#i need to lose 60 more fucking pounds

[starvingcl0wn]

how life feels after not breaking my fast even when faced with a plate of my favorite most mouth-wateringly delicious binge foods

[hoffmanxfurthermore]

Lost In Echoes pt. 4

content: violence, Mark in a trap, reader unfairly in a trap, blood, sharp objects.

"Don't stand up!" Mark shouts as soon as John leaves the room, "there's a pin attached to your belt. It will set off the timer."

Your heart is pounding so hard it's almost all you can hear. You look down to see the thin wire attached to a big digital clock on the wall.

"Mark, I need to do this! I can't lose you! It'll be okay, I promise. I can do this."

"I'm so sorry for getting you into this..." Mark says, looking down.

On the wall, the clock flashed on, reading 0:90.

"You have to go," Mark yells, scared, "you have to go now or he'll start the clock anyway!"

Nervous, you slowly stand up. The pin is pulled and the timer starts. 90. 89. 88. 87.

You sprint over to the ladder, and look up. The entire thing is covered in razor wire and barbed wires. The steps, the sides, even on the beams securing it to the wall.

82 seconds.

"GO!" Mark screams. You reach out and climb up the first 3 rungs. The razor slices through your soft skin like butter, and blood pours from the palms of your hands and the soles of your feet as you climb.

70 seconds.

The sharp stabbing pain is shooting from the cuts to your whole body. You scream.

"Mark! Mark... I dont think I can make it!" You wail.

60 seconds. You're a third of the way up.

"Come on y/n, you can do it. I'm gonna die if you don't! You can do it. I believe in you. I love you."

55 seconds. You reach for the next rung but miss, causing your body to fall into the ladder. Screaming as your legs, stomach, chest, face are cut. But you manage to hang on, barely. Luckily, the sharp pieces of metal are only big enough to do surface damage.

Adrenaline is kicking in. You take a deep breath and ascend higher.

38 seconds. You're halfway.

You slowly grab the next one. And the next. You're starting to feel light headed from blood loss. Dizzy.

20 seconds.

"Fuck! Don't let me die, y/n!" Mark screams. He sounds terrified. His voice is shaking and broken as he sobs heavily. "Please don't let me fucking die like this!" Never have you heard so much fear in his voice. It sets off something inside you.

Using your last bit of energy, you climb up, screaming, ignoring the pain, the blood dripping from your body. You want to save Mark and you don't care if you die in the process.

"I... WONT... LET.... YOU.... DIE... MARK...!" You shriek at the top of your lungs with each step higher.

5 seconds.

You scream as you hit the big red button at the top, using the last of your energy.

"Mark... I made it mark..." You tried to yell, but you're so weak. All that came out was a whisper.

A loud buzzer goes off.

One second left on the clock.

"I made it... I made it... Mark... i made it..." You can barely whisper any more.

You're fading in and out as you manage to cling to the ladder with all you have.

You're not sure how you got back on the ground, but the last thing you remember before fading into unconsciousness is Mark hugging you tight, crying, and John saying, "we need to get her to a hospital."

Everything goes black......

[sterekchub]

Okay but I need more of Frat Bro!Derek! His insatiable appetites are quite…invigorating!

Okay this was going to be WAY longer and more cohesive but.....I lost my train of thought midway through. I love frat bro Derek though- either fattening up Stiles or becoming the frat pet himself... ***** "He's perfect." "Stiles, seriously? The guy who looks like he runs track and lifts weight for fun?" "It's his fourth time here. Today." "Lucky," one of the guys mumbled. "Wish I could have an unlimited meal plan.” “I give it two months and he’ll be twenty pounds heavier. Danny looked him up.” “Already?!” “Family money, his tuition is fully covered, middle-child from a big family…” “So looking for attention and open to parties?” “Fuck yes.” “What did I say? Perfect.” Stiles walked confidently up to Derek’s table. “Hi, have you thought about pledging for a fraternity? Epsilon Alpha Tau would love to have you.” ***** “When I say ‘go’ start chugging! Loser doesn’t make it to the next round.” Derek took no time. Grab a beer from the table, pop open the side of the can, pop the top, chug, swallow, repeat. He could hear the crowd cheering for everyone, was vaguely aware of the other recruits next to him trying to keep pace. He wasn’t bothered – they were all going to lose.

Sure enough less than thirty minutes in, all the other guys had stopped, drunkenly sprawled on the lawn amongst all the empty cans. Derek could have easily stopped, he must have one by at least two or three, but he couldn’t. Stiles eyes were fixed on him - *everyone’s* eyes were fixed on him, and felt their attention go right to his head. He was the center of attention, and he was going to give them a show. **** When they finally accept Derek into their fraternity- he's 60 pounds heavier. The weekly beer chug has graduated to Stiles rolling in full kegs of beer, and Derek draining them until his belly was sloshing and stretched to the size of a yoga ball. Then there were pizza nights. The Taco Tuesdays. The hot wing Thursdays. Derek is always the center of attention, always being encouraged and poked and prodded to eat more. His skin is so much more sensitive as it expands - nipples hardening as frat brothers laugh and squeeze his softening moobs. Stomach that is always so full and sore, even brushing against it usually elicits a moan and burp. They bring him down to the basement where they have a 3 tiered cake ready for him with EAT in greek letters. Derek accepts the initiation happily - a pig nose gets placed over his own, a vibrating pig-tail buttplug in his ass....and he gets eating. *******

Graduation: "So, what are your...plans for after graduation?" It's a polite question from a shocked professor. Derek hadn't attended any classes for the last two years. By the end of his sophomore year, he was kicked out of his Chemistry class for eating during the labs, always skipped his economics class because it was in the furthest building from the frat house and he would get winded halfway through and go to the cafeteria instead. By senior year, it was difficult getting Derek out of the frat house at all. He was the fraternity project- all of them taking turns making sure Derek was satisfied, overfed and rapidly expanding. The results of being fed by a household of men was astounding - Derek had tripled in size. Derek looked confused at the question. He was sitting on his scooter at the back of the graduation hall. Graduation cap on his head and the fraternity T-Shirt stretched tightly over the blubbery folds of his belly. "Graduation? *burrRRPP* I don't *Pffpffrttt*...." "He's staying with us," Stiles chimed in. "Epsilon Alpha Tau for life, right, Der?" Derek nodded, although with such a thick double chin obscuring his neck, he really just moved his head down enough to create an even fatter third chin. He had no idea what was going on, barely even remembered he was supposed to graduate. If there wasn't food, he wasn't interested. The professor shook their head and walked away. Stiles leaned over "Our new recruits can't wait to get a turn with the legendary frat pig......."

[angelic-writer]

"Hey, hey... stay with me. Please...", The woman pleaded, holding her partner as he bled onto the pavement.

All around them were... chaos. People screaming to call 911, the authorities catching the businessman with the smoking gun.

The bleeding man reaches up to her, gently patting her cheek and smudging his blood all over her. But she didn't care. She just sat there, sobbing and pleading for him to stay.

But within the chaos, someone approaches. She looked up at him, and she muttered to him.

"Th...this can't be it, right? I can't lose him... I knew this was going to happen, and I did everything to avoid this. I tried to stop it... so why..? Why..?"

The stranger knelt down in front of the couple, and Madeline muttered again.

"Please... I can't lose him..."

"Hey..." The man managed to say before he coughed. "I-It's gonna be fine. I-I'll be... alright... Nothing a little stitching can't fix..." Despite his words, blood continued to pour out of his abdomen, staining his newly pressed business suit.

"10-53. Gonna need an EMT, stat!"

"Don't worry. He's gonna be alright. I'll make sure of it." The man said.

"How...?" She whispered. "I tried to stop him, but he was... too fast..."

The man looked at Matthew who was growing more pale by the minute. He grasped his hand and said "Listen to me. I need you to stay with me. An ambulance is on its way to get you."

"Who...? Who are..." Matthew's eyes began to flutter.

"Shh... You're gonna be okay. Just breathe with me, okay? Stay with me now." Madeline said, taking deep breaths.

Matthew tried his absolute best to copy his wife's movements, but his chest spasmed as blood trickled down his chin. She pressed her hands on his stomach, trying to staunch the flow of blood while trying to calm her racing heart. Through the crowd, she could hear the cops saying something.

"Williams, come take a look at this."

"This guy got ID?"

"Do you know who this guy is?"

"No. Should I?"

"It's Declan Vera. The guy from the Global News. He is the Global News? He's the fucking founder!"

"Holy fucking shit. The millionaire?"

Maddie couldn't parse what Declan said, but it must've infuriated the cop because she heard him slam his fist against the door. "Shut the fuck up! You're gonna be fucking Richie Rich down at the station, you fuck!"

She couldn't stop shaking. She couldn't get her mind off of that dream she had where her husband was... She confronted him and...

Someone put their hand on her shoulder. She looked and saw a young woman in her mid twenties with long, black hair tied into a high ponytail. "Ma'am, we've got it from here. Step back."

"But..." She looked back to Matthew.

"It's okay. We got him."

With a shaky sigh, she hesitantly stepped back, allowing the medics to take over.

"Okay, we've gotta move fast. He's rapidly losing blood!"

"BP 60/40. Let's move, now!"

They swiftly got him on a stretcher and wheeled him to the ambulance.

"Wait! Can I come with?"

The woman nodded. "You can, but you have to stay back. Let us work."

With that, Madeline climbed into the ambulance, the man following suit.

She sat back as the medics scrambled to stabilize him. They tore off his bloody clothes, hooked him up on oxygen, different types of machines and tried their best to stop the bleeding. Madeline's head was swimming. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Everything that was said by the medics was entirely muffled.

"Heart rate's nearing tachycardia! Blood pressure's dropping!"

"Sir, can you hear me? We're gonna get you to the hospital and fix you up. You just gotta stay with us."

"Mmm...." Matthew caught his wife sitting at the back of the ambulance, clasping her hands tightly. "Mads..."

"Matt! Hey..." She wanted to be next to him. She wanted to hold his hand so badly, but she needs to give them space. She had to let them help him.

He gave her a small smile. It was the kind of smile he always gave her when he sees her every morning. "Live on for our kids... Okay...?" With that, his eyes slipped closed. The heart monitor began screeching an alarm.

"Shit! He's coding!"

No... No no no no no...

Her whole world had begun to crumble around her. He can't be... This can't be the end, right...? She can't go through that again...

One of the medics immediately started compressions. "C'mon, kid, stay with us! Don't die, please!"

The man floated over to the now lifeless Matthew on the gurney and grasped his shoulder. "Come on, kid. You're stronger than this. You gotta hold on for your wife. For your kids."

The medics continued to try and revive Matthew as the ambulance sped down to the hospital.

[sassypotatoe1]

I also like to remind people that phones are now a requirement to participate in society. You need an email and a cell number on your CV and to be reachable at any time to qualify for most, if not all minimum wage positions. Nevermind higher paying jobs. And you not only need a phone that can access emails, you need an internet plan. If you want to get out of poverty and homelessness you already need a phone and reliable transport, and you can only get housing financing if you have a full time job. If you rent you need to work like 60 hours minimum wage a week and then a second job as well, but you can buy a phone and a prepaid internet plan from one day's donations in some cases, with which it can be a slight bit easier to get a job. It's no longer a luxury, it's a necessity.

In the past you could submit a CV typed up and printed out for free at the local library in person and get a job. Now they're defunding libraries and declaring them insolvent and closing them up, and using an internet Cafe is more expensive than a phone and prepaid plan. You are also required to email or electronically submit CV's for literally any job, in-person hand-ins aren't accepted anymore.

People also often get tvs as gifts or second hand at major discount, and they get it for news and educational programs for young kids when they can't get into preschool. They buy and fix broken old appliances, some who are very good at it will get a broken like smeg appliance that like needs a fuse replaced or a bolt tightened and fix it up for less than the cost of the cheapest new ones. I've seen this happen a lot where I live specifically.

We have people that immigrate that want to get rid of stuff that sell furniture or appliances for insanely cheap or even give it away for free just to get rid of it because it's cheaper to buy new furniture and appliances wherever they're going than to ship their shit over. They advertise the collection on Facebook and if the person can pick it up themselves or contribute to gas for delivery they can get a 14k couch for 3k. (like 150ish euro pound or dollars).

Poor people don't buy things new almost ever. A lot of poor people salvage junk or get things for free or at highly discounted prices or as gifts. You'll also frequently see that some poor people will sell appliances to pawn shops to make rent that month.

I'm scrabbling a bit to get enough of a deposit to get an apartment that's not an outright health risk so I can move out from my parents house and go no contact because they're like, fully okay with my brother dating a nazi and also homophobic and abusive so I need to get out. It's cheaper for me to rent a storage unit, stick all my furniture and appliances in there for a year, and pay the shelter fee for a bed, shower and plate of dinner a month than renting the cheapest place available. I mean just over half of the lowest rent in my area covers storage rent and shelter fees.

If I need to get out quick and I go this route, I can save so much on rent and utilities that I can keep my phone plan and car. I'll still be dirt fucking poor, unless I can find a place that's 2k in rent and utilities combined which is literally impossible right now. I'll have to lose my medical aid and stop my meds (which can very easily kill me), but I could survive a bit.

Having "luxury" items that are actually just basic necessities does not make you a liar about being poor or bad with managing your money. It makes you smart, actually, and we need to start minding our business about poor people if it's not to give them money.

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, MARCH 30, 2003 The black bitch says I have to be in bed by 4 AM. You see, I’m in a tough spot with my schedule right now. I was getting up too late to report this Wednesday afternoon and unable to stay up late enough to be a slave to bitch in the morning, so I’m going to start setting my alarm so I don’t sleep past noon and we’ll do the bitch in the afternoon. I wonder if Scot will be back. He was never the greatest so I wish he wouldn’t return and that I could be turned over to that chubby blond chick that observed my test. Compensation, in a sense, begins in November. That’s when we’re going to add the money that the fucking state got over the last few years to our allowances which will mean we’ll each get $60 a month whereas right now we’re getting the same as them.

Although my nasal spray keeps me from having 24-hour sneezing fits, I still have daily patches of sneezing. It really gets old, too! I just want a day in my life without sneezing. Just one day.

SATURDAY, MARCH 29, 2003 Not surprisingly, since I can’t seem to go more than a week or two without being woken up, the sound of the wind yanking off a piece of the house’s skirting woke me up. It’s been windy a lot lately and it’s cooled down again, too. We haven’t needed heat, but we haven’t needed the AC either. Wish it could be like this year-round.

I’m up a pound so I gotta take it easy. It’s my own fault, though. I had 2000 calories or more yesterday.

Carolyn held true to her word and sent me those two books of stamps. I really am grateful, too.

The first large and regular envelopes to Fort Myers were returned to me today, and the plants are in, too. On a Saturday, of course, when we can’t pick them up till Monday.

It appears that both the bougainvilleas are going to end up dead, but everything else is fine so far. The palms are established, but unlike the oleanders, they don’t seem to have grown yet. The oleanders are doing the best. They’ve grown noticeably.

My bingo ticket vibes are hot again. I knew the last time he bought a couple that they’d lose, just like I knew one of today’s would win, and it did. It won $5.

FRIDAY, MARCH 28, 2003 It’s gotten to the point now where I no longer sit in anticipation of Scot stopping by. I really believe that’s now one thing in life that the freeloaders no longer have control over. I mean, I’d really be surprised if he ever did come back. Surprised enough to be suspicious. Especially since he and I both know there’s no reason he should be here.

Nonetheless, like it or not, those freeloaders do still own me for the most part which means I gotta make sure I start staying up as late as I can to go to Casa Grande for them first thing in the morning.

Last night I did my best sewing work yet, making Eve a gown very similar to the Mesmerizing leopard print gown Esme wears, so now I really don’t have to get it. I wanted something in that style, though, to add variety. I took an old leopard print bodysuit and used that for the material. I made a form-fitting skirt that rests on the hips and reaches nearly to the ankles and a halter that crosses at the chest. It really looks great on her, and I did it with no pattern in under two hours. For accents that I put around her waist, I added a small pearl necklace that came with another doll.

I’m now $110 away from that Indian doll I want.

In other doll news, there’s this really cool line of Barbies coming out this year, some of which is already out, called the Birthstone Barbies. Although they all wear the same beautiful glittery gown, each has a different color depending on the stone for that month, plus a matching necklace. The stone for my month is turquoise and that, along with September’s Sapphire Barbie, is my favorite. All the Barbies are white, but they have color variations in their hair and eyes. September’s a blond and December’s a brunette. I was surprised to learn they’re only $25 each. Walmart’s going to be carrying them. We learned that Walmart has an online store, too. Anyway, although they won’t be out till September, I think they’ll look cool together with one’s hair being darker than its dress and the other’s being lighter than its dress. The contrast will be nice and I think they’ll complement each other well side by side.

Tom got this vanilla-flavored Diet Coke that I thought would taste rather weird, but I’m amazed at how good it is. And it’s got 0 calories, too.

He says the bank’s going to have two floats in the gay pride parade that’s to be in Phoenix, and I said, “Oh, so the bank’s cheap, but not prejudiced?” and Tom laughed in agreement.

There’s a girl he works with who was eating and eating yet she kept losing weight. So it was discovered that she had what’s called a tapeworm till her doctor gave her medication for it. How I wish I could have a tapeworm! Only one problem, though. As soon as I got my weight down and killed the worm, I’d still be stuck with the cold hard reality of being over 30, and with that, a metabolism that’s virtually nonexistent. So, as soon as I took just one glance at food, the weight would come flying back on like a lonely puppy who missed its owner.

Carolyn left a message today saying she got her mail returned to her from Fort Myers (that was awfully fast) and that she’s sending me a couple of books of stamps which brings me to my Mary update that had me both furious and relieved.

Carolyn called to tell me yesterday that she finally received a letter from Mary, but she wasn’t in Fort Myers. She was in Naples! Terri went all out for her and got her in her own cell in this place she’s in now where she says she’s being treated a whole lot better. The inmates and guards are nice to her there which is what had Carolyn and I relieved. The other inmates are supposed to stay away from her, but they sneak over to chat with her, presumably on their hour out, and they’re the ones who lent her the envelope to send the letter. They know who she is, of course. I didn’t even realize myself just how famous Mary is, but I’m sure that’d be no compliment to her. Not under the circumstances which I can totally understand.

The part that pissed us off was when we learned of how shitty she was treated in Fort Myers. Apparently, Mary, whose wrists and ankles are still bruised from the chains she was forced to wear for a week, got a heavy period at one point and asked for pads, and the guard just glared at her till they eventually gave her a wad of toilet paper to use. They also wanted $3 a day, plus a $40 booking fee. Tom suggested the $3 fee might be because they get better food there, and also, if it was a maximum-security jail, that may be why she was treated like shit. They tend to be more aggressive and confrontational to inmates in maximum security. Anyway, although Naples has a $20 booking fee (I’m amazed Estrella didn’t have a booking fee), they charge $1 a day like Estrella. I hope that doesn’t mean the food’s so spicy it’s barely edible!

Another unfortunate thing is that Mary’s got walking pneumonia, so she’s been very sick. She said her brain was so fried from being sick that she couldn’t even remember my address.

She also told me that a guard told her that her English biddy of a mother-in-law, who lives in Florida and who’s a major drunk, has been in and out of the jail several times.

What had us so pissed off was all the mail we knew would be returned to us, particularly me. Here I was finally given something for mailing all this shit and what should happen but that the cost should get thrown back on me, as usual. Not the case, though, in the end, because Carolyn was kind enough to offer to send me stamps which was way nice of her. I really do appreciate it. It’s going to take about 40 stamps to get everything mailed.

As soon as I’m reinked, as a way of saying thanks, I’ll send Carolyn a word find puzzle. She seemed to think that was a really neat and fun idea. I’ll also mail a few pictures of Tom and I and our land. I’ll send an outer house shot, too.

Tomorrow I’ll be sending Mary one regular envelope with a couple of small pictures of Murphy (I think the mail rules are the same as Estrella there) and I absolutely won’t send anything else till I get a reply back.

THURSDAY, MARCH 27, 2003 The doll could be here any sec, though more likely not till between the hours of 3:00-5:00.

Meanwhile, I saw that fucking rat hanging out by the bush I dumped her by. She was in plain view where Tom could see her, so I went out, scared her down into a hole, then filled the hole in.

I keep hunting for this song that only one user in the world seems to have and they’re rarely online. When they are, I’m queued up over 100, and by the time I get under 20, they either go offline or I crash.

I turned the ringer down low on the phone while we still have the regular phone. Now that the satellite has freed up the phone, I expect we’ll get daily sales calls. Not like in Phoenix where we were getting half a dozen or more a day, but maybe once or twice a day.

All the petunias and wildflower seeds surrounding Queenie are pretty much dead. The wildlife seems to like to pick on that particular group, whereas the ones surrounding Palma are doing fine. Yeah, I always did say that Palma was one tough bitch!

