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jodilin65 · 25 years

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FRIDAY, APRIL 30, 1999 Will the new noisemakers be here tomorrow? After the city leaves at 4:00, I’ll look over the wall and see if the stuff’s still there and if the grass is mowed. That should be a sign in itself. When I went to hang a few things on the line just now, I could hear soft music coming from over there. Just what have they been doing for eight hours a day for these past two weeks?

I just hope my vibes are right about us moving in July or early August, cuz getting the house up for sale by mid-May is just a dream. I knew he was full of shit when he said the house would be ready to put on the market by then. He’s much too intelligent to be giving off-the-wall time frames like he’s done a lot in the past, and it makes me wonder if he likes don’t that.

He called that realtor, who was with customers, to find out what land was available and where, but he never returned the call. People seem to be doing that a lot lately; not returning calls.

I wonder if the guy with the braids doll will return Tom’s email. Tom told him we haven’t gotten the doll, but I’ll bet you anything that if he does reply, he’ll say it’s been sent. This guy has sold over 200 items and has a good rep with the auction. Tom says he thinks he’s procrastinating, but I think it’s the mailman. That’s two packages he’s given away and I’m really fed up with him! I want to kick his ass so bad! Ironically enough, the two packages I never got had dolls involved. So, it’s a combination of my being hexed in the doll department, and having a mailman who likes to give our mail away. I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that I’ll never have this braids doll any more than I’ll ever have pictures from Paula. I just hope we can get our money back on this doll.

Andy left a message yesterday. It was a quick one, cuz he was expecting a couple of co-workers to visit. I thought he wasn’t mixing business with pleasure, but I guess not. He said he’s got all his bills paid. That’s good.

I’m halfway done reading Black Ice, then I’ll read Amy Girl.

Yesterday and the day before, I spent a lot of time on the web getting back the Gloria pictures I lost. I also got a Gloria theme and it sucked, so I made it better. They used a few icons with her picture. Their colors sucked, so I chose my own. The only thing I really like about it is the music clips, although they should’ve put more on and more variety of songs, too. They’ve got two clips from Anything for You. I went and made my own picture icons, but they didn’t look too good cuz of the way my wallpaper picture colors would get into them. Then they started doing weird things on me and changing into bizarre things. Maybe I’ll try again today.

Later…

Fell asleep for an hour cuz I had to take Benadryl. Had the typical allergy attack I get every 2-3 weeks. It looks like it isn’t over either, since I just started sneezing again. These things go on all day and I usually can’t stop it till the next day. I may go for 20-30 minute periods without sneezing, but on days I have these attacks, I sneeze all day on and off. I don’t have an attack for just a part of a day, although I wish that were the case if I had to have them at all! God doesn’t recognize hard work when he sees it. I dust, vacuum, and quit smoking, only to keep on having allergy trouble. Maybe he’ll care enough to help me help myself someday, but I won’t count on it.

It’s just about May now, but we’ve barely scratched the surface of our list of prep jobs. Tom is out there putting flashing on the patio, so that’s another step in the right direction.

My vibes say next door will be empty again this weekend, but we’ll see what my logic says after I do a spy check after they leave today.

Tom fixed the bird clock. I didn’t think to check it myself, but when he did he saw that the part that makes the birds chirp uses two separate batteries from the one battery that keeps time. The “chirping” batteries were dead.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 28, 1999 Due to having major computer problems, I haven’t written in a few days.

First, Patch died yesterday, so now I just have Katie and Ashley. I could’ve sworn I saw Katie fucking Ashley, though, which makes no sense at all. Even if Katie was a male, they should be well on their second batch by now. It’s too late to not have produced any babies since they only carry litters for three weeks.

Tom has an anti-virus thing installed on his computer. He never bothered to put one in mine, cuz I hardly ever download anything. We suspect that the new screensavers we recently got had a virus in them that infected my computer. One day my computer just wouldn’t boot up. I ended up losing so much. I lost some of the Gloria pictures I downloaded not too long ago, the superimposed pictures I made, the pictures I put pretty backgrounds on, all the family pictures, doll pictures, and some pet pictures, my cardfiles, and more. Tom says he’s really sorry he didn’t back me up more often. Yeah, me too, but now I’ve set things up so that I can’t lose much, if anything at all, the next time something like this happens. Fortunately, though, I didn’t lose any journal stuff. I lost four pages from Andy’s file, but I was able to rebuild that by copying/pasting excerpts from my journal just like I would for the freeloaders.

Since my weight hasn’t fluctuated much in the last several months, I quit doing a weight file, then I condensed things. I rebuilt my dolls and pets files in my word processor so I can back things up more easily. I pretty much went back to basics. The main reason I got into computers in the first place was to do journals and write letters. Not sit and look at pictures. My picture days are over. If I want a picture, I’ll print it out. That way it can’t get lost so easily.

Aside from AOL, a few games I like, some empty files I use for letters, and my journals, I have my journal chart, the grocery list, an index of subjects I once began, phone numbers, lyrics, edits, and pet and doll info all backed up onto one floppy. So, from now on, all that should matter is that I keep my journal stuff backed up regularly. Yesterday, I figured out how to restore floppies for the first time in my life. It was only January 9th, as far as the computer was concerned, cuz that was when we last backed up on CDs, so I had to restore the journal stuff from then on up till now. Every time I get a page worth of Andy’s stuff, I’ll print it out.

Got my period. It started yesterday. Will I get those mid-cycle pains for the 4th month in a row in two weeks? Anyway, even if it’s dryer when he doesn’t get off, the good thing about when he does get off is that I know it’ll be many months before he does it again. Also, if he cums at the wrong time of month, it’s the wrong time of month for me. If he cums at the right time of month, it’s the wrong time of month for me. I still trust him to be smart enough not to go squirting at the right time, and for God to take care of destiny even if he does.

I had been worried that it’d be a bitch to peel off stickers and contact paper from shelves/doors, but Tom got this really cool thing that sands it right off. It’ll even sand the paint off too, in no time at all. It’s a chalky, rough pumice-like thing. It makes a mess, but it works.

I moved Velvet into the aquarium that’ll be his home when we move. He seems content enough in it. Especially since he’s such a lazy pig who just sits there. I put him right next to the mice and I think he likes being able to see them. Makes him feel less alone, I guess.

I also put Bailey back in the living room, cuz the room just looks so boring without a doll in it. The rest are still in boxes, but not Mary, Giselle, Maria, or Rapunzel. I don’t have suitable boxes for them, but that’s fine. They can ride in the backseat of the car wrapped in towels.

It looks like I’ll be keeping Giselle #2 which I’ll rename Liselle to go with her twin Giselle. Giselle and Liselle. I’ll leave her in her box till we move, of course, and then I’ll do different things to make her look somewhat different than her twin.

I was right, so far, when I said I’d only get two or three out of the four dolls I got from eBay (the auction), so Tom will email the guy tonight so we can get our money back. That’s two packages of mine the mailman didn’t give me this month.

I got that form for that art test. I did a good job considering that I haven’t drawn in about a year. They asked a few questions - age, marital status, why you like art. Then you draw a copy of a couple of cartoon heads and dress up an outline of a house. If the mailman lets me have it, I should receive a score and evaluation on it. Tom said I did a great job and that he’s looking forward to hearing what my options are on it. I don’t know. This is a fun experiment, but I’m sure that they tell everyone their work is good. Even if I’d scribbled, I’m sure I’d get an encouraging reply about it with a high score attached. They want to entice anyone they can into their training program.

Later…

The city van’s not here yet. Usually, he’s here from 8:30-4:00, with an hour and a half off for lunch. Just three more days till the freeloader animals get over there. There may be no basketball games, but there’ll be music, car doors, loudmouths, and maybe even a dog or two to go with it. Thank God we’ll be getting out of here soon enough.

I realized a reason I don’t want to be with Andy in his car again. I may’ve been lucky enough not to go down with him for years, but I’m reluctant to push my luck any further. Very reluctant. Even he says he doesn’t want to take certain risks, like having furniture stick out of his trunk, cuz he’s not insured. That doesn’t mean he still doesn’t have weed on him when he drives around. To think that I could’ve gone down with him those many times I’d ride in his car with him in the past is a bit scary. I can’t afford to push my luck nowadays. I’m not some poor, young, cute girl with connections any more. I’m a married, middle-aged woman with a decent income. I can’t afford to go down with him now that my life is what it is. I just don’t want losers or druggies for friends. Period. Out of the very few things Andy has an interest in, he knows his stuff well, and there is some good to Andy, but if I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a million times - I’ve outgrown Andy. I’m not going down for some waste product who doesn’t give a shit about life. Who only cares about himself. If he wants to be a dope case that hangs with the wrong people and that sits on his ass day in and day out with a phone in one hand and a joint in the other - let him. Let him stuff his face and ruin his life at his own expense. I’m not taking any more risks. Period.

Here’s something that’s pretty amazing. By 4:00 yesterday, there had been only one sales call. I don’t know what calls came later, though, cuz I went to bed around then.

Later…

The city van’s here. An hour later today.

Later…

Now there are two city vans.

Later…

We’re back down to one van. Just what in the world are they doing over there, hour after hour, day after day? What did those freeloaders do over there?

Anyway, Tom was in for about a half hour. He put in a sell order to cash in some stock if it hit 76 points, but it hasn’t so far. He’s gone now to the eye doctor. I’ll be calling in an order for pork-fried rice at noon which he’ll pick up.

If there’s one thing, and one thing only, that I’m glad is gone, it’s the cardfile. I inserted a table with rows and columns of blocks for keeping track of pet and doll info and it looks much better this way.

SUNDAY, APRIL 25, 1999 No one moved in yesterday, and there were signs saying that no one would move in this weekend that we didn’t see or think of right away. The grass isn’t mowed, the recycle bin’s out, and they still haven’t picked up the shit I threw in the backyard I couldn’t believe it!

The only activity that I know of that went on over there yesterday, was this car that pulled deep into the carport. A fat lady and a little boy got out of the car and they went straight to the back. The first thing I thought was that the pregnant kid’s mother came over with one of the kid’s kids, and they were getting the dog set up in back, but nope. They were only here a few minutes, too. Maybe they went to get something I threw over.

Then Tom went up on the roof to read some numbers off the side of the cooler, and to spy, and that’s when I totally regretted throwing things over there! Mr. Paranoid saw the shit over there and lectured me for a good hour or so on why I shouldn’t do things like that and why it’s important that he be paranoid and cautious in life. I’m very very sorry to have upset him, and now I’ll be just as paranoid and cautious just so I can spare him from having to get all worried again. I’ll never again do anything remotely like that.

Also, there’s no way I’m gonna tell him about the hoop when we move. He’d be a basket case of nerves over it and he doesn’t need it if I can spare him from it. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Not even after ten years will I tell him about the hoop, cuz even then he’ll probably worry that something bad may come of it.

Meanwhile, I’m going to finish enjoying this weekend with next door empty. It’s to be our last weekend here with it empty.

Later…

Tom fixed the stereo in seconds yesterday. All that was keeping it from playing CDs was a loose wire.

I went around and counted cracked outlets and light switches for him so he can pick up new ones to replace them when he gets other things we need. It’s gonna cost $500 to put the fence around the pool! But it’s the law.

SATURDAY, APRIL 24, 1999 I have so much to write about! Let me start with the bad news, then I’ll get to the good news. I saw what’s probably going to be the new scum that’s gonna be next to us either this weekend or sometime during next week for sure. We’ve gone from Mormons to blacks to Mexicans. I am so sick of them! I’m so sick of having to be the one stuck next to lazy, rude, selfish kids with kids. At 9:45 on Thursday, the city van came back, and shortly after, at 10:00, a nice blue/gray van pulled in. Too nice for someone who’s supposed to be poor and in need of subsidized housing. Anyway, out hopped a pregnant woman with two little kids and with what appeared to be her mother. A little later, the city van and the asshole's van left. At 12:30, the pregnant kid returned with two guys. She and the guys couldn’t have been over 18 and they all looked like total scum. Totally. One of the guys had a T-shirt on that said: Don’t ask me 4 shit. I was thinking to myself, don’t worry. I’m not gonna bother wasting my time, guy. I’m gonna have the city deal with you.

At 1:00, the van came back. I saw that same gray-haired guy step out topless and pull a door out of the back of the van, and a paint roller.

I hate these loud-mouthed Mexicans! Although they didn’t seem to be that loud for being Mexican. Not as loud as that black bitch was. She sounded like a mad bull butch. Anyway, I’m just so sick of these lazy people who have one kid, jump on welfare, then keep popping kids so they can avoid having to work. Meanwhile, it’s people like us who struggle to earn a living that has to foot their bills with our tax dollars, and I’m sick of it. Fucking sick of it! They couldn’t wait to have kids. They just had to run out and have them before they were ready and on stable ground financially. They probably made a contest out of which would come first - their diploma or the kids, although I doubt Miss Mex went all the way through high school.

I could’ve sworn I heard one of them mention us having a pool, so they were probably peaking in our yard. I hope Tom doesn’t leave anything of value out there.

Tom says I’m pretty bigoted. Well, if they don’t force their lives on me then I won’t be. If they let me sleep and don’t constantly invade my home with their noise, they can be whatever color/race they happen to be. It’s not the color or race I’m against so much as the ways of lazy people like this. I’ve lived in two projects. I know how most of them are. Not all, but most. It’s rude, selfish assholes I’m against. Not blacks or Mexicans, although I use those words as a way to vent. I’d do that with a white person I disliked, too. It may be wrong, but within my own journals, I think I should be able to say whatever I please. I’ll be damned if I’ll watch what I say in my journal. I could’ve lowered myself to that bitch’s level and called her a N after she stormed off calling me a ho, but I didn’t. The issue wasn’t about her black skin. The issue was about her and her associates harassing me with noise.

Now for the good news. I saw the city van pull in yesterday at the usual time of 8:30. This time, the gray-haired guy was with that black guy again. The black guy got out and took hold of the lock on the hoop just like one of the black boys had done. Then I stepped out and asked if the place was gonna be rented to the people that came yesterday. He said not for sure. They had just come to look at the place. I don’t buy it, though. I think it is gonna be them living there, but can they have that nice van? I thought Tom said subsidized housing was for the working poor, but there’s no way this Mexie’s gonna be working. Not with kid number three on the way by August at the latest. So, if she can stay home and have a van like that, she can have a dog too, right?

I asked when the new people would be in. He said when they were done fixing the place up.

Anyway, I asked if they could do me the favor of taking the hoop down cuz kids were coming around in the middle of the night playing ball. This is BS, of course, but I figured that’d get me further than saying that I just didn’t want to listen to the new kids, or their kids, thump balls just outside my window all day long. So, the guy got up and took it down!!! With my luck, though, the new scum will be bouncing balls up and down the driveway, anyway. I’m still thrilled to see this thing go, and I wish I’d done this in between the Mormons and the blacks. Better later than never, I guess, even though Tom says we can have the house up for sale as soon as May 15th. I just hope we can sell it privately, although $65,000-$75,000 is a lot of cash to come up with.

Anyway, I’ve opted to wait till after we move before telling Tom that I asked that the hoop be taken down, cuz he can get more paranoid than Andy at times. He’ll fear trouble will come from it, but I know that even if the city suspects I’m the one who locked the hoop, they can’t prove it, and I don’t think they’d bother with such petty shit anyway. They should have better things to do with their time. Tom, though, may fear we’ll have to go to court on vandalism charges.

We saw the hoop sitting just inside the carport on our way out at around 10:00 and I feared they’d put the hoop back up as soon as the lazies moved in, but Tom said he didn’t think they would. He was the one to be right, fortunately. He said he saw a pickup haul it away. Good riddance!!

On our way back, we saw an APS truck. That means they could be moving in this weekend, but more than likely, they’ll be in next week. I’ll have to see if they replaced the security light yet when I listen to music. I’ll go do that now, then write about our little outing yesterday.

Later…

The security light hasn’t been replaced yet, but I’ve been compensated for getting rid of the hoop with a dead stereo. I was listening to CDs and everything was just fine, but then it quit playing anything. It goes from disk to disk, then stops as if it had no CDs loaded in its carousel. Great timing. Just what we need to be dealing with now. I might not tell Tom about it till after we move and I may just listen to tapes till then.

We went to Wal-Mart yesterday and he got a couple of pairs of shorts. I got a bright pink cotton pair of shorts and two satin pairs in black and royal blue. Their sundresses were boring. I got a pair of denim shorts, two white bras, and two shiny pairs of panties. One’s gold and white checkered, the other’s magenta and black.

The only problem with the shorts is that because I’m so thick-waisted, in order to get a comfortable fit around the waist, the rest is too big and baggy. In order to get the shorts to fit well, I have to get a tight waist. So I took the good fit with the tight waist and am now stretching the waists on chair backs.

Then we went to the bookstore, got Jack-n-the-Box, and came home. Not right away, though, cuz some stupid shit had to hold us up by parking in a way that we couldn’t get by them till they decided to move. I was getting more pissed by the moment. Two more minutes and I’d have been pulling the dumb fuck out of its car and beating the fuck out of it, I swear to God!

We still want to go to the library some other time and to the mall so I can get more clothes.

If I don’t get my braids doll today, then I guess I’ll get her next week.

Ashton-Drake sent me their new catalog. They had a couple of new Indian dolls that were nice, but for $135, no thanks. If they weren’t 17” and under, that’d be different.

Later…

Tom came this morning. I was shocked. He cums so rarely that it was just so unexpected that I wondered if he’d quit for good.

So, are our new assholes coming today? I’d guess that if they’re moving in today, they should be here any time now. Well, they won’t be playing basketball in the midst of moving in! Anyway, Tom says he’ll stick around and spy along with me till 11:00, but that if they don’t come by then, he’s gonna go out to the racetrack.

THURSDAY, APRIL 22, 1999 Andy left a message about an hour ago saying he was bored and lonely, so call him if I was up. I called, but he didn’t answer. Then he called me back saying he was out walking and wanted another hour before calling. I thought he was supposed to be so bored and lonely. He’s probably lowering himself out of desperation to cruising the streets for sex. So, I just left him a message to please have his eating done when he calls me but to just let the phone ring once, and I’ll take that as my cue to make my coffee, then I’ll call him back. Knowing him, though, he’ll have a mouthful of food, the little pig!

In the first message he left, he told me he didn’t know if he’d told me yet, but that he was going back east in May for a visit, and he went through that spiel again, after telling me three times. Of course, if he stopped potting his brains out, he may remember what he’s already told me. Sometimes, though, I think he just rambles about the same old things just to be leaving me a lengthy message, since he never really has anything new going on with him. He says he realizes he chooses to be bored. Yeah, I realized that a long time ago. I know he doesn’t want to do anything. As I told him, though, I’ll still accept him no matter what he does, and this is true whether or not I dumped him. He has to be what he wants to be. No one can make him work or do anything he doesn’t want to do. Only God can do that to any of us.

Then he says he’s gonna get his act together and seriously work when he gets back. Yeah, right! And I’ll get serious about being a brain surgeon!

I’m surprised Tammy hasn’t called yet, but she will. It’s just a matter of time. I knew the pathological liar had no intentions of sending a letter or pictures either like she said she would, but do I really care or want these anymore? No. I’m done with these people.

It’ll be nice to have Andy go back east and give me a break from the phone for two weeks, but will he call Tammy? I hope not, for his sake. She’s a very insecure person, uncomfortable with gays, and living in the past. She’ll only be rude, cold and distant to Andy and bring up the past, but Andy has to be Andy, as always, and do whatever he wants to do.

