The Hardest Part Of This Will Be Saying No

The thing that sucks about the fact that my relationship with Buzzard will never be wholly restored is that I can't just call him up at 9:30 in the morning and ask him to bring me a pack of smokes.  Or call him up and tell him that I haven't eaten in two days so that he'll take me to get some food.

He's got ulterior motives, and I knew this hadn't changed the second I looked at my phone the other night and saw that he was texting me.

Because, you see, I made the mistake of texting him on the way home from Baltimore the other night while I was still a shit-faced trainwreck.  (Thank God Chrissy was driving.)

I hate you because I'm hearing songs that make me think about you and I'm drunk as fuck [sic].

Oops.  His first response, that came at 4:00 Sunday morning, was "You want my cock [sic]."  Ugh.  NO.  That's not what I meant.  But when I discovered on Saturday that I had made the awful mistake of drunk texting him, I knew that was how he was going to take it.  I figured it best to just let it be.  But he wasn't having that.  So we spent all day Sunday afternoon going back and forth:

Him:  You texted me the other night do you remember?
Me:  Yea I found it the next day.
Him:  What's up you ok
Me:  I'm fine it was just a moment of weakness and lapse of judgement on my behalf.
(I was 4 Jagerbombs and 4 Bud Lights in at that point, remember.)
Him:  Laps [sic] of judgement lol so professional.
Him:  What are you doing
Me:  Laying in bed.
Him:  I'm lying on the couch playing with my cock
Him:  R u asleep
Me:  No sorry I'm on the other line with Tyler
(I was really talking to my friend, and I named him specifically because I can push Buzzard's buttons just by casually mentioning other males that I interact with, and Buzzard doesn't need to know that my friendship with Tyler is purely platonic.)
Him:  Who's Tyler
(Exactly.)
Me:  One of my friends
Him:  U should cum suck my cock
Me:  Really
Me:  I want to hot tub
Him:  It's not clean right now
Me:  :(
Him:  Sorry my cock could use you
Me:  Where's [your girlfriend]?
Him:  Home
Me:  Why do you want me to suck your cock
Him:  Cause you suck it so good
Me:  Mhm
Him:  I'm watching porn and rock hard
Me:  What else is new
Him:  Lol
Him:  Do u still like eating cum?
(Seriously?  I can't believe you're bringing this kind of shit up, you asshole.  But what do I do?  I play along, like an asshole.)
Me:  You could say that
Him:  Well if you hurry you can eat mine
(Ew.)
Me:  I just rolled out of bed

It goes back and forth like this for a while, as I keep delaying it, hoping he'll just finish jerking off and stop asking me to come over.  Because seriously, I was not going to get out of my pajamas just to go over there and suck his dick.  I managed to throw it in his face, that I thought he might actually want to hang out as friends since we haven't seen each other in almost five months, and I received a real-time picture of his dick in response.

I attempted to clear some shit up though -

Me:  I'd rather just hang out than suck your cock.
Him:  Thats cool too, has to be between us
(??)
Him:  Be a good little slut and drink me and go home
Me:  (after seething for a good ten minutes) Good to know you still think so highly of me
Him:  Of course I do, goes both ways right
(Yeah except if I actually did want to use you for sex, you wouldn't be able to get your dick hard because your emotion towards me is still frighteningly strong.)
Him:  I don't think I can wait much longer
Me:  I'm not sucking dick unless I get something in return and I still smell like strippers
(I did, I was at a strip club the night before getting wasted and throwing dollar bills at questionable dancers.  Good times.)
Him:  Lol.  What do you want
Me:  I dunno
Him:  How about one day this week I do some really nasty shit to you, want to?
Me:  (after more hesitation and deliberation) Sure what the hell.

He's breaking me down and he doesn't even know it.  Or, he does and he doesn't give a shit.  I don't know what the fuck I want, a friendship, a fuck-ship, or nothing at all.  I spent five months realizing I could breathe again because he was no longer a part of my life.  But I am the type of girl who will disregard everything I've told myself and plunge headfirst into a sea of regret.

No Fucking Trucks or Buses In the Left Lane!

It's getting old.  People really really really cannot handle driving on the interstates anymore.  I know I'm not the best driver out there, but when I'm attempting to merge on 476 and there's a big mack truck that decides it's going to cruise on over into the left lane and stay there so no one can pass it?  I get ugly.  Throwing up middle fingers, cursing, cutting other innocent drivers off, basically morphing into Queen Bitch of the Road.

There's no reason for an 18-wheeler to be hanging out in the left lane.  If I'm in that lane, and notice people are starting to scream past me?  I move the fuck over.  Because the left lane is for passing.

