look at my sweet baby!

She can pull herself up on furniture and people now, and today she stood all by herself for about 3-4 seconds before toppling over.

This is after Jazzie ate a bagel with cream cheese all by herself- she practically used it as a napkin.

July 4th tea party pics- my favorite sign was "stop foreign aid".

Took me long enough, I know, but finally new pictures of fat baby. I am using Firefox now, no more shitty Internet Explorer! IE wouldn't let me upload my pictures, it just shut the picture folder every time I tried to upload anything from the folder to this blog or a message board or anything. Also it wouldn't let me log into gmail (I got 2 accounts and it wouldn't allow me into either) or play certain online games and AIM closes down while I'm talking and it froze up all the time- basically acted shitty all the time. Fuck Internet Explorer! No problems so far with Firefox. Silly name for a browser, but whatever. I'm not exactly a "computer person", I spend a lot of time online but it's mostly making money or writing or talking to other folks on message boards or chat rooms or AIM.

Jasmyne eats everything that I eat. Fettuccine alfredo, chicken pot pie, macaroni and cheese, lasagna, spaghetti and meat sauce, pizza, chicken with rice, squash soup, guacamole, bagels with cream cheese, grilled cheese and pickle sandwiches, salmon fillets, everything. I'm so glad that she's not a picky eater, on top of all her damn allergies. She eats healthful food, and a hell of a lot of it. An average meal for her: macaroni with meat sauce, mushrooms and leeks, blueberries, cherries, avocado, little pieces of cheese, green beans, a banana, and some yogurt or cottage cheese. I think she eats more than me volume-wise, without allowing for proportion. It's nuts. I really love that big baby- she's about 20 pounds now (apparently she's slightly below average, weight-wise).

I think Greg and I are broken up, but I'm not sure. He showed up past midnight, ranting and raving and telling me to wake up the baby which really pissed me off, especially in light of our discussion THAT SAME MORNING where I had told him to back off a little bit and not jump 9 feet up my ass. I told him to get the fuck out of my house because I'm not into that stupid jealous high-school shit. The next day I sent him an email saying that with much more detail, and he hasn't responded since. It's been over a week. If he hates me forever now, I want my fucking stroller back.

Sobriety is grating on me, I'm so goddamn exhausted all the time (hep C?) no matter how much I sleep and it would make my life ever so much easier to get some ups. It's not worth it of course, baby Jaz is the most important thing and it needs to stay that way. Just sometimes it's fucking difficult. What I need to find is a young mother who shares my... interests. That would be just awesome.

In closing, I really really really really really really hate Obama. He can't be stupid, you can't get elected president if you're stupid, so why does he do so much stupid shit? Cap-and-trade, to "create jobs" in industries we just don't have the technology for? "Oh, we don't want people to use any fossil fuels... or nuclear power, because that's evil... so we will tax the SHIT out of oil and gas until y'all use something else." But there isn't anything fucking else that's possible and affordable. If solar power or wind power was efficient, people would be making money in these industries. It isn't efficient, affordable, or really useful AT ALL. So the solution of course is to punish Americans for not having another choice in energy. Liberals in action. God I hate that man. Obongo the fucking asswipe.

the illusion that you're doing something fun

I've been a drug addict (by choice!) for years, but it wasn't just about drugs. It's more about excitement and doing something fun. I'd want to go out and have some crazy adventures, in fact that's why this blog began- to chronicle all the crazy shit that went down in my life on a near-daily basis. And in my using days, even when nothing interesting happened, I felt like something had. Because sitting in a motel room all night smoking crack and not going near the door gives you the illusion that you're doing something fun. Either that or it makes you not give a shit, possibly even a combination of the two. But since it would NOT be advantageous to me or the baby for me to start doing drugs again, (Greg- that's how you use that word properly) I need to find something to do along with a babysitter while I do it.

I love my kid, there's no question about that. She's funny, she's cute, she's usually happy, she's smart, she does a lot of silly things, she's the best kind of baby and I would probably never be truly happy again if I lost her. But she is a 6-month-old baby, and 6-month-old babies are boring. Here is my day: go to the methadone clinic, go to [the playground/Okeeheelee Park's nature trail/the mall/baby story hour/the grocery store], feed the baby, play with the baby, sit around the house with the baby, go to the playground/grocery store again, think up a soy-free dairy-free nut-free seafood-free egg-free dinner that will taste good, feed baby, put baby to bed, go online. Occasionally I go to Greggie's house and do the same things over there. I am very happy, but as an excitement junkie I am fucking bored as shit.

Last weekend I left Jazzie at Greg's house and went out with my parents to see Monsters Vs Aliens: The IMAX 3-D Experience. Great movie, not exciting. I need something to do, but nothing that could hurt the baby or get her taken away from me. My poor brother is bored too, I told him that if it was just me we would have already left on an exciting road trip. He said we should do it and bring Jaz, but then it would be boring.

Hell, I'm going to Disneyworld at the beginning of next month, to celebrate my freedom from the liquid handcuffs (methadone). I am at 5mg a day and feeling like total shit! But this bitch is strong, and I ain't gonna fuck it up. Y'all can hold me to that. If only I could find something fun to do...

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?

a little knowledge never hurt anyone

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that lemon-sucking-lookin' old hag

I'm having a girl!

Just found it out on last week's ultrasound. I'm 23 weeks (damn near 6 months!), the baby is at 1 pound 12 oz and extremely active and healthy, my stomach is ENORMOUS (I've never weighed over a buck thirty-five in all my 22 years on earth, and now I'm close to a buck fifty!), and the baby is almost definitely female. I wanted a girl right from the start, when I first learned I was pregnant- well, maybe not right away, more when I first accepted that I was pregnant and had to do something about it besides shooting heroin and hoping everything would work out ok. I'm gonna name her Jasmyne- Jazzie or Jaz would be the nickname, which I like also. I should be happy about all this...