Later…

I managed to get Andy off the phone in just a half hour. He was falling asleep anyway, and the stoned ditz who never listens to a damn thing I say asked the same questions for the tenth time and brought up yet again manufactured homes being cheaper and blowing away in storms. For the tenth time, I explained to him why they’re cheaper and why they won’t blow away (he’s just jealous and is trying to burst my bubble). So, after hearing about stuff I already know, he mentioned us going to Camelback Mountain and then to his house. I reminded him of how he recently said he was sick of Camelback Mountain, then he goes, “Boy, I contradict myself a lot, huh?” Yeah, he does. Anyway, I don’t want to go, but what am I supposed to do? Tell him, “No, I don’t feel like it. Besides, why do you think I’m not giving you our address and number when we move? Cuz I’m sick of you. I’ve moved on in life, you haven’t. You’re a lazy druggie and I don’t need that.”

He wanted me to hand-write more notes up for him to distribute, but I told him no. Not just because I don’t feel like writing the notes, but because I’m sick of doing for him and not getting much in return for it. There’s nothing he can really offer me. Also, why doesn’t he do it? He has the time. While he’s sitting at home stuffing his face or getting high, why doesn’t he do it? He said he might have Michelle do it.

Lastly, during our talk, he said he was picking food out of his teeth but I know he was really eating the whole time. God, what a fucking, major fucking pig this guy’s become! That’s about 35 minutes of eating - damn!

I wonder what Naper dolls are? Andy says Barbara Nicks collects these.

Later…

That fucking pest! Here we go again with the phone. He just called twice. Let me make some coffee, then see what this general nuisance wants now.

Later…

Well, Andy just had himself a little scare. I’d have been furious and I’d have run out after the person but to each their own. He sleeps with music on and had just turned his radio on to go to bed when he heard these weird noises. So he turned the music off and listened and then saw someone running from his backyard. I don’t know if the person heard him, changed their mind, or what their intentions were in the first place, but Andy was appalled that someone tried breaking in at 4:00 in the morning with him there. He says he keeps his kitchen window open sometimes and that they got the screen out. I say it’s Laura-related or someone he’s had problems with cuz 4:00 in the morning is not the time to go breaking into houses when you know the people are probably home and could very well shoot you since so many people have guns.

I sort of played a joke on Tom. I told him on the machine that I saw a show about people like him who rarely cum and that it has to do with some blockage, so it’s physical and not mental. It’s rare, but maybe not as rare as people think cuz some people won’t speak up about it cuz they’re either shy, embarrassed, or afraid they won’t be believed. Meanwhile, he can do what he wants with the information and doesn’t have to change a thing on account of me.

It’s a long shot. Quite a long shot. But maybe his problem is physical. Whatever it is, although I still think it’s fear of making a kid, I hope he doesn’t change unless he wants to. I prefer him as he is. Especially since I don’t want a kid, regardless of how much it’s not meant to be, anyway.

For a few hours this morning, a city van was next door. I don’t know if they were around in the afternoon, though. It appears the electricity’s not on yet. Also, that unmarked white car that looks like ours and a little like one of the ones that would visit the bitch was there today, too.

The lock’s still on. I hope they wait till after the weekend before cutting it off, cuz then that’ll be one less weekend that it could be used.

I wonder why they haven’t taken the recycle bin in from off of the side of the road.

Tom’s still sure we can beat our deadline and be out of here in July or August. I hope so! I really, really do!

Yesterday I dragged out two old, beat-up chairs to be put in the alley during bulk pickup, an old table, and that wavy, furry recliner that Andy gave us.

Woke up to find that I lost a pound, naturally, without water pills. I’m down to 107 pounds. Of course, though, that meant no shitting, so I’ll be back to 108-109 by tomorrow.

Later…

Got the bitch’s new number. Yesterday, I used the message-send thing (which is untraceable as far as I know) as a test and sent a message to her old number. All I did was moan for a second. It went through, but why would it send to a number that’s been changed and that’s not in use now? Must’ve gotten forwarded to her new number. Also, I thought this bitch didn’t accept blocked calls. Maybe she’s too broke to have kept her Caller ID.

Anyway, I called at 5:45 and whispered her name. She said, “Uh-huh” and there was no doubt about it being her. She asked who it was and I whispered something unclear, hoping she’d guess a name that I’d go along with. Bitch did just that. She asked, “Michelle?” I said yes, and that I was scared about this guy Brian I met last night who was outside my window. She asked what I wanted her to do and I asked if she could come over. She said she didn’t have a car to come over. I asked if her dad was there yet. She said no one was there yet. I asked if she had to go to work. She said yes. So, I told her I’d call her later and that was it.

I wonder if the bitch will suspect me when she finds out Michelle never called her.

I really think she’s still subsidized and that’s why she moved quietly and hasn’t done anything to the house. I think that for some reason, the city just transferred her to some other house. Maybe not even a house. Maybe an apartment, but my guess is that she’s in another house. She’s not living with Mike. At least I don’t think she is, cuz she said, “Nobody’s here yet.” Not, “He’s not here yet,” when I asked about her dad, and remember, both Bill and the cock would come over in the mornings.

I thought about waiting till Bill got there to call him. I could probably come up with a clever enough line that he’d buy and weasel the new address out of him, but I won’t just in case he were to be a little suspicious and give me the wrong address. I’ll just stick with the original plan and mail it next door and let it get forwarded.

The final chapter of the bitch will be when I call her two more times. I’m gonna wait a week or two after sending her her stuff, then call her when I think she’ll answer and ask if she got the stuff. If she didn’t, she’d more than likely sound curious and confused and ask who I was. If she did, she should go off on me. I’ll make the last call a little later by way of the message-send thing. I’ll just remind her how lucky she is I didn’t maul her what with all the shit she and her cronies stuck me with, and just laugh and laugh away at her. Then just like Tammy, Larry, Dureen, Art, and Andy, we’ll be finished with each other.

Later…

I was right on assuming the city van would be here at 8:30. It just pulled in.

Tom mentioned us possibly looking in the paper for ads with people wanting to buy houses with cash. Oh, how wonderful it’d be if we could privately sell this house! Then I wouldn’t have to be woken up a billion times while waiting for a Realtor to call. Also, we’d get out of having to pay percentage fees.

Later…

Just saw this gray-haired guy, who I’ve seen working next door before, but who isn’t the one I spoke to, pull a door out from the back of the van. An inner door. Bitch and cock must’ve had a fight and punched a door out.

No white car today. At least not yet. That white car’s gotta be some kind of inspector checking up on the workers to make sure everything’s going well.

The van’s leaving. That was fast. And from what I could see, it was just that one guy.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 21, 1999 Typical, typical Tom. He has me get him up at 10:00 so he can do some work on the back room before leaving at 12:30, but what does he do? Finds out he was outbid on a computer part on the online auction, then sat in front of the TV till he had to shower and leave. We’re never gonna get out of here by July or August at this rate. Not if he keeps contradicting and procrastinating, and not if the car keeps having problems. His being sad about having too much to do tells me something right there; that he’s gonna resist doing things till the last minute, causing us to be stuck here till October or something.

At 12:30, I went and put the lock on the hoop which will be cut off by the weekend tops, I’m sure. Can’t these fucking city people, when they see another lock, just say to themselves, Alright. Somebody must really want this locked for a reason. So be it then. But no. Knowing how people work, that’ll only egg them on to rebel and cut the lock off again and make a competition of it.

At 1:00, the renters had company. This is the latest I’ve ever known them to have company, but somehow, it doesn’t surprise me. All I heard was a car door, but for about 10 minutes they had their front door wide open and I could see people milling about. Then the white pickup that came and had parked on the street left and now the only two cars there are the ones that are always there. They’ve shut their door and lights.

The doll with braids could get here tomorrow!

Later…

I recorded myself singing to hear if there was a difference in the way my voice sounds since not smoking for a year and a half but it was the same. In other words, it sucked but was better than most could do. It was as nasally as it usually is. The only thing I didn’t hear that I’d always hear when I’d tape myself singing, was me clearing my throat. It was still strong, on key, and vibrant, but other than that, I didn’t like what I heard.

I could’ve sworn I just saw Katie trying to fuck Ashley. I took her out, and Patch too, since she was easier to get at than Ashley at the moment, and looked at their parts. They look the same to me, but boy is Patch’s weird cuz of her tumor that’s growing fast. Unlike the others that had tumors, hers goes down from her hip to her crotch. Although I could see her parts, her crotch is bulging at one side making it look sort of twisted. How can she shit with this thing?

Another racially motivated school shooting. This one’s in Denver where my braids doll is. They need to go back to segregation, I swear! It shouldn’t have to be that way, but it’s the only way to cut down some of the problems like this. Especially since kids nowadays can get a hold of guns as easily as bubble gum. Kids are mean enough as it is and will shoot another kid for the color of their shirt, so why add fuel to the fire and give them more reasons? It’s not fair, it’s not right, blacks and whites should be able to get along, but that’s just pure fantasy and never to be a reality. You can’t just say, “OK boys and girls. I want you to all get along now no matter what color you are.” That’s not the way it works. In reality, blacks and whites don’t mix. Period. We may not like it or think it should be that way, but that’s just the way it is. It’s always been that way and it always will be.

It’s pretty sick to see how almost all schools are installing metal detectors. What have schools become? Airports? Well, I’m glad I’ll never be having a kid. I’d have hated to send it to such a war zone and be wondering all the time if it’d get shot. Sending kids off to school today is like sending them off to some military base with beefed-up security. Instead of learning what they should be learning, they’ve got to fear for their lives (if they aren’t one of the ones on some murderous rampage).

TUESDAY, APRIL 20, 1999 I’m to get Tom up at 10:00, according to the message he left when he came in while I was asleep, so he can get some work done in the back room.

He stops at his ma’s on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He says she’s doing OK. Yeah, I figured.

Last night, we had our typical cumless sex. Neither of us could really get into it. He didn’t even go on top, claiming he likes variety. I really believe that whether or not I was with just Tom for the rest of my life, or slutting around with women, sex will never again be new, exciting, and fulfilling. It’s easier to just get myself off when I need to get off since I don’t have the patience to get off with him since it now takes me forever to get off. I don’t think he could hold out long enough for me to get off. I don’t want to run the guy ragged in bed.

I forgot to mention that I saw an ad on TV for free information on being an art student and taking an art test. I don’t want to be an art student anywhere, but I’m curious to take the test and have it graded. You take some art test that’s judged by people who teach at this school, I guess, and I’m curious to see what they say about it. I haven’t drawn in ages!

I had Ratsy running around the music room the other night like Piggy used to do. He seemed to have a good time.

Someone had to be next door early Monday morning; cuz the recycle bin was out (with the stuff I threw over there in it?). I don’t know if anyone was there today, cuz the bin’s still out.

As I knew would be the case sooner or later, though, the lock’s been cut off. Tonight, after Tom goes to work, I’ll put another lock on, just in case the other very old lock broke off. I doubt it, though. I’m sure it was cut off and that this one will get cut off, too. If God insists that the hoop not be locked and that I must deal with ball games till we move - so be it. At least that can’t wake me up and can be fanned out when I’m up. It’s getting hot too, so maybe kids won’t want to play much ball.

A good way to tell when the new scum’s about to move in will be by the security light. I know the city will replace that obnoxious light. Freeloaders, why did you have to move?!

We went to Staples and Walgreens yesterday. The seatbelt adjuster’s great. It really keeps the belt off my neck.

We bought a package of 10 boxes that are the same size as the ones he used to be able to get at work. I packed stuff we won’t need while we’re still here.

Got a V-shaped keyboard, but it was awful! I couldn’t type on it to save my life, so I’ve got my old one back. Tom may use it, though.

Got a book to hold me over till we go to the bookstore on Friday called Black and Blue. I’m almost done with The Other Side.

Got a puzzle, a potpourri thing you clip along the rim of the toilet, and lilac-scented refills which really do smell just like lilac.

I’m hoping that this Friday, Tom will not only feel up to going to Wal-Mart and to the bookstore but maybe to the library too, to get books on face exercises and doll making. Also, to get this 200 CD changer that you can hook up to your stereo. That’d be great! Then I’d never have to handle the CDs and risk damage to them or hairs getting caught in the stereo and Tom could have my CD rack for his computer CDs.

Speaking of exercises, I’m making yet another attempt to be consistent with that by developing another routine. I’ll do my abs, hips, and inner thighs every day (my worst areas), my upper body every other day, and my lower body every other day. About 8 exercises a day. Then when we move, I’ll walk on the walker for 15 minutes every day, too.

Talked to Paula earlier, who’s up to the usual - health problems, neighbor problems, and male problems. She’s getting her money back on the package. She either wrote the address out wrong, or the mailman gave it away. Maybe he really didn’t give it away, since I got these other packages. I think the ditz addressed it wrong and that I’m not meant to get mail from her. A doll from her would’ve been nice, but pictures would’ve been even nicer. However, I know I’ll never have pictures of her. This is the second attempt at her getting pictures to me. Something up there, for whatever reason, just doesn’t want me having pictures of her.

Andy mentioned coming over to use this program that prints out music you play on the keyboard. Always when he wants something. Can’t come over just to see me. I told him we don’t have the program anymore, but in truth, our computers aren’t set up for it, and I’m not gonna go out of my way or steal any of Tom’s sparse, valuable free time, to cater to Andy. We’ve given and done enough for Andy. Everything’s what Andy wants.

I did tell him, though, that he might want to come over to get the round glass shelves in the living room, cuz he should be able to haul it in his trunk, the more I think of it. It’ll stick out the back of his trunk, but he should still be able to transport it that way. It’s heavy enough that it won’t bounce out, even without a rope across it.

MONDAY, APRIL 19, 1999 Here’s a weird observation. We got this car on a Sunday, March 21st. So, exactly one month to the date, just four weeks later, there’s already a problem. I suppose some would consider me a selfish, greedy, ungrateful person, but I’m so sick of God’s unfairness. I resent his not letting us get ahead. If we have to play car, we’re never gonna get out of here come July or August. Not if every other weekend has to go to the car. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he had to spend the next weekend on the car, so there goes two days right there to prep and relax.

God, give the poor guy a break, will you? Have mercy on the guy! He works his ass off, has no free time, so leave him alone! Just leave the guy alone!

Talk about mixed emotions about God. Just yesterday I was feeling blessed by him for allowing me not to want a child, about the moving, the doll making, etc. Today, though, I could strangle him. Enough is enough is enough of the same old, same old.

I suppose he’s gonna go after the toilet again anytime now, too.

Later…

Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d expand on my mixed emotions about God. Well, his ordering me childless, for example. I know I’ve probably said this before, but I hate him and I love him for it. I hate his taking away what was supposed to be my right and my responsibility as a human being to choose, yet I love him for letting me out of the misery and hardships it would’ve brought. Then I find myself feeling sorry for myself that God has no faith in me and that that’s why he didn’t let me have a child back when I wanted one, but he shouldn’t have faith in me. There are things I can handle, but we all have our limits. Mine is children. I could never handle a child.

SUNDAY, APRIL 18, 1999 Another stress-free weekend as far as next door goes. God, please don’t take it away too soon! I know better, though. The new subsidized blacks or Mexicans will be here this week. If not, definitely by the 1st of May.

Speaking of freeloaders, who was that that rang our bell an hour ago with the clipboard? It might not have been a clipboard, but the black guy was holding something. Some papers of some kind. He only rang once. Usually, people don’t give up that quickly. What says he could be an associate of Miss Bitch was how he walked directly to the collie house as if he knew the freeloaders' house was empty. On the other hand, if he’s innocent of any asshole connections, he may’ve decided not to bother with houses that had no cars in their driveways or carports, upon doing whatever he’s doing. Maybe a survey? I also couldn’t see if he went on to another house after stopping at the collies. Lastly, I think the bitch and the collie people had a fight at some point and are no longer in touch.

Anyway, we’ve been compensated for the dolls and peace with the usual - car trouble. I knew it. I just knew it and I told him this would happen. I knew that no matter what car he got, no matter how old, it’d have one problem after another. A hose sprung a leak. He taped it, but who knows if it’ll hold till he can replace it? And as soon as he does fix it, there’ll be a new problem in 2-4 weeks. We’re totally hexed with cars. I still see us moving this summer and so does he, but what? Are we gonna get held up in life again to have to play car constantly? The back room still looks the same, although he swears he filled up a box of CDs. Car trouble or not, he’s full of shit when he says he’ll clear/pack the back room. He ain’t gonna do that till it gets close to us moving.

He “says” he’s gonna have the pool fence delivered next Monday, but we’ll see. Everything’s always gotta get delayed with him. Yesterday he got the tools to do the fence with. He also says he’s gonna get more roofing (he was a little short) and do the patio roof soon.

He didn’t get to go to the track. Said so many things were going wrong with the handicapping program he wrote for his little computer that he took that as a sign saying he wasn’t meant to go. He did some shopping instead and got a sketch board for the computer. You draw on this board with a stylus and what you draw appears on the screen. We haven’t used it yet cuz he has to get a special adapter for it.

He also got this thing to move the seatbelt off of my neck.

He said they have some really cool contacts that you can get custom-made with your prescription. You can get cat’s eyes, spirals, contacts that whiteout the eyeballs, etc. That’d be interesting to see.

Later…

Cocoa’s dead. No more originals left. How sad. I guess Patch, although she still appears to be well, will be next soon enough. Ashley and Katie, who should have at least a year of life in them, should be the only ones to move with us.

I got up too early this afternoon to go to Wal-Mart and the bookstore when Tom gets in in the morning, so we’ll just go to Walgreens and buy a book, then hit Wal-Mart and the bookstore this Friday. I should be able to go then unless the new pieces of shit move in this week and wake me up in the process. Most people move on weekends, but who knows if the new assholes will even work?

I know I’m gonna be stuck with either blacks or Mexicans, and you know what? Mexicans may be even worse cuz they have kids like rabbits. I could end up with a Mex woman over there with 8 little kids who do nothing but stay home all day and play ball, while the boyfriend who isn’t supposed to be there comes in and out all day slamming doors and blasting music, along with their millions of just as rude, selfish, buddies.

I’d like to think that the city, knowing how much I don’t want shit like that, will think twice about who they put in there, but that’s not the way it works. Anyone in a subsidized house is gonna be like those freeloaders were. They’re not gonna give a damn about anyone but themselves. They want to be heard. Society’s so against people like this that they have to work for acknowledgment. The more you try to ignore most people and tell them to shut up, the more they’re gonna do things to be heard and noticed. These kinds of scum feel the dire need to remind people of their sorry existence. Yes, Mexicans could end up worse, making it seem like the black folks never had company and like the kids that were associated with them were comatose. The adults talk really loud just like adult blacks do, and the women are typically just as aggressive as black women and butches are. The guys are all the same. So, while I could end up with a home-all-the-time Mex woman over there, plus adults that aren’t supposed to be living there, plus tons of kids, the shithead’s sister and her 5 kids are gonna be over constantly, and her other sister and her 6 kids will be too, and so on and so forth.

God, why do you do this to me?! Why is it that the biggest family has to go next to me? Or the blacks and the Hispanics? Why do I have to get stuck with them, huh? Can’t I have some nice, white, quiet, respectful, dogless, childless person or persons over there till we move? No! Of course not! That’d be the day! Can’t it stay empty till we move? No! That’d also be the day!

What is it with all these off-brands I’ve seen walking around these streets lately, anyway? I thought this was mainly a white, middle-class neighborhood.

I envy Tom, who says depending on what he eats, he can be full for up to 3-4 hours. I couldn’t be full past 20 minutes if I tried! The only way to satisfy my hunger regularly would be to eat the same amount, maybe a little more, than your average adult eats, which will put 20-50 pounds on me in less than half a year.