There’s this 19-year-old gay girl named Meagan where Tom works. She’s the one that had that hilarious T-shirt saying: All my Barbies are Lesbians. Tom mentioned to her that I like women and the two have talked freely about gayhood. Well, Meagan’s getting married to another 19-year-old woman whom she went to high school with. Even though I told Tom to tell her she’s too young to get married, gay or straight, and that Jennifer Lopez is way better looking than her Ani DeFranco, we’ve been invited to the wedding. I was surprised to hear Tom say he wouldn’t mind going out of curiosity just to see what the ceremony’s like, and I’m a bit curious myself, but since neither of us likes to be sociable, we probably won’t go. It’s on April 25th and if it’s outdoors I’m not going to go sweat my ass off over this for people I don’t even know. Plus, as he pointed out, he’ll have to work that night.

Later…

Esme arrived at 3:00. She’s very nice. Awesome hair. Her outfit wasn’t quite the color I expected it to be. So many light-colored things online look white. I thought her outfit was of a frosty white color, but her jacket’s actually a light metallic gold and the pants, shoes and bodysuit are a cross between light tan and off-white. I left her leggings and boots on and replaced the jacket with the gold and white fur-lined coat that came with Karen. It clashes a little, but not much. I polished her nails metallic gold. She also has bendable arms, unlike the others, and comes with gold sunglasses which actually look cool on her and go well with the outfit I’ve assembled for her. Now I’m not sure I’ll bother with Sydney or even the Esme Mesmerizing. Maybe I’ll still get Sydney so I can have the full line, but I can get similar fashions on Barbies for half the cost.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 26, 2003 The bitch of a rat is now history. No, she didn’t die on her own, and no, I didn’t kill her, though I’d have liked to. I simply had enough and dumped her, though I’m not going to tell Tom that. Unlike with Little Ratsy, I dumped her way out towards the front of the property. Hopefully, she won’t have the guts to come to the house, and if she does, I hope she doesn’t get into the vents. She won’t if we seal them up well enough. Hopefully, she’ll get eaten by either prairie dogs, roadrunners or something.

I finally got the UPS link to work. The doll started in South San Francisco, then went to Sylmar, and as of 1 AM last night, it arrived in Phoenix. I don’t see why it can’t be delivered today, but that’s how it always is; they get delivered the next day. Today she’ll be sent to the Casa Grande station where the actual delivery person will bring her from.

I’m still weighing the pros and cons of getting the kiln. We’d save a lot of time, money and hassles if we didn’t, but at the same time, I do want to make dolls and I’m not going to be working for Mary or writing my own dumb stories forever, so what will I do then? Sit and stare at the wall?

If all went well, Mary now has the first big envelope, plus a letter. This Friday or Saturday, she should have the second big envelope and another letter. I’m not going to send any more manila envelopes till I hear from her, though.

TUESDAY, MARCH 25, 2003 The first of the two letters sent to Estrella came back. I’ll be sending it off to Mary, along with another letter. I’ll also send a separate envelope with Murphy’s pictures. That way she won’t have to wait any longer for them. I also want to wait till I hear that she’s been getting the stuff I’ve been sending.

I called her aunt last night to see if she’s heard from her and she said she tried calling Saturday night, but that her husband accidentally hit the wrong button and lost her.

I got the UPS tracking link, but it doesn’t work. It says it can’t find any information for that tracking number. Tom said it’ll work when it gets in the system, but I don’t know. It seems to be taking an awfully long time. Either way, I won’t worry unless the doll doesn’t show up on Thursday, the day it’s supposed to.

MONDAY, MARCH 24, 2003 This new system sucks! It really, really sucks. I have so much trouble going online. All it does is crash. The whole point in switching to this setup was to save money, but there’s always a price to pay for saving money. It’s like something up there doesn’t want us saving money. I’m no longer watching any TV and I go online as little as possible. It’s just that I had to send Chuck Mary’s book and I want to keep checking for a UPS tracking link on the doll I ordered. I also questioned them about another doll I may order in the future and I’m awaiting a response on that, too.

I had to listen to a few hours of non-stop pop, pop, pop. Yeah, the hunters are still at it, mostly in the mornings. The hotter it gets, though, the less I hear of them during the day. It’s at the point now where it’s chilly early in the morning and warm by late afternoon. I ran the AC yesterday for an hour or so.

I’ve finished all of Mary’s stuff, so now I can take a break and work on my own stuff for a while. I’m sure it won’t be long before the drafts start coming again so I’ll use this time off wisely. I can’t wait to hear from her. I’m hoping to this week. I also hope she gets my stuff and that no one’s harmed her. If anyone ever does, I swear I’ll finish her book with the aid of her family, but so far, nothing up there’s proven to hate her enough to see her killed. Maybe badly hurt both physically and emotionally, but not killed. Anyway, Mary’s strong. She’ll pull through.

SUNDAY, MARCH 23, 2003 As usual, I can’t get on the net. It’s been nothing but hit or miss, usually miss. As I keep telling Tom, this new setup’s terrible. Just terrible. The net’s fucked up half the time and the TV is still complicated. It used to be we just brought up the guide and clicked on what we wanted to record, but now, I couldn’t even begin to figure it out. He does it. And of course, he’s still saying he’s going to come up with software to make it all better. Also, those video captures I was supposed to be able to make never happened either.

We did manage to get on the web long enough last night to order Esme. She’ll be shipped on Monday and should arrive Wednesday or Thursday.

They took the plant money on the 17th, so hopefully those will get here this week. Then all we have to do is hope they’re all alive upon arrival and that they survive when we plant them.

Although Tom is going to be looking for jobs in Casa Grande so he doesn’t have to drive all the way to Tempe, he wants to stay at the bank at least till January so we can get the final bundle of stock which will be about a grand.

The prairie dogs have been munching on the tomato plant leaves. I told him it was a waste of time and money getting fruit or vegetable plants. The rabbits and rodents will devour them in no time.

I hope that once the new driveway’s in, he’ll stop kissing the neighbor’s ass. He cuts the headlights as the car swerves around facing their house right before he stops the car, and I’m like, “But they couldn’t even see the light with all that brush they got in the way. Besides, you don’t owe them the courtesy. You don’t have to be mean to them, but you don’t have to be nice, either.”

And it still bothers me how he’s dealt with a certain other set of neighbors from the past, too. There have been so many times he’s played their shit down or acted as if I shouldn’t be bitching about something they’ve done, etc. Yet this black bitch was never once questioned. Not by her family, not by her friends, not by the courts, not by the media who no doubt never twisted a word she said. Never once did anyone ever ask, “Are you sure you didn’t do anything to provoke any problems?” Never once did anyone ever tell her, “You may not have deserved the journals, but if you’d just shut up and lived like normal, decent civilized people, you’d never have had a problem.” Never once did anyone ever ask her, “If you didn’t like the mail she sent, why didn’t you just dump it and move on?”

How do I know this? I just do.

Anyway, it’s a good thing we are just friends, as I never realized, though it’s all well worth it, just how much of his time the home improvements would eat up. His mother ran him ragged in the city and out here it’s the car and home improvements. Aside from why it wasn’t in my cards, no wonder it wasn’t in his to have a child. He’d never have the time for it. In fact, I’m seriously considering forgetting about the kiln. Not just because I can’t imagine God allowing me to work for myself for once and do something I want to do, but because I don’t see how he’d have the time to work on it with me. As soon as he sat down to work on it with me, the car would break. I think it’d be a whole lot easier, given the very full plate that we have, to just drop it and save the money to buy 4 or 5 of the nicest dolls. I think I could get them within 2-3 years.

My next purchase goals are the last 3 mugs I designed with several rat and mouse pictures. I’ll need to save $47. I owe $10 on Esme’s shipping, then I’ll need $37 for the mugs.

Tom trimmed 2” of hair last night. It was an inch below the crack of my ass and now it’s an inch above it.

Later…

Oh, no I’m not getting the mugs next. Not with the absolutely stunning new Indian doll Ashton now has. It’s breathtakingly beautiful! She’s called Spirit of the Snowy Owl. She’s 18” tall and holds an owl on one outstretched arm. Even her sleeveless Indian dress is gorgeous and the realistic detail of the sculpture itself is fabulous. Naturally, she isn’t cheap. She’s $130, but I think that by June I’ll have her.

I emailed Mary’s book to Chuck, but I had to do it in 5 different emails and mail about 50 pages at a time because the thing wouldn’t let me send so many pages at once.

In regards to Mary’s line: a man who hits you and claims he loves you is a full-blown devious liar – well if I could add to that I’d add that anyone who hits you and claims they love you is a full-blown devious liar. Even parents. My mother hit me as a child and then told me she loved me and I believed it. As an adult, however, I believe that the only one who believed she loved me was my mother herself. This advice shouldn’t solely apply to men. It should apply to everyone. Nobody who hits you loves you no matter if they’re family, friends, lovers, strangers, etc. I think that if one is going to have enough self-respect to steer clear away from violent lovers, one should do the same with violent friends and family. After all, self-respect is self-respect and to what do we owe the honor of allowing those to slap us around or abuse us verbally/emotionally just because we share their blood or just because they’re a friend or someone we don’t sleep with? My mother supposedly feels guilty just like hers does over the way she treated her kids, but you know what? It’s too late. Know what else? They never change. They may recognize they fucked up, but they never ever change. They’ll appear changed for a while, but I can assure you, it’s always temporary.

Speaking of change, most of us in general change throughout the years. However, never have I met people who’ve changed so little over the years as did the folks and siblings. They’re virtually the same with everything they do. The way they think, the way they talk, their beliefs, etc. Almost nothing had changed from when I was a child till I walked out of their lives for good 6 years ago.

It’s 82° in the house now so I turned the cold water temperature back on. Once it hits 85°, we’ll need to AC it.

FRIDAY, MARCH 21, 2003 The renters haven’t been out much lately. At least we know they’re cool, though I sure as hell wouldn’t want them for neighbors in the city, and I’d still prefer the dogless, childless couple who are rarely home. God wouldn’t be that nice to me, though.

Still haven’t gotten back the letter I sent the day after Mary left, and here’s the latest on her which is not good at all. Hopefully, things are better by now, but she’s sure been having a hell of a time of it over the last week. I feel so, so bad for her. See, they actually drove her to Florida. I thought they’d fly her, but she rode on a bus which took a whole week to get to the Lee County jail where she is in Fort Myers because they stopped many times along the way to drop people off. Her aunt said she said it was terrible. She was stuck next to someone whose breath was a nightmare, she’s been stuck in the same underwear for a week, and of course, the whole ride was spent handcuffed and shackled to each other, having to beg really hard to use the bathroom, and being forced to sleep on the bus as they sure as hell weren’t going to check into a motel or anything like that. Makes me wonder about those who need daily medication that’s essential to their staying alive and about those who get their periods along the way. Do they even give them pads? Did they get fed along the way? It must’ve been so cool to see things she hasn’t seen for so long, yet frustrating at the same time to see places like Denny’s and not be able to stop there.

Another horrible thing is that you can’t just request Ad-Seg there and she was sent to GP. She says she’s terrified, and I would be too, with a high-profile case like that. So her aunt’s going to call Terri to see if she can pull some strings to get her in Ad-Seg, something Tom says should be no problem in light of the fact that she’s a witness for the prosecution. I just hope they Ad-Seg her real soon. That is before she gets jumped and not after.

I was surprised, yet pleased to hear after Mary called her aunt, that along with a bible, they gave her a 5x7 picture of Gretchen. Who gave it to her and how they got it, I don’t know, but that’s way cool of them.

I guess her aunt didn’t know we were cellies. She said one of us might have mentioned it in the past, but it came up when I commented about how I knew firsthand how horrible Estrella food was. We didn’t get into why I was there, but if Mary wants to discuss it with her, that’s fine. She can tell people whatever she wants to cuz I really don’t care.

Her aunt says inmates can write to each other there and that Mary’s worried about Justin writing her, but I assured her that if he did, it’s just words and words cannot hurt us. Especially when we’re adults who can tell ourselves not to listen to anybody’s shit. As Tom suggested, all she has to do is just give them to the prosecution.

Her aunt called the jail about the mail rules and the picture rule is the same as Estrella. You can send up to 5 pictures and they can’t be bigger than 3 x 5. When I realized I had to crop a lot of the pictures down and that some couldn’t be cropped without cutting off people’s heads, we agreed I’d send those pictures to her aunt, though Mary will still get them. I have them scanned in and all I have to do is squeeze them down before I print them out. We also agreed it be best if I sent the religious cards to her aunt to hold onto for her. I just hope there’s no problem with the astrology scans, cards and word-find puzzles. I also hope they don’t count my address label as one of the 5 pics. Her aunt said they said I couldn’t send her book, but I’m hoping they misunderstood her question and that they thought she meant an actual published book.

Every 3-4 days I’ll send something. She should have all her stuff by May if all goes well. I’m not going to enclose any journal excerpts in the letter that will go out to her Monday till the two sent to Estrella after she left are returned to me and I see where I left off. Meanwhile, the first of the 3 manila envelopes went out yesterday and the next one will go out Monday, then Thursday. Then I’ll start with the 3 or 4 small manila envelopes (I decided to enclose the start of my Kate story, even though there are only 10 pages), then regular envelopes with pictures. There’ll be 7-8 of those between her pictures and mine. I even found a site online with a small pic of Monster, her and Gretchen. Poor quality, but hey, at least it was there! They’ll be in with the rest of her pics. Gretchen had such nice eyes, and boy was her hair a lot shorter! It was to her collarbone.

I noticed that one of the 6 cards was a Christmas card from the infamous Michelle and company and I asked if she still wanted it or if she wanted me to ditch it. I also asked if she’d like me to email Michelle to let her know what a jerk she and her son are for breaking her heart and then promising to send pictures they never sent.

I can’t wait to get the first letter from her telling me all about what the place is like. It’ll be a while before she gets commissary and gets established and adjusted. Though there’ll be some who won’t give a shit, soon enough most of the DOs will get to know her and see what a wonderful person she is.

At least she’s in the home stretch now and should never have to move again. Right now my vibes say she’ll be a free agent in September or October of ’05. The question is, though, what kinds of guys is she going to be getting pregnant by when she gets out, and how will they react to the babies once they’re born? Tom doesn’t think jail will cure her sick fondness for abuse, but that she’ll smarten up with age, but how old will she have to be before she does that? Forty? I just got to the part where he ran over her foot with the car when she was 6 months pregnant, yet she still stayed with him she loved abuse so much.

THURSDAY, MARCH 20, 2003 This is it. Florida’s got Mary. I awoke to a message her aunt left last night, saying that when she went to visit, she was told she had been en route to Florida since the 13th. What I don’t get is how she could still be en route, even if they were driving for some strange reason, and how the Florida prosecutor could not have known about it like she said was the case when she called her.

I decided to go ahead and send a 1-page letter with a few small pictures of Murphy and a religious card to her. The religious cards are about the size of playing cards. I never thought I’d be sending anything to that state again! As soon as I hear back saying she got it without any problems, I’ll start launching her stuff to her.

This is good timing, too. It’ll give me a chance to catch up on her stuff and maybe do some of my own stuff, too. I’ve been neglecting my story and proofreading.

I told her that although Florida’s quite humid and loaded with mosquitoes (though I know she already knows this), at least their winters are much warmer and nicer than Arizona’s.

So, if she really took off on the 13th, I should be getting two letters returned to me. I knew I shouldn’t have sent them, but it’s okay, she’ll still get them. I can’t imagine why she’d be driven to Florida and not flown, but either way, she should be there by now if she left on the 13th. That’s a whole week ago and it shouldn’t take more than 3-4 days to get there. Who knows? I could even have a letter from her on its way to me which would be nice.

So how do I feel about her leaving? Well, naturally I’m saddened by the extra mileage between us, but as I said numerous times before, I’ll feel more comfortable sending mail to a place in which only she knows my name. Despite our age differences, Mary turned out to be such a wonderful friend. Maybe we will be friends longer than the 11 years Andy and I were friends, the 13 years Jenny and I were friends, and the 18 years Paula and I have been friends. Actually, I’ve known Paula for 18 years, but we’ve really only been friends for about 13, minus the time we lost contact between late ’91 and late ’96, so 8 years, to be even more correct. The true test of Mary’s friendship will come when she’s released and no longer needs me. When she’s released and she no longer needs me to type for her, will she still be there?

To my utter amazement, though I should’ve figured it was coming sooner or later, I got a summons for jury duty in Maricopa County, and I was like, I’m a convicted felon, you assholes! Tom and I were laughing when I said, “I guess in some cases crime really does pay, even if you didn’t do it.” Anyway, I very happily checked the box for the convicted felon whose civil rights are not yet restored. Hey, I was born without most of my rights, civil and not-so-civil! Felon or not, like I’d be willing to serve the system that fucked me over? Yeah, right!

I wonder if the only reason Scot hasn’t come around is because of his being out, but I doubt it. I’d think he’d have whoever was covering for him go see those who he thought should be seen, but they ain’t seeing me. If I look out and see someone I don’t know, they’re not coming in.

I turned off the cold water switch. I really do prefer it room temp. It tastes like shit, though. Like plastic. Tom said it’ll go away in time. I hope so! Either way, I love the thing. It makes cooking so much easier and I can even brew my coffee with it! I just take the filter, which is small since my coffeemaker only brews by the cup, hold it over the cup and press the hot water switch.

I went outside yesterday and picked a little bushel of wildflowers. We have so many beautiful little flowers growing in patches throughout the land. I picked tiny daisies and tiny orange and purple flowers. I took a picture of me holding the clump in my hand too, to add to my land album. I thought of Mary as I picked the miniature daisies.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 19, 2003 It appears the new house in front now has electricity. I can’t swear to it, but I think the light I see is coming from that house.

In about 4 hours, we’ll be seeing Scot. I no longer let myself get nervous prior to visits. Not just because of how much time’s left, but because I’m sick of giving Scot credit he doesn’t deserve by allowing him to intimidate me. He can’t do anything to me, I tell myself. He’s just a simple person. While I may not be invincible, he has no power or control over me. He may think he does, but I know better and I’m not going to see him as an “authority figure.” He has no hold on me, for as far as I’m concerned, my life now belongs to me and me only. Doesn’t mean I can always get the things I want in life, it just means I’m nobody’s puppet anymore. I put in over 37 years of being someone or society’s slave and I won’t do it anymore.

Anyway, Tom got two 5-gallon water bottles yesterday. When one gets low, he’ll take and fill the other. It has pretty little lights on it, too. Green is the power light, red is the hot water and then there’s this pretty bluish-purple light for the cold, though the hot and cold only come on when the thermostat kicks in, very much like a refrigerator. Also, the space down below is not a refrigerator. It’s just a storage space for things like cups.

The spell’s a bust, too. The bougainvillea’s dead and the bitch isn’t sick. Is it just people I can place spells on? Or were Mary’s and Scot’s illnesses just coincidences?

Tom and I were talking about different states as far as population and prejudice go. Arizona has one of the smallest black populations, he told me. Not small enough, though, to save me from their wickedness.

We filled in the burn hole and agreed to do individual burn holes till the fences are up, and ultimately, we’ll get a barbecue pit. So, that’s one less thing I gotta worry about.

Although I look forward to Mary visiting someday, I felt it best to tell her up front that I don’t want anyone other than her aunt to know where we live while she’s on this bad-boy kick. Until that streak is broken, I don’t want potential trouble at the house. If there’s ever a time when she develops a little self-respect and has been with a guy for several months to a year with no known record and who’s never taken a swing at her, then we’ll see.

I also reminded her that I’m not single and in my 20s anymore. In other words, I’m not going to want to go to parties, go to bars, or hang out with lots of people. I’m a homebody and not a people person. I even hate to gab on the phone as much as I used to, I told her.

Anyway, I’m only telling her this cuz I think it’s only fair that she knows up front and doesn’t get released thinking I’m something I’m not. I figure she probably knows all this anyway from my letters, journals and book, but I still wanted to be upfront in advance. Besides, not everybody gets what they don’t want to hear. I’m not saying she’s like this, but take Andy for example, who refused to see the obvious; that I was a better guitarist than a pianist because of his overwhelming desire for his friends to be carbon copies of himself.

My visiting rules are simple, I told her – no smoking in the house and no small kids. This house isn’t childproofed, and I have too many breakables. I told her how I once told this to Evie and how she told mom she wasn’t happy about it (cuz she didn’t have the guts to tell me), and mom wasn’t happy about it either, and that I was like - tough shit! It’s our house and we have a right to ask people not to do or bring certain things into it just like others do with their houses. If Mary told me not to chew gum in her house, by all means, I wouldn’t and she’d have every right to tell me so. You can tell me not to wear the color pink for all I care, but I’d be obligated to respect that without taking offense. So, when she has more kids (and I know she will since she doesn’t seem to know the meaning of the words birth control) and they’re in their terrible twos, I’ll have to go to her place when she can’t get sitters. My attitude is pretty much – kids are kids and they have a right to be kids, just not at other people’s expense when it can be helped! Just because I don’t want any of my own doesn’t mean I hate kids or anything like that, cuz I don’t. They’re sweet, they’re cute, I just prefer them to stay in other people’s houses at least till they get a little older and understand the meaning of, “don’t touch.”