...but for some reason I'm not. I'm starting to seriously resent this little girl, and she isn't even born yet. I suppose that makes me a bad person, and honestly I don't care one way or another if folks think I'm awful. I don't live to impress a damn soul on this earth and I'm not gonna start now. But I don't like feeling like a terrible person to myself- that matters to me while other people's opinions never have. Part of me is excited about having a kid - especially a daughter! - while part of me wishes this whole thing had never happened. I wish I hadn't got myself knocked up, wish I hadn't signed up for the methadone program, wish I hadn't been forced to move in with my parents, wish I could still shoot coke every once in a while without agonizing over the repercussions. I find myself blaming poor little unborn Jaz when I know full well that all of this is my fault and my decision.

I'm pissed off because I lost my freedom to choose what I wanted to do to myself and my body. Mind-altering chemicals and botanicals have been my comfort and my crutch for many years, and suddenly these same substances could turn me from a casual drug user committing a victimless crime into a cold-blooded murderer. Shit, I don't want to be a fucking murderer! So I got on methadone in order to stop heroin (my ob/gyn told me that because of my substantial habit, even a medically controlled detox would put the baby at risk for neonate abstinence syndrome [NAS] which could cripple or even kill her and that methadone maintenance was the best and safest route for both me and the baby- so all those haters who diss me for my 'done habit can go fuck themselves), stopped sticking needles in myself, stopped taking xanax and valium, stopped chewing up strong painkillers, stopped abusing psych meds (or taking them at all), stopped my occasional coke parties, stopped smoking rock, stopped even THINKING about meth, stopped working the streets, stopped taunting the police, stopped hanging out with my junkie buddies, stopped eating so much McDonalds, pretty much gave up my life. I can hear the shit-slingers now: "What life? Sucking dick on the street for a pathetic shot of dope to keep you from puking and seizuring isn't a life!" and all that bullshit. But believe it or not, you can get used to anything and once you get used to something, it becomes familiar and comfortable. I may not have been happy doing what I did, but there was no doubt in my mind that I was very comfortable and had no real thoughts of changing my life. That is, until Jasmyne's existence was discovered and made a reality.

Now, I'm even trying to quit smoking cigarettes! I'll admit I'm not succeeding, but I am down to 2-4 cigarettes a day which is less than I've ever smoked. Even when I stopped drugs and started doing good for baby, I couldn't go below 10 cigs (half a pack) per day. Greggie took me to Cracker Barrel and bought 100 of those candy sticks to help with the oral fixation. He told me that I needed something to suck on when he wasn't around. Jaz is currently very healthy with no ill effects from my smoking, but if I keep going with it, things may change for the worse- so quitting smoking (or even cutting down a lot, which is what I've actually accomplished) is a very good thing.

So why do I hate it so much?

I stare longingly at the 3 coffin-nails I've allotted myself for the day and anticipate lighting them, smoking them, tasting them. Mmmmmmmm, delicious nicotine. I don't know if I can stop, I'm having a hell of a time just keeping my smoke-intake down to a couple. I feel like it's the only chemical pleasure I have left, and it's being taken away from me like the rest of it was- yes, I know, all my fault, the baby is innocent and I am guilty as charged. This is just how I think a lot of the time and my blog is the perfect place for these irrational thoughts since it's my blog. I'm smoking more pot than normal, substituting a joint or bowl for a cig when I have really bad nic-attacks. Reefer may be bad for us (me and Jaz), but it's better for us than cigs, especially since this pot-overload is only temporary until I either manage to quit completely, or give up and start smoking my 10 cigs a day again. I hate not smoking and am very resentful that I'm being "forced" to stop, but in reality no one is forcing me- I just want this little girl to have every chance I can give her, especially after all the BS I put her through, intentionally or unintentionally, in the first 2 months of her pre-existence. I don't want to give up on this smoking cessation thing. I've got an appointment with a drug-free hypnotist who claims to help folks kick the habit- can't hurt, right? I'm gonna come outta this a winner. Jasmyne is gonna come out of this a winner! Hooray!

I've been having bad nightmares interspersed with drug-dreams every night, in fact just about every time I sleep at all even to take an hour-long nap. I'm gonna try to increase my dose at the meth clinic which is supposed to combat cravings and put the brakes on those dope filled dreams. They wouldn't be a problem, but shooting up in my dreams feels so goddamn real that when I wake up I'm actually dopesick (although only for a few minutes), shaking, and drenched in nasty cold sweat. It sucks!

The clinic isn't running real smoothly at the moment though. Apparently there was some sort of illegal shit going on behind the scenes (to the best of my knowledge it involved money but not drugs) and corporate came and fired just about everyone. There is one counselor left (not mine) and 2 nurses. Today both nurses had a sour-faced old lady (I assume someone from the corporate office?) hanging out literally over their shoulders while they gave out the bottles of 'done. The poor nurses were doing everything super obviously, explaining shit that didn't have to be explained and basically making the very long line move slowly. All take-homes have been put on hold, which makes the daily lines 4x longer than usual. I feel bad for the nurses- obviously they did something right since they kep their jobs, and yet they are being watched by that lemon-sucking-lookin' old hag. Sucks to be them- and sucks to be us, in them long-ass lines!

Other than the random hate in my head, things have been pretty cool. I been to the beach 3 or 4 times in the past 2 weeks (but haven't been to the same beach twice yet- a definite perk of living in SoFla!) and swimming in the pool even more than that. I got my first sunburn of the summer, followed by the second and the third. So far I've visited Singer Island beach, Lake Worth beach, Boynton Beach boat docks (which has a beach within walking distance), Ft Lauderdale beach, and Hollywood beach- summer hasn't even started yet! I love the beach, and the ocean, and going swimming- basically I love living in this part of the US. Greg and I are each buying a water donut (he calls it an "inner tube" or "tire tube", but it's still a water donut) to take in the ocean so we can tan right in the ocean- get dark without getting overheated. Floating around on the waves on a big inflated water donut... I'm so excited. I bet they sell big water donuts at Walmarts, seeing that they sell damn near everything.