For when it comes time to show the house and to move, I’ve got five boxes that Summer Dream, Patrice, Angel, Falling Star and Christina will fit perfectly in. Meanwhile, the doll with braids that’s on its way can sit safely in her box. Anne, Edie, Victoria and Sunshine and Lollipops will fit on the tallest closet shelf which is Tom’s closet. Bailey, Maria, Giselle, Rapunzel and Mary can sit on the top of my journal bookcase. That way, they’ll be out of the way of unruly children that’ll be coming to see the house, and in a safe place for moving. Not all the dolls need to go in a box. It’s OK if some of them sit in the backseat of the car. I’ll just stick one of my shirts over them for extra cushioning.

That was weird. Some lonely desperado just went down the street honking. About 10 quick honks. What? Your stereo don’t work? Must’ve blown those speakers!

Those fucking sales calls are now coming even on Sundays. Sundays were the only day I had to look forward to getting a break from them, but not anymore. A guy called from some opinion/research thing. I told him I’d give him my opinion, alright - fuck off! I know I’m wasting my breath with these people, but it feels good to cuss them out now and then. He had a woman try again later, but I told her to fuck off too, and that was it for tonight.

Guess who couldn’t wait another weekend to not call? You got it. The motor mouth itself called and left three messages. Two for the last two weekends he didn’t call, and one for this weekend. Trying to make up for lost time, I guess. He didn’t mention God, but he brought up the food. He said he has a cold and should eat, but won’t. Right! I know he’s stuffing his face left and right cold or not. Like I said, he’s obsessed with finding common ground with people. He’s trying to reflect Michelle onto himself, so he’s eating like a pig and trying to gain weight. I don’t know if he knows this on a conscious level or not. Well, if he keeps eating like he has been, he may not end up like Michelle, but he will gain weight. Things have a way of catching up to us.

Anyway, the thing I like about his messages, although I’d rather a few short ones than lots of long ones, is that I can hit 3 to skip the boring parts. Most of what he says is boring or stuff that I already know, and he almost always leaves full 3-minute messages. But by hitting the 3 button it forwards 10 seconds. I also have to 6 it too, to speed him up. Like I said, I’m not gonna try to change his ways or politely ask for simple reasonable things that a friend should have no problem complying with. I’m just gonna let Andy be Andy and walk away.

So I skimmed through most of his messages being glad he wasn’t live. When we talk live, I can’t fast-forward him. I did listen to one part, though, but that’s because what he had to say was such a crock of shit that I was laughing all the way through it. His “new career move” (he’s only had about a thousand of these this year alone) is gonna be to tour with bands selling T-shirts. Right, Andy! Sure! That’s the biggest crock of shit. Brilliant, Andy! Real brilliant. Wake up, boy! You gonna spend your whole life an immature druggie loser with your head in the sand? Damn! Some people never change. They never grow. They never move on, learn, develop, and mature. I mean, I’m still a kid at heart too, in many ways. I still have teddy bears and shit like that, but look at all I’ve learned and done since 1988. But look at Andy - still a druggie, still smoking, still poor, still unstable, still loveless, still can’t hold a job, still obsessed with losers, looks, and youth. Still thinks he can mix dreams with reality, and is still as selfish and contradicting as always. Still loves abusers and conflicts with people. The only difference is that he never shuts up and he eats like a pig.

I used to look up to this guy. Now I’m not saying I’m perfect and that there’s no good in him. It’s just that I now see him as a few steps below myself and if he hasn’t come up a few pegs closer to my level by now, he ain’t gonna at all. He’s as set in his ways as I am in mine. Although I’d say I have a little more of an open mind for change than he does, and change is exactly what I need - meaning - no Mr. M in the new house! As hard as this may be to comprehend, I still do love and care for him and I want him to succeed in life and be happy. After we move, I’ll make it a point, on the first of every month, to close my eyes and think of Andy and Lisa and pray for their health and happiness in life, even if prayer almost never works for me. The power of prayer? Ha! How about the power of wishful thinking? That’s what they ought to call it. Meanwhile, let Andy chew in my ear, call up a storm, and bore me with God and food talk all he wants till it’s time to move on.

Guess the sales calls are done for the night. The question is, though - how long must the payback go on? And why is it that Andy never had to lose as much sleep as I did and get 5-10 sales calls a day? God must really favor anything male over anything female. Andy’s rude untrue friends may’ve woken him up here and there, but that’s something he could’ve avoided. He chose to associate with friends that aren’t true friends. People that don’t respect him enough to even let him sleep. Me? I had no choice. There was nothing I could do to keep from being woken up like I constantly was from 1991-1993. Especially during 1992. In 1992, I got woke up nearly every single day. Much more often than not. But sure enough, Andy’s beloved God wouldn’t have him be woken up day after day for over a year. Nor would he have him get nearly a dozen sales calls a day.

Speaking of lost sleep, I sure as hell can count on losing plenty when the house goes up for sale. I won’t allow the new subsidized scum to wake me up, but I gotta answer the phone if the Realtor calls to show the house when I’m on nights. Not that it’s not worth it, but knowing I’ll have to answer to a zillion sales calls and Andy, does not go over well with me at all. Andy says he’ll use the message-send thing. Yeah, right! This selfish loser’s gonna be calling me directly and we both know it. You’re such a true friend, Andy. Such a true friend. It’s nice to know I can count on you for a favor. Hey, what are friends for anyway, right?

I decided not to mail Andy his stuff right away. I’ll wait a few weeks after we move. I’ll give him a few weeks to sit and wonder where I am. Maybe that’ll just make him all the more determined to read his stuff thoroughly. That’ll depend on how curious he is, but it’s hard to get a druggie to do anything. They are so non-ambitious! Sorry, but I think I deserve better for a friend. I have too much respect for myself to have selfish little potheads for pals.

The spotting stopped yesterday. I have no idea when my next full flow will come, but if it comes at the end of the month, then I guess that’d be pretty much on time.

I saw an ad on TV for getting a video and some audiotapes for $40 on face exercises to tighten the face/neck. When we go to the library to look for the doll-making book (when he’s not playing car) I’ll have to look for a book on this. I could use those exercises, if they really work, to pick up my sagging neck and keep the folds that run from the sides of the nose to the sides of the mouth from getting any worse.

SATURDAY, APRIL 17, 1999 Falling Star could very well arrive tomorrow (today). I wish! I won’t count on it, though. Not if this stupid fuck of a mailman is gonna give it away or take his sweet time with delivering it, even if it is priority mail.

Monday morning we’re gonna go to Walmart. I’ve been needing more bras. We’re also gonna go to the bookstore.

Later…

Got Falling Star, Mary, and Christina today! I was shocked. Tom said they came as early as 9:15 this morning. Was there any doll trouble since they came so soon? You bet. But it was nothing I couldn’t fix or improve and deal with. Falling Star had no problems. She’s 12” kneeling and is on her brown bear rug right by me as I type, but I was afraid at first that I wouldn’t be able to pose her kneeling, cuz she’d pitch forward. I didn’t realize her legs would be soft and that they’d bend. Guess there’s a wire in them. Only her feet and lower calves are porcelain. She has cream-colored moccasins with a few tiny red and green beads. Her dress, which is sort of corduroy up top and felt on the bottom, is cream-colored from the chest down. There’s a dark aqua stripe along the hem and below that are fringes. She’s got longer fringes streaming off the front lower part. She has a brown leather belt with round silver studs. There are red and green beads throughout the dress. The upper part of the dress and the sleeves are dark aqua with white trim. The sleeves, which go down to the wrists, have fringes off the ends and are a little wide. Her arms are a little too long with hands a little too big, but other than that, she’s gorgeous. Her face reminds me of Summer Dream’s, even though they’re very different. Her face, with its delicate and distinct features, is more realistic looking than most of my dolls. Her dark brown eyes really have that wet look and they shimmer and sparkle with light as you move around them. She came with a beaded knife pocket (she doesn’t have a real knife. It’s just a handle glued to the top of the pocket), a beaded bracelet, and four beaded necklaces. Two reds and two blues. She looked good with one I made on too, but that was before I put her hair in a ponytail and exposed the big silver clasp in back. She has two white feathers in her hair that stick up in back. Also, some round gold thing, but I don’t know what you’d call it. Her black straight hair is short for being Indian. It’s barely to the middle of her back, but it’s long enough still. I’ve been wanting a doll that’d look good in a ponytail for variety. I used a red elastic to put her hair back with and it looks better this way. The red elastic goes with the red beads well, too. She has no bangs and her hair is close to one length. It’s parted in the middle.

Falling Star’s the doll we won even though we lost. I was outbid on her, but the woman offered us another one anyway for our bidding price of $46. An excellent deal, cuz I know these dolls go for $132 from Ashton-Drake. They have one similar to her, only she sits on a log, has a different outfit, and has braided hair. Ashton-Drake would want $80 for Christina and over $100 for Mary, but they don’t do dolls over 20” and Mary’s 22”.

Christina, the 16” ballerina, was a mistake. However, if the guy who sold her to me offered to buy her back, I’d say no. Unlike Mary and Falling Star, she’s not extremely detailed. Her hair is, though. It’s blond with bangs and up in two braids across the top of her head. She’s got flowers and ribbons of different shades of blue in her hair. Her face, though, is the worst of all. Her eyes are such a weird and ugly color. It’s like a grayish gold/green color with stripes, and eyelashes that are too long. She was very poorly put together. This is a girl doll no older than 10. Probably between 6-8, yet she had tits. Not only did she have tits but they were also so low. They were on her upper stomach. She was also pitching forward in her stand and was standing disproportionately. Slightly twisted at the waist. Her head, just like the other two that came today, was turned slightly towards one side. She’s supposed to be standing on both toes, but one toe doesn’t quite touch. Her dress is very nice, but I had to use the steamer on it at first. It’s made of that stiff stuff that Patrice has in the skirt of her dress, and it was a little crinkled at first. It’s white, with white solid dots on it. The only blue part is on the chest and sleeves, and that part’s satin. She has the same stiff stuff at the shoulders and blue satin ballet slippers that crisscross up to below the knee and tie in a bow as do Giselle’s. Her dress and blows consist of two different shades of blue. Sky blue, and a blue/green color. So all three of my ballerinas are wearing blue. This one just has blue only at the top of her dress. I undressed her to see if I could better proportion her so she’d look better and stand sturdier. That was when I noticed the “tit pillow” that was glued onto her upper stomach area. What a stupid thing to do. Anyway, I couldn’t pull or cut it off without having to cut the cloth part of the body out altogether. At first, it felt like foam was the body packing, but when I looked at it, it looked exactly like multi-colored lint that you’d pull out of a dryer. Fortunately, it was tightly packed enough that I could just leave it as it was. The stuffing won’t go falling out. Her pantaloons had a million threads hanging from them so I trimmed those off, and out of her pants came a little silica gel packet. This is the first doll I’ve seen packed with this. It’s to keep moisture out, but why would a porcelain doll need it? I’m not gonna bother to see if Mary’s got one in her pants. So after removing her so-called implants, I wiggled her around to a better position, and now she’s standing steadier on her stand and looking much better than when she arrived.

Mary is runner-up on my list of those who came today, and for a Victorian doll, she’s beautiful. She’s skinny for 22” tall. Her face is bigger than Giselle’s, but not as big as Maria’s and Bailey’s. I thought she’d be Maria’s size, but she’s just a tad shorter and wider than Giselle. I love how her dress, which is about a half-inch past her feet, falls straight down. It’s a nice change from the typical full-circle gown like Rapunzel’s that stands out. I don’t know if I’d describe it as burgundy, though. I’d say it’s a maroon (or dark red) and pink floral design. The dress is very detailed and sort of hard to describe. It’s got two white ribbon sashes across the chest with two button-like things in the middle. It’s long-sleeved, and there’s white lace at the neck, sleeves and the very bottom. The sleeves are so long that they only made her porcelain just a little above the wrists. Usually, the arms are porcelain to just above the elbow. There’s white netting from the waist down, and an area at the bottom that’s about two inches wide of white, gathered satin. There are also three pink rosebuds in the front with a few off-white embroidered lines that go down and across the front. She has yellow rosebuds with leaves in one hand. Well, sort of. The stem is wrapped around her wrist. She has white shoes, a pearl necklace, green eyes, and a matching hat. I couldn’t take the hat off cuz it’s glued on in a way that I could tear off, but there’d be glue in her hair that’d be impossible to get out and that’d look really dumb. The hat’s nice, though, with a feather, a yellow bow, and a yellow, orange and pink flower. She has curly brown hair with bangs and two small braids at the sides. Her hair’s a lot like Sunshine and Lollipop’s, and just like with Sunshine and Lollipop’s, I straightened her hair out a little bit. Mary’s stand was a bit bent and Tom straightened it out for me.

Of all my dolls, Bailey’s still number one. She’s the best looking and the most realistic looking too. Tom agrees.

So now I have 7 dark-haired dolls and 7 light-haired dolls, but that’ll change to 8 light-haired dolls when Miss Braids gets here, whatever her real name is. The guy, who’s in Denver, should’ve gotten our check for her yesterday or today, so that means we should get her probably Wednesday or Thursday if all goes as swiftly as the others did. Falling Star came from Ohio and the other two came from Wisconsin.

I have 9 girl dolls and 5 women dolls, but again, that’ll be changing. I’ll soon have 10 girl dolls. They’re all very detailed except for Christina, and I’m very happy with them all. Especially with Falling Star and Mary. I don’t know why Falling Star didn’t come with a certificate of authenticity, but Mary and Christina did.

The guy that packed Mary and Christina, packed them in a big box. Great for moving. I’ll also keep their boxes to put them in when it comes time to show the house and move.

Tom says that tomorrow he’ll clear the massive mound of clutter in the back room. That’s great, but every time he decides to do this, although that hasn’t been very many times, he retrashes it. I hope he won’t do that yet again. He needs to get some of this shit packed and out of the way for packed boxes. I can only fit so many boxes in the other rooms.

FRIDAY, APRIL 16, 1999 The van was next door again. The hoop is still locked, though.

I’m gonna deal with these new black, rude, selfish assholes right this time. As soon as they stick their bass on me or whatever the fuck noise they’re gonna throw out, I’m not even gonna waste my breath going over there and asking them to quiet down. I’m not gonna get a phony, “Sure. No problem,” only to have them keep right up with their shit. A city letter’s going right in as soon as they start up.

The phone rang earlier and I saw Tammy’s number. I said to myself, I knew it was just a matter of time before she started calling, but the person tried calling collect so that told me it was Lisa. Lisa calling with a problem since she rarely calls just to say hi. But the call came at 8:00 her time. Isn’t she supposed to be with the sick fuck at that time? Tammy says he takes them on weekends. I can’t believe a woman would place her kids in danger like that no matter what the courts order. What if he kills one of them? These things may not happen as often as we brush our teeth, but they do happen.

Anyway, I know this may sound like the cruelest, most selfish thing, but I’ve washed my hands of all Os and Gs. I don’t want nothing to do with their goddamn misery and problems and all that. Had it with their control, their negativity, their selfishness, their lies, etc. My life is too good right now to mar it with their shit. All it does is get me upset or angry when I hear about how Bill’s doing this or Larry’s doing that. The mention of Art and Doe’s names doesn’t do well with me, either. Just thinking of these people is enough to get me riled up. I moved on and that’s what I need to keep on doing. I need good, positive people like Tom in my life. People who haven’t abused me like they have. People who don’t pressure me into doing what they think I should be doing. After the overkill on the control and non-acceptance I grew up with and put up with as an adult, I’m a freedom freak in almost every sense of the word. I spent my childhood taking their abuse. I spent my 20s taking more of their abuse and trying to impress them and win them over. By the time I hit my 30s, I was fed up. I just don’t care anymore what they say, what they do, or what they think. They can all go to each other with problems I’ve had with them. They can lie, they can exaggerate, they can all kill themselves or each other. I’m not saying I want these people to suffer, I’m just saying they’re out of my life and that they’re people of the past. It’s up to them to either sink or swim.

I forgot to take the phone off the hook so these fucking sales calls wouldn’t keep distracting me, so when one called just now, I simply picked the phone up and left it off its hook. Didn’t even bother wasting my time telling them to fuck off.

Later…

Another half hour and I’ll put the phone back on the hook.

Last night was rather shitty, but only for a few minutes, fortunately. I swear, whether or not I stay not wanting a kid, or return to wanting one, I’ll never again bring up the subject of Invitro or a kid again. All it brings is trouble, as always. I told Tom I’d consider in vitro in a few years cuz he says he wants a kid. I knew I really wasn’t gonna do this, though. Then he said he was against it and never felt we needed a doctor. He said that just like he supported me last December, he’d support me in the future if I decided I wanted in vitro, and that’s really sweet of him, but why is this otherwise logical, practical, realistic, sensible guy so heavy in denial? First he thinks I could conceive naturally, then he felt something was wrong, and now he thinks both (he’d say I was still gonna conceive naturally even if I had to have a hysterectomy!). He said he sometimes has conflicting beliefs. We all have a right to our beliefs, but this one’s just too far-fetched and that of a delusional person. It may not be more than a dozen times, but he’s cum enough to prove to a rational human being that it’s thoroughly impossible for me, Jodi Lin, to conceive. That is a completely foreign thing as far as my body’s concerned. My body just doesn’t do that. It doesn’t understand that. It’s like it sees embryos as enemies. This may not be the case, but the point is, if he thinks I’m gonna conceive naturally someday, he’s kidding himself. He’s too smart to have these conflicting beliefs he says he has. I don’t think he really believes what he says he does. I think it’s his way of conning me. It’s easier for someone to go into denial than it is to face a situation and try to change it for the better. He also knows, though, that he’s not alone anymore. I don’t want a child any more than he does. I still say I could never have handled it, it would’ve caused major conflict between us constantly, and stolen our lives and freedom. This is another reason why he’s in denial and not eager to see if there really is something wrong that hasn’t been detected yet. This is why he doesn’t cum. Not that I’m not OK with this attitude, I’m just stating the facts here. He used, to his advantage, how I talk about meant to be and not meant to be. He said that if it was meant to be, it’d happen naturally. Oh, I’m sure he’s right. However, I was meant to have an ear canal too, but only through surgery. Not naturally. Nonetheless, I believe what he believes. For me, if it were meant to be, it would’ve happened by now and it would’ve happened naturally.

The peak of our arguing and analyzing our beliefs came when I threw one of my dog mugs and smashed it against the bedroom wall and said mean things to him. Right before this, he stormed out of the room swearing. Then he came back and apologized and insisted he help pick up the mess. I know it was wrong of both of us to go off, but like I knew better, I should never have brought it up. God, how I hate having such a curious mind and loving to analyze things left and right!

Even up to this day, I don’t believe him when he says he can’t help his not cumming. Forget about whether or not I accept the cumless sex and have come to be used to it, forget about whether or not I want a kid. The point is, I always thought he was lying and I still do. There’s got to be a reason for this. I can’t be so sure he’s been lying to me about this for years without a legit reason. Again, there’s no such thing as being able to get hard but not cum. If you can’t cum, you can’t get hard. I could do another five years of asking myself why he won’t just admit his fear of cumming and ask that we use some method of birth control, regardless of how sure I am that I can’t conceive naturally, but I have to trust that he has his reasons for sacrificing cumming altogether with his own wife. I don’t want to be accused of trying to control/change him.

Then the dream came. I’m still not sure whether or not I was asleep, or if this was just a dream or something more, but it was my maternal grandmother Shirley G. She came and sat down on the side of the bed beside me, and in her no-nonsense tone of voice, informed me that the choice is now mine. God’s given me a full bag of rights as a woman. I must be sure I don’t want a child, cuz if I don’t heed her warning, so to speak, consequences could result.