I was shocked to read she visited Monster at Estrella. I didn’t know this, though I knew he’d pretty much been getting in trouble with the law practically ever since he was in diapers. Also, his whipping his dick out like he did in the closed visitation booth to tell Mary it misses her was absolutely disgusting. What kind of class could a person like that possibly have? What a sickening thing to do, too. I mean, that’s nothing more than a man degrading men in general by doing that, and personally, I’d have been thoroughly embarrassed, but more so, I’d be embarrassed for him, then I’d walk out and never see him again in my life.

I suggested that if ever she gets the desire to “live dangerously” and on the edge with a bad boy, to remember all the suffering she and her kids have gone through on account of those bad boys and ask herself, is it worth it? Is it really worth the danger and excitement? I mean, she talks about writing the book to help others, well, what about helping herself first?

Later…

Oh, that fucking breakage curse! It just never ends. He was forced to do God’s favorite pastime for him, playing car. First a headlight went out, and of course there’s the power steering fluid that’s leaking. So he got a pump for that today, but now he says he broke a part and doesn’t know if it’ll get him to work tonight. This car is gonna cost us hundreds before we get the white truck running and licensed! See, I knew we’d be delayed with the fences. He planned to work on them this weekend, but he obviously won’t be able to if he’s going to be forced to stop and play car. Why won’t God just let us get ahead in life? Why must there always be so many setbacks?

To our surprise, Scot’s still out. All the PO covering for him would say was that he was on medical leave. Tom thinks it’s something like a knee or a back problem. The PO, some tall skinny dude, asked if I were “just a housewife.” Yeah, that’s all I am. Not much, huh?

Besides stopping for gas and car parts, we both got new underwear from Walmart. I got another 5-pack of satin string bikinis so I have more than enough for when I have accidents during periods.

We also got gum and those delicious caramel ice cream bars we’ve come to love.

You know, I got to thinking about it, and the more I think about it, the more I hope Mary makes a good sum of money from the book. It may sound selfish, but then I wouldn’t necessarily be working for free as I’m sure she’d give me at least a little something for helping her out.

Later…

Tom now says things are falling together nicely with the car. I hope so. I want to do fences this weekend, not cars.

Later…

Or so we thought things were going to be okay, but no, he’s now got to run all the way back to Casa Grande for parts. God, give him a break! Just give the poor guy a fucking break. They run him ragged at work as it is. He doesn’t need this shit. Let us just get the fuck on with our lives. If you have to pick on us, why don’t you just leave him out of it and pick on me? Come after just me. You hate me enough to, so do it! Just leave my husband and our fucking vehicles alone! I’m just so sick and tired, just so fed up with seeing him lose time, sleep and money to that fucking car!

TUESDAY, MARCH 18, 2003 I ended up having to wake Tom up to burn the trash yesterday, as yet another new dog in the area managed to push the 3 tires and umbrella stand off and dive into it. Big dogs like that can move pretty much anything a person can move. I was gonna burn the shit myself, but knowing how much he likes to be in charge of that, I had him do it.

Now here’s where it gets weird. Real damn weird. I watched Tom burn the trash from the window and I swear I saw him talking to himself. Actually, it looked more like he was talking to someone else, someone invisible. When I asked him about it, he denied it which made me wonder which one of us was going crazy.

I’ve also sworn I’ve heard him talking to himself in the bathroom which he says he never did either, but I know what I saw. Would he deny something like this? And why? Could he be doing it without realizing it? I sure hope not! To each their own, but the thought of people talking to themselves has always made me rather uncomfortable. It just seems like you’d have to be a bit ill to do so. Yet this is a man who’s smarter than 90% of the population. Too smart for any head problems.

I slept an uninterrupted 10 hours.

No plants yet, but Tom emailed me to say I have one big envelope from Mary. Hopefully, she’ll now be able to tell me when she’s leaving, but I hope there are not too many drafts. I still have 80 pages or so I’m trying to catch up on here. I hope my mail to her doesn’t get returned. I’m still hesitant to send more mail there. We’ll just have to see what she says, but if I don’t, I hope she’ll understand why. I told her why I was going to hold off mail in the first place which makes me wonder if she didn’t get the letter saying so. I absolutely hate it when she doesn’t answer all my questions cuz then I get all worried that someone’s tampering with the mail and all that. I was also surprised when she asked me to send José her letter, cuz I made myself clear about doing for her friends in a letter and she never struck me as the type to not listen well. It makes me awfully uncomfortable to be sending mail to an inmate I don’t know who could be in for anything. She doesn’t even know what he’s in for and see, she’s got to let go of people like that. She’s going to convince her PO that she likes “bad boys.” Meanwhile, sending emails, as long as I won’t have a lot to type up, is okay. For the most part, though, I just want to be her friend and her typist. Not her editor, publisher, messenger, etc.

Later…

Still nothing saying when Mary’s leaving, but I sent her a letter anyway. She definitely got the first one and probably the second one too, which was mailed on the 14th. However, we’re wondering if a letter from her to me didn’t make it because she said she commented about my drawings and Chris’ picture after I asked her again.

She agreed to send Teddy Bear’s letter and would be honored to let her know she sucks. I figured she would, but I’m still so grateful to her for doing this for me. Tom’s just too paranoid about me sending it myself. I’m still going to mention having moved in the letter. Her sergeant’s knowing about it should help keep her from getting any smart ideas too, cuz if something happened to me, it’d be too obvious she was behind it and they’d be there to testify that she was pissed over the letter which she no doubt will be.

She said her aunt got the disk and that Brandi requested that Virginia move in with her and she was ever so happy to see her go. I was like, awe, how sweet, two killers all locked up tight together!

She was all stressed and depressed over her aunt’s letting her have it over excessive money spending. Yes, the bad boy lover sent Clarence $45 of roses for Valentine’s Day. She got her roommate’s family to do it and she paid for it with commissary. She cried that she was a shopaholic who’d blown $550 since December. I told her, “Although I feel for you, I had to laugh at the same time when you were talking about the money you’ve blown. Yeah, I’m a shopaholic myself, but $45 on a loser like Clarence? Come on, girl, you can do better than that! I thought you weren’t romantically interested in him anyway. Also, we’re ahead of you. I think we’ve blown a few Gs since December.

I don’t want anyone other than her aunt to know where we live and to bring her here to visit once she’s out. Not while she knows too many losers. I don’t want her coming here with a different loser each time she visits, bringing potential trouble to the house. She’s simply too nice and too trusting, and she obviously isn’t going to break this wild attraction for bad boys anytime soon, so it seems.

She still wants any pictures she can get a hold of for her book. Even Justin’s mug shot. “Who cares if he looks like crap,” she said, “he is crap.” I’ll send it to her in Florida. Speaking of her book, she really does have a point that I never considered. She feels it’ll be no problem getting it published not because of how well-written it may be, but because of her name. Unfortunately, the girl is rather famous.

“I wonder what Andy thought when I was in the news, even if it was only for a few months,” I said to Tom. Tom doubted he knew about it, thinking he’d try to visit me at the jail out of curiosity, but no way. There’s no way he’d be that curious. Besides, he was so pissed that I dumped him. Not hurt; pissed.

She says most inmates label her greedy. Yeah, the spoiled little shits love to label those who refuse to be responsible for them as stingy, selfish and whatever else they can think of. It really is true that most inmates have shit for brains. The immaturity in that place was astounding. It was just like being in school all over again. The stupidity and childishness were sickening.

Yeah, I figured she’d like the daisy stationery like she told me she did. Daisies are her favorites as tulips are mine.

Fortunately, she only sent a few draft pages as I still have a ton of pages to type. Like 85 of them.

The wind is blowing strongly towards the east. Too windy for opening windows that face west. It’ll just cool the house down too much and bring in dust. Therefore, I opened a couple of windows on the east side. That way the air will get sucked out. It smells of the chemicals I used to clean with and it’s making me tight.

I asked Tom if he thought Scot would be back tomorrow. Yes, he said, and I agree. It’s too bad too, as I was enjoying the break from having to hear how much time I have left. If I think that’s bad, wait till I have to hear about the poor, poor “victim” around May 1st and probably towards the end, too. He’ll find some reason to bring it up again at some point, I’m sure. I’ll surprise him, though, this time around when he tells me how much time I have left because I’ll be quick to tell him there are now 226 days.

MONDAY, MARCH 17, 2003 It just hit me that Mary shouldn’t have the Teddy Bear letter with her in Florida since they’re not allowed to take anything other than legal papers, so I’ll have to make sure she writes that she discovered that they missed it once she got settled in Florida and thought she should have it.

Later…

It never ceases to amaze me just how much I’ve been woken up in this house, and even more so, how much I’ve been put out by other people’s animals! Something woke me up for a second yesterday and the dogs tore into our garbage. They wake me up, steal my peace and trash our yard! I should’ve insisted he bring the trash back into the house when he brought it out and saw it was too windy to burn. Despite adding two tires to the umbrella stand that’s filled with water as a cover, and just as I feared they would, the dogs toppled it over and got into the trash, spewing it all over the fucking place. It took me quite a while to gather it up. It had been super windy and at first, I thought the wind toppled the tires and stand over till I saw that the trash was all torn up. Nobody takes care of their fucking dogs out here! They bring them out here, decide they don’t want them for whatever reason, then turn them loose to depend on trash and shit like that. I left a message for Tom since I’ll probably crash before he gets up, letting him know that we need to either dig individual burnholes or dump the trash in the city till the fences are up, and also, I worry some of the giant dogs will jump over the fence out of sheer desperation alone. He said they wouldn’t since they had plenty of other land to roam, but if I were a starving dog who knew there was trash to pick through in here, I’d jump over whatever hurdles may be in my way. It makes me think we should spend the extra $150 on the zapping wire, but that’d be worthless against the big dogs if they do manage to hop on over as they wouldn’t need to touch it. Still, I wish we could have one strung low enough to zap little dogs from squeezing through and one up top for big dogs.

As far as what woke me up, I think Tom stupidly put the pot the oleander came in down without batting it down well. The wind apparently tossed it against the house. I found it in front in the brush. I put it where it can’t blow around and get whipped against the house.

In case I forgot to say so, I changed my email address. Feisty Dawn is now the rat lady. I’m ratlady1204, to be exact.

SUNDAY, MARCH 16, 2003 There wasn’t any money left over from Friday’s grocery trip, so I won’t be ordering that Esme doll on the 21st. Definitely at the end of the month, though, and instead of ordering the mugs at the end of the month, I’ll order them in early or mid-April.

It just started raining. The new plants will like that.

I got to thinking about how Mary surprised me by saying she was going to demand to be housed alone in Florida and that she was housed alone before because I thought she had told me they didn’t have Ad-Seg there which struck me as odd. All jails have to have some form of segregation, I’d think. Anyway, I think she’d be crazy to go general pop, and I’d be surprised if they even let her with her high-profile case. And especially in a state where more people would know about it. As long as the media’s going to be allowed to open their big mouths and endanger people like Mary, they gotta have Ad-Seg. Most people will feel bad for her and be on her side, but every so often she’d be up again a Nancy K who’ll see her as just as guilty for not protecting Gretchen.

The bougainvillea’s still alive. I’m trying again to put a spell on this bitch of a rat here. For Tom’s sake, I’m not doing death spells, just sick ones. If I have this gift, ability, power – whatever you want to call it – I may as well hone it as best I can. I’ll ask Mary if she wants me to try to make anyone she knows fall ill.

This morning we made my music computer part of the network, though we needed to get a newer, faster network card. They’re only $10, though. Tom said that it’s best to have backups on at least two different mediums, so I’ll still back up to CD once a month, but only on one CD instead of two. Meanwhile, I’ll send stuff to my music PC on a daily basis. At the end of each day, I’ll send whatever I’ve done during that day.

Tom’s going to visit his mom tomorrow, give her some puzzles I don’t want, and do some mooching. In other words, he’s going to see if Mom will pay for the grid fence, but I doubt she will. As Catholic as she is, she’s too selfish to volunteer that kind of money which would be over $500, even though she could easily afford to. It takes a crisis like when the well went out in order to get more than a measly $20 out of that woman. She’s as obsessed with the $20 bill as Mary’s obsessed with the camera.

He picked up the water dispenser today. It only does hot and cold, but all we have to do is turn off the cold, for example, and there’s my room temperature water. It also has a mini-refrigerator below for cans of soda. This thing would be ideal for offices, but in our case, it’ll save us $50-$100 a year. Not a huge sum of money, but it’s something.

We also now have all the posts we need (59). I believe him when he says wire wouldn’t be a settlement and that it’d be just as effective at keeping dogs out, but I’d still prefer the grid. They call it a field fence, I guess.

Let me guess, though, Mary will bitch about my jumping the gun in Mom’s letter, and Tom will defend her. I don’t know what it is with this man siding with others, especially to their faces. Art O. defended his wife at all costs, even when she was clearly in the wrong, yet I could be clearly in the right and my husband won’t always defend me.

Another thing that bothers me is his answer to a question I asked earlier. I asked him, if a woman were sexually neglected by her husband or boyfriend, say if he had a lot of business trips or whatever, and the woman stepped out on him, be it with another woman or not, would he A, blame the woman and say she was responsible for her own actions, B, blame the guy for being neglectful, or C, blame them both. My answer is C, cuz to me, it usually takes two to tango, but his was A. I was like, my gosh, you mean you wouldn’t feel the least bit guilty? Not that I intend to step out on him, but that really bothered me. He didn’t even feel guilty in the past either when he was jerking me around about the child I once so desperately wanted. I don’t like the way he’s assumed things about me and taken certain things about me for granted. In a sense, he’s expected me to give up so much for him. I have to wonder, is he ever grateful things turned out the way they did? Because most women would’ve walked. There’s no way he could’ve just expected them to give up a kid on account of his lame excuses, and put up with the lack of sex. That’s assuming and expecting too much of most people. I know he’d have been a good father if we’d had an accident, but that will never change things, though the past is the past. He’s handling the sex the same way he did with the kid; instead of coming out and admitting his lack of desire, he’s saying one thing and doing another. In other words, he’ll say he’s interested, then not make a move on me. He also places an awful lot of blame for his problems on me. I know he knows he’s not perfect, but to blame things I may’ve said or my attitude on his lack of cumming was really bad. He should’ve said, “I have a problem, it’s been years yet it’s not improving, so I should see a doctor if I want to cum and have a child, or I should just level with my own wife here. I owe her that much.” But instead, he strung me along with one excuse after another to tide me over between crying spells. Sometimes he was compassionate, sometimes he was sensitive but never guilty. The man seems to rarely ever feel guilt. It’s like he’d rather directly blame or imply it’s someone else’s fault. I still can’t believe to this day that he simply expected and assumed I’d just forget about a kid. Well, I did, though I don’t think I could ever fully forgive him for how he handled things in the past (I’ll certainly never forgive God for the depression and mental anguish he sat back and watched me suffer through for years). And now he just assumes I’ll live a life of celibacy whether or not I want to cuz he can’t come out and tell me the truth. Well, mark my words, if the opportunity ever does present itself between another woman and myself, I’m going to go for it, though I can’t see that happening and I don’t want it to. So you see, it’s not his lack of desire to get it on with me that bothers me, for I don’t desire sex either, it’s the not coming clean about it.

Back when he told me that the “cure” for his lack of cumming problem was for us to not talk about it, well, any decent therapist would say that that’s the worse way to handle a problem. Facing it is the best way, not ignoring it. Ignoring it won’t make it go away, but that’s just what he hoped would be the case. Not that his problem would go away, if it ever really was a true problem that was out of his hands, but that my desires for normal sex and a kid would go away, and believe me, I wish they went away in ’93 rather than ’98. But those aren’t things we can help. I couldn’t help wanting a kid back then and I can’t help not wanting one now. I’m only glad that the desire did go away in light of the circumstances. Besides, for every one mother I’ve met who’s praised motherhood, there are 20 who bash it, saying all it does is cause you pain, ruin your body, steal your life eat your money. “Hang onto your life and your money,” they’d tell me, “and keep your cute little figure.”

On the flip side, he’s more than made up for any faults he has with the things he did give me that I’d never have had the chance to experience if it weren’t for him.

He agreed with me that not having kids so you can have a life isn’t being selfish as some might say it is. What’s selfish is those who have kids that either don’t really want them or aren’t emotionally or financially ready for them. That’s both selfish and irresponsible.

Later…

Even on this damp, cloudy morning, the hunters are at it. They still shoot from sunup to sundown, and while I wouldn’t exactly describe them as obnoxious, I wish they’d give it a rest for the year. Hearing these little pops that sound like car doors all day gets old, though I do tune most of it out.

Later…

Sure enough, his cheap selfish mother didn’t pitch in anything toward the fences. Not even her famous $20 bill. This information was emailed to me from work, so if Mary or Mom started shit about me to Tom, I have yet to hear about it.

I also got an email from Mary’s lawyer in response to Murphy’s pictures I sent saying, “Wow, he is really grown up, thanks.”

We read together for a little while yesterday and discussed plans we have for around here. I got a great idea concerning the pond. At first Tom was skeptical, but after going out to take measurements, he agreed it could be done. Well, inside of having the pond out across the wash, making it hard to see into even though the house is elevated a good 3’ off the ground, I thought it’d be cool to have a long skinny pond close to the front of the house running alongside the living room and office windows. It’d be totally awesome to step up to the window and look down into a pond! It’ll also shade it from the afternoon sun.

We also busted out a lower shelf from one of the lower kitchen cabinets, allowing us to put our pails in there. That way they’re out of sight and the smell’s contained. I also won’t have to worry that certain eyes hired by the state to ensure I live my life according to their rules will see any mail from Mary. I used to make sure it was buried under other trash during the weekdays, but now it won’t matter. It probably wouldn’t matter even if it was still exposed since I doubt he’ll ever come here again, but the better my ass is covered, the safer I’ll be.

Last night while I was searching for MP3s, someone emailed me saying, “You’ve been busted as a leech and ignored!” (I did not have any music files set up to share) At first I thought it was the program itself, but Tom told me it had to have come from an individual. Nonetheless, I loaded a lot of my music on since I don’t mind sharing and it’s always neat to see what people want. They’re certainly coming at me more often now that I’ve got more files. I made two music folders. One for the slower stuff I don’t want to jog and exercise to, and then a folder for the more upbeat stuff. The upbeat folder is the one I’m sharing, though I may set it up to share both. I have a total of 794 songs right now. I’m very generous when it comes to my music and graphics, but with all else on this computer, I’m a stingy, selfish bitch. As selfish as his mother (at least she didn’t abuse him and pawn him off on other people, camps, funny farms, etc.).

It rained on and off throughout the day. Every time I think it’s not going to rain again till the monsoons, it does. Even the hunters called it quits early. We haven’t needed the AC for the last couple of days either.

It’s looking more and more like the fences are definitely going to be up sometime next month. I can’t wait! So my vibe was right all along about it not being much before I had 6 months left to go with the freeloaders.

Amazingly, despite being stuck for a couple of days and eating like a pig, I awoke at 125½. I really thought I’d be 128. Rather than having one big goal and telling myself I want to get down to 105-110, I think I’ll have multiple little goals. For starters, I’ll work at a goal of 120, though I doubt I’ll get much lower than that without nearly starving myself to death due to my age and muscle weight.

FRIDAY, MARCH 14, 2003 The more of Mary’s book I type up, the more sad, sick and cursed I see she has been so far. Get this, after Justin punched her out on the street, then cut the electricity and tore off the screen door to their roommate’s house to get in at her, slapped her again, busted down the bathroom door to assault her yet again, she goes and forgives him the next day saying that she loves him and love forgives all. That’s sick! Totally sick. How incredibly sad it is to read how she forgave him for all this shit, then insisted that God sent him, her “soul mate,” to her. That’s some God she’s been worshiping and some soul mate. Sorry, Mary, but nothing up there likes you. Can she ever be brave enough to see and face that fact as unfortunate as it is? Nothing up there has anything other than evil intentions for her. Maybe that will change someday and I sure as hell hope so, but the first step is going to be in realizing and admitting that she likes abuse and she likes abusive people. As soon as that illness is recognized and dealt with, the sooner she can do her part to help herself by avoiding people like Justin, Todd and Clarence. She can’t make God send her a loving soul mate if it isn’t in her cards, but she can at least stay alone if her only other choice is to take up with an abusive person. With the way she’s been going, though, she’s going to actively seek, be it at a conscious or subconscious level, an abusive guy the moment she gets out. In fact, her love of being slapped, kicked, punched and abused is so intense that I’m surprised she doesn’t request general pop. On the other hand, this type of disease usually pertains only to those the sick person is intimate with. It wouldn’t be the same if some fellow inmate took a swipe at her. It wouldn’t give her the gratification it would if it was a lover.