That's it! Now just replies... and I've been looking forward to answering these comments since I started reading 'em!!

**selected replies**

"As your kid starts growing up, like all children, he'll be FULL of questions. So are you going to tell him the truth? Will you tell him you are a heroin addict and a prostitute?"

When she is old enough to understand? Of course I will! I'm not gonna lay the truth on her on her first week of kindergarten of course, but I'm gonna try to be honest with my kid. If she asks, I'll tell her all about the bullshit I went through with drugs. Hell, maybe she'll learn from MY mistakes instead of having to make the same mistakes of her own. And I'll teach her that her body is nothing to be ashamed of! Hah! I swear, I'd be a nudist if it wasn't against the law. Stupid indecent exposure laws. What retard decided that the human body was "indecent" anyhow?

"And you are an idiot if you believe she is not still doing heroin. And smoking pot every day also means you are a drug addict."

Why do you believe me when I say I smoke pot every day, but you don't believe me when I say I'm not doing heroin? Am I a liar, or not? You can't have it both ways. Either doubt every word I write on here, or believe it all- otherwise you're just a stupid hypocrite.

"I was 'staying' somewhere michelle was. Greg came to pick her up. I even saw the famous camper. Remember?She took this picture in a RV show. Always a liar."

Before you accuse me of lying, read. When did I claim that camper as my own, or even Greg's? No, it was not taken at an RV show, and neither does it belong to Greggie. It's Greg's parents' camper, parked in their front yard! I just posed for and posted those pics because I had been called trailer trash a couple times and thought it would be appropriate. But no, I did not lie because I never said that was my/Greg's camper. Cool? Good.

"Hey Rob, how far did you chase after camper as it was leaving ?Are you more pissed that she's told everyone that you have a needle dick or that she's told everyone that you have a needle dick that you can't even keep hard ?You still going to push for a paternity test big boy ?"

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Jesus H Christ on a fucking rubber crutch, that is the funniest thing I've read in a long time! Thank you, whoever wrote that! Hahahahahaha!

"What happened to the DC Madam???"

I have no idea what that's about...

"Who is Margie Schoedinger?"

I have no idea what that's about...

"A dead nigger who accused Bush of rape ? -Shelley"

I have no idea what that's about either, but I didn't write that anywhere. Sure, I throw around "the n-word" but I don't know what any of this is about. Remember, anything I write on the comments section is signed with the blue name (michelle or shelley) and it links to one of my profiles. If it's by "anonymous" with my name typed at the bottom- it's an imposter! Hah! Why would anyone actually WANT to be me, even for pretend?

"Those bathing suit pics. How many weeks are you in those?"

20 or 21 weeks- that was right at the beginning of my 5th month.

"Your blog was so good only with the stories that you write.Don't put more pictures, sorry but is not working."

Did ya see the first part of the sentence that ya wrote? The part where it says "your blog"? Well, what that means to me is that I can post whatever the hell I want. Thanks for your random uncalled-for opinion though. I like my pics and am not ashamed of what I look like, even though I am getting quite fat and round. So, in the immortal words of Eric Cartman of South Park: "Whateva! Whateva, bitch, I do what I want!"

Thank you all for reading!

sobriety is boring

Um, yeah. A picture taken somewhere on Dixie Highway which is neither recent nor really good. But I have no pics and I'm kind of enjoying putting pics on just about every blog post, so here one is. Greg got some new pictures of me today while I was swimming and they will go up as soon as he gets 'em to me. Greg wants me to go to a counter and tile show in central Florida! Argh! As much as I love going places with him, I don't really want to go to a counter and tile show. Well, I bet we'll find some way to enjoy ourselves... :)

My baby bro came home from college which is cool but all his little friends ("the melvins") came with him which was not cool. The first night, there were like 6 of 'em and I tolerated 'em. The second night, there were like 12 of 'em and I was getting PISSED OFF ! ! ! I had a major bug up my butt, no question about it. They were so fucking loud, plus I was preggo-pissy, plus I hadn't smoked any pot (or used anything else, but then I don't anymore) for a couple days, plus I was lonely and horny- bad combination. I was yelling at the poor bastards, telling them to shut the fuck up and why are they still here, etc. To my credit, it had been 48 hours and they were still here bein' loud. Goddamn melvins! Finally Greg came over and helped me out in all sorts of different ways. We went to the ocean, then ate at IHOP (stuffed french toast kicks ass, even though it's more cake than breakfast), then slept in the parking lot of said IHOP. Nice, huh? While eating Greggie started asking the waitress if IHOP used to be called "the pancake house" and she just stared at him. It was hilarious. That was Friday night.

The rest of the week- hell. Nothing interesting AT ALL. Sobriety is boring. I sprained my shoulder and got tendonitis in it. The chiropractor couldn't even fuck with it cause it was too swollen. That was the interesting part of my week- see what my life has come to? At least I have pot and cigs- without that, I'd probably go crazy. I am off all the psych meds after all...

Oh one thing- I finally felt the baby move. I'm 20 weeks now (5 months) and I felt something like being flicked from the inside. 'Twas very cool!

GOOD SONG OF THE DAY: all my life by Foo Fighters

$$ SELECTED REPLIES $$

"Don't you have any non-whore shorts you can wear?"

Oh shit... you must be new to this blog. Allow me to introduce myself: Hi! My name is Michelle and I was a hooker for 4+ years, but I still trick on the side. I live in South Florida where it's 90 degrees on the daily. And the answer to your question? No- HELLS no! My outfit consists of whore shorts, whore skirts, and wife-beaters (whorish ones). That's just the way it is.