How Much Do I Love My Girls? Let Me Count the Ways

In the subway after a show at the Highline Ballroom

This girl is amazing, my road dawg from college

We can never keep our tongues in our mouths

It's a family affair

There Is A Hell, Believe Me, She's Seen It

I know I've been ranting about the whole mortgage nightmare that my mother's going through.  And I'm sure I come off as thinking she's entitled to a government hand out.  But here's the thing, that's not what I mean when I say she deserves some fucking help. 

It's not that she's asking for money.  She's not asking to have the mortgage company just forgive the entire balance due, on the second mortgage my father went ahead and put on the house under my mother's name without her consent.  She wants to pay it because she wants to stay in her home.  All she wants is to be able to write the fucking mortgage check every month without losing sleep at night.

This woman has been through it all.  I used to have a lot of faith, but not so much anymore.  I don't go to church anymore, and it's not that I don't believe in God or am bitter or anything, but if there's any example of demonstrating faith through hard times, it's my mother.  She doesn't give up.  She hasn't given up, and she won't.  There's those sayings that the meek shall inherit the earth, and that those who have suffered nothing but trials and tribulations on this earth, yet manage to stay strong in their faith, will redeem their reward in Heaven.  If that's the case Mama will have her own posse of angels waiting on her hand and foot when she gets there.

Her first marriage ended because of alcoholism.  Then my father came along and things were good for a while.  Then his alcoholism reared its head, along with his infidelity towards her with countless other women, among them her best friend.  So she was not only betrayed by her husband, but her best girl friend as well.

She's fought so many physical ailments over the years, but to look at her you'd never know.  You never hear her complain.  I have to yell at her when I catch her lugging some heavy-ass box up from the basement or I come home and she's cutting the fucking grass.  (Well, that's my job, so I'd yell at her anyway.)

She lost both of her parents before she was 50 years old.  She's got no one to lean on, because everyone leans on her.  When I bitch and moan about the fact that I still live at home, I stop myself mid-rant because right now, Ma and I need each other.  I don't think I'd leave even if I could afford to.  No matter how much shit I alone have put her through, (and trust me, it's been alot,) she will never disown me.  I jest that I will hand over my firstborn to her one day, but I'm kind of serious.

The other day I was going over some paperwork that my bank sent me concering life insurance.  It's not a bad idea to get some, no?  So I was talking to Ma about it, trying to decide how much to get, because if I got $300,000 worth, and I kick the bucket tomorrow, she can take the check to the bank and tell the mortgage brokers to fuck off.  But she looked at me and said, "If you go tomorrow they better dig a second hole right next to you to put me in."

I cried a little.




Mama with her grandson, Nicholas, August 2010

 

How Much Do I Love My Boys? Let Me Count the Ways

Toga Toga Toga!



Go Phils!




I really don't have any words...




Halloween 2010 could have passed for White Trash Senior Prom 2010



Great Times I May or May Not Remember

Don't Piss Off the Wrong One

I'm living two separate lives over here.  Dr.  Jekyll and Mr.  Fucking Hyde.  How long am I going to be able to keep up this facade?  I go from one personality, The Angel, to the other, The Devil, in the blink of an eye.

To break it down, we have -

The Angel

• Typically hangs around during the week
• A school portrait photographer that works with the kiddies and gushes all over them when they are absolutely precious
• An aunt that adores her nephew and plays with him, sings to him, and smothers him with kisses whenever he's in her arms
• Wholesome and nice
• Tee-shirt and jeans or sweats, minimal makeup and jewelry, hair pulled up 90% of the time
• Frugal with her money and balances her checkbook to the penny
• In bed by 10 or 11
• Generally unrecognizable to those who are more acquainted with The Devil

The Devil

• Comes out to play at night, usually on the weekends
• A trashy, brass, and generally slutty rock & roll groupie
• Will sleep with the guitar player, or the bass player, or the drummer, or all three at the same time
• Loud and obnoxious with a drink always in her hand
• Dressed to kill, in stilettos 24/7
• Makeup and hair done to a T, loaded down with jewelry that usually gets lost or left on someone's nightstand
• Did someone say shots?  Can be found stuffing money down the bartender's pants or throwing dollar bills at the ladies
• Stumbles in the front door around 5 am
• Generally unrecognizable to those who are more acquainted with The Angel

This past Saturday night I engaged in absolute debauchery with a few band members after the show.  (Gimme some credit though, I've known these guys and have been partying with them for a while now.)  Then I stopped off at another one's house for some more even later night action.  The other night one of the regulars at the bar did a double take after asking me my name for the 100th time because I was wearing yoga pants, a hoodie, my glasses, very little makeup, and my everyday jewelry.  *shrug* It happens.