Nonetheless, it’s too obvious that she liked every minute of the abuse given the number of times she allowed herself to be abused by forgiving him, which essentially, was telling him it was okay. The only thing she didn’t get off on was the abuse of her kids. Yet still, her love of abuse was so much more powerful than her fear for her kids. Imagine that! To love to be beaten so much that it’s worth it to you to put your own kids at risk! And this is an otherwise compassionate and intelligent woman. I believe she really truly was scared at the times she was abused, but that was part of the thrill, the adrenaline rush she got from the fear. She’s what’s known as a fear junkie and a pain freak. I just can’t fathom it, but I know she hasn’t changed. Not when she’s still associating with people like her mother, who in a sense, was worse than mine. Her mother’s not her mother any more than mine was, but merely the woman responsible for her being born, yet people continue to obsess over biology.

She has no self-respect. She may as well go into a bar with a shirt saying: Buy me daisies and I’ll be fond of you, beat me up and I’ll love you forever.

It’s like all she knows is abusive men and having kids for them to abuse as well. I wonder how many kids she’d have by now if she’d never been to jail. Well, either way, I sure am worried for her future kids, that’s for sure.

If she were still alive, she’d still be with him today if the two of them were never jailed. She said it herself in her book: “True love forgives all error and I’ll be with you, Justin, no matter how much right or wrong you do.” Even if he killed all her kids by now, she’d still be with him.

After waiting forever in line, all the MV did was give him a number to call that doesn’t look at all promising for getting the title, so he’s going to make the transfer. I knew he’d have to anyway. Anything to eat up his time so it seems. I never realized just how much time all the home improvement and other projects would take up once we moved, but I should’ve figured as much. So see? Better to be just friends or else I’d still be going through the same old shit I went through with him in the past as far as being neglected goes. Anyway, it’s not that I can’t get off, it’s that I simply don’t want to. Not with him anyway, but maybe someday with a woman. I can’t see it happening anytime in the near future, though, so who knows? Maybe I’ll end up celibate for the rest of my life. Not something I could’ve handled in my 20s, but now that I’m older, had the experience, and no longer find it anything new or exciting, it’s okay. I think a lot of people end up feeling as I do.

Now that I’ve learned so much about the laws out here, Larry’s damn lucky he didn’t live here in ’97, cuz believe me, I don’t think he “blacked out.” I don’t see how you can blackout just cuz you got a little cough. I really think he was on something that night if he didn’t fall asleep at the wheel, and like I said, there’s no way he’d have gotten away with it out here. They probably felt too bad for him to check for drugs or alcohol, but out here he’d have been given no pity, no mercy, no nothing. He also took it awfully hard. Any parent would have guilt, yes, but “I murdered my son, I murdered my son,” was all he kept saying for the longest time. Well, maybe he did, though certainly not intentionally.

THURSDAY, MARCH 13, 2003 And so it came to pass that March 13th of this year begins the beginning of the fences! Yes, for just under $100, Tom got 25 posts today and put them up at 39’ apart across the front, leaving 6’-8’ for hedges. He said that all the posts, plus the wire, should come to around $550, $100 off of my vibe of $450.

The posts have bright white paint on the tops to make them more visible to vehicles. How wonderful it was to wake up and go outside to see the first of the fences installed. Tom said digging was a piece of cake. He’s going to cement all the posts, too. He realized, though, that if next door could have their posts so far apart, so could we. Theirs is probably a good 45’ or so, though it’s in shit shape. I don’t know why, but parts of it look like someone rammed a vehicle through it. Mexicans are stupid, though, so they don’t strike me as the type to do things right. In other words, the dumb shits probably didn’t cement any of the posts. Nonetheless, digging’s so easy, he says, that it would’ve been a waste of money to get an auger. At that, I was like, oh my God! You mean we didn’t waste money buying something that was either broken or useless to us – wow!

I wonder if we keep it unlocked if anyone will be brave enough to open the gate to ask us about property for sale around here or something like that. Especially at night. I mean, I sure as hell wouldn’t open gates. I could never know what may be in there hiding, waiting to pounce on me, like maybe some Doberman from hell.

Tom’s going to try to get the green truck’s title by going directly to motor vehicles tomorrow. Only one of two things could happen. He could either end up getting the title, or he could end up getting nowhere and being forced to set up the white truck. He asked me for my vibes, but I couldn’t sense anything. That’s mainly because I’m a doom psychic. I didn’t ask to be one, but that’s my strength within the psychic world. Not sensing good things. So if tomorrow’s going to turn out good and he’s going to get the title, I could never sense it. Very rarely do I sense such things.

I don’t seem to be able to help plants either, although those who have fallen ill at my wishful thinking are still a hell of a coincidence not to be ruled out. Plus the thing with Little Buddy. Even so, it still looks like it’s going to die.

I’ve learned that when I have paper jams if I just turn the paper around, it’s usually okay. Therefore, I may return to the back-to-back printing.

Tom told me a funny joke earlier that I enclosed in my joke file, plus I sent it to Mary. We agreed it’d be okay to send something every few days. The worst that could happen is that it gets returned to me and I resend it to Florida. I got 4 regular envelopes from her today and 2 big ones.

To my surprise, she wasn’t calling for a favor or to say she was leaving. She was just calling to call but said she hung up after a few rings, realizing it was early and very expensive. That’s cool that she understands that, though the phone could never wake us up and our schedule varies. What may be “early” for me this week will probably be late for me next week. I was worried, though, that she was going to get a little too carried away with asking for favors pertaining to those I don’t know. Emailing Chuck, her lawyer, a quick note along with her book is fine. It’s when she wants me to write to people in jail that I don’t dig or if she were to send lots of letters to type for others, but as long as it’s email where I don’t have to go buying more stamps, and as long as it’s not too often, it’s no problem.

I still worry she’s going to hang out with the same types of loser cocks once she’s free. Remember, it’s that illness some people have. She has a deep, dark craving to be abused. It’s what she likes, what she wants, what she’s used to. She never even tried to fight back most of the time Justin hit her. She’d just scream at him and try to get away.

She cracked the both of us up when she was bashing guys in general, saying that because she has no discrimination, she needs me to balance things out. Well, it’s true that she loves everybody as much as I hate everybody! Also, I’m as vulgar as she is not. For every 20 hardcore swears out of my mouth, she may say the words darn or damn once, but the thing that’s really cool about us is that we let each other be themselves. I hate people like Lora Edwards who bitched how much she hated it when I’d use God’s name in vain by saying the word goddamn. Not that she didn’t have a right to not like it, but people have a right to express themselves as they see fit. That’s why I can’t get along with most people. They either expect me to be like them or they assume I’m out to make them like me.

A part of me was glad to hear she was hanging up the fantasy writing. Not because it bores me or that she’s loony (maybe a little naïve at times) or that she should be ashamed or embarrassed by anything she writes, but because I have enough typing to do with her book alone, which she just learned she can’t profit from. I knew this, but she just learned that if you’re involved in a case, you can’t make money from it, so she may use an assumed name and have the proceeds go to her family. I think she should use a fictitious name anyway because then she can legally use people’s real names without being sued. All she’d have to do is put a disclaimer on the front of the book saying she changed names (even though she didn’t) and that anybody with the names used in the book is purely coincidental.

I was surprised to hear that she was worried about not hearing from me. I thought she knew that the only reason I was laying low was cuz I figured they could move her anytime and that my mail would only end up returned to me. Tom agreed it’d be okay to send something every few days. The worst that could happen is that it gets returned to me and I resend it to Florida. So tomorrow when he goes to do the grocery shopping, I’ll have him drop a letter in a box and she should get it Sat. or Mon. if she’s still there. Anyway, I still had to laugh when she said she was going to send the paramedics out and have them search all the Maricopa ranches!

Anyway, just after sunset, Tom and I went to Circle K for snacks. Some stupid fuck pulled out in front of us and I was so grateful there wasn’t a car on the other side of us so we could jump out of the way.

As usual, we had to stop and play leak with the car before we left. The cashier who was outside on her break mentioned it. He poured water into whatever was the problem this time around. “It’s a Ford, so it’ll make it,” the woman said, and it did.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 12, 2003 Mary didn’t try calling back, so she either was calling to say goodbye, or she wanted something and found someone else to do what she wanted.

Tom cleaned my ear out some more with the earpick. It looks like we’ll manage just fine without having to deal with referrals and specialists.

Last night and today I did something on my office wall that’s way cool, though not without disaster. I made colorful silhouettes by shadow-tracing the outlines of the two Playboy dolls and Patrice, the queen of all my ballerinas. Victoria’s in purple, Karen’s in pink and Patrice is in blue. I stacked two speakers about 4’ from the wall and placed the doll on top. Then I made another stack about a foot behind it, using Sacajawea to prop the flashlight at an angle. Then I’d turn off the light to make my shadow sharper and would trace its outline. Yesterday went fine, but tonight I moved Patrice before remembering to do the inner section of lines and had a hell of a time lining her back up, then Sacajawea fell and broke from just below the elbow down. Fortunately, it wasn’t her head and I was able to glue and tape it, but how stupid of me! I should’ve used a towel or a shirt like I did afterward. I taped it with masking tape after gluing the sections that I glued, because there were tiny fragments missing that made it sharp and unstable. Taping it gives it extra security. It doesn’t look too bad but I’d rather have a funny-looking hand than no hand at all. It’s taped between her wrist and elbow and her sleeve covers most of it.

As predicted, the truck won’t be up and running anytime soon. Tom simply can’t get the title for the green one, so he’s going to have to set the white one up.

He fixed and installed the indoor/outdoor thermometer in the kitchen. The wire runs out through the oven’s vent. It’s 50° outside now and 75° in here.

Anyway, Tom met the renters today. When he was down there searching for that corner’s property marker, which he did find, it stirred the dogs up. I like what he had to say about them but was quite dismayed to learn there are at least 7 dogs back there. 7 dogs! He said there were about 3 adult dogs and 4 puppies. He couldn’t tell if any of the adult dogs had the puppies or not. Just that he got the feeling they intend to keep them. What surprised me was that most of them came from the house. He said they’re all mutts, not too big, and only one of them that they had in a pen outside, seemed like it could be more of a guard dog. I don’t exactly like the idea of swimming (once we get the pool) to the tune of 7 dogs barking, but he says it shouldn’t be a big deal, and after thinking about it I realized that maybe it won’t be. I’ve been outside enough lately and can truly say I haven’t heard barking from over there. After all, I sure as hell didn’t know there were that many of them. I thought they only had one dog.

So anyway, he can’t remember their names. The woman appeared to be in her late 20s to early 30s and the guy was mid to late 30s. He said they seemed quite nice and even were considerate enough to worry that they put their horse on our property and that their kids might be too loud (he only saw one 3-year-old, but we figure there are probably 3 or 4 kids in all). Nothing of theirs is on our property, though you could see old tire tracks clipping a corner of the property. They haven’t been throwing trash back there either which is nice, and as for the kids, I have heard a few shouts from outside, but nothing even remotely close at this distance to bother me. They could never be as maddening as the kids screaming just a few feet away from our old house for hours at a time.

Tom told them we were getting ready to put up fences and the guy offered to help which was nice of him, but Tom assured him he could manage. Remember, we don’t want problems with our neighbors like we had in Phoenix, but we don’t want to be friends with them either. All we want is to get along. Being friends with neighbors can be as bad as being friends/lovers with coworkers. Still, I really do appreciate their consideration, and it’s people like this that I’d consider being considerate of myself. The more someone’s considerate of me, the more I am to them, whereas if the blacks or Mexicans had asked me to tone down my music, I’d have told them to come back and ask again after they themselves shut up, and meanwhile, they could go fuck themselves. No black or Mexican could ever be like them. Very few of them could be anyway. They’re too me, me, me, me!

George still owns the place, the woman does ride the horse (though I’ve never seen her do so) and they’re planning on getting another one, and they hear karaoke parties at Dan’s place on weekends, though they certainly didn’t refer to it as “Dan’s place.” We didn’t even know it was karaoke, just that it was coming from Dan’s, but they’re closer to Dan’s and don’t have the 6” walls and dual-paned windows we have, so they can hear better. At first, I thought Tom was saying it was my singing that was mentioned, but then they said they hear guys that sound drunk. Well, I don’t sound like a drunk guy when I sing and I don’t throw the doors and windows open to purposely let the sound out for others to hear!

I can see why they sacrificed their housing. With 3-4 kids, 7 dogs and soon-to-be 2 horses to feed we’d have to live in a dump, too.

The Mexicans that were in the furthest rental took and dumped a bunch of shit across the street before they moved. Yeah, those Mexies are filthy people, that’s for sure! Tom said he could see stuffed animals, clothing, etc.

The woman obviously works, Tom said, because the guy told her she ought to hurry up so she isn’t late for work. This was at 1:00, so she might work second shift.

He says they didn’t look or talk Mormon and that they thought this house was vacant because they never saw anyone outside. I know we’re not outdoors much compared to most people, but I’m surprised they didn’t see us at least a few times over the year they’ve been here.

To sum it all up, although the high dog population isn’t comforting to know about, I do hope they stick around for a while as it really seems like we’ve been compensated for the shit we had in Phoenix. I’m just so glad we didn’t get Mexicans in there what with the way the illiterate junkies are invading the country, and you how it was for me for the longest time; I always had to get the blacks and Mexicans next to me. These are our first white neighbors since ’96, aside from Dan and the people after him.

Tom got a lot of brush cleared with the chainsaw and is going to pick up some posts and a hole digger today. Then we’ll set them in cement and see how they do. We’re now thinking of going with barbless wire to make it easier on his hands. As long as the thing will keep dogs out, get what you want, I told him, but if we ever do see a dog, we’re going to install a low-voltage wire that will zap them away. That’d cost about $150 if we do need it and will probably come out of the savings account.

The bougainvillea’s still in the same condition.

I asked myself if I’d go live on a ship or a submarine right now if I could. At first I was hesitant because I wouldn’t be able to shop as much, but on the other hand, it’d be a little hard for a bunch of freeloaders to get me thrown in jail in the middle of the ocean, so yes, I’d take the ship or sub. I still worry about that, too. Not the freeloaders but somebody somewhere. I know it’s only a matter of time before someone new makes my life miserable for years.

I added a couple more silhouettes. I did one of Lily, the bronze ballerina figurine, on another wall in my office. She’s in a reddish-pink color. Then I did a silhouette of Colette in green in the retreat.

TUESDAY, MARCH 11, 2003 Mary tried calling this morning. It came up as “inmate phone” on the Caller ID box, but he didn’t get to the phone on time. Tom said he thinks it was cuz she was about to be moved, but knowing her, she probably wanted something. Let me guess…she wanted me to contact a friend of hers with long-distance blocks? Either way, I’m getting tired of being used here. She’s worse than Andy! I swear I’ll be gone in a heartbeat if she pesters me on the outs. I don’t know. Maybe she was just calling to make sure I’m still alive, though I doubt it. Anyway, if she’s there, she’ll hear from me tomorrow or the next day. Also, there’s no way I’m going to get in the habit of letting her call. Those calls are outrageously expensive. That jail seizes every opportunity possible to make extra money.

I should have a better idea by tomorrow if she was calling about moving or not. If it wasn’t about moving, she’ll probably try again. If it was, then I probably won’t hear from her till she contacts me by mail from Florida.

It got up to 82° in the house. Getting closer to that AC! We put the grill in the skylight and pulled the den shades down behind their blinds.

I woke up at 124. I’m not too surprised about that, but I probably would be if I hit 120. I sent Mary and Dave a progress picture I took. Every few pounds I’m taking pictures. That ought to shock the shit out of them; me sending them a picture of myself.

Before I get to the landscaping news, it really hit me today that no, it’s no coincidence that people I’ve practiced my sick curse on have gotten sick. I did it with Scot, someone I don’t dislike, but don’t like either, and I did it when Mary pissed me off the first time at the casino. There’s also the time I healed Little Buddy’s illness. So, I figured if this modern-day witch could make people sick and heal animals, she might be able to heal plants too, and I took myself out to the very shocked, but not yet dead bougainvillea and did my thing. It’s a concentration thing, I guess you could say. Similar to Mary’s visualization thing. I know that although most of us have a basic psychicness to us, most people can’t do the things I do. Not in such detail and quantity, anyway. I don’t know if it’ll work as this is something new to me. I mean, I never tried to rescue a dying plant before. It won’t be the end of the world if it doesn’t make it, though. Tom put an oleander behind it today. A bigger one, too. Yes, we’ve been on quite a landscaping frenzy. Now’s the time to do it as well as in the fall. He also got about 30 petunias in pink, magenta, purple and white, and a few tomato bushes to plant in the midst of them which surround the palms. Lastly, he got a little strawberry bush which is off toward the side of Palma. I only hope the prairie dogs and rabbits save some strawberries for the rats and I!

The petunias, strawberry, and tomato bushes aren’t perennials. They’ll die in the winter, but they’re dirt cheap to replant. It was only like $1.80 for 6 petunias.

The big barrel cactus at the southeast corner fell over after all that rain we had, but that’s okay, I’d prefer prickly pears.

Tom checked that site out more and found we can get some pretty awesome stuff for dirt cheap. We’d never have believed that for just $240 we could put 5’–10’ Rose of Sharon hedges along the perimeters of the property, but we can! Maybe something isn’t so against us after all, as long as we can get the stuff shipped to Arizona reasonably soon and have it survive, too. We’re going to do a test and get Sharon hedges of about 80’ wide which will go between us and next door. We can’t see next door from in the house because there are no windows we can see out of on that side. There’s only the back door window and the bathroom window and they’re frosted. However, we can see part of their property from outside. We’ll need to run those skinny black rubber hoses around the perimeters for watering too, and water them every few days since they’re not native to Arizona (unless it rains). I don’t know if the Rose of Sharon hedges are really roses or if they just look like them. They come in purple, red and white and they pick the colors. I’m sure we’ll get a good variety and that they’ll all be lovely.

Later…

We ordered the trees and hedges online. We got so much for so little! For just $38.22, we got 16 Rose of Sharon hedges that will be 80’ wide, 5 poplar trees for shade in back between the house and wash which will be over 50’ tall in just 4 years, 12 elm trees for privacy that will grow to a height of 45’ and about 36’ wide, 1 very pretty and sweet-smelling English lavender bush that will get to 3’ and 2 tulip trees. I don’t know where we’ll put the lavender bush and tulip trees. I wanted a walnut tree too, but we’re in the wrong zone for that. I don’t know where these will go either. We’re also getting some free stuff with our order. Some flower bulbs, and a planting instruction book.

Assuming these things make it, we’ll order more at some point till we have all the shade and privacy we want.

We’re going to go back to planning to get barbed wire fences. That way we can use the extra money for the Rose of Sharon hedges. They should be thorny which will also make a good dog barrier, though the way we plan to string the barbed wire will be a good enough block in itself. I guess we’re going to put the hedges on the outside of the fence. It’ll be a very appealing selling point whenever we do move.

The only bummer is that they ship parcel post. We were hoping UPS would bring them right to us, but oh well. At least the PO has been more reliable.

Another thing we’ll want to ultimately hedge is that ugly well and water tank. That won’t take much at all, but the perimeters, shade and privacy stuff are way more important. Whether or not we’ll get any bird of paradise bushes, pansies, or any more oleanders and bougainvilleas, I don’t know. I do know I still want prickly pears.

MONDAY, MARCH 10, 2003 Tom thinks he found the problem. Something he did messed up the whole network after all. Good, then instead of having to stop and be set back by having to play fix-it all day on my computer after setting up the new satellite system, he can clean his damn office which is trashed as usual.

Since bombing, the spiders have been non-existent inside the house which is nice. It’s still unknown where they were coming from. The drains? The vents? I only know I hope it was the drains because there’s no way anything that might’ve been living in there could still be alive at this point.

Later…

Tom fixed the network and will soon be working on the TV. The thing that was supposed to take less than an hour ended up taking 3.5 hours because as our luck would have it, we were sent someone who didn’t know what they were doing. I know I sound like the biggest sexist in the world, but fucking cocks! I swear 99% of them are so stupid. We need more women doing more things. They’re more patient and not so quick to cut corners and do such half-assed jobs. At least it’s done, though, and we didn’t get ripped off. It’s one thing to have people’s stupidity consume our time and another to have them eat up our money.

Our goodies came today. When I first saw the size of the box, I figured things were on backorder, but nope, they squeezed everything we ordered in.

The pink, rose-scented roses are in the big bath and the mauve, fleece-lined slippers will be great for next winter. This winter seems to have exited practically overnight. It got up to 81° inside the house. We’re getting really close to needing the AC.

The tool he got to clean my ear with seems to work great so far so long as I soften things up with oil first.

Got the blind cleaners, which certainly do seem like they’ll make cleaning blinds a lot easier and more effective and the state map with its state coin holders. In 1999, they issued Delaware, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Georgia and Connecticut. I’ve only got Georgia. I’ve got all of 2000 coins which are Massachusetts, Maryland, South Carolina, New Hampshire and Virginia. The states issued in 2001 are New York, North Carolina, Rhode Island, Vermont and Kentucky. I’m missing Rhode Island. For 2002, the coins are Tennessee, Ohio, Louisiana, Indiana and Mississippi. I’m missing Louisiana. I have no 2003 coins yet, but it’s only March. Arizona won’t be minted till 2008 as it’s the 48th state.

