Okay.  First off, I don’t think I’m really a bitch.  Readers? Speak up and let me know.  It’s alright.  In fact, it would be great if you told me I was a bitch (or not.)  It would help me with “My Issues.”

Alright, the ditching.  In my regular pub.  Know the older guy, D. Met this (Gorge!) girl/woman/whatever-ageism-can-go-to-hell. She apparently is the Granddaughter of…

Oh, yeah.  I’m like, beyond pissed so I’m blasting Skinny Puppy so loud, I’m sure the entire floor can hear it.  Sucks to be you when I’m beyond pissed and I blast music when I can’t get an outlet.

I’m even too angry to masturbate to get a release.  But if I had a partner, I’d fuck her like Armageddon was only five minutes away. I don’t have a partner though.  So right now, that means music that will make your ears bleed at huge volumes (or even more quiet volumes?) is the only choice I have.

Anyway, “Gorge” is the Granddaughter of this lovely, old guy.  A Scot through and through and salty to the bone.   We’ve had some good chats.

Well, maybe I should have a chat with him about his goddamn, fucking Granddaughter who ditched me tonight! Okay, the old man too, but I know him.  I can give him the tiniest bitch slap that will land him crawling on the floor, begging first for my forgiveness, then to somehow, some way make him vertical again.

So we’re drinking and talking and I see this other guy I know plop A GINORMOUS-A-RAMA bag of pot in her lap, with all the accessories included: scissors, papers…and how many bags of dope? I mean, I don’t know street value, but when she opened one of them? WHAM!

Just one sniff and I was nearly thrown across the entire pub! I knew I had to get this (really good) shit out of the pub or at least hidden on her–Granddaughter or not! I was still staring at all the bags thinking I could get busted just sitting with her.

FUCK ME.FUCK ME.FUCK ME.

Seriously.  For someone who smokes dope (and apparently a lot unless marketed?)

WANT.  

It’s been a lllooonnnggg time folks and NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, NEVERRRRRRR IN PUBLIC!!!

Hello, PA.  Not only are you banned from the pub, but you are charged with Possession and also Possession With Intent To Sell.  I think I was “Gorge Blind” because I can’t even believe I did this. But I knew she wanted to toke really…like NOW REALLY!

I grab a MASSIVE BUD and put it on a piece of paper I had on the table.  I was ripping and tearing (like I said folks, a long time, no MJ since my 20s.)  I roll like shit but I figured I managed to get enough for a cigarette size that she wanted.  The MASSIVE BUD still looked just as MASSIVE!

I eventually had to run into the bathroom because I felt like I was looking too obvious.  So I rolled up what I had done still with the MASSIVE BUD and kept it tight on both ends–like I’d rolled a joint! I told her to run into the bathroom NOW! I had to take her hands and put them on both ends like mine were so as not to lose anything!

Alrighty.  That’s up to the Bitchin’ Ditchin’

They suggested going somewhere else and I was keen.  I was just concerned about getting home.  Walking with them would have been fine but alone? She said she can make sure I’d get home safely.  Call a cab, whatever.  Cool.

I said to them that I just had to go to the bathroom and then I’d be done.  They said, “Okay.”  I also had to settle up my tab.

I went outside and…  Gone.  The guy working there said that they had gone to where “WE” were supposed to go.

For some reason (like they’d come back?) I just stood outside the place, had a cigarette and walked around a bit.  Of course they never came back!

UNLESS: Between all of the substances in everyone there was a misunderstanding.  I “knew where it was?” And I did.  Because when I finished in the bathroom and paid my tab, the table where we were all sitting was quite different.  The old guy D. wouldn’t touch my stuff, but “Gorge” would have after all of our talking for hours and not to discriminate, I have to pull the Gender Card.

Some of the things I had on the table were now in my rucksack but the most amazing thing was my cane.  It wasn’t beside my bag as per norm.  My cane was sitting on the table.  Almost in an…”…okay…come on then!” sense.

Christmas Party there tomorrow.  They’ll both be there.  I haven’t decided about going or not now.  Drop off my “Secret Santa” and then just fuck it off.  Or, walk in, dressed up, somehow, kickass.

And Kick Some Ass.


If you’re trying to “find me”and/or figure out “Who I Am?” At least have the goddamn, motherfucking balls (and that goes for women too even though they don’t have balls) to:

JUST ASK ME!!!!!!!!!!