I’ve thought about it and thought about it, but it makes no sense. Why would God suddenly hand me my rights as a woman? All my rights as a woman? Why now? Why now when we’re in the middle of moving? This would be an awful time for that. It wouldn’t fit into our lives now. Why would he think I deserve the rights? Why would he think I could handle them? Why would he stop looking out for me? God wouldn’t let me get into something that was not right for me, that I couldn’t handle, that wasn’t meant to be, whether it was intentional or accidental. So I chose to ignore this dream, this whatever it was, for two reasons. One is that I know I’m not meant to have a child. Two is that he quit cumming. So as long as he refuses to cum out of sheer stubbornness and fear, I’m not about to conceive at all. This, though, will be a sign as to how right I am about it not being meant to be. If he stays not cumming, all the more I know I’m right. Then again, it’s not like he’s never cum before, or that other guys haven’t, so does it matter if he cums or not? No. Destiny is destiny is destiny. Period. I don’t know my full destiny. But I know parts of it. A child isn’t part of it. Trust me. His not cumming is simply part of God’s orders that said my sex life shall be hexed, just like he ordered me to be short and brunette. If I were suddenly with someone else, male or female, they too, would have a problem.

Ironically enough, though, is this spotting for a few days when I’m approximately mid-cycle. The spots seem to have stopped. Guess I’m not gonna go into a full flow anytime too soon. Anyway, I have had times where I’ve spotted for a few days a week before my period, but if I get my period in a week, that’s still pretty damn early. Is something changing? I get the feeling something’s “resetting” itself, so to speak, but I don’t know. I don’t see how this dream could have a single grain of truth to it. Like it or not, the choice was never mine. It was always God’s choice and it always will be. I don’t need to worry if he cums, I don’t need to worry about using birth control. I won’t lose my life to a child. I have too many other things planned for me, and as God knows, there’s only so much one can do at once or in their whole lifetime.

Andy says that since Laura’s moved out, his shit’s solid and the stress has really lifted. Yeah, I know. I know what that’s like. I went through that when he left the Woodside Terrace apartment.

I can only imagine how much fighting he and his friend Wendy will do along the way back east. By the way, they’re gonna stay in Outdoor Camps of America and save hotel money. Andy says that different people want to see him or do things with him when he visits, but as Andy himself admitted, he’ll be doing only what he wants to do. However, he’s been anything but selfish lately. No pigging out in my ear. No constant calls. I know Tom wouldn’t call him up and warn him saying, “Look. Be a little less selfish and back off if you don’t want to lose her,” so it’s made me wonder if he sensed what’s coming to him the day he was here getting the comforter and telling me about Stevie and Cheryl. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s sensed something and he is sort of psychic if you ask me.

Later…

Speaking of spotting, I’m doing it again.

Tom went for his eye appointment today to get a 6-month supply of disposable contacts. He missed contacts, but because he hasn’t worn them in so long, he has to get used to them again little by little.

Tom’s hip was bothering him really badly today. I don’t know if it’s arthritis starting, or if he pulled a muscle. I don’t think he knows, either. I just hope it’s better tomorrow so he can go to the track. As he said, it means a lot to him. I hope God will help give him the break he deserves. He’s been depressed cuz of not having enough free time due to all that has to be done.

There were some pieces of wood that were about three feet long and three inches wide. I don’t know what we were gonna use them for, but anyway, I’ve got them in between the bars of the rat’s cage so they can use them as little shelf beams to climb/sit on.

Mickey, Porky and Butterscotch all ended up bigger than Ratsy.

First I straightened Rapunzel’s hair, then I crimped it, and I just went and tried to curl it but it wouldn’t curl too easily. So I went to wash out what little curl I started, but it wouldn’t wash out. Not even the crimps would wash out. So, I’m just gonna leave her as she is.

This is the first manufactured home place that sent us a card urging and hoping we’d do business with them. It was that nosy Maria we saw the last time. The card said: The friendship of those we serve is the foundation of our progress. We truly appreciate the opportunity to assist you with your upcoming housing change. We sincerely want your business and we intend to earn it.

Do they? Well, I’m hoping they will. They got the best house yet. I really like the floor plan of that last house we saw.

Saw a documentary last night with different people’s points of view on why they believe the world may end in 20 years and why they believe it may not. They talked about the different sources that believe we’re in the last days and why, as well as those that feel life will go on. I would say our biggest fear shouldn’t be the antichrist, global disasters such as fire, floods, earthquakes, tornadoes, title waves or war. I think that if anything ended the world it’d be a falling asteroid, comet or meteorite. It’s happened before and it’s what most believe is responsible for killing the dinosaurs. Anyway, life will end when it ends.

THURSDAY, APRIL 15, 1999 Evie’s being her typical self with the health problems - had to have a hose with a camera down her nose and throat and into her vocal cords - yuck! How can anyone have a hose down their throat and not gag it up? I could never handle that!

The city van was next door again today. I can’t say how long they were there but they left at the same time as yesterday at 4:00. Also, a white car was parked in the front of the house while they were there. There was no writing on this car and it sort of looked like one of the cars that would visit the bitch. I wonder if the city called her bitching about the yard she supposedly trashed, she denied it, then came over here to see the stuff she’s supposed to have left here.

So, I guess the new assholes will be here by May 1st and so we’ll have to deal with whatever shit and noise they bring for a few months. Better than a few years, though!

Later…

Talked to Paula earlier. She said she wonders if she could’ve written the package address out to N. 21 St. instead of Ave. Yeah, that’s something she may’ve done. Anyway, she said she’ll put a trace on it and that the store still has those dolls, so if I don’t get this package, she’ll send another. However, I know it’ll never happen. I’m just not meant to get packages or pictures from her, and again, if there’s a doll in the picture, there’ll be a problem. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if I only got two or three out of the four dolls I got from the auction. I advised her, though, that if she’s gonna send any packages anywhere, she should use priority mail and not parcel post. Tom says priority mail’s not much more expensive anyway than parcel post. Parcel post takes forever, and of course, there’s always the possibility that this package will show up in a week or two from now.

Paula’s up to the usual - onto another Puerto Rican guy and already talking about moving again. She changes guys and apartments like we change clothes!

She says her stomach’s been on the fritz due to nerves. She fears having to go to jail and has to go to court on the 23rd. She says it’s mainly traffic stuff, but also, there were some stolen car parts that were supposed to have been in the new car she just got that she didn’t know about, but had no receipt to prove was hers. Something along those lines, but you can never make out exactly what the fuck Paula’s talking about half the time. I mean, she talks in disjointed sentences and half the stuff she says makes no sense. Anyway, I highly doubt she has to worry about jail.

Later…

Tom’s up now and is on his way to get us some fast food. I haven’t had any in a while and suddenly felt the uncontrollable urge to binge.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 14, 1999 A city van was next door for a while, but I couldn’t see who it was or what they were doing (I wonder if they hauled away the shit I threw over there?). There was a water truck over there yesterday. Guess they turned off the water, too.

Three of the dolls I got on eBay “supposedly” will arrive in about a week, give or take a couple of days. The other one is a person so we can’t use a credit card on them. We have to send them a money order, so it’ll take longer. I just hope these people are for real.

After the regular mail gets delivered today, I’ll call Paula to advise her to trace her package.

Yesterday morning at 9:30, shortly after I’d gotten up, I heard the phone ringing from the bathroom. As I went to answer it, I thought to myself about how I was gonna tell them, “I’m coming in today. Live with it!” However, shockingly enough, it was Dr. Brown’s office calling about the referral.

I got to the 10:45 appointment with no problem but didn’t even see Melanie. I wore the animal T-shirt I made too, just to show her, but all I saw was the doctor and Anne, the black lady. Anne said she was there but with another patient.

I’d been having irritation in a certain area of my gums and the doctor said it was because of one of the cavities I had. Food would get stuck in the hole in the tooth and it’d irritate the gums like a splinter. Since filling in the hole, though, I’ve had no discomfort whatsoever.

The doctor did my fillings and Anne did my braces. She said she only does it if she has to, cuz she’s too chicken. She said she was slow at it but didn’t want to hurt me. She was much slower than Mel, but so much gentler. She’s also much friendlier too, and I wouldn’t cry if I never saw Mel again and had to have Anne do my ortho. She was concerned with how I felt, not with getting the job done and over with in a hurry like Mel is, not that Mel doesn’t know what she’s doing. She knows her stuff, she’s just rough, and talk about impersonal!

A woman won $5,000 on the radio and Anne said she wished she could win $5,000 on the radio. I told her that if I did, I’d get new clothes since I haven’t gone shopping since losing weight, and she said she noticed my face was smaller. That was good to hear.

The UT pain, if that’s what it really was, was gone as of yesterday, but now I’ve got my period. Isn’t this a little early? Aren’t I like 10-15 days early? My body sure is a weird one.

I’ll take a break now, but later, I’ll get into the manufactured house we saw yesterday. For now, I’ll just say that it was the best house yet!

Later…

Tom’s home now after working 9 hrs. and 45 min. He’s beat.

I called Paula to let her know her package wasn’t coming but didn’t get the chance. She was busy, I guess, cuz she said she’d call back. No, the regular mail hasn’t come yet, but I know that if I haven’t gotten the package by 1:30, it’s not coming. He would’ve delivered his packages for the day already. Also, a parcel post package has had plenty of time to get here, so it obviously isn’t coming at all. I wonder, though, if this stupid shit of a mailman doesn’t let his packages sit for a while. I think the lazy fuck lets his packages sit and build up at the PO for a while before he delivers them.

Later…

I was right - no package. I’m just not meant to get mail from Paula B! This is the second thing she’s said she sent me that I didn’t get. Either she’s a very good liar, or it’s just not meant to be. I really think it was misdelivered, so Paula ought to call her local PO and get her money back. I’m totally hexed anyway when it comes to packages. Especially when there’s a doll involved.

Tom told me that Falling Star’s coming priority mail, not parcel post. So, if the woman mails her out today or tomorrow like she said she would, then it’s guaranteed to take only 2-3 days to get delivered. She should be here Saturday or Monday, but we’ll see.

A city van’s next door again. Can’t tell if it’s the same van, but I saw a different guy over there. He was at the water control that’s in the front yard, maybe turning the water on or off.

Later…

The van’s still over there. Must be a big job. The freeloaders no doubt trashed the place.

I set Bailey up in a totally new pose and new place. I brought a stool out and put it right by my computer. At first I had Rapunzel on it, but then I put her in Bailey’s usual spot on the stereo speaker by the TV, then put Bailey on the stool by the computer. I have one of her hands reaching out for my pen holder. It looks really cute. I still can’t believe how beautiful and realistic this doll is!

I just left Paula, who’s never punctual about returning phone calls, a message. At first, a friend of hers answered saying Paula was out, so I asked that she ignore the phone and let me call right back and leave a message. I let Paula know the package never came.

Yesterday after the dentist, we went to Palm Harbor’s factory lot. We met with a Spanish woman first, who talked too much and asked too many damn questions (had to ask twice if we had any kids), then we only saw one house, cuz this was a new lot that wasn’t fully set up yet. That was fine, though, cuz this was it. This was the perfect house! I loved its layout. The master bedroom is still separate from the other three bedrooms but in a different way. Usually, the other three bedrooms are at the end of the house with two next to each other and one across from them. These were all in a row, though, and what I liked was that the master bedroom and the room where I’d have my computer were away from where the TV would be (even though Tom and I both like headphones better).

The house was 2100 square feet and priced at $68,000. It had a retreat that was almost like a room that’s off of the master bedroom and a walk-in closet big enough to put two twin beds in.

What may be a plus to this place is that you can get a realtor to not only get you land for your new house but also sell your old house. As Tom said, if they had their way, our house would’ve been on the market as of yesterday. It was also nice that certain things were included in the base price that weren’t included in the bass prices of other models we’ve seen. ACs and dishwashers are included. Other things are, too. We’d even save money on this model. This model has 3 baths and we only want two.

Using three different programs, I scanned the layout in, then erased the furniture they drew in and put my own in.

It’s almost 4:00 now and the city van’s still here. My vibes don’t really say anything, but this isn’t a good sign - his working this long. Show’s he may be in a hurry so the new batch of rude, selfish assholes can move in.

No one’s discovered the lock yet. I’ve got two more locks to go, though, so if this one gets cut off, I’ll just try again. Unless they cut the net off. If they cut the net off, I’d have to get a chain to tangle around the hoop to block a ball from being able to pass through it, and since we should only have 3-5 more months left here, it wouldn’t be worth the time, money and effort. Thank God we’re moving this summer, though, and I hope that since God knows that we’ll be moving this summer, he won’t be so determined to get someone really noisy in there. I know, though, that we’re not gonna beat the new people and that it’s still gonna be noisier than most houses on this street, be it cuz of kids, dogs, or bass. That’s just my kind of luck.

Later…

The van just left. There were two people this time. I didn’t like how slowly they were backing out. I thought for a minute they noticed the lock in the net and were contemplating stopping to cut it out before leaving. So, they were there for about 2½ to 3 hours. I’d say, by the number on the van, that it was the same one that was there when I got up at 11:00 that didn’t leave till noon.

I don’t understand why the sudden pause in my metabolism. I swear to God - I just think of food and gain weight! I’m still 110 pounds and haven’t eaten hardly anything in the last two days. I did slip down to 108½, but not for long. That’s what I woke up at, and how I gained a pound and a half from a 400-calorie bowl of soup, water and coffee, beats me.

I can’t believe I’ve got my period now, although it’s not a full, regular period. I’m spotting. I would absolutely love it if my plumbing went on the fritz and needed to be removed so I wouldn’t have any more periods! Especially since I don’t want a child and know I’m not meant to have one, although I knew that for most of my life. At the same time, though, I don’t want to go through the pain and hassles of surgery. The fewer health problems and trips to the doctor, the better, but who doesn’t feel that way?

I still wonder what, for sure, is this monthly pain about. Why the same time every month? They say you can bleed a little when you ovulate, but I never have. I wouldn’t feel slight cramps in my uterus like I do right when a period’s starting if it were just a case of ovulation. Also, like I said before, you’re supposed to rotate from ovary to ovary. Since I’m hexed and controlled plumbing-wise, no matter how normal any test results are, maybe I’m suddenly ovulating on just the side that the pain’s been on and maybe the ovary wall is opening up more than normal and causing the pain. Maybe instead of releasing just one egg and rotating between ovaries, I’m now ovulating on just one side and a bigger hole is forming in the ovary wall cuz more than one egg is coming out. Maybe a lot of eggs are coming out.

If I prayed for my plumbing to fail and need removal, I wonder if God would grant me that. He might. I still can’t believe he never saw to it that I needed a hysterectomy years ago. This is the only thing that makes no sense and that doesn’t fit into his plans to keep me childless, like it or not, normal-appearing or not.

Anyway, I’m saving cranberry juice for if this happens again next time I’m almost mid-cycle. If this keeps happening for too many months, I may need to see a Dr.

Later…

I went and peered over the wall. My shit’s still next door.

I asked Evie how long the forwarding rules are and she said they forward mail for up to a year. Yeah, but can I trust this carrier to forward her mail? I hope so! If it’s meant to get to her, it will.

Saw bits and pieces of Titanic which is now on HBO. It was just as entertaining, scary, and sad as the first time I saw it.

I called Paula again, who was busy with a friend and who swears she’ll call me back at 8:00 my time, but if I don’t hear from her shortly after then, I’m not waiting on her. I’m gonna go listen to music.

MONDAY, APRIL 12, 1999 Believe it or not, I may have five dolls on their way to me counting Paula’s (if Paula’s ever gets here. There’s always a problem getting packages to me when there’s a doll involved)! We registered yesterday and had the winning bid on two of the six dolls we bid on and it looks like I’ll have the winning bid on another doll in a couple of hours! We even won where we lost, too. They had this beautiful Indian doll up for auction but we got outbid. Nonetheless, the lady selling her sent an email saying she had another one like her that we could have for our $46 bid. We bid between $20-$35 on the others. So far, we were the only bidders for the two we won and the one that I’m almost sure we’ll win today.

The Indian doll’s name is Falling Star, but I don’t know the names of the other three. She’s kneeling on a bearskin rug and has a nice outfit for being an Indian outfit. Most Indian outfits suck. She’s 12” kneeling.

The first one I won yesterday has green eyes and brown hair and is 22” tall. She has a burgundy dress on with white lace.

The second one has blue eyes (I think) and blond hair that’s up. She’s another ballerina doll with a gorgeous blue dress. She’s 16” tall.

The one we’ll win today has I don’t know what color eyes, and blond hair in two braids. She’s 18” tall. She’s wearing a floral dress of some kind that’s hard to describe without seeing it in person.

And I thought I wasn’t getting any more dolls till we moved!

Later…

Sixteen years ago. That’s how long it’s been since I jumped and broke my arm.

Anyway, to speak of more pleasant things - Falling Star should be here next Wednesday or Thursday, but for me, she’ll be here no earlier than next Saturday.

We still haven’t been able to get ahold of one of the sellers by phone that we got two dolls from. The last person we’ll be sending a check to because they’re not a business so we can’t use plastic on them.

We’re thinking of selling the other Giselle we got at this auction.

If I don’t get Paula’s package by Wednesday, I’ll call her and tell her to put a trace on it.

Tom made the appointment with the spit doctor for me to have my ear cleaned out, hoping that they’d be the ones to get the referral from Dr. Brown. Other doctors get through to other doctors better than we non-doctors do. However, the spit doctor’s office told us to get the referral. We tried for the second time, but haven’t had any luck. This is the third time they’ve said they’d call us back about a certain matter and they never did. I’m changing regular doctors. I’m sick of this shit. If you’re my doctor, I expect you to call me back when I need something.

I’m also getting fed up with the dentist’s shit. As I knew would be the case, the secretary left a message asking if I could come in at 10:45 instead of 1:00. I was pissed, cuz 1:00 would’ve been perfect for me. So I called back letting her know I was getting really frustrated. She said the doctor had crowns he had to do. Then why’d they schedule my fillings in at that time if he knew he had crowns to do? Stupid shits! And the sad part of it is, is that in just six months I’ll have to play this game all over again. I think that once the braces come off, it may be time to think about getting another dentist. I just hate to give up the quiet waiting room and getting in on time.

Got some really nice new screensavers for a change. It was time for more variety. I got cats, dogs, waterfalls, and psychedelic screen savers that are really cool. Tom also installed a utility that allowed me to delete screensavers I didn’t like.

This is really weird. Totally curse-like. Like something’s hexing my mice. Well, some of them. Anyway, now Patch has a tumor developing. It’s in the same spot; on the hip. It can’t be hereditary cuz Cocoa and Patch aren’t related. Spot wasn’t related to Patch or Cocoa, either.

Unbelievably, I didn’t get a call from Andy all weekend. He didn’t even respond to my message I left last night telling him about the dolls I won, but that may’ve been cuz he was jealous that we have that much money to spend on stuff like that. This is nothing new for him. Whenever I leave messages about something really neat we got, I don’t seem to hear from him right away, and when I do, he never mentions it. He doesn’t mention most of the things I tell him anyway, cuz he’s either too stoned to remember them, or he just doesn’t care. Too wrapped up in himself.

Not that I’m complaining, since I’m not a phone person, but can Andy sense what’s coming to him? I wonder if he subconsciously senses that I plan to faze him out of my life when we move, cuz ever since I made up my mind to do so, he’s backed off.