The filters are now in the vents too, and since they do a better job of sealing than the screens, I removed most of the screens.

The stuff came with some offers, one of which consists of a bunch of beauty stuff you can get for next to nothing. If you order $12 of stuff, you get free shipping and with $16 of stuff, you get a free 3-piece travel set and 10 free lipsticks. I got just under $20 of mascara, Ming Shu perfumed lotion, and 6 bath gels – peach, rose, blackberry, vanilla, lilac and lavender.

The pedals are terrible. Another $10 wasted. They’re of a better design, but they move all around when I use them. The things can’t weigh more than a pound or two. Unless we decide to strap them to the floor, I’ll just keep on jogging. Besides, I’m not trying to lose weight anymore but just stay the same. I don’t need to jog that long, on top of the other stuff I do, to stay the same weight as long as I don’t make a pig of myself. Who knows, though, maybe we could mount them to a heavy piece of wood or something.

At least the saw’s working. He got a chainsaw for clearing away brush. It’d make no sense to put up the corner posts and try to run string from post to post with brush in the way. The string, as I might’ve said earlier, will be our guide, keeping the fence installation in a straight line. We’re probably going to have a 30’ buffer on each side. The last thing we want to do is chance putting fences too close to easements or out of the property lines. Tomorrow he’s going to look for one of the back corner markers, but it’s likely to have gotten washed out over time.

I fed Shiny, the big black cat that hangs out here, some chicken today. He’s all black and shiny like the Phoenix Shiny was. I can’t let him inside, though, with the rodents and breakables. I don’t know if this cat’s fixed or if it belongs to anyone or not. I doubt it, though. I think he was dumped and left to fend for himself like most cats and dogs out here seem to be.

Also amongst the offers that were enclosed with our stuff was a landscaping brochure that looks quite promising, as well as a great value. Their Siberian elm hedges are said to grow to 45’ and as it is, we’re going to have to replace one of the bougainvilleas, though everything else is doing fine. It shocked so bad that we’re pretty sure it’s going to die, and gee, it’s quite a coincidence that it’s the one right in line with the renter’s little deck, the place I can see them the easiest. It’s like something’s saying, “You can run, but you can’t hide from society.”

Yeah, but I’m still going to try.

Anyway, Tom’s going to look into the landscaping’s website more thoroughly before we decide on anything for sure. The cool thing about it is that it tells you how many plants you’d need to make a wall of whatever feet wide. The elms are boring looking but with the way they could block the sun and give us privacy at that height, I don’t care. I only hope we won’t have to be dead for a century or two before they reach that height. All we need, though, is a good 10’-15’ to block out the renters. What we’ll need to do is find out how fast things grow and if they can live in Arizona. The site didn’t say much about the plants themselves, just the sizes and prices. Fortunately, though, Tom says elms will grow pretty much anywhere.

My God, though, I never thought I’d be buying trees! Not the girl with the food stamps from the inner-city projects amid the drug dealers and the rundown buildings littered with graffiti. Yes, I’ve certainly seen all financial levels. I was a rich kid who became a poor young adult who’s now a very comfortable middle-aged person. As I told Tom, though, we’d probably have a better chance of getting rich by suing one of the many people who fuck us over than by this property.

Because it’d cost many hundreds of dollars, speaking of money, to get a water softener/filter so we could drink our tap water, we decided to get a water dispenser. It’ll end up a lot cheaper than buying the 2½-gallon jugs we’ve been getting. For $100, we can get a dispenser with a 5-gallon jug. It has 3 controls on it. One for room temperature water like I usually prefer, one for cold, and one for hot. There’s a place here in town that dispenses water so we can fill the jugs up there for a lot less than buying these jugs from the grocery store. It’d cut down on the recyclables a lot, too.

Got 4 envelopes from Mary today. She asked if I could help her find a publisher in Florida, but like I told her, I couldn’t even find one for myself if I tried. Besides, I don’t want to be doing any more than typing for her and I already told her this. I have a full enough plate with my own stuff. I had no idea that the home improvements would steal so much of our lives, but it does. Then I have my usual responsibilities and my own writing projects. I can’t do it all for her anyway, and I’m not going to be like most people and tell her I’ll do stuff I don’t want to do.

Anyway, she sent me 62 pages of drafts and said she might be there for a month or two more, but even so, I’ll probably hold off again on the mail to her after the letter that’s going out tomorrow. I caught her up to date on things and enclosed some pictures for her. A couple of doll pictures and a few of our land and palms.

She also says she’s alone now and tickled pink to be enjoying the added peace and privacy.

SUNDAY, MARCH 9, 2003 Mary said she’d be gone the first week of March. Well, the first week’s done, so is she gone? I wonder. I don’t have any vibes either way. Meanwhile, all I can do is sit and wait till I’m contacted.

I got up at 3:30 to find Tom gone to Casa Grande. Today’s the day we should get the first of the fencing material. At last! I just hope we can get the whole thing done before the springtime bee swarms get here and before the snakes wake up. Of course, we’ll be dodging ants all along the way, too.

I’ve been waking up at 125 lately. Although I know it’s possible, I still doubt I’ll get below 120. I may not even get below 125, but I’m starting to suspect I will if only by a pound or two.

I decided to let my pierced ears close up. I simply never wear earrings anymore. I’ve never been big on jewelry as opposed to most women. It’s a pain in the ass. Earrings get in the way of my headphones. Hell, I don’t even wear my wedding band unless we’re going out. I’m not so into clothes, makeup, and jewelry like I was in the past. That’s more of a 20s single thing. Now that I’m a chunky, middle-aged married woman, it doesn’t matter so much to me.

Later…

And our shit keeps right on breaking. Yeah, today’s problem is that for some mysterious reason, I can’t get on the net. Tom’s been trying for hours to fix the problem but to no avail. He reloaded Windows and other stuff. He did find some corrupt system files, but getting rid of them hasn’t solved the problem. Meanwhile, the rest of the network is just fine.

Tomorrow, between 8:00 – noon, someone will be coming out to install the satellite uplink, and hopefully, though I highly doubt it, that will fix things and make them less complicated. The digital TV system I thought I was going to love and was going to be so easy to use and the program sucks as it is.

I’ll be asleep when the installer gets here and if they wake me up, they do, though I don’t think so. Not if I sleep with the fan on high. Also, the bedroom’s pretty far from the den.

SATURDAY, MARCH 8, 2003 It is such a beautiful, beautiful day out there. I have most of the windows open. It’s up to 78° inside the house. Naturally, the renters are out and about. We should see less of them as the temperature rises.

Tom’s now shoveling more dirt onto the pipes. Tomorrow he’s going to get cement, some posts and some fluorescent string. We want to put string from post to post as best we can so we know we’re putting the fences up in a straight line. He also thinks we can cut down from 120 posts to 80. He said he’s seen fences like what we’re getting with at least 30’ between them, so he’s going to get 8-10 posts or so and put them up in an area that doesn’t have a lot of brush to see how sturdy they are. This way, though, each post will have to be cemented, but that’s no big deal. It’ll save us a lot of money if we can cut down to just 80 posts. They’re 3 or 4 bucks each. The whole thing’s still going to cost $700-$900, but will be plenty worth it and a good selling point.

I finally got some serious sleep, too. I slept for 11 hours with no interruptions.

Poor Tom is still stuck. Wednesday he had diarrhea, so we picked up something for it at Walmart, and it worked alright. He hasn’t gone since!

I decided I would proofread the 1998 and 1999 files after all. I just won’t print them out when I’m done fine-tuning them. Together the files have just under 700 pages. I want to do about 10 pages a day.

I did manage to burn my MP3s after all too, by making sure I put a reasonable amount of songs on each CD. Each has a little over 100, and I figure every new 100 songs or so, I’ll burn a CD. Meanwhile, I’ll use the old set for traveling.

FRIDAY, MARCH 7, 2003 Tom has to work tonight, then he’s on vacation.

There are now 34 weeks to go till the freeloaders are out of my life forever. About 238 more days left and about 161 in which Scot could show up here, but I really doubt he will. I hope not, but if he does, I’ll know that there won’t be 20- or 30-something more months in which he could continue to do so. So, I wouldn’t like it, especially if I was sleeping, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world either. Yes, there are many worse things than Scot popping in.

It dawned on me that you really can write to someone in prison from Estrella and get a reply, so I told Mary about the time I wrote Bob and got a response and suggested she give it a try.

Little by little it’s been warming up. Maybe that’s why there hasn’t been any activity in back when we go out to water the plants. The bougainvilleas are still in shock, but the rest of the stuff is fine.

Since I decided I don’t like flags enough to get more once the rest of the ones I have get old and tattered, the palms will be good for telling the direction of the wind like the flags are. Especially when they get bigger and fuller. It’s hard to tell the way the wind’s blowing with the bushier trees.

My prairie dogs remember me from last year. Both they and the rabbits are pretty brave around us, but the prairie dogs are definitely the bravest. I stepped up to an open window, and down on the ground just a few feet away, a cute little prairie doggie stood up on its feet staring at me. Then I went out and fed it.

We turned the heat off for the year which means it’ll get pretty chilly in the early mornings for a while, but we’ll live. The heat’s now not coming on till 4-5 AM.

To my extreme surprise, I was up 21½ hours and only slept for 6½, yet wasn’t tired when I got up. Maybe I’m finally getting to that point in life where I don’t need as much sleep, as is common with age.

Anyway, here’s a rather sad, sarcastic, yet to-the-point poem I wrote earlier.

Because of Them

Because of them, suffered great stress. Because of them, I could not live in peace. Because of them, I shed many tears of sadness. Because of them, I raged with anger and frustration. Because of them, I lost faith in God. Because of them, I was forced to turn on fans or music to drown out their racket. Because of them, I could not always enjoy being outdoors. Because of them, I had to sleep on a cold, hard floor. Because of them, I had to return to the city I thought I had escaped. Because of them, I could not live with my husband for six months. Because of them, the last six months of my pet’s life were stolen from me. Because of them, I was forced to eat overly bland or spicy foods. Because of them, I had no privacy. Because of them, I had to pee in front of others. Because of them, I could not wear my own clothes. Because of them, I could not sleep in my own bed. Because of them, I was forced to take cold showers. Because of them, I fell out of shape and gained weight. Because of them, I lost many hours of sleep. Because of them, I lost thousands of dollars. Because of them, I lived in a world of concrete and steel. Because of them, I froze my ass off. Because of them, I got the flu. Because of them, my newly straightened teeth shifted. Because of them, I was forced to interact with strangers I didn’t care to know. Because of them, I could not use my stereo, computer or other things. Because of them, I had to deal with even more noise and chaos. Because of them, I had to deal with some crazy, mean people. Because of them, someone stole my heart and broke it. Because of them, my husband also lost time and sleep. Because of them, I was humiliated, degraded and treated as a criminal. Because of them, I had to go places I’d have preferred not to go. Because of them, I live in the constant fear of reverse discrimination. Because of them, I can no longer trust the system. Because of them, I learned that corrupt cops aren’t only on TV. Because of them, I was forced to do things I didn’t want to do. Because of them, I learned many new things I didn’t care to learn. Because of them, I learned I was tougher and more capable than I thought. Because of them, I became friends with Mary and Rosa. Because of them, I have written and published things I may not have. Because of them, nothing will ever be the same again. Because of them, I WILL fight back if I am ever again legally railroaded.

I’m also going to put a copy of the letter I’m going to have Mary mail to Johnson in here.

Teddy Bear,

I have sent this letter in to Mary to give to you if you should return to Estrella while she’s still there because I’m trying to keep you out of trouble while I say what I wish to say to you, so please, if a sergeant should ever get a hold of this, just please make sure officer Johnson gets to read it, too. I want her to know just how much I’ve suffered on account of her rather poor conduct.

Yes, Teddy Bear, it’s me. Do you even remember me? The one you thought was too pretty to be a Jodi? The one you nicknamed Dawn? The one who called you Teddy Bear? The one whose heart you broke with your false promises of getting together a year after my ’01 release?

First I was hurt over what you did to me, but then I became angry. Especially after learning that there are other victims of your games and lies, which in a sense, is what’s inspired me to give you a piece of my mind. I had to do it, not because it can change the past, but because I hope it will cause you to think about what you’ve done and not make the same mistakes again. Life isn’t about avoiding mistakes altogether, it’s about trying not to make the same ones more than once.

So tell me, have you really simply wiped me out of your memory forever? And what about the property near my old place that was for sale that you asked me all about? Have you really forgotten the jokes we shared, the chats we had, etc.? Have you forgotten our joke about the dolls? Have you forgotten how I used to guess your name? I got new names for you, none of which begin with an R or would be appropriate to write.

For someone who’s considered to be pretty smart, I often wonder how I could’ve been so blind and dumb where you were concerned. And I thought you were oh so professional? Yeah, right! What kind of “professional” leads someone on the way you did with me? I know I wasn’t the only one and I know why you were transferred. I don’t want to “get you” and I don’t want to see you fired, but your behavior, looking back on it, was disgusting. Utterly appalling. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Don’t you ever feel the slightest bit of guilt? I was a human being you played with, not a toy. I had feelings, you know, and you really ran my head through the wringer. I was so, so hurt. I cried, brokenhearted for months when I realized you weren’t going to respond to the ’02 letter you told me I could send. No, I wasn’t going to leave my husband whom I love dearly, but I had hoped for and looked forward to some kind of relationship with you which you gave me every reason to believe would happen. Well, I guess it really is too late now, for I’m no longer even in Arizona. Now I know why you told me to wait a year after my release before sending that letter, too. As soon as you told me they had a 1-year policy, I became suspicious so I did some checking and found that wasn’t true. You only told me to wait, figuring I’d forget about you by then and how I wish I had, but see, you don’t understand the impact you had on me. It wasn’t just a crush I had on you, I fell in love with you and there was no denying it. One really can’t control who they fall in love with or how fast, nor does it matter if we don’t know the person too well, because I assure you, if I’d known what you were all about, I’d have avoided you at all costs. Flirting’s one thing, but must you tell people you’re going to get together with them when you know you won’t?

I busted my butt trying to breed you your favorite mice like I promised you I would, and what did I get for it? Totally ignored. The least you could’ve done was to call or write saying, “Thanks, but no thanks and I can’t make it to see you.” Instead, you blew me off completely as if I never existed. I mean, that was so cold, and you’re one of the last people I’d have thought would ever do such a thing. I thought you truly cared. I had no idea I was merely a game to you, and all on top of having to deal with why I was there.

I was there because I’m Jewish and I lodged a complaint against the wrong people with the wrong connections, unaware of the laws and my rights. I was tricked and manipulated by a public defender into pleading guilty for something I wasn’t even charged with and by the time I realized what had happened, it was too late, I was already convicted. And all for something I never should’ve done time for even if I had been guilty. Our old neighbors were black/Muslims, most of whom hate Jews, particularly them. They had section 8, were very loud, trashing our yard, etc., so we lodged a city complaint. They had a cop friend who typed a threatening letter, hauled me into the station, thrust it into my hands and asked if I’d seen it before. That’s how he got my prints on it. My point in telling you this is that first I had to deal with being set up and tossed in jail, then the media’s labeling me a stalking racist and having a field day making me their source of entertainment at my own expense with their fictitious tales, then you come along and shaft me all over again in a whole new way. There’s no excuse for what you’ve done. I trusted you, I loved you, and you used me while I was in custody. You, along with this corrupt cop and system, have really helped to shatter my trust of those within law enforcement in general and I have lost all respect and admiration for you. To me, you were very intelligent with such a vibrant personality and great sense of humor, but to you, I was a joke. Don’t worry, though, for I’ll be damned if I’ll always be the “woman scorned.” Little by little I’m overcoming the pain and emotional damage you’ve caused me and I will survive you, Officer R. D. Johnson, I will survive!

THURSDAY, MARCH 6, 2003 We watered the palms, and I swear Queenie’s grown half a foot overnight! The other one still looks the same. One of the bougainvilleas went into shock, but we think it’ll be okay. That’s a common occurrence when something’s been replanted in a new place.

Got a letter from Mary postmarked the 4th, but whether or not she’s still here is a mystery to me. I have a feeling she probably is. I wish she’d just get moved since we know Teddy Bear won’t be returning while she’s there, and then I can get on with sending her stuff to her and with writing to her in a place where nobody knows my name. She enclosed a draft and that’s it.

I also got my fashion and gold shoe boots. The shoe boots are nothing more than another few bucks wasted. First, I had to cut the backs of them just to be able to slip them over the doll’s feet, then they looked all funny once I got them on.

As far as the fashion outfit goes, it all worked out okay, but I was pissed at first. That’s because Robin, the woman I bought Alex, Eve and this fashion from, told me that Gene outfits would fit Eve. Not quite. The back of the strapless gown has 3 snaps and not one could make it around Eve’s waist. She’s fatter, even though she’s an inch shorter than Tyler and her friends. Then I tried it on Alex and found I could snap all 3 snaps, but it was loose at the top where it goes above her boobs and under her arms. So, it ultimately ended up on Tyler. I could snap only the top snap, but it looks best on her and goes perfectly with her gold/pearl earrings. The very light blue gown has pearl teardrop beads, gold beads, gold threading, and gold stars. It’s very nice and I don’t regret getting it. It came with a chiffon scarf (I’m not using it or the gold boots) and a pearl necklace. I put Mei Li’s light pink strappy sandals on her for now till I can give her Sydney’s light blue ones to better match the outfit once I get that doll. I can see why I thought it looked white online when it’s really what they refer to as celestial blue. In regular daylight, it looks like the color it is, but at night, under my 60-watt office light, it looks almost like an eggshell white with a slight tinge of blue.

I know dolls may not be Mary’s cup of tea any more than women are, but I’ll sure have a lot of pictures to catch her up on by the time I get the bulk of her stuff sent to her.

Eve ended up in Tyler’s original business outfit – the black wool skirt and white blouse. Alex is in a satin cranberry robe which matches her lipstick and nail polish well. Mei Li’s just in her pale pink teddy.

I’m determined to get out of having to do CDs altogether. I’m having too many problems with it. I went to make new backups of my MP3s, thinking I was adding more and more songs to the CD till it was full, while it was really overwriting whatever was there before. I thought CD-Rs couldn’t do that and that that was only a CD-RW thing. Nonetheless, if all goes well, I’ll back all my stuff up onto my other computer’s hard drive. I don’t think even we could be so cursed as to have two hard drives fail at once. If I could do this, though, there’d be no need for CDs. The 5 things I’ll have on both drives will be my journals, my drawings, my journal cover scans, and my graphics and music. Then, if we get either a portable MP3 player for traveling or one in the truck, I can use my music CDs there.

Surprisingly, I didn’t sleep as long as I thought I would. I slept just under 8 hours after being up for just over 18, and sure enough, something woke me up for a second at 8-something. I don’t know what it was. I woke up a lot of times. It seems the Melatonin causes me to do that, so I think I’ll skip it tonight. Besides, my schedule doesn’t matter right now. In a couple of days, Tom will be on vacation, and he said he didn’t have a preference as to when I sleep. He’s going to be doing his own thing for the most part anyway. Things I can’t really help much with, like his cleaning his office for the millionth time so I can get in there to dust and vacuum. I expect he’ll just want to relax in front of the TV a lot, too.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 5, 2003 We were crashing like crazy on the net, but lately it’s been fairly stable. We’re thinking it may have something to do with the static on the phone, but soon it’ll be gone anyway.

I’m also having trouble burning CDs and even more trouble getting them from my work computer to my MP3 computer, so we’re going to run a cable under the house so the MP3 computer can be connected to mine, his and the TV computer.

Mary finally filled a floppy up with her stuff, so I’ll be sending a disk to her aunt to hang onto as well as keeping one here. If we were killed in a car accident and the shadow men of Florida stole her book, she’d be out of luck, so it’s good to have her aunt have a backup, too. You never know, some guilty Myra-like character could get paranoid, thinking Mary’s writing all about her evil deeds and tear it up while she was at medical or wherever.

Anyway, we were both pretty tired when we got up. We could’ve slept another 2-4 hours between the two of us, but we’ll be okay. He got more sleep later on and I’ll sleep a good 10-11 hours when I crash (I hope).

Once again Scot was out. I saw some other guy instead. I guess Scot’s been sick, though who knows why he was out the last time, too. Damn, though! That will make a month and a half that I don’t see him, assuming he’s there on the 19th.

Just 15 more reports. Where the water was once flowing steadily, it’s winding down to a trickle now. Once we get down to 10, it’ll barely be dripping. Then 75% of my life will belong to God and 25% will belong to me, rather than 45% to God, 45% to the blacks and 10% to myself.

I managed to get Chris some shoes that fit. They’re 10s. They fit well enough anyway. They extend a little past her toes, but not too bad. They’re Barbie sandals I slipped over her socks that go well with her windbreaker and culottes.

