For about a week there I was only using marijuana and alcohol, until yesterday, when I shot 5 bags all at once which caused me to feel shitty enough about myself to start smoking crack. I only smoked half of what I bought, nasty garbage. It's still chilling in my drawer for the next crackhead who darkens my door. It will be like the One Millionth Crackhead to enter my apt will recieve a prize of... crack. Creative, no?

3) I went to the South Florida Fair... twice! Once with my parents to see the animals and the exhibits and all that stuff, and once with my fellow hoes (Diamond, Molly, and Amy- the Fucked Up Four) with ride bracelets to ride all the rides. My mom told me that gyros are made out of lamb and now I can never eat them again. I always thought it was beef. At least I got to have my candy apple, and fried dill pickle, and sausage hoagie, and kettle corn, and elephant ear with blueberry shit all over it, and huge baked potato covered in cheese, and all the other totally unhealthy foods that you eat at the county fair right before going on the Gravitron.

[[DIAMOND: I know you're reading this, you're a bitch for that Gravitron thing. Just kidding, ya know I love ya, crazy ho.]]

4) It was on the news, so it's official- Palm Beach County is the "crack capital" of America! Now if that doesn't inspire town pride, then nothing will. No wonder every other person I know smokes crack, and every third person sells it. I knew it would be in Florida somewhere, but what surprises me is that we beat Miami- I'd have bet all I had that Liberty City alone was the crack capital. I can't get into the whole crack scene, but I do like the phrase "crack capital." It sounds like your net income when you're selling the shit, no? "I had to spend $300 last night but I sold about $550 worth of dope, so my crack capital was $250." Yes! That is funny. I'm gonna be laughing about that shit all day.

5) I been doing nothing but smoking pot, playing GameCube, and watching satellite TV since quitting heroin. My dealers won't stop calling me! "I got fire." "I'll front you some." Well not all of them, but enough that it drives me up the wall. So I smoked this pot that I was warned about and went to the bar for a couple drinks. Four hours and ten drinks later, the visuals from whatever hallucinogenic substance was on my marijuana are still kicking my ass. So I stumble home only to be stopped by 2 cops who were probably normal-sized men but I was tripping hard so they were DINOSAUR SIZED. I'm surprised they didn't take me to jail what with the way I was acting.

6) Micheal has stopped calling. God I love him and miss him.

[i will update more often from now on...]