The freeloaders haven’t come near the house or called, so unless they’re thinking about waiting a few months to try to look less obvious, which I highly doubt, they really are a thing of the past, and guess what? I was in their house today.

I saw a city van over there, so I went over there. A guy all by himself was there. I asked if the house was sold, or re-rented. He said he didn’t know anything about it. Just that they didn’t have new people at the moment ready to move in. I asked to see the layout, and it sure is different, but it’s not a two-bath. It has just one. The layout’s much nicer than ours, except that they don’t have the nice big room we’ve got in back. The bathroom’s longer, and so’s the living room. I like how the kitchen’s in sort of an alcove-like area. Also, I like how you can’t see into the bedrooms and kitchen (just the eating area) from the living room. I like how the rooms aren’t as connected as ours. We have such a little L-shaped hallway where our bedrooms are that one of the bedrooms is practically an extension of the living room. From their living room, the bedrooms are down a straight hallway. They had these mini sunken shelves in one of the living room walls. It may be nicer than this house, but it sure as hell is a dump compared to what we’ll be living in this summer!

Just like I attract the sexual weirdo, I attract the paranoid. Tom’s almost as paranoid as Andy. He said not to ask workers over there too many questions about the house so as not to attract attention to us. Like we should care? Who gives a shit who’s paying attention to us as long as they don’t do anything to us and we don’t do anything wrong?

I’m sure it won’t do me any good, but I asked Evie if David could get me the bitch’s new address (not in those words, naturally). I also asked if we were right about mail being forwarded for up to six months. Watch. With my luck, she’ll reply saying that they just changed the forwarding rules to three months.

I can’t believe I’ve spent a whole year being hungry most of the time and struggling as I have just to lose a lousy 15 pounds. I realize more and more that I not only would have to starve to get down to 100 pounds, but I’d have to keep on starving just to stay there. At this age, as soon as I had just one bite, I’d fly right back up to 110 pounds. Until the time comes that I let my body have the food it needs and craves, even if that’s 3,000 calories worth a day and 50 more pounds, it has to be all or nothing. Trying to minimize my food just doesn’t work, cuz one bite leads to another and another and another, then before I know it I’ve had 1,500 calories that day. That’s a good 500 too much to be losing weight on, so it’s either don’t eat at all or eat what I need to eat since I can’t puke up my food. I don’t see how that would do me any good even if I could, cuz if I ate, satisfied my hunger, then lost it, wouldn’t I just be hungry all over again? The way to lose weight and keep it off, and the only way to lose weight and keep it off, is total or near starvation. I have to ask myself - do I want to look like shit or feel like shit? I feel like shit when I don’t eat, but I’ll really look like shit if I do eat and gain weight. Then again, I look like shit right now at 110 pounds. I look like I’m 125 pounds. I’d have to get down to 90 pounds to look like I did the last time I was at 100 pounds.

Later…

I just called Andy to see if he wanted to talk. Sure enough, he had a mouthful of food when he picked up. So I let him finish eating while I went to make coffee and said I’d call him back in five minutes. But then when I called just now, he didn’t answer. Guess he’s still stuffing his face.

Later…

I spoke with Andy for about an hour. God, he is so hard to talk to! He keeps budding in, and where are his brains? This guy’s not exactly stupid, yet he couldn’t get half the things I said. What made it harder for him to understand things I’d say were his constant interruptions so I couldn’t even finish explaining things to him in the first place.

He asks why I get upset that he brings up God every single time we talk. It doesn’t upset me, it just gets old. He has a right to talk about what he wants to, though, even if I disagree with half the things he says.

Michelle’s finally lucked out with this feminine, stable schoolteacher. She’ll get dumped. It’s just a matter of time.

Andy had a friend named Wendy whom he met here that moved to New Hampshire. He says she’s gonna drive out in her van the third week in May and together they’ll drive back there. After about a week, he’ll fly back here. I’ll believe it when I see it.

SATURDAY, APRIL 10, 1999 Took the phone off the hook to give me a break from the slew of sales calls we get that are now even coming on Sundays. The one and only day I had to look forward to being free of these calls. Also, Andy didn’t call last weekend, so you can bet your ass he’ll make damn sure he does today, no doubt with food stuffed in his pig of a mouth.

This has got to be the most stress-free weekend I’ve had in a long long time! No freeloaders! No freeloaders to slam doors, bass the house walls, scream and yell, thump balls! I love it! God, please keep that lock on that hoop and the place empty till we move!

Tom was shocked they didn’t come to clean last week and wondered what the point of waiting was. I wondered that, too. Maybe they’re planning on selling it, cuz you’d think that if they were keeping it as a subsidized house, they’d be in a hurry to get the next batch of assholes in there pronto, what with how the waiting list is so long.

If the freeloaders are gonna do anything to the house, although I don’t sense it and I highly doubt it, it’d be this weekend, since that seems to be when these sick fucks have more time, and I know these assholes are still in the valley, judging by how long it took the cock to make trips back and forth. They’re probably no more than 15 minutes away.

I still can’t believe they moved! Their rude antics are over. They’re really over. Now all I have to do is wait and see if we get rude, loud renters, or an owner with a dog or two that never shuts up. I know there’ll be kids in the package either way. The mistake turned out to be OK to live next to. It was all her little cousins or whoever the fuck all the kids were that came over to play ball that was a problem. Meanwhile, I don’t have a bad vibe coming from next door, so if the next people really are noisy in any way, I guess they’re not due in anytime too soon.

God, just please let the bitch get my stuff when we move!

Tom and I had our usual cumless sex this morning. I forgot the KY, so I was a bit dry. I swear I’ve really dried up down there! I wonder, though, if something’s wrong with me. Shouldn’t I be upset that sex has become so mechanical? I mean, we just go through the motions at this point without any real feeling. I guess I’m OK with it cuz he’s OK with it. Besides, you know how he is when it comes to sex. He’ll admit to almost any non-sexual problem and even try to do something about it, but he’d never see this as a problem, let alone admit it and seriously try to fix it. That’s another way I can tell he’s deliberately afraid to cum. If it were truly out of his hands, wouldn’t he want to get help? Wouldn’t he want to try to fix the problem if it were truly a “problem?” To me, though, this is good cuz once again, it not only keeps the sheets clean, but it’s still better not to hold that gun to one’s head, even if you know it’s unloaded. So, even though I know God’s on my side and that it’s not destined that I conceive, why take risks? If I want out of my so-called womanly duties and if I want freedom in this life, it’s only fair I do my part and not stick it all on God, even if God’s supposed to be able to do everything and anything.

Woke up yesterday at 106 pounds, and sure enough, I couldn’t shit. My body’s definitely resisting going under 105. It does everything it can to get back up to 108-109 which is usually by holding onto its shit.

I don’t know what the real package deal is with Paula. She’s a lot like Fran. Remember how Fran said that if you were 16 you were born in 1985? Well, Paula says she mailed the package last Friday when we spoke, so I should’ve gotten it a week ago. No, Paula, I shouldn’t have gotten it the exact same day you sent it. She said she got the thing insured, though, so that’s good.

I’ve got my leg weights on now, but sometimes I have to take a break from them cuz of the pressure they put on my ankles.

When we move, I’ll be walking again on the walker daily. I’m also trying to be consistent with exercising my upper body every other day and my lower body every other day.

Tom found a “spit doctor” online for me to see to have my ear cleaned properly. He should have the same knowledge as Nielsen. His name’s Daspit.

He also found this great auction online with dolls. You can get three 16” dolls for just $20 or $30! Even less! It seems that most of their dolls are 16”. Haven’t found any biggies yet. I may sell dolls this way in the future, too.

Later…

I don’t fucking believe this, but this is the third month in a row I got a UT infection right before mid-cycle! Is it truly a UT? Something else? Is there a connection to the timing? I don’t see how it can be my ovary. It’s too high, and besides, aren’t you supposed to not feel ovulation, and rotate ovaries every month? Well, all I can do is live with it and hope for the best. I’m drinking lots of cranberry juice.

Later…

Today the renters made up for the freeloader’s lack of door slamming. I’ve never seen so much company over there! Thank God they’re across the street and not next door. There had to have been 20 people, both adults and kids and about 7 vehicles and 2 motorcycles. I can’t believe there wasn’t any music of any kind.

Tom’s taking a nap right now. Earlier he went to Sears and got a sandblaster, a drill, and some other things. He got himself a camera bag yesterday.

He filled in the two holes in the back room ceiling. He did an incredibly good job so amazingly fast. Just maybe it won’t take longer to prep after all.

I got what I wanted by backing up my schedule to make it easier to get to my Tuesday appointment (unless they cancel) but not without a real doozy of an allergy attack. Yesterday was one of those days I have every one to two weeks where I just can’t stop sneezing. I had gotten up at 10 AM, and by 4 PM I wimped out and took a Benadryl. It didn’t knock me out, though, or dry up my nose. It just dried up my mouth and made me groggy. I still sneezed periodically, so at 8 PM I took a second Benadryl and was asleep by 10 PM. I got up at 6 AM. The good thing throughout it all was that my lungs were so open. I swear, if it isn’t my nose, it’s my lungs. If my lungs aren’t tight, they’re congested.

Tom and I were browsing online for screensavers. I got some really beautiful colorful ones, and one with pictures of waterfalls.

He told me the name of another search engine I may want to try out. Yeah, but as soon as God sees me doing a no-no by looking for pictures of Gloria, or whatever other women, crash it goes.

THURSDAY, APRIL 8, 1999 Tom left me a message saying he’ll support whatever I choose to do as far as Art goes, and not to sound defensive of Tammy, but it’s in Tammy’s nature to be a pessimist and hype things up to the worst possible case scenario (concerning her saying he’s ill). True. She’s even more of a pessimist than I am. Tom says to remember that he will die someday, so as long as I’m at peace with whatever I decide, that’s what counts. True again. My being in contact with them won’t keep Art from dying, though. We’re all gonna die someday. And yes, I’m at total peace with myself for cutting these people out of my life. No matter how old or ill they are, they’re still detrimental to my mental health. Even if we could all get along from here on out, which could never be a fact, the horrible memories that are attached to these people are things I don’t need, and I could never fully trust these people again. My life here with Tom in Arizona is too wonderful to mar with these people of the past that I associate with rather traumatic events. Tom and I may still have problems in life like everyone else, but what I’m at peace with is moving this summer, being with Tom forever, and not having anything to do with Dureen, Art, Larry, Tammy, and Andy. I understand, though, that some things are subject to change. The doll-making may bomb and Tom may continue to have shitty job luck. However, whatever happens is God’s will, I believe, and for a reason. I’ll keep in touch with Paula, but I’m not going to give Bob our new address/number. I may not even give them to Kim either cuz once again, I respect my husband and I don’t want to risk trouble for us. I want to stick around to see if Kim will get her lifelong dream of having kids, I love most of the jokes she sends me, but once again, it’s a matter of weighing the pros and cons. It’s more important that I don’t chance her coming between us than it is for me to get her jokes and watch her dreams come true or be denied by God. Kim and I don’t have much in common and this is someone I’ll probably never see again. Even if she lived next door to me; she’s never home, so we wouldn’t have much of a friendship. I’ll just wait and see what I feel like doing when we move. I think, though, that it’d be best for me to basically start over with a clean slate. New house, new land, new people, new life, so to speak. Tom’s not gonna be someone I met after moving and I’m still gonna be me, but you know what I mean. If I make a new friend after moving, and that friend’s good to me, then fine. Meanwhile, I could sit and write the cons to my family all day and have any pros written in just seconds. With Tom, it’s just the opposite. There’s no comparison. His biggest faults are that he makes disgusting noises when he eats, snores, is a disorganized clutter-slob and is a dysfunctional bore sexually (except for when he goes down on me). Big fucking deal, huh?! Meanwhile, I could be here until our anniversary writing his pros.

Later…

I’m having trouble controlling my food. I’ve been having between 1500-2000 calories per day, and already, my weight’s slowly but surely climbing. Woke up at 110 pounds today and I could be back to 125 pounds by June. No problem. I realize more and more that getting down to 100 pounds is just a dream that’ll never happen unless I agree to nearly starve myself day after day after day. I ask myself again - is this worth it? Shouldn’t I just live life, eat when I’m hungry, and say so what if I gain weight? But how much would I gain? How much higher than 125 would it go? To 135? To 200?

Later…

Just let Shiny in to do some eating. Changed my mind about writing now. I want to go clean some wall hangings I packed, so they’ll be clean and ready to go in the new place.

Later…

Didn’t clean the wall hangings yet, but I sure did do a lot of other stuff. Tom was impressed. The closet that’s off the utility area in between the kitchen and garage was cluttered with a bunch of shit. So I junked what we didn’t want, and vacuumed it out really well. The city’s gonna have a field day with all the shit I threw over the wall.

Tom suggested the possibility of the bitch moving cuz she suddenly couldn’t pay her rent. If she couldn’t pay up, I’d think Bill or someone would’ve helped her. I think her time was up and that she had a 3-year lease. I’m surprised the city’s not anxious to get the house ready for the next tenant. Tom says that it’s not too easy to get a crew over there, so maybe they have to wait till a certain time to fix it up. I wonder, though, if this is a sign that they plan to sell it because, with the huge waiting list for those in need of subsidized housing, you’d think they’d be in more of a hurry to get it ready.

It’s gonna be so nice this weekend not having to worry about the freeloaders and ball games! I just hope to hell she gets my shit when we move!

I took down the old screen door in back, so that’s one less thing Tom will have to do, even if it’s a quick and easy job.

Tom’s fed up at work. Well, he’s been fed up, but he really let his boss know it today which he said felt good to do. He’s tired of all the overtime they’re throwing at him. He’s sure he can find a job where he only has to work 40 hours a week, and that this guy will ease up on him and then help him find another job within the bank since he has no one to replace him with, but I don’t know. I think it’s just destined that Tom works overtime no matter where he goes. Thank God there are laws, though, as to how many hours a person can work, or else this user he’s got for a boss would make him work 14-16 hour shifts. Again, though, we’re all pretty much compensated for the shit we go through, and every burden has its blessing. Meaning that we’re in for one hell of a paycheck! Still, they’re tiring the hell out of him and taking time away from him that he could spend doing other things. I worry about him. First I feared his mother would kill him and now I fear his boss will. Of course, I always fear God will take him away from me, too. Well, if God kills him, he’s gonna have to deal with me too, cuz I’ll be hanging in no time. Even if I could have all the money and stuff in the world; life isn’t worth it without him. I’d be too miserable to enjoy any house, money, or material things.

I’m just so glad God didn’t let us have a kid back when I wanted one, cuz we wouldn’t be where we are today. We’d have to wait 5-10 more years to move, I wouldn’t have these dolls or be going into doll making, and on and on and on.

I guess Minnie finally gave up on trying to call.

I put in a prayer for Kim to have the kid she wants (watch, God will grant my prayers for another woman to have a baby, but not for my own baby a few years ago) and although God seems to have a problem with allowing kids to go to people who’d make great mothers, I think she’ll have them. I don’t know if it’ll be by way of in vitro or adoption, but she’s got the looks, the money, and nothing that I can think of to stop her except for God. I know there are a few good-looking women who have kids, but I also know a pattern when I see one. It’s usually the fat, plain, or ugly ones that end up with kids.

Later…

Tom says I’m foolish to worry about this, but I know how destructive kids are. Therefore, I’m gonna put these dolls on high shelves or in boxes when it comes time to show the house. I know disrespectful parents will be coming in here with rowdy kids that the parents won’t keep tabs on. They’ll act like the kids are not even there while they tear the place apart.

I fazed Alex out of my email and buddy list. I hardly ever talk with him, and again, what’s the point? I know that to an outsider I’d seem like a cold person by dumping all these people, but trust me, I’m doing the right thing. I know I am. The only two that I’ll feel a little guilty over are Andy and Lisa, but what has to be done, has to be done.

No package today. I believe Paula when she says a package is on its way. Just by the way she said it, I highly doubt she’s lying. However, I think that if it didn’t get misdelivered, the ditz addressed it wrong. This is, of course, unless it’s parcel post and too soon to be here anyway. I left her a message about it.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 7, 1999 Tom did lock the net. I don’t know how securely, though. I get a nagging feeling deep in my gut that he may’ve made it easy to undo. Sometimes I think he gets a kick out of seeing things annoy me! Anyway, he was worried it’d draw attention and cause someone to do something about it, but I think that’s just his way of upping the chances of me wondering more often if someone will undo it, not that they might not anyway. I think that if the lock isn’t undone before, it’ll be undone when the new family moves in. And they’ll do it that day. The very day they move in. They won’t wait a week or a month or whatever. He said he couldn’t lock the net to the rim cuz it was too far of a stretch and that he couldn’t reach the rim like I thought he could. Maybe it is too far of a stretch to hook the net to the rim in a way a ball can’t go through, but why can’t he reach the rim? It looks like he can, anyway. Then he said something about having trouble locking the lock cuz it was old. This made me wonder if he deliberately didn’t lock it, but we’ll see. He doesn’t have to worry about it drawing attention. I can barely see it from the window. The rusted lock blends in really well with the rusted chain. The smaller lock would’ve shown up more, cuz it’s silver.

Later…

It’s barely 10:00 and already there’s been two sales calls. It is unfuckingbelievable! Today’s call came as early as 8:10. It’s gonna be so hard on me when I’m on nights, yet have to answer the phone in case it’s the Realtor wanting to show the house. I’m gonna be woken up a dozen times throughout my sleep. It’ll be just like the NHA! At least I don’t have to do that two dozen times a day for 4-6 months like I would’ve had if we had a kid. According to Tom, they’re doing this to everyone everywhere, and changing our number to an unlisted number won’t really curb the problem, cuz they dial randomly. If we got an unlisted number and he stopped giving our number out to everyone, then why wouldn’t it make a significant difference? Andy doesn’t get 5-10 calls a day. Andy doesn’t own a home and has a lot of magazine subscriptions or credit cards either, so I guess that makes a difference. Tom says they’re driving Mary crazy. She too, owns a house, has credit cards, and a listed number that’s been given out to the whole world.

I saw a nice white older lady out front planting something about five houses down. Now why couldn’t I have a nice lady like that, who’s no doubt quiet, with kids on their own, if she has any at all, living next to me? Why is it that of all the people on the block, the noisiest, rudest ones have to be next to me? If it isn’t Mormon chaos, it’s black trash. Although, this nice white older lady could have noisy grandkids that visit a lot, and a barking dog. I doubt it, though. Several of the houses right around ours are quiet as far as bass, kids, dogs, and constant vehicles go. If someone moves in before we move, and they probably will, God may not have them be as noisy as he normally would have if he knew we were staying here.

It’s hard to believe it’s all over. I no longer have to worry about some bass-thumping freeloaders next door waking me up. Not unless a new set of bass-thumping freeloaders moves in. It’ll be nice to be able to relax this weekend and not have to worry about what next door may do, and as far as I know, I don’t have to be interrupted by a ball game next door, even if there hasn’t been much hoop activity in about a year. Just these fucking sales calls! It’s not even 11:00 and there goes call number three.

Later…

I guess I misunderstood Tom. Yes, changing our number to an unlisted number and not giving it to anyone we don’t absolutely have to give it to will make a difference, but having this number unlisted won’t. Meanwhile, I took the fucking phone off the hook after the sixth call.