I’m not that fucking special!

And just what the HELL are you actually gonna do with my” Sorry to Disappoint you Not War and Peace” version of my life?

Turn that Pig Barf Soaked, Suck My Cock Crack Pipe, Asshole Satan who really IS up my ass into a giant ice cube?

Actually, it really would feel pretty good to get the doped up fucktard outta me.  The biggest ‘roid I’ve had in my life and I’m so constipated I don’t think I’ll ever be able to take a crap for the rest of my life.

So in the “end” you won’t be able to do crap either.

Get a life.  Unless you’re thinking about me and jerking off.  I’m very complemented if you think about me that way.

Will WordPress on my mobile FINALLY work?


I’ve been seeing a Counsellor from a Hospital for a bit now. Neither of us knew why.  She didn’t know who referred me and I had no clue either.

She just called me on the phone in a quandary asking if this was: “My Name.” I said: “Yes.” She then followed: “Do you know why I’m calling you?” To which my response was: “No!”

This gal is awesome! After that very brief introduction to each other, we were both, “What the hell, and who are they? I’ve never heard of them! Wanna meet anyway?”

Sure.

So we sat and chat and laughed and I can’t find a word that rhymes with that.  Daft? Considering the above, that would fit?

Tomorrow, I am going to “fill out some paperwork.”  Okay.  For what, I have no idea.  I guess someone out there to do with this Organization she works for, is gonna get me help me to…?

…somehow get, or somewhat, or some kinda way of getting mountains of shit sorted out in my life.

Whether that’s actually possible I seriously ponder.  Quite seriously.  Extremely.  Yeah, you get it.

Okay, we’ll have a happy appointment tomorrow, and see what I get served on a paper Silver paper Platter?


I don’t know what you thought of Cordy’s passed on message but I know it wasn’t positive.  Block via PPPs.

I’m sorry for fumbling and bumbling and not getting it out right. And now not allowed permission from a Blog made Private from another.  That might just be random?

I only wanted to try to apologize for all of the damage due to my drinking.  I just wanted to get that message to you.  Too much to take? I don’t know.

But you had me by the tail so often and I want to thank for that. Always lookin’ out for me.  I’m pretty sure I didn’t warrant it all the time.

I don’t know if this will see this, and god forbid, I don’t want it to upset it in any way.  But I know it did in the past.  And for that, I am very sorry…I shouldn’t call you any nicknames.  Maybe just K.

And I am just K.


I am a HUGE believer in Free Speech.  I think all of you readers should know that by now.

However, I refuse to (unless I just can’t help it when extremely ranty?) write things that are snarky and uncalled for, regarding someone in my personal life.

I know.  Can it, or is it a fine line?

Thus, every piece of “Dirty Laundry” is not being washed and dried, it’s been thrown into the trash.  Moreover, every Post that was related to said “Dirty Laundry” has been deleted, lest one.  A reference was was changed because I wanted to keep the Post up.

That is the most deleting I have EVER done on my Blog–that has somehow survived nine bloody years! Don’t ask me how that’s happened!

But I had to do it and I did.


ABSOLUTELY NO USE OF GOOGLE OR ANY OTHER SEARCH ENGINE!!! 

Who is the artist, and what is the title of this song based upon these lyrics:

Woman please be gone
You’ve stayed here much too long
Don’t you wish that you could cry
Don’t you wish I would die.

Seamy, seesaw kids
Childwoman on the skids
The dust will choke you blind
The lust will choke your mind.

I kiss the floor, one kick no more
The pig and hose have set me free
I’ve tasted hate street’s hanging tree
I’ve tasted hate street’s hanging tree.

[Instrumental]

I kiss the floor, one kick no more
The pig and hose have set me free
I’ve tasted hate street’s hanging tree
I’ve tasted hate street’s hanging tree.

The inner city birthed me
The local pusher nursed me
Cousins make it in the street
They marry every trick they meet.

A dime, a dollar they’re all the same
When a man comes in to bust your game
The turn key comes, his face a grin
Locks the cell I’m in again.

I kiss the floor, one kick no more
The pig and hose have set me free
I’ve tasted hate street’s hanging tree
I’ve tasted hate street’s hanging tree
I’ve tasted hate street’s hanging tree
I’ve tasted hate street’s hanging tree…

Good luck!