"I think that is what really distinguishes the good blogs from the bad. MORE PICS!!!!!! :)"

Thanks! Plus pictures make everything more fun.

"Wondering if you had a pictures of the Sweet corn Fashion show which showcased right before the competions."

Nope... sorry babes.

"Who would have thought, you, corn eating contest. You are full of surprises, arn't you???Loved it...I would never had had the guts to post this. You are so real..Good for you......"

What do you mean by that? Is it embarrassing or something? Honestly, I forget what's embarrassing since it's just about impossible to embarrass me... seriously. I post stuff for strangers to read that "normals" wouldn't discuss with friends. I'm real huh? I try to be. Fake isn't much fun.

"Do you own any clothes besides teeny tiny shorts and tanktops?"

Technically, yes I do- I have pants and hoodies too. But it's hot as shit down here in south Florida, and... wait. Am I explaining my clothing choices to a stranger? What the fuck has gotten into me! I love my tricksuits!

"Well… why does one expose their entire life to the general public in the form of a blog? It’s because they want feedback.If they didn’t want feedback, then it wouldn’t be public.Do you really think Michelle or anybody else has the right to squash anybody else’s opinions in a public forum? The same basic right that allows Michelle the ability to blog whatever she wants is given to same people who feel the need to criticize.If she doesn’t like it, don’t put it out there for others to read."

THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO SAY FOR A YEAR NOW!!!!!! I don't moderate comments, I allow anonymous, I answer flames. Why? Because I do like getting feedback. I don't really mind anyone making fun of what I write, and if there was something I was particularly sensitive about (didn't want trash talked about) I wouldn't post it on this flamer-filled blog. No one has the right to censor anybody else. Thanks Jake for posting this- I think a lot of people who come here need to understand that. You have said some pretty harsh shit to me on here- but that's because you have the absolute god-given fucking RIGHT to speak (type) your mind. Good for you!

"Personally, even though i like Michelles blog I don't really know her. I mean c'mon, she could really be a 80 year old granny in Liverpool freaking England, laughing her little wrinkled Liverpool ass off at us. "

Yes! You figured me out, ya bloody wanker! Get off my lawn! Where's my teeth? Hahahaha! Would this be proof enough: give me something to do or hold or whatever, and I'll take a pic of me doing or holding whatever ya said. Nothing sexual, cause I like staying on this site. Suggestive don't bother me though... I'm not really trying to "prove" anything, I just like games and this sounds like a fun one! Hooray for games!!

"I was at Wal Mart today and I saw your exact pink and white shorts!"

I think it's like a law that all white trash has to buy their (new) clothes at Walmarts. The only other options? Used clothes: thrift stores, garage sales, Salvation Army, rummaging through dead friend's trailers, etc. Keeping with that law, yes, my shorts did come from Walmarts. Don't tell me yer surprised.

typical black person

Chronicles of impatience and drug cravings...

It is winter all of the sudden! It's been hot as the seventh level of hell since before Christmas, actually since LAST winter, and all of the sudden I wake up yesterday morning and it's 60 degrees! This morning it was 52 degrees and I refused to get on the bus to go the clinic. I don't have clothing designed for 52 degree weather- I live in a state with no winter! You can't get much souther than SoFla (in the US, I mean), and it's APRIL- it has no right being this goddamn cold. The next "informed" asshole who talks to me about global warming is getting kicked right in the fuckin' nuts.

Yesterday I went to the new ob/gyn for my first appointment with him. My appt was at 145pm, and I guess I was about 5 minutes late. When I got there, I walked up to the desk and noticed there was no paper for signing in, which I thought was a standard practice at all dr offices. So I asked the receptionist (that is a long word, so from now on I will refer to the receptionist as "the lady" cause it's shorter and I have a feeling that word will come up a few more times while typing this story, k?) if I should sign in. The lady says no, just sit down. So I sit down.

At about 230, the lady points to me and asks me what my name is, and why didn't I sign in- the same lady who told me I didn't have to when I asked. I brought this point up, and she responds with, "I was on the phone." Fun start for an impatient moody bitch like me. To add to my frustration, the waiting room was about the size of the living room in a single-wide trailer, and all 5 (or 6?) seats were taken as well as all the standing room. Hell, all the oxygen was taken and it was hotter than holy hell in that waiting room. So I go stand outside, leaving the door open so I can hear my name when it's called. The lady tells me to close the door, which I did until she went back into the little office-thingy behind the window and then swung it the fuck back open.

At about 250, I went up and asked what the bloody hell is taking so goddamn long. Actually, I didn't say that. I asked how much longer it would be, because I had somewhere to be at 4pm. It was actually my mom who had to be somewhere at 4, but she was my ride and I was pretty fucking far from home. East side of PB Lakes Blvd- those of you who know where I live (and know SoFla) can appreciate how far that is. The lady asks where I have to be at 4. I tell her that it's actually my ride who has a prior commitment, and that was why I made a 145 appt instead of later... not that it's any of her damn business where I have to be. She says I will be the next one called, so I stay in the oxygenless waiting room figuring it won't be much longer. At about 330, after 3 more women were called back, I went back to the lady. Here is a basic transcript of our conversation:

me: What's going on? I thought you said I was next.
her: You are next.
me: You said that over half an hour ago, but I've watched 3 people get called since you told me that. Can I just reschedule? I can't stay much longer- it has been almost 2 hours.
her: Okay, can you be here tommorrow at 730am?
me: Can it be later than that? I'm busy mornings [this is not just a lie to sleep late, I have to take the stoopid Palm Tran city bus to and from the methadone clinic every damn morning and usually don't get home until 8pm. The clinic, of course, is in the opposite direction of the dr's office].
her: Why can't you be here in the mornings? Where do you have to be and why?
me: I just can't.
her: Why?
me: Does it really matter why? I can't be here that early!
her: Just tell me- is it something court ordered? What is it?
me: I'm sorry, but I don't see how it's any of your business. [what I didn't say: "You're so worried about what I'm doing at 4 and what I do in the mornings when you can't figure out the schedules of when people are supposed to see the dr! That could be my scheduled masturbation time for all you know, or I could be on house arrest and can't leave until 9am! Maybe I don't want to tell you nothing! Why don't you work on making sure people don't have to wait 2 hours when they have an appointment- you know, your job, that thing you get payed to do- and let me worry about my personal life." It would have been fun, but I held my tongue.]
her: Okay, how is 1030am tommorrow?
me: Sounds great to me.