I just took my nosy little ass over to spy in the freeloaders’ yard. I still call it “the freeloaders’” place, even if it was never truly theirs. I pulled a chair up to the wall and stood on it so I could see over. What a tiny clothesline and even their patio seems smaller. Their yard is almost grassless. It’s like a dirt yard with a touch of grass. They have more space between the left side of their house and the block wall, so that may help to not amplify noise as much from the collies and from whatever, although you gotta be able to hear those dogs just fine, even if the wall’s not as close and even if they do have double-paned windows. The dogs are just a few feet away from their house. The reason they have more space between the bedrooms and the block wall is cuz they’re not on a corner. At one point the block wall curves in if you’re on a corner, but all the yards and houses are the same size. The yards are longer than they are wide. They’re about 120’ long and about 60’ wide. The houses are around 30’-40’ wide not counting garages or carports. I wish I could really settle my curiosity and break in there and walk through the place and see its layout. It’s very different from ours. It started off similar, but then, instead of adding a huge big room in back, they split the master bedroom in two and took out a little part of the living room to make a second bath. Even their front door is different. It faces the side while ours faces the street.

Here goes a school bus. You know, I never see kids that live at the collie house get on or off the bus. All the more I think they’re Mormons and that the kids are home-taught. But they don’t have more than 3-4 kids. Maybe she couldn’t have any more than that and that’s why they do daycare to sort of supplement things, although I don’t know if they’re still doing it.

Another day of weird weather. Is it really April out there? It’s cool and windy out there today. The barometer’s not that low, though. It keeps going back and forth between sunny and cloudy.

Later…

I knew it. It just knew it. It was only a matter of time. I knew telling Tammy not to push Art and Doe on me would do no good and that she’d start pressuring me to “do the right thing” and contact them. She’s such a contradicting asshole, too. In one breath she says she’s not gonna try to persuade me one way or another, but then she does. She tells me not to get huffy on her, but then when she saw she wasn’t gonna get her way, she hung up on me saying, “Goodbye, Jodi. I don’t need this shit.”

Does she know they changed their number and that I don’t know the new number? That’s beside the point, though. The point is that I’m done with Tammy now. Not when we move. The first thing she says is that our father’s ill and that she’s just giving me the knowledge which is mine to do as I choose with it (all the while she’s implying otherwise). She says she’s not buddy-buddy with them and never will be. She says that she and the kids “did the right thing” by talking to them. Yeah, well, like I tried telling her before - if “doing the right thing” means talking to a person like he is, I don’t want to “do the right thing.” Period. I’m not obligated to him. Just because he’s my biological father does not mean I have to associate with him or anyone else I don’t exactly like. He’s not as bad as his wife is, but to do away with one you have to do away with the other, too. I just don’t want anything to do with anyone associated with Tammy G or Larry or Art or Dureen O. Period. My mind’s been made up since last what? August? And it’s going to stay that way.

At one point Tammy asked how I was gonna deal with him dying. I told her I’m sorry if he’s in any pain or suffering in any way, but that people do die. Meanwhile, life has to go on. She has to live her life her way and I have to live mine my way and if that means I’m the selfish one - tough shit! And if she’s talking about my being included in their will, I’m not interested, I told her. Then she said that wasn’t what she was talking about. She was talking about my dealing with it within myself. I already did that months ago. I did it in my head, I talked about it with Tom, and I wrote about it. I weighed all the pros and cons and went over the reasons why it was best that I ignore these people. I’m not stupid, either. I know that people eventually die.

So I suppose Tammy will “do right” by going to Art and Doe’s funerals. I’m telling you, she and Larry, or she and Ronnie, or all three, are gonna get into a fight that could turn deadly (I’m sure macho Marty will have to be a part of it too, if he’s there). I just sense it, and you know what? I don’t want no part of it. I’m done with that life and with those people.

Watch, now Tammy will use the kids to get me to respond to and acknowledge her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she called up crying that one of the kids was in a crisis. It’s something she would do. She’s done it with Larry to try to get his attention. With me, she’ll probably use Lisa, and call up and say that she’s depressed, and suddenly, I’ll be the only one who can do something about it. Well, I’m not gonna give her the satisfaction of a reaction or a response of any kind, in any way.

Lastly, I’ll bet anything that Art’s not that ill. He may be a 68-year-old man with a bum ticker, but I know how Tammy exaggerates when she either wants attention or to get you to do something. She’s exaggerated health issues with the kids, Bill, and even herself. Do you know how many times Tammy might’ve been and was terminally ill? She’s always got a “fatal” problem or one that might be. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure Doe and Art have another 10-20 years to go. I’m not saying Art couldn’t kick the bucket right now cuz of his heart, or that Doe won’t die in a few years of lung cancer from smoking for 50 years, I’m saying it’s unlikely that they’ll go anytime soon, but they’re still a closed chapter in my life, regardless of when they die.

Tom showed me how to get the word find to work. It wasn’t finding words that were in documents. He also set it up so I could number pages again. That wasn’t working, either.

Later…

I got to missing Steve the other night. Steve H from Woodside Terr. I wish, if only for one time, that I could see him and tell/show him just how wonderful my life turned out, and introduce him to Tom. I hope the guy’s happy, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing.

Still no package from Paula.

The new TV Guide came, and every now and then I check the horoscopes out. Mine’s wonderful and Tom’s is pretty good, too. My sister’s hits it right on the nose. I’d mail it to her, but she’s not worth the effort.

Mine - You can wish upon a star this week and start turning dreams into reality. Close relationships will flourish, and even those who have opposed you in the past (you mean God?) can be won over.

Tom’s - Someone in a position of influence seems to believe you’re ready for a step up the ladder (must be at work) and is willing to support you. Such a chance must not be wasted, even if it means massaging the egos of those for whom you have little respect.

Tammy’s - Something you discover this week will make you realize that there’s more to the world than the view from where you now stand (love that line!). It may encourage you to travel further afield or to simply broaden your outlook. Either way, you’ll learn more about life…and yourself.

Later…

Finally talked to Kim. She sure had a hell of a time of it. She was so depressed. Walt was diagnosed with a brain tumor, so here they were, sure he was gonna die and that Kim would be alone again after finally finding someone. However, it was a mistake. It might’ve been a mild stroke or something like that, but he’s gonna live. What a horrible thing to have to go through. At least there was a happy ending to this sad story!

She’s gonna have Invitro sometime soon enough. Not cuz she can’t get pregnant, but cuz Walt had a vasectomy and has a low sperm count. It takes 3-4 tries and is about $10,000 each. I’m glad I decided to forget about having in vitro and I’m glad I don’t want a kid! Hope it always is that way, too! Meanwhile, it’s been her lifelong dream to have at least two kids. I don’t know if they have to use some other man’s sperm. Maybe not. I think a guy with a vasectomy still makes sperm. It just can’t get to the woman. I just hope God will let Kim have her dream!

Just finished one of the puzzles I got. This is the second puzzle that had an extra piece.

Well, I guess I’ll go finish out the rest of my day with my book. I’m halfway through Night Stone and it’s great.

TUESDAY, APRIL 6, 1999 I still can’t believe that bitch up and moved. Tom was teasing me saying how much I miss her and that I’m not happy if she’s there, and I’m not happy if she’s not there. If I don’t have to deal with bass or dogs from whoever’s going in there next, even though it wouldn’t be for long, and if the bitch gets my shit - let her be moved. I doubt anything will happen to the house since it would’ve happened by now, I suppose. I’m not too shocked that they didn’t mess with the house, but I still can’t believe they moved quietly and that I didn’t sense it coming.

The city hasn’t come yet to fix the place up. I wish to hell it could stay empty till we move, but if the city keeps it, it’ll be refilled fast. May 1st the new people should be coming. The new subsidized trash. However, if I had to choose between the city selling it and the city keeping it, I’d rather they keep it and risk having it stay empty till we moved, which could be the case if they sold it. This is cuz it’s easier to do something about any problems we may have with the new people if the city owns the house. If the people are renting from the city, it’s quicker and easier to get results by mailing the city a letter. If they own, it’ll be harder to deal with them. I can do something quickly about a renter thumping its bass than with an owner’s barking dog that never shuts up.

We screwed yesterday, but he just wouldn’t or couldn’t get into it, and the sex was brief (this confirms my belief that his saying I was the one who wasn’t into it the day before, was just an excuse to get out of it altogether cuz he wasn’t in the mood). The way he acted afterward was so phony and obvious. It was so obvious that he was trying to butter me up afterward by tickling me and insisting I had a mopey look on my face. Did he want me to have a mopey look on my face? It’s his dick. If he wants it in me semi-hard, cumless, and not for long, that’s his choice. I just hope to God I never want a child again, cuz all I’d get is his stubbornness and his resistance to get off. He’d never fully cooperate and do all he could do to allow us a kid, and so then I’d end up not just madder at God for not allowing me the right to choose to have a child or not, but mad at him all over again, feeling like he’s controlling and manipulating me and conning his way out of cumming and having a kid. He still swears he’s not consciously or subconsciously keeping from cumming. Sorry, Tom. No one gets off as rarely as you do without a reason. There’s no such thing as a guy being able to get hard with no problem without being able to cum. You either can get hard and can cum, or you can’t get hard in the first place, let alone cum.

Later…

I saw an APS truck pull up in front of the freeloaders’ and I stepped out and asked the guy if the house was sold. He said he didn’t know what was going on. He was just there to turn the electricity off. Yeah, I didn’t think he’d know what was going on. This is a good sign, though, saying they’re not anxious to do any work over there right away and the things I threw over the wall (I’m sure they’ll assume the stuff was the freeloaders'). It’s just a few old odds and ends. Nothing major. A couple of old plant holders, the old foam mattress, and some old chicken wire we had surrounding cactuses to keep Bunny away from them.

Later…

Tom has an old lock that’s bigger than your average padlock, and tonight he’ll lock up the hoop. This will be even better cuz now he can lock the net to the rim and make it harder to break through. Tom was being his usual paranoid self, suggesting it’d draw attention. I don’t think so. And even if it does, how would that harm anything? If attention is drawn to a hoop that can’t be used, so what? Maybe this was his last feeble attempt at talking me out of it. I just hope he really does lock the thing up and doesn’t make it easy to be removed, even if we only have a few months left here. He says he’s gonna do it tonight, but I’m prepared for him to stall a night or two, making some excuse as to why it has to wait.

I still can’t believe that bitch moved! See what I mean, though? They shut up, they move. It’s always after they finally shut up that one of us moves.

Spoke with Andy earlier who’s up to the usual - food, pot, God, phones, music, and TV. He said he was slutting up a storm earlier, cruising the neighborhood and hitting on everything with a dick. Then he said he woke up the next day and realized he doesn’t need to be a slut with all the diseases out there, and that he has more class than that.

Later…

That was the fourth fucking sales call today and today I was in the mood to tell them off, but these last two hung up on me as soon as I picked up, suggesting maybe it’s Jenny C or someone with the last name O.

I’m having a lot of boredom spells lately. I can only read, write, and do puzzles so much. Maybe I should start a story. It’s just that I’m embarrassed by my writing and aren’t the greatest storyteller. I’m not as shy about my journal writing, but I am about stories. I regret ever sharing any past stories with anyone. I cringe with embarrassment at the thought of it. The only kinds of stories that appeal to me as far as writing one goes involve lesbian lovers. Romance novels, only it’s two women and not a woman and a guy.

Three black boys in their early teens just went around the corner thumping a basketball. I cannot believe they didn’t stop to play next door!

The kids, by the way, are in school. They do go on vacation sometime in April, though.

MONDAY, APRIL 5, 1999 Let me back up to Friday. Friday, we went to look at manufactured homes again at that place that has more than one brand. They didn’t have Shultz, though (the first ones we saw). They had Cavco, which was at the second place we went to, Palm Harbor, and Redman. We picked out a Redman house as our number one choice and a Cavco as our second choice. Palm Harbor, though, has these really cool-looking shelves built into the living room walls. They’re optional and called accent walls. They also have a lot of things I’m not sure what you’d call, but they’re high shelves/beams and would be great for plants and stuff like that. So, we narrowed down our favorite floor plans, then compared features between the different brands.

The guy there was so obnoxious yet so funny. Tom and I were laughing about him afterward. As obnoxious as he was, he was a very soft-spoken, easygoing guy. The last kind to go raping/beating a woman, and I was pleased to see he was a family man by the pictures he had in his office. This may not be God’s ideal type of man for a father, but I think the world needs more guys like this as fathers.

The obnoxious part of him was that he asked too many needless questions and he talked in slow motion. He also took forever answering questions and he’d sometimes dodge answering the question fully. He’d dance around the subject when I’d ask him the price of a certain model.

The funny part of him was that his expression never changed. He had a fixed grin on his face. Even after a minute or two of silently walking to a model, he’d still be grinning as if someone just said something so hysterically funny.

Then we went to JB’s for lunch, and oh my God! What a big mistake to go during lunchtime. The food was good, though, even if it was a bit greasy, but as my luck would have it, I was seated right next to a baby that screamed bloody murder. It was ear-piercing, brain-splitting loud, and neither of its parents seemed to give a shit or make an attempt to quiet the thing, although what could they do? A child is like a wild animal that cannot be tamed. Not for the first five years, anyway. I’m so glad I don’t want a child and that I can’t conceive whether or not one of us is sterile. I asked that we be moved and sure enough, the thing quieted down after we were moved several tables away.

Then we went to the grocery store, which also has a little department store connected to it. I got a purple T-shirt dress, a couple of cute puzzles, some different scents for my plug-ins (the vanilla smells like baby oil), a big long pink pillow for great back support, a pretty butterfly 3-D soap dispenser, and I think that’s it. The soap dispenser is clear plastic with butterflies on it. Then they inserted a clear plastic card inside with more butterflies and it looks nice. We looked at their soap dispensers, bathroom pails, and other things and they sure had some nice stuff. One of the bathroom pails they had was gorgeous. It had colorful flowers, mostly pink. I can’t wait to set up the new place! Can’t wait to pick out towels, bathroom accessories, dishes, etc.

Friday, Paula also called and I wonder if she’s gonna lose Justin, although I highly doubt it. If I weren’t her friend, maybe so, but since I am, God just has to keep that thing whining in the background while we talk. Every single fucking time we talk, it’s there! Anyway, she said they found a knife on him at school. Paula said they said it was a steak knife, but she says it was a butter knife he used to cut Play-dough with. But why would he need a knife of any kind to cut Play-dough with?

She said that what I said would happen came true about the guys in her life fucking her over. Part of seeing that was logic. You don’t need to be psychic to know what kind of guys Paula attracts.

Wonder if I’ll get the package she says she sent today. She seemed sincere enough and I can’t picture her lying about something like that. All I have to worry about is that she addressed the thing properly and that the mailman lets me have it if she did. She says she sent pictures (that were on their way when we talked on Friday) and that porcelain doll too, which she said is “arm’s length” for just $7. I think it’s really about 6”-8” tall, though, like the ones we saw for $7 in Walgreens.

Paula also says she’s gonna use some guy’s sperm to fertilize one of her eggs (she had her tubes tied) cuz she wants a little girl who looks like her that she’ll name either Nakita or Selena. Wait till she finds out this procedure costs many thousands of dollars and that her insurance doesn’t cover it.

There’s no for sale sign next door, but I wonder if there will be. That’ll depend on if the city chooses to sell the house.

I was out dumping garbage earlier. The two dumpsters in our alley were chock full and looked like a lot of the stuff in them came from the freeloaders. I saw that they put a table in the alley just outside their gate, and there’s some stuff on it, too.

Saturday Tom replaced the two broken light fixtures that were in the kitchen and utility area with new fixtures and fluorescent bulbs.

Saturday he also took out the old, ugly cast-iron sink from the bathroom and put in the nice new sink/cabinet. It’s so much nicer. There’s just one knob and you push it up to turn the water on, right for cold water, left for hot, and down to turn it off. It’s washerless, so it doesn’t drip. Next, we have to do the walls in there and put the vent in.

Yesterday’s attempt to screw was a bust. I just couldn’t get him firmed up. He said I seemed to be distracted and distant. That’s possible, but I thought I was getting him hard by hand and ready for sex the same way I always do, and I wondered if he was just using this as an excuse cuz he wasn’t in the mood. I wasn’t in the mood, so it turned out OK, and he didn’t appear deprived in any way.

Tell me I’m not hexed sexually and I’ll tell you you’re crazy. Already, one of the vibrators sort of broke on me. It suddenly died and I thought it was completely broken. I put it in the garbage before bed, then when he came in, he took it out and fixed it. He said, though, it’s either high speed or no speed cuz one of the wires inside it broke. But why must there always be a problem with sex and with vibrators? Can’t God just leave it alone? Just let me be sexually, God, just let me be. If I were smart I’d ditch Tom and the vibrators and just use my hand. It’s the only thing I can count on unless it gets chopped off in some accident.

Also, it’s not gonna cost $15 to mail the bitch’s shit to her. It’s gonna cost $3.20. Tom reminded me that you can send anything between a pound or two for $3.20. So, it’ll cost $16 to mail the five manila envelopes I’ll be mailing when we move. The bitch’s two envelopes and one for Andy, Larry, and Dureen and Art.

Tom’s gonna see about finding a doctor that knows ears like Neilson did so I can have my ear properly cleaned. It’s been bothering me lately and Tom could see it was clogged up. Don’t I have enough hexes, God? Hexed with the ears, the sex, toilets, cars, etc.

Later…

A kid of about 4 years of age is bouncing a basketball in the collie’s driveway. I suppose it’s a matter of time before she finds her way over to the hoop. The kids are on vacation this week, so hopefully Tom can get the damn thing locked up real soon.

SUNDAY, APRIL 4, 1999 I don’t believe it! I just don’t fucking believe it! The bitch next door moved! I didn’t even sense it either, and they’ve been so quiet about it, too. Why didn’t they bang up a storm and why didn’t I sense it coming?

Tom says not to worry, they won’t damage our house, and mail gets forward for at least a year when a person moves, so she’ll still get the writings that I worked so long and hard on for her. Well, I sure hope so! As long as nothing happens to the house and as long as she gets my stuff - fine. Let them move. Tom also says that even if they did do a little graffiti or anything like that, we have to paint the house anyway, so it’d be no big deal. I’m talking about them breaking windows or shooting at the house. That’s what I worry about, although I don’t have a bad vibe. Yeah, but can I trust my vibes anymore? I didn’t even sense this move. The two biggest questions that keep going through my head are why are they so quiet about it and why didn’t I sense it? Is this, combined with the fact that there were a million stereos to drive by yesterday, a bad moving sign for us? I still sense us moving this summer, but now, I can’t be sure of anything when it comes to moving. Tom says he’s 95% sure we can move this summer. Logically speaking, there should be nothing to stop us. Then, I’ll mail her the two manila envelopes I’ve got for her, then to do a test, I’ll send myself mail to this address to see if it really does get forwarded to me. There’s always a chance she didn’t leave a forwarding address and that she won’t get it, or will get it and won’t read my writings, and if that’s the case, it certainly wouldn’t be the end of the world, but after working so long and hard on it, I really would prefer that she gets/reads it.

I wonder why and where she moved to? It’s been exactly three years since she moved in. Could she have been on a 3-year deal with the housing people? Did he ask her to marry him? Is she moving in with him? Into another house? An apt.? And why was everyone so quiet about the move? Are they waiting for something? Are they biding their time for some reason? Maybe she’s still dependent on the city and that’s why they’re behaving. Tom thinks it’s cuz I’m not that big a deal to them and they’ve got better things to do with their time than harass me, and if they did anything to the house, it’d be too obvious that it was them.

I wonder, although I highly doubt they could’ve gotten evicted upon my third complaint, but I’d think that if that was the case the cock wouldn’t be almost smiling at Tom and that there certainly would’ve been some shit to go down around here by now cuz of it. I’m still not so sure the bitch and her cronies will still be willing to forget that I was the one that caused her to have to quiet down the music and have her boy toy move out, though. After thinking about it - wouldn’t I be pissed off at anyone who caused Tom to have to be away from me? You damn well better know I would be. I’d be furious and I’d want to get them for it somehow, some time, although I have to agree with Tom. They probably won’t bother with us.