We also got two palm trees! I’m glad to finally have them and to be adding color to this otherwise dull land. They’re now planted out front. I can see one from my office window and the other from the living room, the windows I see out of most. One’s a date palm I call Palma and the other’s a queen palm I refer to as Queenie. Palma’s definitely the better-looking one so far, healthier and fuller, though they’re both still quite young. The date palm is about 3’ high now and the queen’s about 5’. Queenie’s a bit droopy at this point. That one will grow 25’-40’ tall and Palma will make it up to 50’. They were $16 and $21.

Hopefully, everything we plant will survive. For a week or so we’ll be watering everything to get things stabilized. Between the palms is where the pond will go. I mentioned getting a cute little statue or figurine like people often do for ponds, and Tom had me cracking up when he asked if I’d get this one in particular he once saw of a little boy peeing. Now that would be a funny one. Then we could invite Mom and Mary over!

We still have plans to get junipers, bird of paradise and more oleanders and bougainvilleas, as well as some petunias for color in front since we’re doing the front up more for looks and the back for privacy, and we may even get a prickly pear cactus (saguaros are too expensive). You can make multiple plants from one prickly pear plant.

TUESDAY, MARCH 4, 2003 Sure enough, Tom did have to play fix it on his way home from work. He got a flat tire which he replaced in the bank’s parking lot. Because it caused him to be way late, he was able to stop at the PO as soon as they opened to get the mug which is exactly what I pictured it to be. It’s way nice, and after I get the Esme doll with micro braids (I still want to get her ASAP, even though they don’t expect her price to change soon), I’ll get the remaining 3 mugs I designed. I should have them sometime in April.

I also got stuff from the Humane Society, finally. They sent 15 address labels, though we won’t need them as much as we used to, and a notepad.

Mary annoyed me by enclosing a note to send to José in prison in Florida because I told her I wasn’t going to cater to her friends, but in light of the huge favor she’ll no doubt be willing to do me at the end of the year, I told her I did it, though in truth, and I know this is probably going to be one of the most dishonest, meanest things I’ll ever do, I ditched the letter. I’m not going to play messenger with some prisoner I don’t even know.

Anyway, I’m a bit tired today, thanks to the freeloaders and the damn DVD I so stupidly rented that’s got to be returned tomorrow by noon. We agreed to hang up the DVD renting, either in person or online and just get HBO which is way cheaper. I’m tired because I knew that if I let myself sleep till 1:00 like I could have today, I wouldn’t be able to go to bed early enough, nor would I be able to stay up late into the morning, either. I just worry they’re going to boom me awake an hour or two earlier than I’d like tomorrow. They were flying today and yesterday. Fortunately, they waited till after I got up, but they could boom by tomorrow at 8:30-9:00, and I don’t want to get up till 10:00. I’ll snooze till 10:15 or so, but by 11:15, we’ll be out the door. We won’t be able to see Scot till 1:00 which means we’ll have over an hour to kill. We’re going to be bored out of our minds. It’s not going to take us that long to buy two trees, a pair of shoes and a snack. Perhaps we ought to eat at a sit-down place.

It’s really cool to see all the different license plates on cars. Especially at this time of year.

MONDAY, MARCH 3, 2003 The fashion that I plan to put Eve in, along with the gold shoe boots, were shipped today, and the site I got Mei Li from answered my question of how long they plan to have the Esme doll I want on sale. They said they don’t expect the price to change anytime soon, so in that case, I’ll have it by the end of this month, beginning of next.

We looked around and found there are a couple more options for fencing. There are a range fence and a hybrid fence we may end up getting which will be better than strands of barbed wire. It’d be an even better dog barrier. Due to all the rain we’ve had, digging should be easy enough so we shouldn’t have to rent an auger. In fact, planting our 2 new bougainvillea plants and our 3 new oleanders was a piece of cake. Yes, we’re finally doing it; getting/doing things we’ve wanted to for so long! It’s going to take a couple of years, but those rentals will certainly be out of sight sooner or later. We’re only going to hedge about 150’ in back if even that. Since we never hang out at the very edges of our property, for example, it makes no sense to bother hedging it. Just so we can’t see them from the house and like 30’-50’ at the sides. That way, we can have privacy when we get a pool that may be off to the side of the house. After this, we’ll do a little planting on the south side to give us a little more privacy from next door, though we already have quite a bit. Large trees block their house from our view unless we walk way out towards the road.

We’re planting just inside the back wash closest to the house. We’re thinking we’re going to split this property in half when we go to sell, so it should be a rather appealing feature.

Wednesday, before we see Scot, we’re going to pick up a date palm and a queen palm for in front. We decided to landscape the front and do it up really nicely. Even throw in some petunias and pansies and maybe some other colorful flowers, but not till we get the palms stable and growing well. I don’t care as much for white, yellow and orange flowers. Especially yellow and orange. I’ll be getting mostly pinks, reds, purples and a little white for its brightness. Of the 3 oleanders we have so far, one’s pink, one’s red and one’s white.

Though our hedges will consist mainly of bougainvillea and oleander plants, we may throw in some junipers in line with the kitchen window which is where we can see the renters the most. They’re boring as hell, they don’t bloom flowers, but they grow tall, wide and fast which is what we’re after.

Tom also got the pipes covered with enough dirt that not even the biggest dog could lift them. Next, he’ll put a layer of cement over them. We might even get some pavers at some point. They sell them in Walmart’s garden section which we were at today, not to get plants but to look around and get ideas and prices.

Instead, we got other things. A caramel ice cream bar, peach-scented lotion, socks for next winter (not Hanes which turned all holy in no time), a pink sports bra, daisy paper for Mary whose favorite flower is the daisy, a simple, easy-to-use recorder that uses regular-sized cassettes, something we still have around here, and a smashing Barbie outfit. Yes, it is quite dazzling. It’s a rock and roll outfit that even came with a little plastic guitar, not that I cared to save it. I just wanted the fashion. The low-cut pants are long and wide at the bottoms like bell bottoms, and the top’s a halter that’s shorter on one side than the other. It’s turquoise with purple glitter. It glimmers brilliantly as you move it in the light. It came with purple thick-soled pumps. Some of my dolls have nicer outfits than I do!

Mary was so right when she mentioned in one of her poems that one can be happy in a dungeon without money. Meaning, no, money’s not everything and I’d gladly give up all material things and live with my husband in a noisy dive if that’s what we had to do to stay together. Love really is the number one thing. However, if you do have money to spend on fun things, it sure is a nice added bonus.

As far as Chris goes, this time I measured that damn doll’s foot which is 7”. She’s a biggie! Wednesday, I plan to take a little tape measurer with me into the store. I saw these cute little Barbie sandals I hope to get her if they have any that are 7” long. I know I’ll find something, though.

Later…

Just got an email from Tom. I got two letters from Mary waiting for me and something to be picked up which we assume is the mug. If it is, that sure was faster than the Little Buddy mug we got before Christmas.

We have revised bed plans, too. Tom found a site that sells that memory foam, but not the mattress. Just a pad that goes on top of the bed. So, it looks like what we might do is buy new inner foam to replace the worn foam inside the mattress cover at the side, then get an additional bed frame, all of which are adjustable to either twin, queen or king size. In other words, we’re basically going to try to split this king-sized bed in half. The airbags are separate, so they can each go in twin-size beds. We’ll have to either modify or get new covers too, which the airbags go inside. So, hopefully they’ll be identical twin beds side by side. The only difference will be that mine will have the memory foam on top and his won’t.

Anyway, if we can stop having to play “fix it” so often, we just may get ahead with things. As it is, we’ve been crashing a lot when we go online. We’re doing different experiments to try to figure out why and it looks like his computer’s the one fouling things up. When his is powered up, we crash. But it’s been down all night and I’m still connected to the net.

SATURDAY, MARCH 1, 2003 And the breakage curse lives on. Yeah, it took out the car’s water hose this time around, so Tom can’t dump recyclables today. Instead, he’s gone to Casa Grande to get a new hose and drop off the DVD that’s due back today. Before we get the truck running well enough to be licensed, we’re gonna end up having to put a ton of money into the fucking car!

Tom’s worried we may not be able to get a title for the green one. They fucked up at the DMV and wrote this truck off as having been crushed so if they won’t title this truck Tom will have to pull everything out of the green one and put it in the white one which, of course, will mean more delays. He’d have to rent a lift to pull the engine out as it’s not something people can do with their bare hands.

The woman at the site I got Alex and Eve and now Eve’s dress and shoes from, says she plans to ship Monday and will email to confirm. That will mean the stuff will come Wednesday or Thursday this time around and not Saturday.

Our other stuff shipped a couple of days ago, but it’s coming by regular mail which means it’s hit or miss. It may take us a few tries to get it.

Webshots took the money Thursday night, so I should be getting the mug on Monday or Tuesday.

Later…

Wow, the renters may not be home. There’s not one vehicle over there.

Anyway, I called Carolyn to see if she knew anything about Justin, but then Tom found stuff online saying that he got 15 years, plus a lifetime of probation. Also, it could take anywhere from 2-6 weeks to extradite him.

So she left a message while I was taking a nap, saying she noticed my number on her Caller ID, even though I didn’t leave a message, and said she’d be home all night. So I decided to call her. She talks as much as Paula, barely letting me get a word in edgewise, though she sounded quite nice.

At first I was a little wary about Mary saving my letters, some of which Carolyn’s got, knowing anyone could read them. But then I figured it wouldn’t matter if they did. I wrote nothing wrong or bad in any kind of way.

She doesn’t know exactly when Mary will be leaving, but my guess is that yes, this is it. Sometime this month she should be gone. The sad part of it is that she doesn’t know anyone in Florida, so she won’t be having any visitors there. Carolyn said she thinks they’ll pay for Mary to return to Arizona upon her release, but I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of them paying for transfers, though I’m sure they’ll allow her to make the transfer. She said she’ll let me know the minute she learns that Mary’s gone, but as I warned her, 90% of the time we’re online, so she’ll probably get the machine. Although it’s true that we really are online a lot, I probably won’t answer if I see her number cuz I won’t want to gab for an hour with her. That’s why I told her to leave a message and since she loves to talk, I’m sure she’ll have no problem with that.

She too, learned the hard way that the media’s never a friend, just like Misery had told me. She said all they do is twist her words. “Oh yeah,” I told her. “If you say pink, they’ll print blue.”

She surprised me by saying that she sent those bookmarks and religious things to jail. I thought she got them inside the jail. See, we can’t send stamps, we can’t send money, so this was why I automatically assumed that bookmarks and pamphlets were a no-no. If I’d known they were okay to send, I wouldn’t have sent them to Carolyn, but Mary never objected when I first mentioned my hesitancy in sending things that weren’t pictures or that were of odd sizes or that had multiple pictures like the religious pamphlet did.

She asked if I were Catholic and I told her I didn’t follow/practice any religion, and then went on to explain to me about a picture of the Virgin Mary with knives in her representing the sorrow she endured when Jesus was killed. Well, she sent this picture to Mary, but it got returned to her as “inappropriate.” We both had to laugh about that one.

She mentioned Mary’s mom being coo-coo with guilt which is good. I mean, it’s good that she recognizes she did wrong, but I don’t know if that’d necessarily mean it’d be a good idea for Mary to live with her. We both agreed Mary’s only faults are her poor taste in men and her running like she did, but at least Mary’s learned from it all. I hope so anyway, but we’ll find out by what guys she takes up with when she’s free.

She surprised me by saying that as much as she hated to admit it, Derek’s a good father despite the horrible way he treated Mary. The reason I was surprised was that usually, if it abuses the girlfriend/wife, it abuses the kids, too.

We also talked about Todd’s burning Mary and Michelle’s silent treatment. She too, tried to get Mary to stop writing Michelle, but as I reminded her, she was trying to get those pictures back of Gretchen that Todd has. Speaking of Todd, I learned something new about Todd too, though I don’t know why Mary didn’t tell me this herself. Maybe because she knew I’d chastise her for associating with him. Well, he supposedly spent 5 years in jail after being implicated in a robbery/murder in which charges were dropped. He’s still on probation, though I’m not sure for what. Anyway, as Carolyn was saying, and I totally agree with this, it could very well only be a matter of time before he gets picked up for something else. Something that could pull Mary down with him. See, I’m just not sure Mary gets it. I’m afraid that just like Paula, she might not break her old habits. Like I said before, it’s what she’s attracted to, not just what she attracts. She probably doesn’t even know it and would deny it if you even so much as suggested it to her, but she likes abusive men. It may terrify her, it may hurt her, but at the same time, she likes being punched, she likes being kicked, and she likes being called a worthless whore. It’s as sick as it is sad, but some people really truly do have this illness that attracts them to shit like that. In the end, though, it’s her life and she’s going to have to be the one to decide who she hangs with.

I was way surprised to hear her say that Texas and Florida are the two strictest states. Supposedly she got this from a cousin of hers who’s a sheriff in Texas. I thought the worst two were Texas and Arizona. Either way, I know firsthand that Arizona’s bad enough.

She said Mary constantly speaks quite highly of me, which was nice to hear. Mary’s so right when she says that you can know someone for years and think you know them inside and out, then they turn on you or dump you. This is why I tell myself, “I’ll enjoy the time Mary and I are friends,” rather than, “We’ll be friends forever,” cuz Mary may very well decide someday not to associate with me. If she does, she does, but meanwhile, I won’t be going anywhere. It’d take a lot for me to dump her. As long as I’m not pestered with the 1-3 visits a week I used to enjoy, or expected to gab by phone for hours, I see no reason to dump her. I’ve already told her we don’t like to have a lot of company and that I’m not the phoneaholic I was in my 20s.

The poor girl had to ride on the same bus with Monster, who said to her, “Mary, you were right. I should’ve listened to you all along,” whatever that means. Mary said she ignored him while some other girl yelled out, “Shut up, you monster!” Also, Mary gave a beautiful speech in court. She has a video with news clips on it, all of which I have yet to see.

Lastly, she doesn’t seem any more thrilled with her neighbor, a drunken guy. Something about him breaking her van window with a weed whacker that he’s too poor to pay for. She’d be too scared living in a rural, snake-infested place, though, she said, and of course, her husband Rick is quite ill.

As far as the car goes, we ended up both blessed and cursed. He never would’ve made it to Casa Grande and had to stop in Stanfield where there was just one more water hose left. Had the problem been what he originally thought it was, it would’ve cost $130 instead of $30, and that’s all well and good, but it’d be even nicer if our shit could stop breaking so much. He even had to stop and play phone at one point. He said there was tons of static so he went outside and wiggled wires around. It was fine when I spoke with Carolyn, though. We might each get our own cell phones and get rid of the regular phone altogether so we won’t have to deal with power outages, etc. If the number changes, I’ll give it to Mary and Carolyn, but I don’t know about Paula. Maybe it’ll prompt her to write for real if I don’t just like it did when we moved from Phoenix.

[percontaion-points]

Gate Crashers chapters 15 & 16

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 15

Invariably, the first question asked about a new technology is, “Can this make killing less of a hassle?” The second being, “Can I have sex with it?” As a rule, someone always says, “Yes.”

I think that we’ve all been around the internet long enough to know that there are now “sexy alien buoy” body pillows. Somebody made a porn parody of it. Chuck Tingle’s great-great grandson penned a novel called “Pounded in the Butt by the Sentient Alien Buoy”. 

“Even if our estimates for the new gravity projectors are accurate and we launched tomorrow, it would still take almost fifty-five years to get a ship to where the Magellan is right now. It just seems to me that a handful of new gizmos and slightly more specialized personnel aren’t good enough reasons to put this off for decades.”

If you ask my opinion, the push to send out a secondary crew is the same as pushing off the drama and responsibility to the next generation. 

Think about it for a second: this is a bunch of 60+ year old politicians. Unless this book is implying that there have been significant advancements in medical technology to ensure that people can live well past 100 (and not be begging for merciful death at the end)... None of them are going to be around to see this plan to fruition. 

Furthermore, unless things have drastically changed in US politics (probably not, since the US is still there…), the POTUS won’t even be in office in a few years anyway. It’s the pure definition of “I’ll start the war, but then bounce.” 

And I think Eugene here knows this; that’s why he’s calling them out on their shit.

“Can you really blame him?” Fenton asked. “You’ve studied the history of politics and civilization your entire career. Tell me, how does the indigenous population generally fare when a technologically superior race shows up?” 

She kind of has a point, but like… The buoy said “Human reserve”. This entire time, even the narration has likened humans to “elephants on a nature reserve”. 

We aren’t indigenous people… We’re annoying wildlife that they’re trying to keep at bay. 

“No, that doesn’t bear thinking about. It would be selfish of me. You’re among the best of us, Thomas. I want you representing us out there if the shooting starts. Only you.”

Chapter 15 summary: Back on earth, Felix comes over to… basically babble incoherently about the signal that the buoy has been sending out. This is more scifi techno-babble that never actually amounted to fucking anything, so moving on. 

The second message is that the people on Maggie managed to translate one of the things on the buoy: Human Reserve; Keep Out. This is not well-received by the people who’ve been funding this project, since they don’t like being compared to animals that need to be caged for their own protection. However, it does end up with a lot of money being thrown at their specific project. 

Later, Eugene and Harris are driving somewhere. Harris is the guy who Eugene accidentally spilled the beans right in front of him, so he was tapped to work on the assignment. Harris asks why him, but Eugene explains “Because you have that ‘normie’ touch that us academics don’t have.” 

They go to some sort of academia-themed lounge, where Eugene meets up with one of his former students. They start discussing things. But what it boils down to is the idea that the aliens who put up the fence might be hostile. The president is chomping at the bit to put together a team and send them out to Maggie’s current location… Despite the fact that it would take around 50 years for a ship to get there. The woman, Fenton, says that Harris is being considered for a part in this. But Eugene later tells him “I don’t want to lose you to somebody that I can’t trust!” And then also says that he knows that Harris and Jeffrey are fucking. Which… okay. 

Times laughed this chapter: 0

Total laughs this series: 0

Chapter 16

“Get the captain down here. Now!”

Chapter 16 summary: Felix sits around and mopes about how project “recreate the buoy on earth” hasn’t been going anywhere for a while now. There is also somebody on the team who keeps making chalk altars on the floor and putting various electrical items inside as “offerings”. 

Eugene comes in, and starts talking about how they can jumpstart the research on Maggie’s end. They go down to the radio room together, upon Eugene’s insistence that Felix accompany him. In the room, the man who maintains the radio is going more than a little crazy… and is probably the one who keeps making altars and offerings. But they can’t replace him at this point, because the security clearance alone would stop anybody with technical know-how. 

On Maggie, Billings is kind of annoyed that his next order is to “drill a hole into xyz part and stick a camera into it”. Everybody is worried about breaking this part (including Felix back on earth), but they eventually kind of shrug and get to it. So he drills a hole, but the part then starts to produce a sharp whistle sound. In goes the camera, but inside of the object is nothing but an endless, black void. In the end, Billings ends up slapping a piece of chewed bubble gum over the hole to seal it back up again (and stop the whistling). 

Times laughed this chapter: 0

Total laughs this series: 0

[nathank77]

11/8/24

8:55 a.m Edited 9:09 a.m

Sleep was pretty awful last night. I fell asleep fast and woke up thinking i didn't sleep and I needed more xanax but I knew I slept somehow I think cause I didn't hear my tv timer shut off so I didn't take more.

Then I fell back to sleep and woke up around 2 a.m. I fell back to sleep and woke up around 4 i think and I struggled to sleep. Idk if I was having a bunch of microsleep dreams or if I kept waking up. I was up for sure around 6 a.m and then I said I'd give myself 30 more minutes or I'll just get up and I fell back to sleep until like 7 after setting my sleep timer to like 6:30 a.m.

Anyways i want to go to the gym but I shouldn't. It sounds stupid but I only want to work my arms, and chest right now. And I don't want to over work the muscle group.

Nothing would get me on that elliptical today and i mean nothing lol I have no interest in working out my legs. They are already cut bc of anxiety.

Id work out my abs and back but idk... I feel scared about my back bc I don't want to fuck myself up. I feel scared about abs bc most of the work outs involve laying on the floor and to say I'm not ocd at the gym is an understatement. I don't want to use the chemicals to clean the equipment... so I can't simply wipe down the floor and lay on it... I got to get over that maybe wear my hyper tough gloves...

Also I don't see the point in working my abs bc I'll never see them with my tummy... but from what I'm reading having a strong core is essential to working out. Our core i believe would be my back and my chest/abs.

I've noticed on the machines, machines that are supposed to work let's say chest and biceps or triceps- that my forearms hurt and they do a lot of the work. It makes me think i should be doing free weight more bc when I did the lateral raises and whatever I felt it in the targeted muscle group. So I got to try to learn more workout moves on free weights and eventually get on the big dumbbell but I'm scared of that bc idk how much the actual bar weights.

I also got to find better chest muscle workouts bc I tried the dumbbell fly and I didnt really feel it in my chest. Idk.

I want to go but I'm sore. I have to go grocery shopping.. and I have to consider trying that chlorestoral medication... stilll.....

I'm worried. I want to go to the gym and get my frustrations out.