So I left at about 340pm, which was 1 hour 50 minutes spent sitting in that sweltering waiting room with both thumbs up my ass. I went back today at 1030am, like I was sposed to, and only had to wait an hour, but most of that time was spent in the exam room by myself (sweet, sweet oxygen!) instead of the Haitian-packed waiting room. Oops, that was racist like Obama! I meant Guatpacked, not Haitan-packed! Hah! Obama's grandmother was a "typical white person!" Hah! She raised him because his [black] dad split on him. Doesn't that make him a... "typical black person"? You can't say typical black person, that's RACIST!!! God how I love laughing at hypocrisy.

What if I say that black people smell bad and so do their neighborhoods, and even if I could vote (I'm a convicted felon so I can't) I would never vote a nigger into office, especially a nigger who hates whites and is proud to hate whites, especially a nigger who hates whites with the middle name of Hussein!?! Is that racist? It is? GOOD!!! I don't care, I'm not running for president. I'm allowed to be racist.

I have a FUCKING MIGRAINE FROM HELL!!!!! It's just now starting to fade, but I got it around 130pm (it is now 7pm). I tried everything: ice packs, laying in the quiet darkness, homeopathic migraine remedy that you rub on your forehead, tylenol, going to the chiropractor, chain-smoking, not smoking, and finally 4 Excedrin Migraine. I saved that for last cause pregnant bitches aren't supposed to have aspirin, but the only other thing that works every time for migraines is heroin. I figured the Excedrin was the lesser of two evils. And guess what? It worked... a little bit. Still achy, which is annoying.

I miss shooting up. Also I'm out of weed. Hopefully SOMEONE (you know who you are) will hook me up because of the favor I did for SOMEONE.

$$REPLIES$$

libby: Cook? I can barely make macaroni and cheese! My talents lie elsewhere. Sashimi kicks ass, but preggos aren't sposed to eat raw fish. That sucks the big hairy one, especially last night when my dad took me to a Chinese/Japanese restaurant and I stared longingly at the sushi bar before ordering lo mein.

jamie: If I can stay off drugs (when I say "drugs" I'm including booze and pharmies, but not weed) until the baby is born, I'll probably get someone to watch him/her for a little bit and get myself a reward shot. Not right away, and only once. Hah... only once. What a fucking joke.

anonymous 1: Thanks for that! My brother is awesome, and he did that haircut for some kind of performance either for class or for an extra curricular activity. It looked cute in person, that pic didn't do him justice but it was the only one I got before he left again so I posted the fucker. It does look terrible in the pic though- I will give you that.

coke addiction kinda sucks: Sorry bro.

connie: Are you sure you want to start with me on here? I guess so. I like when people I know in real life come online and "make requests" such as that one, cause I get to speak my mind without them being able to walk away or hang up on me. If you don't read this- I don't care. 'Twas fun to write. "Leave my son alone." You talk like your son is in jr high school and you just found out he was smoking pot with the big kids. Last I checked, he is a GROWN UP who is perfectly capable of deciding who he does (and doesn't) want to spend time with. In case you weren't aware: HE got in touch with me and told me he had to talk to me, it's important. Don't believe me? It's on the comments section, right here. I bet you're even the one who pointed him here after he and I hadn't spoken for... what, months? Yeah, months. All I did is do what he asked me to do- call him at home, visit him at the store during his break, etc. You have no right to tell me what to do. If I want to see him while he's on break (read: on his OWN time outside of your house), the only person who can really tell me no is HIM. Not you. DEFINITELY not you. I do what I want, when I want and you can't do shit about it, because you have no authority over me. Maybe you have authority over your 23-year-old son, but that's only because he lets you. If you want us not to see each other, talk to him. There is at least a SMALL chance that he will listen to you, while with me you don't have a snowball's chance in hell. Let your adult son be a fucking man- he does have balls, you know. Trust me- I've played with them. Boo-ya!

jimmy: Connie isn't my mother (thank god for that!) or Luke's mother. She was almost my mother-in-law at one point, but it didn't happen. Don't talk about stuff you know absolutely nothing about, cause you come out sounding like an ignorant asshole... k?

anonymous 2/connie: Oooh, venom! Scary! By the way, I still haven't forgotten the time you woke up my folks at 330am, threatening to call the police if I didn't return the iPod that MWS sold me for cash money- regardless of what he may have spent the money on, hah. You call the police more than 911 operators! Feel free to keep calling 'em- I now have nothing to fear.

Until next time, my dear friends and enemies and acquaintances and strangers!

okay fuckers, here's some pics

Okay fuckers, here's some pics... let's see if this works. The first one is me and Kitty, this cat I had for a while. The other one is me and my ex-roommate Joe, who my long-time readers will remember passed away late last year. I don't know how this format will look, but another thing I don't know is how to fix it. Well, as long as they show up, right? By the way- all pics, these and any after these, are all taken by GREGGIE!!! Thanks baby! Check your damn email, my mom's computer was down when I woke up from yesterday's nap, that's why I didn't email back OR update (ya notice that, either?). Whatever. I'm sure you'll get over it soon. Just kidding- love ya baby!!