Here’s how it went - at 9:30 yesterday morning, I saw a U-Haul pull up in front of the house. Just as the cock opened the door, Tom came in from the store and saw that the truck was empty, so that ruled out the possibility of him moving back in. I saw the cock looking at Tom, but not with any meanness. In fact, it was sort of a friendly expression. One that no doubt said, Glad to be leaving you. Now I can do whatever I want and be an asshole. Probably get away with it, too. The cock’s buddy showed up soon afterward in the Buick and spotted as the cock backed the U-Haul into the driveway. I also saw what I think was a dark green car pull in front of the truck, and some big black girl walk by. They loaded up for three hours. At 12:30, the U-Haul left and the cock returned at 3:30 with some little white guy with a mustache and a purple cap. I think the guy’s name was Dave, from what I heard. I heard him ask the cock if he had city sewer or septic tank and the cock answered city sewer. For a second I saw a blue Blazer and the bitch and the mistake. The Blazer wasn’t there long. Then, from there on out till at least 7:30 (I went to bed then) the cock’s car came and went as it took loads out of the house.

Today, the cock came at 9:00 with the little white guy (this is the first white person I’ve known them to associate with). A white van pulled in shortly after, 2-3 Mexicans jumped out, then cleaned the carpet. After the carpet was cleaned, they stood around chatting for five minutes, then the carpet cleaners left, followed by the cock and whitey, not too long afterward.

One of the living room blinds is now raised and I can see the living room surely is empty.

Tom agreed to take one of my old locks and lock up the basketball hoop on his way to work sometime this week. We’ll only be able to lock up the net part of it, but hopefully, no one will take the net off till after we move. If God’s on my side, he’ll spare me the ball games till then. It won’t be as easy to remove a metal link chain net, as it would be to just cut a nylon net.

Thank God I was on days this weekend, so I could spy on them and so I could sleep. I probably could’ve slept just fine yesterday, though. I never heard anything drop or go crashing around, but the carpet cleaning motor was a bit fierce. It’s got a serious rumbling sound to it.

Later…

I officially closed the freeloader’s file. I printed out most of what I wrote in my last entry and sealed up the bitch’s two envelopes (hers, Larry’s, and Doe’s and Art’s envelopes are now ready to go upon moving, except for Andy’s). Come this summer, she’ll hopefully have these forwarded to her (it sucks that I have to pay about $15 to mail this shit to her, but it’s worth it). I wrote in her file, though, that we were staying here now that she’s gone.

So what am I in for now? Will the place remain vacant for a while? Or will I get a new pack of subsidized freeloaders to have to deal with? Will the city sell the place to some nice white folks? Nice or not, will they have a dog I’ll have to listen to 24/7 just three feet away till we move? And how many kids? How often will cars be coming and going, and will there be any loud motorcycle-like engines? I just thank God we only have 4-5 more months to go, now that I’ve got to deal with yet another turnover over there. Although, in between the Ms and the freeloaders, the place was vacant for 6 months, so maybe it’ll stay that way till we move. Tom may be sure she’ll get forwarded her mail, but still, I wish she could’ve just stayed put for 4-5 more months to really be sure she gets my stuff and so I could save money getting it to her, too. If it’s to be a case of her moving and leaving the house alone, and her still getting my stuff, and being able to have the place empty till we move - then that’d be an even better deal. Especially with the hoop net locked up as an added bonus. I supposed the not knowing what’s to come next should be unnerving to me, but it isn’t. Maybe that’s cuz we’re moving.

Later…

I can’t believe Andy hasn’t called this weekend. Not so far, anyway.

Speaking of Andy, the day after his visit, I was about to tell Tom of his adventures with Stevie and Cheryl and told him that even though it was OK, the visit was all Andy, Andy, Andy. Just as I said that, the phone rang, Tom glanced at the Caller ID box, saw it said private, and goes, “Andy, Andy, Andy!”

As with Tammy, some guilt goes with my walking away from him. I know he’ll feel hurt at first, despite having not much in common these days. However, as I weighed all the pros and cons in my mind of staying involved with them, I still feel that the best thing to do would be to walk away.

Anyway, to finish my talk with Tammy. I covered the inevitable reunion with Dureen and Art, the asking that we visit, now let’s cover the shocking part. Tammy said I had to find religion and God at one point, and I thought she was joking. Tammy’s always been the least religious person I know. She said although she didn’t grow up with it, she’s been going to church with Mark. I asked if she was planning on conforming and she said she wasn’t going to till she was sure what she wanted.

I’m pretty surprised. I wonder just what she does in church and what she gets out of it. I’ll have to ask her some time what it does for her. I’ve never liked churches cuz of how they’re prejudiced. They badmouth gays and people who are different and send a message saying that if you don’t live by their rules, you go to hell. Tammy says it isn’t that way, but I’ve never seen or heard differently.

Looks like I got my rain wish after all, but why do I feel it’s only because they moved? I’ll bet if they were still here, it wouldn’t be raining. I can’t believe all this rain we’ve had.

SATURDAY, APRIL 3, 1999 Another Saturday on N. 21 Ave., but I don’t have a bad vibe. At least not for today I don’t. Also, although it’s doubtful, the freeloaders may not even be there. It’s too early to tell. The cock was here and Bill was gone as early as 1:00 yesterday. I had seen the cock’s trunk open at some point, then the cock left and came back. I then noticed the car seemed a little full, suggesting maybe, just maybe, they took off for the Easter weekend. I crashed too early to tell if someone was there at night last night.

Tom’s mom offered to buy him contact lenses. That’s very nice, but I sure hope she helps with the move.

Tom’s at the store now picking up stuff to prep the bathroom with. We also need to replace the kitchen and utility area light fixtures. They’re cracked. So he’s picking up odds and ends like that.

It’s not even 10:00 yet and there have already been three calls. One sales and two from Minnie.

Tammy called again and we talked. First of all, she did nothing wrong, but the things we discussed reinforced in my mind that making a clean break from her really is the right thing to do.

She brought up a couple of things I knew were only inevitable that she’d bring up sooner or later. Then she brought up something else that totally shocked me.

The first thing that I knew she’d bring up and that I knew I couldn’t be lucky enough to avoid forever, was wanting us to come for a visit since it’s easier for two people to go cross country than four or more. As I’ve written and as I’ve told Tom, who’s very supportive of me and of how I feel, I have no desire whatsoever to go back there. If it were a matter of snapping my fingers, being there, seeing them, introducing them to Tom, and showing him places I lived in, etc., then I probably would. However, I just don’t care to see her. I do miss Lisa and I’d love to see her, but seeing her isn’t worth everything else that’d come with seeing her. I mean, I’d have to go on a big trip, which I hate, worry about my schedule and being able to sleep, and worry that I’d run into Bill and kill him. I’d no doubt have to talk about people and subjects that I’d rather not discuss with Tammy, I’d have to deal with her pressuring me, her cigarette smoke, the unhappy memories that go with the place, and who knows what else?

I told her we’d be there in the fall or the winter, cuz of course, I certainly wasn’t gonna tell her that I plan on disappearing.

The other thing I felt would only be a matter of time is that from what she said, she’s already working Dureen and Art back into her life. Now, I don’t know how chummy they are, or if she’s on speaking terms with Dureen, but she’s sending Art a birthday present. At first, I thought she was joking when she mentioned it and asked if I was gonna send one. Then she actually came out and told me that I should cuz then I’d know I was doing the right thing. If sending a present to abusive people like that is doing the right thing, then I’d rather do wrong. I was really surprised to hear she was sending him a birthday present. I thought she said she was 100% through with both of them for what they’ve said and done to her for so many years. Me? If I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a thousand times - I’m 100% finished with them. Just cuz they created me, does not mean that I should be obligated to associate with them in any way shape or form after the years of abuse I took from them. I totally detest selfish control freaks who always have a problem with how people are, what they do, what they say, etc. I’d tell this to anyone and that’s that if you don’t like my husband or myself as we are, don’t bother with us, and don’t think we’re about to change our ways for you or anyone else. I also reminded her that I think it’s really sick when a parent pits one of their kids against another, and when they go to one kid about a dispute they had with another. It’s her life, but how can she send a present to someone who urged his son to call the state on her and who said and did the things he’s said and done to her and say she’s done the right thing? Well, to each their own, but I feel I deserve better than to associate with people like that, and I’d like to think I had self-respect by not doing so, too.

Tom brought up a very good point too, and I think he’s right. Sadly enough, though, this is human nature for most people, but money’s an issue here. When people get old and have money, they tend to stick around and put up with their abuse for it. Me? I’d rather be happy and with people who are supportive, non-selfish, accepting, and respectful. Tom said that Larry no doubt got the money for his business from Dureen and Art. I wouldn’t doubt it. That’s probably why he made a point of reuniting with them in 1993. Cuz he knew he wanted to go into business and therefore, why not get their help financing it? Isn’t it a little too soon, though, for Tammy to be kissing their asses and being all nicey? They’ve got another 10-20 years to go, sis. Is the money really worth putting up with another 10-20 years of abuse?

FRIDAY, APRIL 2, 1999 I can’t believe this weather! Yesterday would’ve been perfect for Easter Sunday. It rained all day long, and even when I got up a few hours ago, it was coming down in torrents! It went from being between warm and hot to being chilly and rainy. It seems like just when you think summer’s gonna work its way in, we go back to cooler weather. The wonderful thing of it all was that despite how long and hard it rained, not one drop leaked in here!! Not one!!

Tom says that if next door’s a normal family, they won’t do Easter here this year cuz they did it here last year. They’re not “normal” anything, and yes, they will. They know I can’t legally do anything about the ball playing, so why not? They’ll make sure they do it here on account of me.

Minnie tried calling again but didn’t leave a message. Kim did, though. I’ll call her today. I’ll call Tammy, too. I left her a message yesterday since it had been a while and she called back when I was listening to music. She said she was busy, she and Mark were opening a retail store, and the kids were fine. No illnesses or injuries? That’s good.

I can’t believe I woke up at 107 pounds today, which was what I woke up at yesterday, cuz yesterday I had to have had around 2,000 calories.

The Acutrim I tried was totally worthless in suppressing my appetite.

I like it when I accidentally learn new things on the computer. I discovered a way to bring up the statistics and all that on just my Word document files. That way I don’t have to weed through a bunch of shit I don’t use. I can delete files from here, too. What was weird, though, was that one journal file had 130 pages and 100,000 words, while another had 144 pages and 96,000 words. How can I have 4,000 fewer words with 14 more pages?

It’s so cool to look in the mirror and see even, white, non-smoker’s teeth!

THURSDAY, APRIL 1, 1999 I just went out back and could smell the rain in the air as soon as I did. The sky’s a mass of clouds and it’s drizzling out. I noticed the barometer was down when I got up at 2:00, but it will come up with the weekend. It really truly almost never rains on weekends, and if it does, it’s early in the morning. If I didn’t know any better, and if I believed in the power of prayer, I’d be on my knees begging God to have it rain all through Easter Sunday, but I know the weather will be perfect for a three-hour ball game, whether or not the bass is thrown into the package. If all goes as planned, we should have only two more big holidays here - Easter and Memorial Day. Once again, though, any day next door could be a major holiday and call for hours’ worth of ball thumping.

Although yesterday’s visit, not surprisingly, was Andy, Andy, Andy, it was a cool visit that I did enjoy. He didn’t call again or bring food, either.

I told him Tuesday would be a good day of the week for us to chat and that I’d fill him in some more on the houses then since I didn’t get a chance to tell him anything about it, cuz he had to leave for his appointment, although there really isn’t much more to tell till we know for sure what’s going on.

He was only ten minutes late and was baked, as usual. I should’ve known I was wasting my time by telling him that I hoped he’d visit sober. Remind me never to ask my “best friend” for a favor again!

He didn’t seem bigger like I thought he’d be, what with all the eating he does. Just in the gut. This is probably why the buttons popped off his shirt, too. I saw that they were in the gut area.

I first showed him my dolls, then the animals. He had trouble focusing, though, and I couldn’t get his attention to hold on to any one subject for too long. If I’d comment about the dolls, he’d ask about the rats. If I’d comment about the mice, he’d ask about objects in the back room. I was amazed, though, that he remembered Giselle, which I just mailed him a picture of.

Then he surfed the web while I sewed his buttons on. Then he went out back and smoked a cigarette. Then he came back in and told me about last night. He first asked me if I would write about it in my journal. I told him yes, and added to myself - and you’ll read it one of these days too. That’s still a maybe, though, cuz I don’t think Andy’s a big reader, and if he didn’t read the other journal - why read this? Maybe he will given the circumstances. It’s up to him.

It was when he went to tell me the Stevie/Cheryl story that he seemed to sober right up.

He said his friend Wendy from “New Hamster” called to tell him that it was just posted online that Stevie, a friend of Cheryl Crow’s, would be singing at Cheryl’s concert at an old high school in Phoenix that holds 2,000 people.

He called Barbara Nicks and asked if she knew Stevie was gonna be performing. She said no, and he told her he’d call her in a couple of days to let her know how it went. She asked that he call sooner, which he agreed to.

So he and Michelle went to the concert and traded weed for scalper’s tickets. They were $37 a piece if I heard Andy right.

On their way in, Michelle was told she couldn’t take her water jug in. Andy said he told her to just put it down and they’d get it when they returned while distracting the person so Michelle could weasel the jug in.

The concert then went on. Andy said he didn’t know most of the songs, but that Cheryl performed well and was really into it. At some point during the concert, he and Michelle got separated. Then Stevie came on in the end and Andy got to be the closest to her he’d ever been in his life (about 15’). He got 13th-row seats, but Cheryl kept everyone on their feet and I guess people were moving all around. He got right up to the stage. He said Stevie’s lost a lot of weight, and although she still had fat hands and fingers, she looked great. She wore an old, faded red pair of platform boots and her gold/brown hair was straight.

He said some fat guy with a bulging belly walked up to the front of the stage and just stood there staring at Stevie with no emotion whatsoever. Usually, when a guy gives a woman that sort of still, emotionless look, they’re raping or beating her within their minds.

Another weirdo was some girl up on the balcony who just couldn’t stop twirling around and around and around.

So after the concert, he hung around an area with a ramp that connected two buildings. About an hour and three cigarettes later, he saw Stevie with two relatives and a security guard shorter than she was, coming up the ramp. As soon as Stevie got within a five-foot range, he stood up from where he was sitting and said, “May I say hi to Miss Stevie Nicks?” She kept on walking, but called out, “Hi,” as she quickly glanced at him. Then he casually followed her a little way. Meanwhile, all the fans were in front of them several yards away, calling out to Stevie. From just behind Stevie, Andy yelled out to Michelle. Then Stevie and company got in a car and left.

He said he exchanged hellos with Stevie’s brother Chris, too, who went walking by at some point. I can’t remember what he said about this, but he gave him something. Some piece of paper that had to do with Wendy, but he didn’t make himself too clear about what that was all about.

Then shortly afterward, Cheryl and the same security guard came walking up the ramp (Cheryl was heading for her tour bus). Andy approached her when she walked by and told her she put on a wonderful show and was looking forward to a future album that she and Stevie were to produce together, and during the minute or two they spoke, the security guard was pulling her away from him and telling him he had his turn, while she was saying, “It’s OK. It’s OK,” and thanking him.

Then he decided he wanted a Cheryl T-shirt and asked the guy selling them if he’d be willing to trade for one. The guy asked what he wanted to trade, and after Andy hesitated in answering, the guy said, “You want to trade some hushables, huh?” So, Andy weeded his way into a shirt, and now he just may have one more customer to deal to and to risk ending up in jail with, although I can’t see it. Andy’s always been lucky when it comes to getting caught with shit. It’s amazing, though, that some cop didn’t pull us over for some reason during one of the many times I was in his car with him and that I didn’t end up going down with him, since he almost always has pot on him.

I told him I could imagine how much Michelle had to have envied him. He said she was quiet afterward, so he could tell she was jealous.

As always, Andy can’t get through a conversation without mentioning God, and he said he thanked God when he got home and told him he could die now. I got a kick out of that one.

Later…

Sometime next week, we’ll be going to look at one more manufactured home dealer, as I said before, then the next step will be to look for land. I just hope God’s with us, and that we don’t have to settle in a big way. It’s impersonal, so I don’t see why God wouldn’t help us. As long as the dream/goal is material, he usually has no problem with allowing it. I hope to hell we can find some decent land that’s already prepped, cuz that’d save us money that we could put towards the house, furniture, etc.

Tom says that the fact that our house is on the corner is a plus cuz then you don’t have neighbors on two sides of you. Really? I thought most people wouldn’t mind noise/neighbors and wouldn’t want the corner cuz of how people cut across it all the time.

It was my turn to have to reschedule my appointment with Mel and the Doc the other day. The appointment on the 7th was too early for Tom to get home and get me there, so I upped it to the 13th. Tisha understood and said it was only fair since they’ve had to reschedule on me.

Now there’s a blue/white Blazer at the renter’s that some guy and a little kid got out of. These people are just like the freeloaders - so many cars, so many people.

0 notes

seita · 4 years

Text

— miscommunication | m.

pairing: matsukawa/f!reader

wordcount: 4.860

genre: smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

cw: camboy!mastukawa, established relationship.

tags: masturbation (m.), dirty talk, cam sex, daddy kink, pet names, praise kink, soft!mattsun, fingering, cock riding, big dicked mattsun, multiple orgasms, creampie, use of the word cunny.

note: repost from my other blog!

+ summary: your highschool sweetheart makes a lot of money as a camboy. however, when you start watching his streams, things he says instills insecurity within you.

The second you met Issei Matsukawa, you knew that you were going to fall completely, irrevocably in love with him. There was just something about him; he was sweet, kind, attentive, and strong – among other things.

Since you knew him in high school, word swirled around that when he was older he would be a dream man. They were right.

You have no idea how your little puppy dog crush managed to catch his attention, but you were happy about whatever you did.

When he graduated, he learned he could make money off of his body. He was tall, over 6 feet tall, and fit with a dominant personality and sweet voice that made you want to do anything he asked.

It started off with him simply selling nudes and short videos of him simply stroking his cock. You were both baffled by how much people paid for a 15 second clip of him jerking off – not even finishing.

He had sat you down one night and asked how you felt about everything. You would never tell him he couldn’t do something. Especially because it was his body. Besides, it’s not like it really bothered you.

It didn’t take him long to evolve, creating a camming account that quickly blew up due to his good looks and dominant charisma. The spare bedroom, which had previously been a simple study room, had been turned into a studio for him to film in.

He made good money, becoming one of the top creators on the platform. Things were going very well for a long time, you never really watched his streams either in real life or on the phone. His occupation wasn’t really something you ever thought too much about – he kept everything mostly to himself, never really talked to you about it or anything of the sort.

But one day, you got curious. As any normal girlfriend would.

You sat in your shared bed, the lights dimmed with your phone in your hands. As you tuned in to his stream, you were greeted with a familiar sight. The studio was exactly the same as always and your boyfriend was more than familiar – but it still felt so surreal. Like you were an outside looking in, despite the fact that he was just down the hall from you.

You had spent a little while procrastinating, debating on whether you really should watch it or not. Issei had never told you that you couldn’t watch. But he never really encouraged you to either. Truthfully, his career behind that door was sort of a mystery to you.

Due to your back and forth dilemma with yourself, the stream was already well in progress by the time you started watching.