Also I forgot but I'll add to this soon..

I remember I'm wondering if I should be pushing myself so hard on the elliptical... i want to run ingeneral why? Cause the American heart association says it can help chlorestoral significantly and it can also help you lose weight. Emphasis on the chlorestoral i like my belly..... id love abs but I like my belly. It's a weird place to be tbh...

But I'm wondering if I'm overworking my body and heart running 6 miles for 60 minutes.... especially since my heart voltage is off every single test.

I just don't know if say i ran 20 minutes a work out 3 times a week if that would help with my ldl and hdl if I did primarily low weight and high reps. Right not my reps aren't very high... I mean even for 5 pounds. I go until it hurts pretty bad but not very bad idk how to describe it.

I just don't know if I'm over working my heart pushing myself on cardio and if I'd be better off weight training... I don't want to basically only weight train bc I'd rather do that bc I hate the elliptical... and bc I'm scared of my heart voltage if it could really help with my chlorestoral considering- maybe just maybe if I do this right i won't need chlorestoral medication........

But I also don't want to throw myself into a heart attack bc of the voltage.. repatha is scary. And in 4 months if I can approach this workout right i might be able to lower my chlorestoral pretty significantly.. but then again I'll prob still need meds anyways...

I just dont know. From what I'm reading weight training can also lower chlorestoral. But is it enough? It'll be safer for my heart voltage. But will it have much of an effect on chlorestoral?

[pitoftheplum]

[Writing Prompt: Sunday Service]

I wake to birdsong and the neighbor's barking dog like I do every morning. Downtown, there's about 10 feet from wall to wall, strangers sardined. I look out my window and see the squirrels bouncing the branches of a neglected orange tree. Half eaten globes hang, shown no mercy, set to start falling once the Santa Anas come knocking. I slept for 10 hours, roughly. No dreams I recall, thankfully. I can't tell what they even mean lately. Roll out of bed to a kink in my neck. Vertebrae in my lower back thunk into place, dramatically shifting. Mattress is too soft, but I needed something quick and cheap. Saying "my room" still makes me a little giddy. Missed having my own space to shut myself in silence and daydream at my ceiling. My son is on the other side of the door, tiny paw shoved under, claws curling. Time for the Feeding. I shuffle to the kitchen. Dump kibble, vyvanse in one hand, water from an old peanut butter jar in the other, and criss cross applesauce on the wood grain laminate flooring. My child looks back to make sure I'm watching, swoops his spine for a mother's hand to smooth, and starts munching and crunching. He doesn't like to eat alone. Even when he had his striped sister to bully around the big enough for both food bowl. Needs mom or dad to tell him "good job" and pat his butt a little. It's sweet in my opinion. I medicate myself for a day of prospective productivity. Stand, stretch, and get moving.

I make a coffee run across the street despite having an espresso machine. Honestly? It's just old and annoying to clean. I'll be the first to admit I prefer my life as much as possible to simply be easy peasy. I stand in a spray of water set to scalding and pee. If you claim you don't ever pee in the shower, you're fucking lying. Lather myself in a vanilla bourbon soap from my local apothecary. Smells absurdly aromatically amazing. I think it's meant for men but I've never really been a gender person. I like what I like and that's that. Think about their tubby tabby shop cat that looks like my cat Bean. Their name is Pepper and they do the same stand-and-grab trick for treats. I chuckled in person but teared up when I strolled out onto University. I miss that sweet and sour thing. All my babies leave me too early. 

Towel off and swipe at the steam and look at my body. I think she looks strong and healthy. This week I walked into the front office and got "Hey skinny minnie! You lose anything else and you'll wither away!" I just laughed awkwardly. Blurted out even more awkwardly "I'm eating", old defensive mentality surfacing from when I really wasn't eating. Which was meant with "Good! Keep it up! You look great!" Smiles and nodding and laughing from the other ladies. I loathe it. 5'5" and 135 with runner's thighs isn't that fucking crazy. They're like 40s-60s with bodies that have borne children. I'm childless and 28. There is no comparison there logically. They ask me what my secret is like I'm trying. I tell them the truth: it's just kind of falling off of me. About 30 pounds since February. At first, the gaping maw of repeated grief. Sudden death, major break-up, and a 5-year fake friendship guillotined. Nowadays I'm thinking my birth control most likely. Hormones are trippy. And a more strict schedule for running to keep my brain from spiraling. I own a scale for the first time in about a decade to keep the skeletor look at bay. Prefer to be stacked, built like a brickhouse, sinfully curvy. Thankfully I stay sexy at any weight thanks to a winning hand in the genetic lottery. Shoutout to my mega babe mommy. Call me skinny if you want but I still got full C's and ass for days. Haters gonna hate. 

Retreat to my lair. I stand in a full length mirror and braid my hair. One side chocolate, one side like a swiss roll, vanilla cream filling. The plum faded already. If you want the vivids to stay stay you need to use like... Splat, and that shit's gnarly. I'm allergic now to permanent black hair dye actually. Slap that on your scalp for long enough and apparently your skin starts revolting. Another lesson learned the hard way. One corner of the mirror holds a butterfly temporary tattoo and a hawk feather pointed skyward and a gently draped faux pearl rosary with a tiny picture of Mother Mary. Pearl is my namesake. Alchemy. The other corner a polaroid of oranges and an inked paw print and a tarot card with a unicorn straddled by a fairy. A dresser with a scanner and a typewriter next door. The typewriter a gift from a friend that now lives in the Netherlands. My first was also a gift, from my mom's mother, 12/13 the first time I met her. Psychopathic narcissist abusive waste of breath bitch that I hope dies slow. My brothers and I plan to piss on her grave. Um, anyways. They wanted me to come and stay with her wife and her for a week over the summer. I don't even have a passport. That shocked her. Clues in conversation that tell me who comes from money and who doesn't. I find I jive more with people that grew up like me- parents bouncing checks until they were banned from the grocery. Just so their kids can eat. This world is sickening. Then my vanity. A little battered now and forever messy. And a pine bookcase resembling a dollhouse my grandpa built lovingly for "Meggy Lou Who". Neither of those my actual names but he could call me whatever he wanted. The last few years he spelled my name like "Magen", I didn't see the point in making a correction. I miss him even though we hardly talked for too too long about anything. Quiet guys. Sitting in silence with him on the bank of a lake. Poles still then tips twitching. His vintage, 70s, mine Walmart, Tasmanian Devil but purple and pink. Slow to set his beer down, then crouching behind, arms wrapping, hand over hand, instructing, "let them fight you a little, tire 'em out", pull up, lower while reeling. Patient, easyyy, easy. Big fat bluegill that had him showing off to the other fisherman and their children/grandchildren, boasting. Me gap toothed and grinning. When he was a kid he and a friend built a raft and sailed the Ohio river for 3 days. He wanted to be just like Huckleberry.

Pull on an off-the-shoulder Tiger Army tee I cut up and a pastel blue pair of shorts, Levi's, always cut-off. They were my mom's. Very 80's. Fit me like a glove, she loves to see me wear them. Growing up I was told I look like my dad a lot, to the infinitesimal irritation of my mom. My hair is rusted golden brown, wavy, and my irises are mostly forest in most light. Widow's peaked and big-nosed and bug-eyed. I do look like him at first sight. Though his hair is darker, walnut to my chestnut. The red in mine is from his grandma, from Ireland but settled in the LB. My mom is champagne/honey blonde, ringlet curls, and hers are more chartreuse. Button-nosed and almond-eyed. But I have her teeth, her sun-speckled freckles, her hands, her shape, her sharp jawline, her snort laugh, one of her dimples, and weirdly similar loopy handwriting. Maybe due to the fact she just always had me plagiarize her signature on the tardy excuses torn from her night school notebooks for my brothers and I during our running-the-yellow-lights mad dash to school car rides.

I fluff my laundry for the second time because I am incapable of doing anything on anything other than my own timeline. Sit down to type. Today's writing exercise? The same as always, an opening of the gates in the dam of my mind. A rushing release of thoughts when the waterline gets too high. Going to church and stepping into confessional and spilling and pouring and bleeding until I again feel light. I don't know who's on the other side. I keep the faith that at the very least they have god on speed dial. If you're reading, hi.

It's been 40 minutes. Today I will both fold my clothes and put them away. Hope you enjoyed this little soirée in my brain. 'Til next time. Love and light and fucking write. Bye! :)

- Practice Makes... Something of Substance

[ceilingfan5]

Wedding/ sick for weird au mixes

Kravitz thinks of himself as a relatively sensible guy. Somehow, despite this, he always seems to end up in bizarre situations, and this time, he might have really taken the cake.

Not literally. Wedding cakes are so fucking expensive. Did you know this? So expensive. Even breathing is expensive when it comes to weddings. Kravitz is never getting married. If he ever feels the urge, he’s going to take a cold shower and then calculate, by hand, how many burritos he can get for the cost of a wedding while he’s still dripping wet and naked. This is a foolproof plan.

Kravitz likes plans. He likes knowing what’s going on at any given time and what the appropriate reaction is to any given situation and he likes knowing the right way to handle things, which, he’s been criticized in the past, by several different boyfriends, is like trying to get a good grade on every social interaction at all times, like he’s going to be given a report card at the end of a fucking conversation. This is normal to want and possible to achieve. Kravitz is doing great. And all of those guys saved him a lot of money on not having a wedding, so, really, he should thank them for fundamentally misunderstanding him on a level bordering on cruel.

He’s sensible. He likes plans. He wants to know the right answers. And yet? And fucking yet?? He finds himself doing shit like this, holding back the long hair of a complete stranger in the bathroom the night after the bachelorette parties. They aren’t even from the same side of the wedding party--Kravitz is firmly in Sloane’s camp, the best man, in fact, and he’s never met Taako before this week.

“So, you’re Hurley’s friend, right?” He tries to keep his voice soothing, and he pats Taako’s back a little. He doesn’t want to overstep, but he also doesn’t want Taako to be as miserable as humanly possible, which he’s certainly trying to achieve with a fervent vigor most people retain for gambling, or extreme sports. He wishes he had a little pocket guide book for weird situations like this. Turn to page 34 to comfort a stranger. Turn to page 62 for dealing with someone who is attempting to vomit everything they’ve eaten since age five.

“Yeah,” Taako moans. He leans his head, presumably pounding like a DJ scoring a hammer festival, gently against the toilet paper dispenser. “Sorry to drag you into this. You can- mmnnh. You can go. If I die, I die.”

“I think Hurley would be upset if you died,” Kravitz says gently. “You’re under contract until you wear that suit tomorrow. Maybe after that you can schedule a date with Death.”

“Hope it’s not a dinner date.” Taako snickers at his own joke, and then hiccups and covers his mouth. “Fuck!”

“Listen, not that it’s any of my business,” imagine him rapidly flipping pages in his guidebook, looking for the appropriate conversation cue. Interventions in 60 seconds. No? Maybe 25 conversation starters that aren’t about toilets? “But when we ran into each other at the casino last night, you seemed a little...” Flirtatious. Angry. Incredibly wasted. “Distracted. Is something on your mind? Besides the wedding, I guess?”

“Damn, you-” Taako hiccups again, and shifts his legs, groaning. “You weren’t kidding, that isn’t any of your business.”

Ah! Fuck! He’s losing points! What a terrible misstep! How will his grade ever recover!

“I’m so sorry-” he backpedals. “I just-”

“No, I get it.” Taako sighs. “Shit. Um. You know, I’m too hungover to lie to you? Um.” He fidgets with the toilet paper like a cat finding its own enrichment. It’s almost endearing. “Um. Okay. Yeah. I was in a mood. I would still be, if my fuckin’ head didn’t feel like it’s losing a getting-crushed-by-a-steamroller race. I’ll have more feelings later, I guess. Jot that down on your calendar.”

“Noted.”

“I, um.” Taako closes his eyes, shoulders lurching a little again, but Kravitz gently pulls his long, silky hair back from his face, and it doesn’t go further than that this time. “I was supposed to get married this year. And, uh.” He waves the fingers on his left hand, all of them incredibly empty. “Sorta fucked that one up.”

“Oh,” Kravitz says, intelligently. He imagines frantically flipping through his guidebook. Even in his head, there’s no suggestions for this. It’s a picture of a cartoon frog giving a thumbs up. Frogs don’t even really have thumbs. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I can see why that would be hard to deal with.”

“Yeah,” Taako chuckles. “It sucks. I mean, he sucks, and both of us are stupid, and the whole thing is a mess, and I’m glad it didn’t go forward, but it’s.” He covers his mouth, looking green, but his shoulders slowly relax. “S’bad. Badtime. Badtime for Taako.”

“I see that.” Kravitz decides to carefully rub Taako’s back. If that’s overstepping, he’ll take the F. Taako can tell him to fuck off, and he will, and that’ll be that. But between last night and today, he likes Taako, and he feels bad for him, going through something awful like that. It’s got to be real hard, having to be a big part of a beautiful wedding, mourning one that’ll never be, even if it’s better for everyone involved. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone else who makes you happy, if that’s what you’re looking for. You’re very attractive and funny and- and-” Kravitz’s cheeks heat up. That might have been a bit much for sure. He especially didn’t need to keep talking, because the next thing on his mind was how perfect all of Taako’s freckles are, and that’s, that’s a lot. Wrong thing to say in the wrong situation. This is such a mess.

But Taako laughs.

“Yeah?” he says. “Sounds like you like me.”

“Oh, I- um. I.” Kravitz backpedals, pulling his hand away from Taako. His long, beautiful hair falls around his face again, and even as miserable as he is, he looks like some kind of angel.

Can angels puke? Rats can’t. There might not be a correlation there. Then again, what if there was?

“I’m- I wasn’t- You’re- that would be-” he can’t quite figure out how to defend himself.

“Admit it,” Taako sing-songs, his voice still hoarse.

“I could be convinced to like you,” Kravitz mumbles. “I happen, to, uh. Happen to have an opening. In my life. For likeable people.”

Taako laughs again, tipping his head back and smacking it on the toilet paper dispenser. He whines and rubs it, looking positively wretched.

“You’re wild, Krav,” he says anyway. “Soon as I can brush my teeth, I’m gonna find out if those pretty lips are as kissable as they look.”

Kravitz doesn’t have a page in his book for this, but something in the very, very back of his mind thinks that there are more things in life to do with your money than buy burritos. If not a wedding, at the very least, a date is a good start.

[chaptersinprogress]

diamonds are forever

“Great,” Tsuna whimpered. “Can I have my car back now?”

aka Tsuna just wanted one hour, just ONE, of uninterrupted sleep.

Rating: T

Pairings: Sawada Tsunayoshi & Skull

Warnings: 007-levels of car chases, violence & swearing

Prompt: @khrrarepairweek 2021 day 2 | accidental kidnapping

Tsuna prided himself on being able to sleep anywhere, everywhere, and through any thing.

Standing up in a train, during a Michael Bay movie at the cinema, and once, through an actual earthquake!

(It was a minor one and admittedly not the smartest thing in world, but in his humble opinion, he'd rather die unaware in his sleep than awake and terrified.)

Basically, Tsuna very much valued his shut-eye.

So when he had to pull 2 consecutive all-nighters for finals week submissions - not sleeping for almost 60 hours straight - the first thing he did after the last paper was march off to his car parked right outside the campus hall, and pass out in the backseat.

It was the perfect plan: nap for a while in the back, then once he'd recovered more functionality and brain power, drive home and sleep properly in his bed.

He had even prepared a blanket and pillow for the occasion!

Eyes sliding shut as he bundled himself up, Tsuna mentally patted himself on his back for his foresight. Then with a sigh, happily tipped himself into the waiting arms of Morpheus.

All was well in the world.

Until a body crashed through the front passenger-side window.

Tsuna jackknifed up with a shriek to accompany the blaring car alarm; the vehicle rocking heavily as the person who landed inside scrambled around the front, swearing loudly.

"Fucking, fuck fuck, where are the keys?!" the person yelled, strapping himself into the driver's seat and frantically rummaging through the compartments. "Got them!"

Slamming the keys into the ignition, he gunned the engine and the car raced forward with a squeal of tires, leaving behind a thin trail of exhaust.

Barely catching on to what was happening, Tsuna opened his mouth to yell at the person who was stealing his car. And instead let out another shriek when bullets exploded through the rear window and shredded the unused headrest beside him.

The sound of glass shattering along with the roar of his poor second-hand purchase's engine that the car-thief was pushing like a fucking NASCAR drowned out his opera audition. Then a sharp turn threw him off the seat and onto the floor with a yelp, entangled in his blanket and pillow.

"Fucking fuck, fuckity fuck," the car-thief chanted as he spun the car in dizzying circles, swerving through narrow lanes and along hairpin turns.

Tsuna dug his fingernails into the leather beside him and hung on. Lifting himself up slightly, he got ready to give his unasked-for chauffer a piece of his mind.

But the bullets smashing through glass and the metal body of the car had him ducking back down, whimpering in fear.

The whole thing was like a terrifying roller-coaster of a nightmare!

'Please let it be a nightmare', Tsuna wished fervently. At least he would get to wake up, instead of being shot full of holes or turning into paste when the car crashed!

A horn blared, tires screeched and he was unceremoniously thrown forward as his commandeered vehicle drifted wildly. Pulse pounding in his ears, Tsuna faintly registered the enthusiastic yelling coming from the front.

Then all the noise died down into a pleasant silence.

"Wait, did I lose them?" the person spoke aloud. "Holy shit, I think I lost them!"

Tsuna (metaphorically) hit the roof. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CAR!" he shrieked.

The person screamed and slammed the brakes. Tsuna's head banged harshly against the back of the driver's seat.

Groaning, the undergraduate cradled his head in his hands. He already was having a headache from the lack of sleep and being unceremoniously woken up; the impact with the car seat was doing him no favours.

The driver twisted around to peer into the back. "Oh my god," he muttered. "Who are you?!"

Tsuna squinted angrily at the figure. "Who am I?" he said incredulously. "I should be asking you that! Who the fuck are you?! You tried to steal my car!"

"Oh my god, did I just accidentally kidnap someone?" the person asked himself. "Holy fucking shit, I did! Oh my god, I accidentally kidnapped someone!"

Tsuna's vision finally cleared enough for him to properly see the asshole who'd stolen his car with him still inside it. And his jaw promptly dropped.

'112, a clown has escaped the circus' he though hysterically. 'He's in my car. Which has been through an action movie car chase and shot full of holes, courtesy of said clown. Please come and collect.'

"Hey kid, are you ok?!" the aforementioned clown asked frantically. "Are you hurt? Do you need me to call the ambulance?"

Tsuna couldn't help but shoot him a truly withering look. "I'm fine. No thanks to you. And I'm not a kid, I'm 22 for fuck’s sake."

He could see why the guy would think otherwise though. Tsuna looked positively baby-faced compared to the whole multiple facial piercings, bright purple spikey hair, make-up, motorcycle suit and weird (facepaint? tattoo?) teardrop thing the other had going on.

"Oh," said the driver, clearly surprised. Then he puffed up slightly. "I'm 26. The name's Skull. Also known as the Immortal Stuntman, Hated by Death Itself."

"Delighted," Tsuna replied, sarcasm dripping from the word. "Now about my car-"

The rear windshield was taken out entirely by a spray of bullets that had both the occupants ducking and yelling in surprise.

"Let's discuss that later!" Skull shouted as he floored the accelerator.

And Tsuna once again found himself an unwilling participant in a high-speed, high-stakes car chase.

"Get onto the seats and buckle up!" Skull ordered as they left the town behind and raced along narrower and narrower mountain roads.

Swearing like a sailor, Tsuna did as he was told, flinching as bullets pinged off the rock face, and clinging onto the seats for dear life. Then smothered a fearful yell when the sound of a vehicle crashing through the guardrail came from behind them.

Skull shot Tsuna a fierce grin through the rearview mirror, more teeth than smile. "Hang in there kid, we're almost at the finish line."

Taking another turn at break-neck speed, Skull twisted around with a pistol in hand and shot twice out of the back, then resumed driving. All within a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment.

The front tires of the final car chasing them exploded and the vehicle fish-tailed wildly, smashing into the side of the mountain with a sickening crunch before rolling off the side of the cliff.

The stuntman whooped loudly as they continued speeding down the road. “And we’re home-free!”

“Great,” Tsuna whimpered. “Can I have my car back now?”

[sideblogformindtrash]

SUMMER OF WHUMP- DAY 26 - ASPHYXIATION

Pastel has been having it too easy lately

CW: choking, breath play, no con touching (non sexual), creepy whumper, intimate whumper,, blood, pet whump, dehumanization, degradation, low self esteem

...He was taken to the edge, his vision going black, head lolling to the side as he slid into unconsciousness. He thought he would go out, left to hang on for a moment... And then IF let the golden string loose, just for a second, enough for him to get a good breath, before pulling it tight around his throat again.

He heard a disappointed sigh, but he was already drifting off again. Another small amount of air was allowed to him, Master swinging slowly on the chair, blinking red lights of the camera.