Oh, the prize? Me!


Think about it.  Everything you’ve done in your life? You’ve had to work at it.  For it. Sometimes your work doesn’t pay off.  You don’t get what you want or where you want to be, to go.  Trust me.

I’ve failed at so many things I can’t even count them.  But did I “fail?” I’m starting to question that these days.  Regrets or none? Bad choices or simply choices at the time? No matter how much work I put into so many things…there is no explanation at all where I didn’t get what I wanted, where I wanted to be.  Just anything.

Sometimes if I didn’t have to put any work into things at all: “Hey! Mom! Dad! Look at this book! It’s amazing and you know what? When I was reading it, I found…”

But that’s not all of us.  Not the Gen. Pop.  We all work and strive for…? And what is the outcome? Moreover, if you don’t get it, how do you see or view those that DO get it.  They did.  They did.  Not me. Not me.

That’s a tough one for a lot all of us.  Please.  Let’s be honest here. I certainly will.  I like to profess I am so High and Mighty that I profess no envy or jealousy BUT COME ON! Will any of you tell me under these circumstances you have NOT felt these emotions? Or something akin? Ever?

If so? I don’t believe you.  There.  Now I have also admitted I am judgmental (within this context.)

Everybody wants.  Sometimes we get.  Sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we never get (but we really do.)

Maybe everybody gets. But they don’t. Look around.  Take stock.  It might take you a while.  It might take you your entire life! But you did something and it was easy.  You just have to find out what it was, if it’s not immediately in front of your eyes.

If you see something you wanted, you got, where you ended up that was so easy? Keep digging.  There were other things too.

What a Pollyanna Post, huh? No.

That’s why I always like to give some personal examples.

I never finished my BA.  We all called the Degree “Bugger All” anyway because it was basically useless in securing you employment.

But I bloody well resent the fact that I didn’t do it! I dream of having my Ph.D. and wandering the Hallowed Halls of Academia (despite the fact that becoming a professor and staying one at a University is just like only have a BA.)

The whole problem with my “Degree Thing” was a battle between my Bipolar and ADD.  I always say the Bipolar won, but reflecting upon the whole disaster, I think it was a tie.

I have an amazing Therapist who finishes my sentences for me. *laughing*

After a couple of years or so of being bedridden with what was looking like intractable epilepsy? My goddamn seizures have actually been sent to Hades, and I’m diving into Physio to get into Martial Arts! Aces High!

I’VE ACTUALLY SECURED GALLERY SPACE BEFORE A PHOTOGRAPHY SHOWING.  Do you know how ridiculous that is for any artist? It’s totally bass-ackwards! Artists have their work ready to go and then securing space to show? AND SELL? I’d be happy if someone bought one of my photographs for a dollar.

I found a group where I can possibly get my French back. *swoons*  Holy shit.  If I could learn to speak French again after so many years of never using it? What a dream. Are those enough examples? I hope so.

I’m doing my laundry and I’m really tired.  That’s not so easy either.


I AM SERIOUS! SHOULD I WRITE EVERYTHING IN UPPER CAPS?

No, really.  I mentioned in my last Post, blah, blah, blah…the changes to the Addiction Program and the final step of three weeks staying Inpatient in Happy Hospital.  If I could get on the Happy Hospital Bus right now, I’d jump as high as could to get on it!

Of course I was drinking before break up business tonight.  That’s a given.  For a lot of people.  Break ups stink so lots of people drink! So no brainer with me being an alcoholic.

Now I’m “experimenting” with what would happen, and how might Extended Release ADD Meds would work as Coke.  Or a Party Drug or whatever.  That would be more like an Immediate Release type of ADD Med.

Holy shit.  Am I really giving advice on how to get high from your script meds? Pardon the irresponsible addict who really doesn’t give a shit right now.

PSA: Kids and adults, don’t do this at home or in a cab or at a rave or in a public library or while painting your apartment or while shopping for a car or shopping period.  Don’t do it if you’re a woman when you get your period.

I could continue for years but the only place that’s okay to do it, is on the street.

MoFoHoPro on that street, I need want need want need…yeah, you get it.  A DRINK!!!

So back to the ADD/Coke “experiment.”  Easy for me as I take Biphentin.  It’s a capsule with tiny little balls in it.  Swallow? Snort?