More pics are coming, as well as more recent pics, so be patient. I just had to prove I wasn't as hideous as that dude I've never met claimed I was. I never claimed to be gorgeous either- all I said is that I'm prettier than any other girl on Dixie (well, maybe with one exception) but that doesn't matter no more cause I'm not on Dixie anymore!

2 months clean bitches! Whoooo! I am on methadone, at the local clinic (West Palm Beach Treatment Center). I'm on 50mg, which doesn't block dope- or so I've heard since I haven't tested the theory. Should I add "yet" there, or would that be jinxing myself? I been busy swimming, taking the gay Palm Tran bus over to the clinic and back (far), watching Oz on DVD (God, what a good fucking show- shameless plug, I know. The most unrealistic shit I've ever seen, but I suppose if it was realistic all we'd see is the prisoners eating lunch, farting, playing cards, and sleeping and it would be boring as hell. Sucks it went off the air.), going to Wal-Mart more than any person should, talking to Greggie, and visiting my ex (Micheal) at his workplace. No time to do hits, ya know? I suppose it's a good thing. Right????

Completely clean, too. I haven't even smoked weed for like, a week. I don't blame anyone for thinking I'm lying here- I don't believe me at this point...

at least it's not heroin

I did coke last night. It wasn't a lot, hell I only got 2 good shots out of it even though it was quite powerful. Usually when I do coke I do a shot of heroin to come off it, but this time I didn't have any (and wasn't planning on buying any) so I came down the only way I could- by getting stoned out of my fucking gourd. At least it's not heroin. I guess I just opened the door for shit-talkers, but I don't much care. Blah blah blah with your bullshit and your hate. I know I don't lose any sleep over it. This blog was created and is maintained for 2 reasons: 1) because it's fun, and 2) because I support free speech. The haters are just having fun (?) and using their right of free speech, so why should it bother me? That's exactly what blogs are about- open forums of discussion.

You know what's been plaguing my mind lately? Thoughts of h. I know it takes a while to get rid of the cravings, but hell. I got almost a month off- 23 days, or perhaps 24, I haven't been keeping such good track lately. Here's my current obsession involving h. I haven't called my main dealer "Jose" in a while, and he lives very close to where I am staying. If I called him, he'd be here in like 3 seconds with a couple freebies just to get me back on the bus. He's used to hearing from me every day, and I know he left voice messages on my turned-off phone. Then I sneak the shots and have to start over. What a fun fantasy, huh? NOT!

Opiophile.org is down! I am a sad sad girl, and I think I need to fix my links now that half the sites I "promote" are down or pieces of shit by now.

Greggie if you're reading, I sent you an email.

back to your stable

A quick message to whoever fucked with my google account so I couldn't get in- you SUCK! That inconvenienced me for like, 10 minutes you fucker!

Back to your stable, Greggie? Who you got workin' for ya? Anyone I know? Where you gettin' the crack for them hoes? Hahahahahahahahahaha! I really miss you and I'm glad you're letting me do what I hafta do. I'm glad I've known "the pimp dude" long enough to be able to tell his posts from the posers.

2 1/2 weeks off by now, fucking marijuana maintenance. Talk your shit. I don't care. I haven't done anything at all for weeks, my phone has been off, anyone who knows me in person can attest to that. I'm scared of getting stuck back on heroin and I'm not gonna let it happen. Even if I have to move back home.

I like the "classics" of shit-talking. Are you actually too dumb to come up with your own shit to spew at me? Come on- you couldn't ask for an easier target.

"if they're dead, I can get the rest of their shit"

That's too much shit to reply to, but yeah. Appreciate all the love and hate and support and criticism and accusations and whatnot. Hooray for popularity/infamy! What I will say is that Greg ("the pimp" to use flamerese) is doing some sort of job in another town in Florida and will be back tomorrow. There really isn't much construction work right now in SoFla, because there's so much shit already built that no one will buy or even rent. Everyone is trying to get the fuck out of here cause living here costs a damn fortune, even in the hood. So no, my man didn't run out on me. He's contributing to the cause of Shelley and Greggie not being broke anymore. Hooray for "the pimp"! Also, I really am pregnant, don't much care whether you believe it or not, and am desperately trying to quit partying. I'm just stuck like chuck.

So I made it a whole 5 days with no heroin! Lil bit of booze, lil bit of pills (weak ones, just to take the edge off cause w/d is bad for pregnant bitches), tons and tons of weed- but no dope or coke or crack [the "majors"]. I was truly proud of myself. Then I fucked it up. The problem with me is, it's all or nothing. I'll stay clean for a minute, but when I "relapse" (I wasn't exactly in a program, so I dunno if it's a relapse) I don't just do 1 or 2 bags. I did 13
bags (1 buy and 2 "gifts") and woke up the next morning still high- for a little bit. Then I started slipping into hell. I was S I C K. Wanted to die, but I would never actually kill myself. Talk about it sometimes when I'm hurting real bad, but I'm too scared to do it. I don't want to go to hell.

I stayed clean (with the help of loricets and valium) the whole fucking day, and Thursday too. Friday I bought 3 bags and did 'em up real quick, resisting the urge to buy more more more. Right when I got it, I was shaking and dry heaving so I hauled ass to one of the "spots" around the city, more specifically the one by [you didn't think I was stupid enough to post the exact locations of the local shooting galleries, did you?] and I knocked first, but no one answered (it's not a person's house or anything) so I went in and I see this couple, Tony and Olivia, that I have known for a long time (I guess you could call 'em friends, it's more like we look out for each other on the street what with exchanging connections, giving each other free bags/hits, ya know, street friends). In fact, Olivia is one of the only 3 Dixie hoes I can stand to be in the same room with. But anyway they are both big-time junkies, way the fuck worse than me. WAY THE FUCK WORSE.