"...Come on Pastel, you have to do better than this"

Pastel tried to nod, making the string dig further into his skin, pressing at his Adam’s apple. Fuck. He was trying, he was trying hard. It was just… a stupid game in the computer, that he should be able to solve easily, but he couldn’t think at all. Not when a string was around his neck, cutting off all the air, and Master was so close Pastel could feel his breath on his ear. But he had to.

Everytime he got one right, he would get ten seconds to breathe, then go to the next level. It was easy enough at first, but naturally, the levels got harder as he completed them, and it took his longer and longer before the small break. Ten seconds weren’t enough, and he was taken to the brink of unconsciousness, vision got blurry, his lungs hurt and his head went dull, with a pounding ache just above his eyes. It was impossible to focus on the bright screen and let alone think.

“...I thought you said you weren’t ‘a dumb pet’, Pastel” Master chuckled “But it does seem like it now, doesn’t it, dear? It’s a game for children. It should be easy”

...He wished he could fight back. Children didn’t solve that puzzle with someone choking them half to death.

Of course, Master wasn’t going to kill him, he knew it. It wasn’t about murder, it was about showing the sheer power Master had over him, the power to control even his most basic life functions. It was about making sure Pastel knew he was only alive because Master allowed. And more than anything, it was about putting a show for the camera.

But knowing this didn’t help. His body was in survival mode, and there was no way to rationalize against that, even if the panic only made things worse, as he hyperventilated and his heart raced, making poor use of the already limited air.

All he could do was try to ignore it and try to solve the puzzle, even if at this point, he was just randomly clicking at the screen and praying it would make him stumble on the solution. He still had one level skip, but… He was only halfway through. He couldn’t read, but he could count, and he was at level 35 out of 60.

...Or was it? His vision started to fade again, his body falling against the string… And they went limp again, just for another second, just enough for him to take a breath, then they dug on his already rashed skin.

“Pastel, if you can’t do it anymore, we will skip to punishment, dear” Master hums in his ear. He hates how close he is, how satisfied he sounds. He can’t even whimper a response, just keeps… trying to move, blindly clicking at the screen...

He realizes is pointless, nodding to Master. He wonders what the punishment will be. He knew he would lose, anyway. He always loses the games, they are made so that he will. Or maybe he is really too stupid to win. But not playing… that is always worse.

Master makes a sound of disappointment. Pastel knows is fake. He is actually very satisfied to see the pet fail, defeated by one of his cruel traps. As if there is any glory on winning a cheated game.

Nonetheless, he lets the string fall over Pastel’s chest, and finally he breathes, blood rushing back to his head too fast. It hurts, and he closes his eyes and falls to the side, the chair rolling away, but Master catched him in time, pulling him into his lap.

...Pastel wants to scream. He doesn’t want to be touched, doesn’t want that man so close, or those fingers caressing his hair. It’s all an act, too.

“Poor pet. See? If only you didn't pretend to be as smart as a real person, I wouldn't need to teach you…" ...a tainted lesson. Pastel knew he could have solved the puzzle if he was… allowed to breathe. It was pointless to discuss. But maybe Master was right. If Pastel was smart… he would just have shut up, and never defied him, and would have spared himself this pain "...Sadly now you need punishment. We will see what the audience voted for on a bit"

Pastel tried to whimper a response, but his voice was gone. He moved his fingers slowly, every muscle tense, just waiting for the video to end so he could pull away from the man’s lap.

"Oh you poor thing. I'll make you some soothing tea later"

Pastel nodded. That was a lie, too. This was a sanitized video, not a basement one, so master had to try and appear like... like he gave a fuck. Like he was anything other than a sadist. Like there was a point to this lesson other than to hurt and humiliate Pastel.

Maybe there was. He wouldn't know. He was just a dumb pet, after all.

taglist:  @summer-of-whump @pinkraindropsfell

[nathank77]

5/25/24

5:12 a.m

My eyes are always so strained at the end of the night... I either need to stop wearing glasses or inquire about getting lenses replaced or new glasses in my script..

If I give them my Arons I don't have anything that won't strain my eyes all day to wear. Tbh I didn't try my studios since getting theses but I mean my eyes are very adjusted to theses. Idk what to do.

Money issues are real atm and 300$ glasses and no fucking back pay make it impossible. The gym will cost me 60$ and give me something to do... the oil change is needed. Same with a car wash... same with the cbd...

Eventually imma need new clothes I got a little time with that but it's disappointing.. everything is like a garbage bag when you lose 23 pounds...

Glasses are so important but how much can my eyes accommodate if I stop wearing them??? I mean they are so fucking expensive. I can buy my monthly order of cbd, and all this other stuff except clothes and barely be close to 300$...

300$ for one thing is ridiculous and if I break them I'm fucked. I hate being poor.

I could wait on the gym membership but I'm only up 60$.... and then 10$, a month.... that's not what glasses cost and I can't give up the cbd right now I got to ride it out. I'm actually watching things I like like Dexter and ink master. Sure it's high dialogue but I don't want to go to bed right now when normally I can't wait for bedtime. I want to watch more TV!

That's the thing. Idk what to do about glasses. I really don't but I can't afford them even if I put off other things... most of it I can't..

[patrckbrewer]

okay i’m putting this under a read more because it deals with weight loss and body image issues and surgical procedures and i don’t want anyone who could be harmed by those things to be hurt

i have very large breasts (currently sitting at 34J) and i am relatively short (5’3”). i have had extreme body image issues from the time that i was 11 and woke up one morning with c cups (this is not an exaggeration). from that moment, i went from a little girl to someone that grown men (including my gym teacher) felt it was okay to ogle.

so i hid my body. i wore shirts that were two sizes too big. i wore sweatshirts in the dead of summer. i didn’t wear anything with a low neck. anything to pretend that i didn’t have large breasts, to save myself from the stares and the comments about how i “should put those things away”

i was a senior in high school when the pain started. my back and shoulders and neck ached and i couldn’t stand up straight. i was starting to get rashes and sores. i was developing (now permanent) grooves in my shoulders and under bust from my bras. so i researched how to go about getting a breast reduction.

i went to my doctor with all the research i had done, feeling confident. well, the doctor looked at me (18, 5’3”, 135lbs, literally being crushed under the weight of my chest) and said these exact words: “no that’s not your problem. your problem is that you’re obese. you just need to lose weight” and he sent me to a dietician who basically told me my only option was to starve myself.

so i gave up. my breasts continued to grow (which wasn’t helped by the fact that when i was 22 i got put in zoloft which made me gain 60 pounds in three months) and all of my issues worsened. last year, i got new symptoms: i cannot sit with my back unsupported and if i lay down on my back without a bra on i stop breathing.

so i called my insurance and found out what i needed to do. i found a surgeon and made an appointment for a consultation (which i was late for because of traffic meaning i had to reschedule all of which happened on my birthday so. fun times. i cried in a room full of strangers). but i got a new appointment and when i went the only thought i had was: “i’m too fat”

the first time i was 18 and 135 pounds. now i was 28 and 217 pounds. so of course they weren’t going to let me have the surgery.

unfortunately i was right (cue more crying) in a way. the surgeon agreed that i needed the surgery and that my breasts were mostly tissue meaning weight loss would do nothing to make them smaller. but because of my weight i was at a higher risk for wounds and infections.

so she gave me a goal - 190lbs - and a follow up appointment in 6 months. the appointment can be changed so it’s not a hard deadline. but i’m doing it. i’m losing the weight i need and just a few days ago (a month and change after my appointment) i hit the 10lbs lost mark. my 2x and XL shirts that used to be tight are now way too big and my stomach is noticeably smaller.

anyway, this is a long winded way to say that i cannot wait to get this surgery and not only be able to function as a regular person, but also be comfortable in my own skin in a way i haven’t been in almost 20 years. i’m going to wear cute clothes and i’m going to be able to run with my niece and nephews and i’m going to be able to sleep without thinking i’m going to stop breathing.

fuck. i’m so excited.

[volleyball-dontknowher]

Hey! Can i request an NSFW Alphabet w/ Coach Ukai? I just started following your blog, and man i am hooked. You truly are an exceptional writer 💖 do keep up the good work! Gambatte~

I'm so glad you like my writing 🥰🥰

Thank you for the request!!! It was fun because damn Ukai is hot

Words: 2.1k

Requests are open 

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He makes sure that you are comfortable(and completely satisfied, if not he’ll be back at it ready for another round), he grabs you one of his shirts (that smells like him and that he doesn’t mind not getting back), and gives you a heartfelt kiss and becomes a total softie. He loves you a lot and just likes to cherish you and just kiss every part of you. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his chest, he loves how perfectly you fit on top of it and end up falling asleep there, how buff he still is gives him a good ego boost. He also adores how he can hover over you and completely cover your entire body with his, and when you are riding him you can put you hands on his chest as support and it completely works. 

On you he loves your collar bones, he loves how they poke out just a little, he likes to nip at them and leave little hickeys on them because it is easy to cover up for the most part but if your shirt moves just a little bit then everyone is going to know. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He has a total breeding kink and would love to cum inside of you and just sit with him inside you for an extra minute or two just to keep it all in and if some leaks out he is going to lazily finger it back inside of you because he just thinks it’s so fucking hot knowing that you are filled with his cum, sometimes he’s going to cum inside of you then have you get back dressed and walk around with his cum still in you. He also cannot help but let out the deepest loudest moan you’ve ever heard when you swallow, he loves knowing that you swallowed for him and then you sucked him dry and then cleaned the rest off, do that and he is going to do whatever you ask, he is totally whipped 

When he eats you out he is going to lick every last drop of your cum because he wound’t waste any of it, to him it is like fucking gold and he enjoys it every time. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He would absolutely be down for a threesome and would love to see you choking on another man’s cock while he pounds into you 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The man is a sex god, he knows exactly what he is doing and how to make you a screaming moaning mess below him, he is talented with his hands, mouth and dick and he uses all three to completely wreck you. He knows what a woman likes and is going to give it to you,

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He is going to be willing to try almost every position but to him nothing beats you face down ass up, he loves pounding into you from behind and hearing you try and muffle your moans into a pillow. He also loves any position where he can clearly see your face and watch your face change as he destroys you. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He is completely serious, he wants to make you cum as many times as he can and make you feel as good as possible, he is not going to crack jokes because he’s not confident that anything he says is ever funny and he wouldn’t ever want to ruin the mood. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The carpet is brown like his natural hair and is going to be well groomed like his hair, he likes to keep it a little bit longer because it makes him feel like a man but also likes to think about you giving him a blowjob and keeps it short enough that you can deepthroat him and not worry about his hair. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

In the moment he is a total dom and is focused on making sure that both of you are as horny as possible and are completely into it. He will be talking dirty and even be a little degrading calling you a whore and his little slut, but afterwards he is going to be all sweet nothing’s and little kisses. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Now that he has you he doesn't jack off as often but when he does he is typically away with the team and in the shower (where none of the boys could ever find him) and he is going to be thinking of you and going fast and hard imagining you under him or even that his hand was yours. He is going to take a while to cum because it is not the same as having you there and sometimes he is going to send you videos or call you so you can help him out. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He has a total daddy kink, a praise kink, he loves edging and overstimulation (on you), as well as lingerie and roleplay. He is a kinky mother fucker and will be turned on by almost everything you do. He is a total dom and is going to be all over you telling you how “you look so fucking hot” under him and that you “were made for his cock” he is the king of dirty talk and is going to be a nasty motherfucker 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He loves doing it anywhere, he loves his bedroom, the shower, his car, the shop literally anywhere he can bone you he is going to, if he had to choose probably the shower because it’s super easy clean up. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He gets turned on by every single thing you do. He loves when you smile for him, when you dress nicely, when you compliment him literally anything. He is going to also be super turned on when he gets jealous, he likes to put you in your place. If you lay in bed and moan his name he is going to lose it then and there, if you lean in and whisper it in his ear he is going to stop what he’s doing and make sure that is the only thing you can remember. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would not roleplay a teacher/high school student with you he gets weirded out and cannot do it, but if you pretend he’s a college professor and call him that he is totally down. He also will not let you leave marks that the boys could see, he is madly in love with you but he also wants to be a good role model and doesn’t want to hear their shit. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He would rather receive if he’s being honest, something about seeing you on your knees in front of him is better than every fantasy he could ever think of, he is going to be the type to let you have control at first then end up thrusting into your mouth while moaning all of the dirty things he is going to do to you when you are done.

THis doesn’t mean that he is not for eating you out though, he fucking loves it with his whole heart but he likes to save it for special occasions and eat you out until you are screaming and shaking beneath him. He is going to keep going until you have cum at least three times for him. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be both. He likes it fast and rough when he is in a dominant mood and just wants you to submit to him so he can please you both. It is rare for him to be slow and sensual but after a long day or an exciting win he is going to take his time pleasing you and showing you how valuable you are to him. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes. All the damn time he is going to push your panties aside and have his way with you all the time, you look at him the right way and bam you’re getting dick. He also loves them before he goes to practice because it helps him not lose his cool with the boys. He doesn’t like to wait for sex so he is going to take you then and there and then again when you both get home 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He would take you anywhere if he was eh 60% sure you wouldn’t get caught, on his store counter, in the teachers restroom at the high school, in the back seat of his car, yessir. He is willing to try almost everything if you are, he is going to see things online and fall in love with the idea and try it with you, half of the time it is awful and you are both over it but the other half it is sexy and intimate. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)’

The man has a lot of experience and is going to have the stamina to show for it, he typically likes to go two rounds and can last forever. He never skips on foreplay for you so you end up cuming more than he does but when he does he is going to need a few minutes to get hard again and is going to spend that time pampering you and making you feel good. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

On you he is going to use any and everything, the man will use a vibrator on you and tie you to the bed to watch you squirm and moan and without warning is going to thrust into you. Handcuffs, blindfolds and restraints can be used on either of you. He will not let you use a dildo, the only thing going in you should be him. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is a huge tease, if he knows that you are horny he is going to do a lot of little things to keep you wanting him, he likes to leave lots of little touches or quick neck kisses to show you that he wants it too but isn’t going to give it to you. He is also going to be a huge tease in the bedroom, he likes to trace his hands up and down your thighs and get them really close to you but waits to actually touch you until you beg for him, the same goes with his mouth and his dick, if you want it you better be begging for it. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn’t as loud as you are but he is definitely the type to let out little moans and groans between praises. He likes for you to be able to hear how you make him feel too. He is going to get louder as the night goes on and will unapologetically moan and curse for every thrust when he gets close. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He once tried to see if he could bleach his pubes like he does his hair after he was single for a long time and kinda loved the look and does it occasionally. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big man big dick, like an 8.5 with a thick base and he knows how to use it 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Whenever you want it do it he will totally be down, he can do it all the time, would at least like for two to three times a week but would absolutely love to do it every single night with you. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't fall asleep unless you are asleep right next to him or on top of him. He likes to lay there and just watch you sleep and just loves the calm and peaceful moments between the two of you, but when he falls asleep he is completely out and will end up lightly snoring. 

[well-shit-im-a-morosexual-now]

“Sugar Baby” (ask meme).

Alternate meeting fic!

Lucifer & Mammon are in the human realm for something or another, whatever business would require Lucifer to drag Mammon along and have them stay a few days. On the first day Mammon sees something shiny that catches his attention, it's some small trinket that they have right at the checkout counter of shops, it's basically worthless but fuck if he doesn't want it and he's begging Lucifer using puppy dog eyes that he knows for a fact will work if he just gets Lucifer to look directly at him. Lucifer refuses and they're causing a scene and holding up the line. When a human slaps down the thing Mammon wants on the counter and pays for it and then pushes it towards him. The man is absolutely flabbergasted. Just so much confusion. He's stuttering, flushing, trying to say he doesn't need the charity of some random human while also clutching on to the item with a death grip. The human barely blinks and has already started loading their things on to the counter and then Lucifer is dragging Mammon out while still scolding him.

The next day he sneaks out, he doesn't have much money because he'd just finished paying the witches but now that he was in the human world he might as well go visit the kid even if that means the witches will start making their demands earlier. No way he's gonna turn up empty handed though, Mammon needs ta spoil his brat. So he's haggling with the cashier trying to reduce the price of a soft toy (it's a crow plushie - look he didn't mean to pick it up it's just that it looked cute and the kid liked the dumb bird and it's not because of any connection to him okay) when someone drops the remaining cash on the counter and Mammon's freaking out because that's definitely the same human as last time and are they following him??? Are they a witch???? Do they want something???? Are they evil????? And the human's just like I work here????? And you looked like you really wanted it? And it's not that much money??? And Mammon just kinda walks away in a daze clutching the toy to his chest and face bright red. The human stares after him because wtf??? They worked retail part time, they had no money to spare on some random guy just cause he was cute but MC's dumb and smitten so of course they run after him and ask if they can treat him to a coffee after their shift and Mammon who's only ever fucked around and never in his thousands of years gone on an actual date where someone paid for him is so fucking confused because had this human figured out he's a demon? Is this them making a tribute? Do they want to make a pact? But free stuff is free stuff! So he agrees and when they meet up later the human buys him coffee and when he eyes some spicy looking treat in the display case they buy it for him without a word. And Mammon is giddy because holy shit what is happening!? And he's flustered because holy shit what is happening!? And his stomach feels weird and his face is hot and his heart is pounding. And he blurts out 'Do you wanna fuck?' loud enough that people turn to look at them. And the human is confused and stuttering and red faced. And thinking they don't understand he asks them what they want in return for everything they've bought him and then they're cackling and saying they just thought he was cute and obviously he's protesting and saying he's not cute and after that they both end up relaxing and actually having a fun time. Lucifer looks ready to kill him when he gets back.

On the third day he loses Lucifer again and goes to give the toy, later he hangs around the places he last saw the human. Not because he's hoping they'll run into him or anything! They do however run into him and they seem happy to see him and he doesn't think anyone has ever been happy to see him before except maybe the pipsqueak and his stomach feels funny again and his face feels hot and his heart is pounding and the human is telling him about a carnival that's in town and asking him to come with them. Obviously he agrees and they end up paying for games and rides and buying any food his eyes linger on for just a second too long. When he goes back to the room they're staying in Lucifer is there, pissed beyond belief and knowing exactly what's going on (because no matter what world they are in Lucifer still has eyes and ears in every corner). He yells and Mammon actually yells back for once and it's not just the stuff that the human got him it's that the human treats him kindly and with respect and makes him laugh and suddenly he's gushing about them and Lucifer's looking at him with something close to horror. And then Lucifer's mask is cracking and he's talking about what happened the last time one of them fell for a human and "I nearly lost my mind along with Lilith. Losing her, being unable to save her, was the single most painful thing to ever happen. Mammon. I can't go through that again. I can't lose you too. I don't know what I'll do if I lose you. How I'll survive it. Not a human, Mammon. Anything but a human. You've only known them for a few days, leave them. Please."

So Mammon does, they cut their visit short. Though the human doesn't run into Mammon again they do keep coming into money, more than enough to cover everything they bought him. They find loose change in their pockets, they get a bonus at work, they find some cash tucked into their couch cushions, they impulsively buy a lottery and actually win a decent amount.

Mammon who despite listening to Lucifer in the beginning eventually let's his greed (for the human more than the things they bought him) over take him and he makes any excuse to sneak out to the human world (what's the worst that could happen), each time he meets them and each time they buy him something different. It's never anything outrageously expensive and usually that's what he would value but he finds himself hoarding and treasuring every little thing they give him. Lucifer finds out eventually and is beyond pissed and actually locks Mammon up to prevent him from going to see the human (because there was no one in this world to tell him that locking your brothers up when they piss you off is not okay) but when he eventually releases Mammon he's off like a shot back to the human world, back to his human and to the little things they had seen and bought because they thought he would like them, while he was away. And Lucifer stops getting in the way, actually goes so far as to sigh and huff and grumble and give Mammon permission to access the human world only if it means he'll go straight to the human and not cause any trouble on the way.

Mammon's spends a good amount of time with the human and even his brothers slowly, one by one trickle in to the human world to see what's so special about this particular human. And though this pisses Mammon off a part of him is glad that they seem to be willing to accept his human and even more pleased that the human seems to have no inclination to shower them with gifts for seemingly no reason.

At some point Mammon realises he's in love with the human, deeply so, and he's pretty sure the human actually loves him back, and that's a crazy thought isn't it. Eventually of course Mammon decided he loves the human too much to keep lying to them and he needs to tell them what he actually is. So he spends the day pampering them. After, he sits them down and after a lot of stuttering, yelling to himself, dragging his hands through his hair while they sit patiently next on their couch, he slumps down next to them and looking at the floor says, "I'm a demon." When he doesn't get a reply he looks up at them. Their face is blank and they blink slowly. "Mammon," they say gently, "we've been together for 217 years."

The reason Lucifer stopped trying to get in the way is because after locking Mammon away for close to 60 years and then letting him leave so that he'd either see his human aged or dead, only for Mammon to come back as chirpy as ever with more of his little trinkets Lucifer realised oh wait maybe the human isn't actually a human afterall and this should be okay then right