My findings?

Joke’s on you!!! I HAVE ADD!!! I can’t get all whacked out on stims and Coke or whatever! I’m already on stims.  If ingest Coke or any stimulants (like more ADD meds?) the only thing that happens is my mind becomes a bit sharper, and I can focus more while everybody else is getting whooped to the ceiling fan.

So AD(H)D Kids and Adults? Don’t bother trying.  Unless your AD(H)D brain actually gets off on the stuff.  Use as you choose–however, at your very dangerous peril.

DON’T FUCK WITH YER MEDS!!!


Yes, changes.  Many.

Something in my Non-PA life didn’t work out.  Very sad.  Time to grieve.  Again with so many other things, so many other times in my life.

My Addiction for alcohol has done a total 180 degrees! I’d been away for a long time from the Group Sessions. That was due to yet another hospitalization from Pneumonia.

That was the fourth time back to Isolation.  Fevers so high, I could die! Fun stuff.

Although this fourth time, I was admitted to Respiratory Department.  But after discharge, Sweetie GP said there was nothing we could do was bedrest (again!) until I felt better.  That was about a month.

So a long time away from the Addition Program! Now things have changed and not to my liking.

No more Group.  As in you, or people, get together and talk.  I’ve always hated those things but surprisingly, this time I liked it.  Great.

After spending enough time there, the next step was to have your doctor fill out a very large form.  That was to begin the Inpatient Program in hospital.  Some people do it Outpatient but Sweetie GP and I know I must go Inpatient.

I must start this now if the Group Sessions aren’t happening anymore.  God, one of the questions on the form is if I can stay sober for a week.  I can’t.  If I can’t, I get tossed into Detox first.

And how fucked up is this? They say they will taper you off benzos.  Excuse me.  Benzos are “generally” used in Detox to calm your freakin’ ass down?

Unless maybe you’re addicted to benzos.  That would make sense for a taper.

Well, there’s a huge FUCK YOU CAVEAT for me.  I’ll push it to the limit everywhere if I have to.  They can’t take away and of your medically prescribed drugs.  I take Valium!

prn, mind you but if I need it, I need it.  I’ve Detoxed at home and I get so screwy, I forget to take it when it calms me down.  I also need it for insomnia.

I seem to have gotten a little riled up here.  Don’t you think? There’s more I can say that are maybe positive.  Maybe?

CODA: I saw my Therapist today and have never been so Aspie spazzy EVER. Foetal ball in waiting room uncontrollably bawling, lying on the kid’s bed holding a Teddy Bear crying for the appointment.  Then stimming like a volcano on Accessible Transit on the way home.

I’ll just have to wait and see for now.

Will WordPress on my mobile FINALLY work?


I mentioned earlier on Twitter (before my phone died) that I wanted to drink myself to the point to physical injury.  A bit tongue in cheek, a bit brain hammering all over everywhere.

Does that count as physical? I didn’t count it as physical.

I broke my one week of sobriety due to certain certain cercumstances that made me want to fall all over the place and not care what the hell of a fuck I did to myself.  But I should care.  And I do.  But goddam motherfuck I’m honestly too tired to swear and rather still keep drinking and fall all over.

Why a week?

My program to get sober.  Hopefully.  Or at least to get some serious help.  Real help.  Three weeks Inpatient in hospital but if I can’t stay sober for a week I get tossed into Detox.

I don’t wanna drink.  But triggers or even…maybe none make me want to.  That’s why I need help.  My drinking has destroyed so much in my life and my GP and I finally found an amazing treatment program!

But now here I am still drinking from a huge trigger…excuse me while I have a drink and a cigarette…

Smoking isn’t so great for me either with the drink, but my Respirologist is so amazing.  Sweet and kind when I cry, and has found the portion of one of my lungs that is causing the obscene pneumonia that gets me thrown into Isolation, now four times in hospital.  We’re doing tests.

What do they say? “You can never trust an addict?” There are other types of behaviours that make you wary and frightened as well.  Can you trust the people that engage in those behaviours too?

I can’t and I won’t.  I’d rather let me kill me, than them kill me.

Thank god I’ve got a day to recover from this toxic, remind-me-from-uni-total-time-to-flake-because-you-drank-a-full-keg-of…

Before I see my Therapist.

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