I open the door of the "spot" and both Tony and Olivia are flopped on the ground in weird angles, passed the fuck out, needles sticking out their arms. I thought they were both dead, I about had a fucking heart attack. And you know the first thought that went through my mind? "If they're dead, I can get the rest of their shit- it's obviously fire." I am a sick, sick, person, no? I got rid of that thought as quickly as it came and went over to see if they were ok. Both were breathing, both had pulses, so I shook 'em awake.

me: yo, baby, baby, wake up, you don't even know what you look like right now! you gotta get outta here!
olivia: wha? where?
me: you guys nodded out in [the junkie spot].
o: no fucking way what time is it?
me: about 11am
tony: bullshit! we got here at 7.
me: you know what, you are SO fucking lucky that it was me who found you. First off, could've been police. If it wasn't police, it would have been someone that would call the police over shit like that. If it was another junky, you would've been robbed. So you better be thanking god that I'm the one who found y'all.
o: [checks her bra and counts her dope bags to insure that I indeed didn't steal any] good lookin' out.
me: hey, you can look out for me?
t: give her one, hon

So I got a free bag out of it, and I almost ended up on the floor of the spot with the needle sticking out my own hand. The dope they get doesn't fuck around, and they won't introduce anyone to their guy because lots of junkies go through them and have to give them a free bag, and also it makes sure that they are always buying quantity from the same guy so he gives them free bags too. I gotta give props, cause that's selfish but it's good game (on the street-junkie level, of course). That was a run-on sentence. I like those :)

Lil Wayne- I feel like dying <-------very good song

So I did dope on Friday but not yesterday. Yesterday I suffered through and somehow managed to eat at a buffet- that one took a LOT of weed and xanax and I still only managed 2 small platefuls of some of my all-time favorite foods. Crab legs, cocktail shrimp, sushi, sashimi, teriyaki beef with noodles, hibachi, filet mignon- those are some of my favorite fucking foods in creation. And it was a buffet. And I ate a little bit of sushi, a little bit of shrimp, and some ice cream. THAT'S IT- that is so unlike me. I am a hoglet when it comes to seafood and steak (and sweets, and fried chicken, and fast food, and tacos, and Chinese food, and noodles, and rice with beans, and sodas, and beer, and chocolate or whole milk, and sandwiches especially ham and cheese, and pretty much every kind of food and drink hah).

Last night I had it real rough. I woke up literally screaming 2 or 3 times and had to take a percocet, and when I woke up for good around 7am I had a fucking seizure. Isn't heroin great? So today, I went out determined to get some, although I was much too sick to do a trick and I have no money. I started trudging around Lantana on 3 percocets and a valium and not feeling any of it when I started feeling real shitty so I went and sat by the railroad tracks so if I freaked out no one would see. Then I had another seizure. I came out of that, I had banged my head on the tracks and scratched myself all up in the rocks. I'm starting to forget why I ever started this shit. I had made it all the way to where my dopeman stays, and his truck was there, and I knew knew knew he'd front me whatever I wanted if he saw how I was looking. But I didn't go in. I went back home instead, took another couple percocets, went in a chat room and listened to sirius online.

I can't be a junkie anymore. It's not that I want to stop using heroin, because I really don't, especially when it hurts like THIS to stop. But I can't do it anymore. It's getting to be too much trouble. This past week I've been sick more than I've been well, barely able to sleep- and I'm right where I started because after almost a week, I stuck a fucking needle in my arm. Not once, not twice, but 17 bags. So now it's like the last week of hell doesn't even count, I'm gonna have to start the detox over, I would sell my fucking soul to make it stop. I don't mean "make it stop" like shoot 2 bags, and the pain goes away for a while. I mean "make it stop" like all of it. The shooting, the craving, the puking, the shitting, the pain, the obsession, the insomnia, the shakes, the depression, the screaming, the seizures, the all-encompassing NEED to fill that hole RIGHT FUCKING NOW. It needs to end, and it needs to end now. I don't want to go on methadone, because that'll just drag it out even longer. If I'm gonna be hooked on a drug, and get sick if I stop, and have to go get it every day and pay for it, then I might as well be on heroin cause I can at least enjoy myself when I'm high. I just want to STOP. I'll bring the percs down as slowly as I can handle, and keep plenty of marijuana on hand, and not drink, and not do coke (that would just be a bad idea altogether), and NO MATTER WHAT not do any fucking dope. I can do it. It doesn't matter if I can or not, I goddamn have to.

Shit talkers: ready, aim... FIRE! Can't wait to hear your feedback.

no life baby, we're rehabbed and we're ready
for our fifteen minutes of shame
you and i are on the edge and we're waiting to fall
raised to be stupid, taught to be nothing at all
we're taught to be nothing at all
i don't like the drugs but the drugs like me
don't like the drugs, the drugs, the drugs
i don't like the drugs but the drugs like me
there's a hole in our soul that we fill with dope
and we're feelin' fine
[no, I didn't write those lyrics and don't claim to- it was marilyn manson]

I am gonna get fucking clean, yes I am. No more wishing I didn't have a heroin habit, no more being sick for 2 days then shooting enough dope to kill a small elephant, no more "I'm buying a 50 now, I'll stretch it and quit when it runs out." No more! I'll probably still smoke weed, but I'm gonna ease off the pills until I'm not taking fuckshit! I am gonna goddamn do it! Yes! I have no other option! I am scared shitless, what a pussy I am! Doesn't matter! Pussy or not, here I come!


MICHELLE ANGELINA ****** is going to be clean, motherfucka!

not gonna make it

I haven't done any drugs today or yesterday. I also haven't really done fuckshit since my last shot.

Feel like shit...

...not gonna make it!

breaks into your house and puts shit in your socks

Now I don't wanna get off on a rant here, but...