His body was a familiar sight – but it was different seeing it from an outside perspective. Right now, you weren’t his girlfriend. You were a viewer.

His fingers, adorned in metal rings, were wrapped around his thick cock. It made your mouth go dry at the sight. His cock was so pretty, long and thick with a blushing red head that glistened under the ring lights from the dripping precum.

Your gaze fell to the comments, seeing people complimenting him – as could be expected. After all, these were people who were paying for the privilege of watching him stroke his cock.

‘Your cock is so big!’

‘I’d cry trying to take it but I’d still thank you.’

‘His hands look like my favorite necklace.’

A strange feeling settled in your chest as you read all these people’s thoughts on your boyfriend. They gushed about how perfect he was, how amazing his cock was, how much they’d die to be stuffed full by him.

He grinned and laughed, giving flirtatious comments in response to them.

“Yeah? You think you could take my cock?” he chuckles, breath shuddering as he squeezed his length, “I don’t think you could handle it.”

“Ah, I bet you’d be such a good little girl for me,” he whispers, eyes lidded, “You’d cry and take my cock like you’re supposed to, huh?”

As he says these dirty things, the tips continue to rise. The words are familiar as they fall from his lips because they’re things you’re used to hearing.

You’re not sure how to feel knowing he’s talking to these nobodies the same way he talks to you so you click out of the app before the feeling becomes too much. You place your phone down and sigh, feeling your heart ache in jealousy as you replay the recycled words you’d heard him say night after night to you.

You know it’s stupid to feel jealous; it’s his job. He talks that way so he can make money. But it still instills you with an unfamiliar feeling of insecurity. It almost felt like everything he said and did to you wasn’t as special as you thought it was – because he just turned around to say the exact same things to faceless nobodies who paid him.

Issei is the only man you’d ever dated. He was your first boyfriend, your first kiss, and he was the one to take your virginity. You’d never even held hands with anyone else.

But you know he had fucked around a lot before the two of you got together, when you were just a shy, pining little girl for him. Of course he had, there was no way a man like him wouldn’t have girls all over him, feral for the opportunity to sit down on his cock and make him fall in love with her. After all, he’d made a job out of it.

It was never something that made you insecure. Issei never did anything that made you question his feelings or loyalty to you. So jealousy and possessiveness wasn’t a feeling you were familiar with. And you weren’t quite fond of it, you were learning.

You wanted to storm into the studio and sit on his cock, make all of his viewers see that his cock was all yours and they only had the privilege of watching him — put them in their place.

You sat with the negative feelings for the entire night. He finished his stream and took a shower, helped you cook dinner, and you sat on the couch with him as you watched a couple movies together.

He didn’t notice anything different in your demeanor. You weren’t mad at him so you had no reason to be passive aggressive.

But when you crawled into bed that night and laid beside him, tucked against his body, you thought back to all those women who were probably touching themselves to the sight of your boyfriend’s perfect cock and pretty words.

You frowned and tossed your leg over his waist. He looked up from his phone in surprise, a brow raised before he smiled.

“Can I help you with something, babygirl?” he placed his free hand on your bare thigh, stroking the skin gently.

“I wanna ride you,” you demand softly, making him laugh.

“Since when are you so bold?” he teases, locking his phone before tossing it to the side. You pout and push the band of his sweats down to pull his cock free. He reaches out and grabs your wrist with his eyes narrowed, “I think you know better than that, pretty girl. Is that how you ask Daddy for his cock?”

You shrink a bit under his gaze and lower your head, “N-No Daddy…I’m sorry…”

He smiled, “It’s okay, baby. Why don’t you ask politely, hm?”

You swallow thickly and nod, “C-Can I ride your cock, Daddy?”

He licks his lips and relaxes against the pillows with a sigh, “Go ahead and get me hard then, pretty baby.”

It wasn’t a difficult task, just the fact you were so eager for him was enough to have him getting harder by the second. You eagerly spit on his length, using it so aide in the slick movements of your hand as you jerked him off.

“That’s a good girl, fuck,” he breathes, body trembling as he stroke him with practiced ease, “Lift up, sweet girl.”

You do as you’re told, sitting up on your knees, keeping your hand wrapped around his length. He bats your hand away and you pout, but he pays no mind as he instead decides to strip you. He pulls the thin nightshirt you were wearing, dropping it off the side of the bed before sitting up properly to eagerly wrap his lips around your pert nipple.

You whimper, tangling your fingers in his hair as he circles the bud with his tongue. He pulls away for a second, nipping your breast before breathing out, “Are you wet, babygirl?”

You nod, “Yes, please Daddy…I want your cock.”

He clicks his tongue, “You know better than that. Let me see your pretty cunt, hm?”

Your pout deepens but you do as you’re asked and sit between his thighs, pulling your panties off before handing them to him. He hums, thumbing the material to see how wet it is before tossing them away. He looks expectantly at you and you immediately let your legs fall apart.

“Let Daddy see,” he whispers, wrapping his hand around his cock as you reach between your legs to spread your folds apart.

A couple years ago, you would have never been able to do something so lewd. You always felt so embarrassed when he wanted to look at your pussy but you eventually learned how turned on it made him. You still felt shy but you enjoyed the way his cock throbbed when you let him look.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy,” he whispers, grabbing your arms to tug you back into his lap properly, “Fuck, you are wet.”

Your cunt is pressed against the underside of his cock. It’s hot and throbbing against your clit, an addictive feeling that makes you grind against him. He groans, head falling back as you move along, coating him in your juices.

“Can I have your cock now Daddy, please?” you whine but he shakes his head, making you whine.

He pulls you against his chest and slips his hand between your legs, leaning up to press his lips against yours. His fingers circle your clit before prodding your little hole, slipping two inside easily. It stings but it’s a feeling you’ve learned to accept eagerly.

“Let Daddy stretch you out,” he whispers against your lips. You start grinding against his fingers, fucking yourself on the pretty digits as he curses, “Fuck, ride my fingers, pretty girl. Just like that.”

“Daddy…” you sob, head dropping against his shoulder as he curls his fingers, tapping your sweet spot. The stimulation makes you gush and you sob, clenching around him before you reach down to find your clit, “Y-You’re gonna make me cum…”

“I sure am, sweet girl,” he coos, choosing that moment to mercilessly fuck his fingers into your poor little cunt, abusing that tender little spot inside that has you creaming and dripping down his wrist.

A mantra of ‘daddy’ falls from your lips as you cum hard, trembling and sobbing against him as he fucks you through the high. He slows but doesn’t stop until you’re begging him to.

His hand is soaked in your cum and he can’t resist popping his two fingers in his mouth to taste. You suddenly remember the first time he ever did that, the way you squealed indignantly and hid your face in the pillow out of shame. He’d laughed and spent 20 minutes explaining how much he loved it and how he wanted to eat you out so bad now that he got a little taste of your sweet cum.

Before you could fully come down from your high, you reach beneath you and take his cock in your hand. He opens his mouth to speak, probably to stop you or scold you, but before he can, you’re sinking down onto his length. It burns as usual but the fiery pit of jealousy still burns bright and you want him to think of you too. You know it’s silly because there’s no way he’s thinking of faceless girls who comment on his streams but you still feel like you need to lay claim to him.

He’s your boyfriend.

“Jesus, baby,” he moans, his eyes rolling back in his head as you immediately begin bouncing on his cock, “What has you so riled up?”

“You’re mine, right, Daddy?” you pant.

He grips your waist, aiding in your movements as you fuck him like a toy, “Fuck yeah baby. Daddy is all yours. My cock’s all yours.”

You grin at his admission, feeling satisfied. That was all you needed to hear.

He looks at you, having no idea what this behavior was all about. But he had no complaints in the end.

Despite the negative feeling watching his stream had caused you, you continued to watch them. The outcome is always the same; you wind up ending the night staking your claim and making him remind you that he is yours. And he remained more or less ignorant to your behavior.

The night things take a turn is when you tune in to find him in his usual position, fucking his cock into his fist. He’s panting, more of a growl than anything, and muttering things you’d never quite heard before.

“Fuck, this feels so good,” he grunts, teeth gritted as he watched the comments, “I don’t give a shit about a good girl. I want a bratty little girl I can let some steam off on, put her back in her place.”

He grins as the comments fly by, viewers pleading to be that girl for him. Telling him they’d be perfect for him, the best sub he could ever dream of.

“I don’t think you could handle it,” he threatens with a narrowed gaze, “You’d let me slap you around? Let me treat you like filthy little whore? How pathetic.”

You gasp at the harsh, degrading words. Issei had never spoken like that before, it was strange to hear it. You find yourself being thankful you weren’t on the receiving end of that language because you were sure you’d probably end up crying.

“Yeah,” he chuckles again, “I’m sure you’d be such a pretty little brat for me.”

You sit back, his words fluttering around inside your head.

What did he mean he had steam to blow off? Why would he be unsatisfied? Is it because you were too…easy? You never fought him, he always whispered praise and sweet words to you. He’d never called you a name like that before. Is that what he wanted? To call you a dirty slut instead of his sweet girl?

Insecurity festered within you. In fact, you barely even noticed the fact you’d started pulling away. You didn’t consciously realize you were questioning yourself – doubting his attraction to you.

He was at a loss, baffled by your seemingly sudden rejection of him. It was almost as if you kept shying away from him when he tried to touch you – you had never denied him like that. You avoided his gaze in bed, choosing to cling to the bed sheets instead of burying yourself in his chest like you usually do.

Things progressively began to feel more awkward for him. He wasn’t sure if you felt it too, but he started feeling more apprehensive about touching you because he thought you didn’t want him to.

When he stopped trying anything with you, you started to feel even worse. Every insecurity you felt festered more and more until you felt like you were holding back tears just by looking at him. You were convinced, especially now that he crawled into bed with his back to you instead of peppering your face with kisses and slipping his hand down your panties so he could make you cum before bed, that you were no longer what he wanted.

Another night, you were sat curled up in bed. Issei hadn’t even told you he was going to start streaming – the only clue you had was the solid click of the studio door.

So you sat there, curled up in bed, leaning against the headboard with your phone in your hand as you watched him grin at the camera. He read the comments, slowly palming himself over his sweats – one of your favorite pairs that you’d seen him wear.

“I seem tense?” he mused, reading a comment, “I guess so. My cock’s been hard for days,” he tosses his head back and laughs but you can tell it’s not as genuine as it could be.

Guilt eats at you, knowing that you were the reason he was so tense – he wasn’t coming to you to get off anymore.

“Hmm,” he sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. You track the way his tongue slips over his bottom lip and his cock twitches visibly beneath the fabric of his pants, making him grunt, “No, I don’t have anyone to take care of my cock,” his words make you shrink in on yourself, tears pricking at your eyes, “Oh, you wanna take care of it, huh? Come here then.”

Something about his words has you jumping to your feet.

The only time you’d ever stepped foot in his studio beyond to clean it every once in a while. Otherwise, it was completely his space that he took care of. So to stand in front of the door, located at the very end of the hall, was strange. Especially since you could hear his muffled voice from within.

Taking a deep breath, you twist the knob and push the door open. Issei jumps from where he’s on the bed, leans forward and hits a button on the keyboard to mute himself before looking at you in confusion.

“What’re you doin’ in here?” his tone was almost curt and for a moment you second guess yourself. He watches you shift awkwardly on your feet and his gaze immediately softens, “Baby, what is it?”

The pet name makes you look up, tears stinging your eyes at the tender look in his eyes. His gaze flashes to the computer for a second before moving back to you.

“I just…” you pause, tugging awkwardly at your oversized t-shirt before blinking your tears away, “Am I…still what you want?”

He blinks, confused for a second before cocking his head. You can see the wheels turning in his head and you can tell the exact moment he realizes what you mean. Clicking his tongue, he holds his hand out, “Is that why you’ve been actin’ like this? Because you thought I didn’t like you anymore?”

You look in confusion at his outstretched hand and take a step forward, “I-I thought…maybe you felt I was too easy a-and you wanted someone brattier.”

He laughs, a genuine one, and you can see his eyes light up when you finally place your hand in his. In the blink of an eye, he’s tugged you into his lap, making you squeal before he’s silencing you with a kiss.

“I think I would go insane with a brat,” he chuckles, “Besides, I love you exactly how you are, my sweet girl, hm?”

You shift where you sit, feeling his cock is still hard beneath you and you bite your lip, “I really missed you.”

“God, I thought you’d never say that,” he whispers, brushing his lips against yours, “Let me just turn the stream off and I’ll make everything up to you, hm?”

You stop him before he can, however, shaking your head, “I…”

He notices the bashful look in your eyes and groans, “Is that how it is, baby? You want everyone to see who owns my cock?”

You eagerly nod and he hisses as you grind your hips against his cock. He leans around you and taps the button again, unmuting himself.

Neither of you waits even a second longer. He holds your hips up, letting you pull his cock free from the confines of his pants as he yanks your shirt over your head, laughing at the way it messes up your hair.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he coos, cupping your breasts, “Prettiest fuckin’ tits, huh, baby?”

You whimper, wrapping your fist around his cock, giving him a few squeezes to make him shudder. You can feel his precum drooling from the head, leaking down to meet your fist so you can stroke it into his skin.

“You’re so hard, Daddy,” you breathe, making him groan as he nods his head, “‘M sorry…”

“Don’t worry at all, pretty baby,” he huffs, thumbing at your nipples as he looks down to watch how you stroke him.

“Can I have your cock, Daddy?” you ask, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

He nods, unable to formulate words. It feels like it had been months since he had last properly felt your slick little cunt around his fat cock. His eyes are lidded, biting his lip as he watches you sit up to slip your panties aside. Neither of you think twice about even looking at the chat to read comments.

Right now, this is about the two of you – about showing everyone that Issei does have someone there to take care of his cock every night. Someone who he adores. And anyone with eyes can see how enamored he is with you.

As you position yourself above his cock, he narrows his eyes at you and with a firm grip to your waist, tosses you onto the bed beside him.

“Daddy!” you squeal, bouncing on the mattress, “Why–”

“You know better than that, babygirl,” he huffs, manhandling you with ease into the position he wants, “Silly of you to think I’d let you take me without prep, hm?”

You purse your lips in a pout but don’t offer a rebuttal, making him laugh as he knows he won. He spreads your legs and knees between them, making a show of stripping himself. As you look to the side, you can see that the two of you are in perfect view of the camera.

You had thought you were going to feel self-conscious with so many people watching you but instead, you feel confident.

Once the both of you are completely bare, he shifts down the bed before laying on his stomach between your spread legs. His large hands cup the underside of your thighs and push them upwards, reveling your glistening little cunt to his view.

“Fuck,” he huffs, using his thumbs to spread your folds apart, “I missed this perfect little cunny, you have no idea. So fuckin’ pretty for me.”

“Please, Daddy,” you whine, tangling your fingers in his curls. The gaze he gives you let you know exactly what he wants and you flush as you whisper, “Please eat my cunt.”

“That’s my good girl,” he sighs, leaning forward to run his tongue between your folds – collecting your slick on his tongue with a groan before swallowing, “So fuckin’ sweet.”

Once he gets that first taste, he wastes no time on going in. His tongue prods at your entrance, making you sigh at the little stretch that it gives before he leans up and finds your clit. His tongue is hot and wet against the sensitive bud, making your whole body twitch at the sensation. When his thumb finds your clit, he pulls the hood back and before you can even blink, his tongue is attacking the sensitive little bud beneath.

You squeal and instinctively kick out, squirming at the overwhelming sensation. He laughs, wrapping his lips around your clit and you sob at the feeling.

“D-Daddy, please!” you whine, “I-It’s too much!”

He hums and finally pulls back, returning his tongue to your little hole. His hand abandons its hold around your thigh in favor of finding your entrance. You hold your breath, looking down to watch as he sinks two fingers in – biting his lip as he keeps his own gaze on the way your little cunt swallows them down.

You spasm where you lay, the feeling of him just barely missing your g-spot nearly painful. You know he’s not doing this to make you feel good but you still can’t help but whine.

“What is it, baby?” he whispers, giving your hard little clit a sweet kiss before his eyes flick up to find yours. “You want Daddy to make you cum before you take my cock?”

You desperately nod, “Yes, please Daddy?”

“Fuck, anything for you, my sweet girl,” he doesn’t waste a second in wrapping his lips around your clit, crooking his fingers expertly to find your sweet spot,

The way Issei can drive you to the edge, to orgasm, is almost terrifying. It takes very little for you to feel your body tensing up. The lewd, slick sounds of his fingers stuffing your cunt along with the way you can see his tongue working over the cute little bud of your clit has you flying over.

Your back arches in the most beautiful way that he loves as you cum with a soft whine of ‘daddy’.

When you finally start pushing him away, he comes up panting. Catching any of your stray slick off of his chin before licking the pad of his thumb clean.

“Pl-Please, Daddy,” you whine, reaching out to wrap your hand around his cock, “C-Can you put it in now?”

“Fuck,” he groans, letting you direct his cockhead to your entrance, which was still spasming in the aftershocks of your orgasm, “Yeah, pretty baby, ‘s all yours.”

“All mine?” you giggle, gasping as he begins to press into your tender cunt.

“My cock’s all yours, fuck,” he groans, making sure the viewers can catch what he says.

It makes you flush and throw your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. The change in closeness makes his cock sink even deeper inside you and you moan in his ear as he quickly bottoms out.

Usually, he takes his time and lets you adjust. But this time, both of you are so needy for each other that you can’t resist grinding your hips up to rock yourself against his cock. He hisses, taking the hint quickly and easily.

He pulls his hips back only to swiftly roll them forward again, sheathing his cock back into your spasming little cunt. His eyes are locked on his cock and the way your pussy swallows him over and over again – he can’t sink all the way in but you take most of him and he loves the sight of it.

Your precious little cunt creams so beautifully around him, coating him in translucent, milky white every time he pulls out. You’re moaning and whimpering for him so beautifully that it makes his hips falter every once in a while.

“Daddy!” you squeal, finally releasing your hold around his neck, “Please, make me cum again!”

“Yeah, baby? You need Daddy to make this pretty pussy cum?” he huffs, moaning when you nod and eagerly spread yourself open for him by hooking your arms around your knees and pulling them back.

He rests his hand on your pelvic bone, stretching his thumb down to circle at your twitching, excited little clit as he continues to stuff your cunt nice and full. You claw and cling to the sheets desperately and he can’t help but cup your bouncing breasts with his free hand.

“C’mon, pretty baby, cum for me,” he huffs, licking his lips as you gush around his cock, “Lemme feel this pretty cunny cum.”

You sob for him, back arching as you cling to his arm as he continues to grope and tease your tit. He feels your pussy clench desperately around him as you finally cum.

“That’s a good girl!” he praises, “That’s it, just like that. Keep cummin’ for me, I’m almost there.”

“Please, Daddy, gimme your cum!” you cry, your nails biting into his skin but neither of you notice as he reaches his high as well.

His balls throb and he groans, his body slumping over yours as he gives a few more, lazy thrusts of his hips as he spilled his cum into your vulnerable cunt.

The both of you finally fall still, panting and sharing soft kisses as he smiles and whispers promises of love. The sound of donation chimes on his computer finally draws you out of it and he sits up, pulling out of you.

He bites his lip, his cock twitching at the sight of your cunt drooling a mixture of yours and his cum before he moves to the end of the bed.

He doesn’t even spare a glance at the comments or donation total before turning the stream off. When it’s officially just the two of you, he crawls closer to you and pulls you into his arms with a side, giving the top of your head a kiss.

You know that you’re going to have to talk more about everything, but you both know that can wait at least until morning.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa smut #issei matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei smut #issei matsukawa smut #afton.writes

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