...25-year-old felonies. You didn't apply for the job because of your 25-year-old felonies. Who cares? I know that George Bush has destroyed the economy, and "unemployment is down" (since he only counts people actually receiving unemployment checks and makes them damn near impossible to collect) but come on now. You say you want $20/hr but it's apparently not gonna fucking happen. Minimum wage sucks, but $7/hr beats the hell out of $0/hr and bumming off me, like you're doing now. Not only do I hafta hear about your broke-ness the whole time we're together, but you put me on the street in the hottest part of town while I'm out on BOND to put cash in your fucking pockets! I haven't left your vehicle with over $10 since leaving Gun Club Jail! Today you didn't leave me a buck. Walk into McDonalds, man up, swallow your pride, and go flip some fuckin' fries. It'll suck, but I had to do it and what are you, better than me?

...free from heroin. Oh, if only I wasn't stuck with this horrible crippling habit, imagine all the things I could accomplish. It'd be marvelous, said I, but I can't do anything or go anywhere because I'm scared to kick. That was nothing but a fucking excuse to avoid shit I didn't wanna do. I didn't ever want to end my love affair with the needle- who would? Well, I'm not physically addicted no more. I'm "free from heroin!" But fuck, I'm miserable and I don't want to to fuckshit but smoke pot and play on the internet all day. When I was shooting up, it wasn't constantly in my head because I had some and knew where to get more. But when I don't have, it's all I can think about! No h all day, but I get one tomorrow. I can wait that long.

...Santa Claus. He sees you when you're sleeping? He knows if you've been bad or good? Kinda creepy, no? And who made up Santa Claus, anyways? Why do parents tell their kids a big fat whopper of a lie every single year, why can't they just give the kids their presents? St Nicholas was a saint, but now he's been perverted into a cookie-chomping fat dude who breaks into your house and puts shit in your socks. I hate Santa Claus.

...but that's just my opinion, I could be wrong.

[[yes, I ripped the intro and ending from Dennis Miller. But the rants are 100% me]]

Good points- get out and walk bitch, eggs for breakfast, pirate coloring book, rain, round pencil sharpeners, sudoku, a lot of half-a-joints, getting lost in Boca, CiCis pizza, West Palm Beach!

that's me not the whole internet

I guess I can finish this tonight, so here's a "quickie." Greg was applying for a job and even passed the pee test, but there are extenuating circumstances and he won't be working there. That really sucks, man. I was all excited over him working, too. I'm not gonna write why cause it's his business, he told me but that's me not the whole internet. He wants to see me cause he's all upset. Hope he has a bag- no, no, I know he fucking doesn't. Plus if he's pissed the last thing he's gonna want to hear is that I'm a junkie and want to get high.

I woke up SICK this morning and didn't even do any h yesterday. I went with Greggie and we had "sober fun" cause he couldn't even smoke pot cause of the UA for the job. We went to the library and went online so he could see where he has been mentioned in my blog. There was one blog entry on here, from like 6 or 7 months ago, where it says "it's fucking Greg's fucking fault." He laughed for an hour at that. He was like, "I don't even know what happened, but apparently it was my fucking fault!"

Then I came to Rob's house, bought a 6pack of Sam Adams, drank. Rob got all pissy because I wouldn't fuck him, made me sleep on the couch. Jesus. I gotta get in the shower, there is a beer left, might have it.

...hours later...

I dunno what else I was gonna put. "I'll finish this later," I said. But really, what I put was pretty much it. Blah blah blah. I'm getting sick and tired of my dangblasted situation. There's always someone there telling me where and when and how to do everyfuckingthing. I miss having my own apartment, somewhere to stretch out and do as much dope as I want without someone yelling at me about I needa quit, or watch whatever I want on TV without someone telling me that they hate King of the Hill, or wake up at 630am without having to worry about waking anyone else up, OR wake up at 230pm without anyone having poked me all day. Shit. I need some space. I need some heroin. I need some space and some heroin, because the two go together. I don't like getting high with people watching me, and after doing it I like being able to nod and smoke and drool and pretty much do whatever I want. Nothing is illegal behind closed doors, ya know? I'm damn tired of people always there, blah blah blah, running their fucking mouths. Like the stupidity last night. I was like, "when you're done crying me a river, would you build yourself a bridge and get the FUCK over it?" I guess that wasn't very nice of me, but I never claimed to be nice! I am fair. But I can't take people thinking they are above me somehow, like I have to ask em for permission. WHAT'S YOUR NAME? That's what I thought, you ain't my daddy, now get the fuck outta my way.

...rant over...

Whatever. I can still enjoy the day, right? Argh, 99 problems like in that one song. I burned my fucking finger on the toaster. That was pretty gay. Had lunch at Wendy's today with Greg, that was fun... ummmmmmmm I guess that's long enough.

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!!!!!

a re-nigger

Oh my god, I have been having just the bestest time. First, I thought I was in the toolies because I couldn't find a McDonalds. Then I found downtown and it was all good. I bought beer for a bunch of kids (18 and 19 year olds) and they payed for my bottle of Captain M's in exchange. Me and my brother gulped the entire bottle in one night, it was fun. "Why is the rum always gone?" The next day was spent trying to get arrangements for me to live here, but the person I was supposed to live with re-neged (which makes her a re-nigger) so I got a motel room until I'm ready to go back to West Palm Beach. There are so many hot guys in this town it's ridiculous. Oh, I don't care if anyone knows where I am NOW. I'm in Gainesville! I wasn't originally, but now I am. I'm visiting my brother and he's so much fun to hang with, every fucking word out his mouth is hilarious. I don't know why that is but it's true. Last night we watched the Futurama movie on his laptop because the internet was broken.

Still no drugs- just booze. Whatever...

safe, sound, and free

It would not be prudent to discuss my location at the present moment. I am safe, sound, and free from tyranny of Lake Worth Police. If you are reading this Rob, yes, I am planning on going to court so don't try me. I'm clean and craving bad. My phone doesn't work where I'm at. Email me if you want to talk to me.