110106
Spending all day waiting. Bored. Drinking Coffee. Typing. Sue keeps talking to me about things I don't care about. I wish everyone would just leave me alone while I'm working. More typing. My hand hurts. Probably The beginning of carpal tunnel. It's always the same hand. Why do the drivers all call me names like "sugar" and "babe"? Gosh that annoys me. 4:30 hits and I rush out the door. Driving home with the music too loud on my shitty car speakers. I need to replace them. I light up one of my pink cigarettes. Just Another day. Getting home. Mike already brought in the mail. Ryan's over again. I walk in the door. Mike forces me to try this cheese he just bought and makes me guess what it is. Smoked Swiss. I grab a piece of a pear to eat with it. It's quite good I tell him. God, I have a splitting headache for some reason I say. I glance over and see Ryan cutting up some dope. "This might help" he says calmly while asking me for a dollar bill. I pull a twenty out of my wallet and hand it to him. He rolls it up, snorts a line and hands it back to me. "Don't do all of that at first, it's pretty strong." I take a deep breath, breath out, lean over and snort three quarters of the line. "Thanks." Ryan shows me some bands on myspace that he likes. We talk about them. I like Ryan when he is like this. Normal. Sometimes all he talks about is girls and it drives me crazy. What girls he likes, what girls like him. Conversations he's had with girls. Girls Girls Girls. I could care less about girls. I tell them about two independent films I rented and we all decided that we will watch one. "I'm going to hit up the shower first" I say as I walk to the bathroom slowing peeling off my layers. First the hoodie, then the scarf, next a sweater, tee shirt and lastly as I step in the close the door to the bathroom, the cami and jeans. I cause so much laundry I think as I step into the hot shower. I lather up in my favorite body wash, Ylang Yalng Myrrh, while paying special attention not to get my hair wet. I don't feel like drying and fixing my hair tonight. I hop out of the shower, grab a towel, and wrap it around me. While walking to the bedroom to get dressed I start to get drainage and I gag. This is the worst part I say out loud and run back to the bathroom. I turn on the faucet and drink water from it like a cat. I stand up and gag again, roll my eyes, and drink more water. After I'm certain it's all drained I walk back in the bed room. I'm starting to feel high. I start shaking a little. It's imperative I wear comfortable clothes when I'm high so I grab my beloved fleece draw string pants and throw on a soft tee shirt and my pink and red striped slippers. I sit on the bed for a moment and bask in the glory of my comfortableness. Sometimes I wish I could wear lounge clothes like this all the time. Walking out the kitchen, I grab a glass and fill it with water. I tell Ryan I'm going to do the rest of the line. He tells me he's already put it away, but kindly gets it back out and lays it down in a neat line for me. There is much more there then before so I only do half and then flop down on the couch. Mike is distantly asking me to slice the cheese for the sandwiches he is getting ready to make but all I want to do is sit. It takes a few minutes for me to gather the energy to stand up and I amble into the kitchen and causelessly look for the cheese. Mike knows I'm a little out of it and hands me the mozzarella. I look at it awkwardly. Food is so foreign to me when I'm high although Mike and Ryan seem to feel differently, as there is always some sort of food preparation going on after we all do dope together. Mike walks away from the stove and comes over to me to kiss me. I smile because he is being so sweet and loving. I adore him. I clumsily slice the cheese and think about how it's a pretty hazardous thing for me to be doing at the moment. When I finally finish I stagger back over to the couch. When you are high it's almost like there is a fault in gravity and it keeps pulling you down. All I want to do is lie down and close my eyes. I talk to Ryan a little about his new ipod nano while I watch Mike grill the sandwiches. I decide I want an ipod so I look it up on the internet. The green is my favorite. I tell Mike that maybe I should hold off on getting one and maybe Santa Claus will bring me one for x-mas. He agrees, although I doubt he will even remember tomorrow that I've said that. Mike finishes with my sandwich and brings it over to the couch where I'm sitting. It looks delicious, but I've completely lost my appetite. I feel bad because he rarely cooks for me, and this once time he does I don't even want to eat. I take a bite. The sandwich is oozing with mozzarella and a homemade tomato sauce. He brushed olive oil on the bread and browned it in the skillet. It tastes so good, but I can't even chew it because I'm not hungry. Mike comes back over and forces me eat a bite of the bean soup with it, promising me it will taste amazing together. I hate it when he does this. He always forces me to eat things and will literally shove the food in my face until I eat it. I don't understand why he does itbut he does. I now have a bite of a sandwich and a spoonful of bean soup in my mouth. Mike tells me I look like a chipmunk because my cheeks are full of food. I still can't chew. I get up and go in the bathroom and spit the food out in the toilet. Gross. It wasn't the food that was gross, just that I spit it up. I think back to when I was a child and I'd stuff my mouth full of whatever food I couldn't stand and then excuse myself from the table to go to the restroom so I could secretly spit it out in the toilet. I dizzily walk back into the living area, slide on my hoodie, pull a cigarette out of my purse, and walk out on the back porch. If I recall correctly it was quite cold outside on my way home from work earlier, but it feels so mild and comfortable right now. I slump down on a chair and close my eyes. I can hear the dry leaves blowing off the tress and struggling against the wind. My mouth feels dry and I like the way my cigarette tastes. I feel on the urge of drifting in and out of consciousness every time I shut my eyes, and think to myself "Not Yet." So I put out my cig and walk back inside. We all decide to watch a movie. We settle on watching The Puffy Chair and prepare ourselves for a movie. I grab my cozy flannel sheet, a glass of water, a glass of wine, and my glasses. Mike changes into his flannel pants and Ryan grabs a blanket off the futon. Oh pure bliss is how I feel as we all make ourselves comfortable on the large red wrap around couch. I snuggle up with Mike and my cat Twiggy gets under my sheet and nestles with us. The Puffy Chair: is a low budget film, an indie romantic dramedy. Mike and Ryan won't stop talking thru the film. It is massively getting on my nerves but I don't say anything. The movie ends. I feel disappointed. I start to feel nauseous. Oh great. I hate it when this happens. I run to the bathroom only to have the feeling go away almost immediately. Ryan leaves to go to his brothers. Mike and I snuggle back up on the couch and watch two episodes of LOST. I start to get anxiety so I drink a pumpkin ale to help calm my nerves. When the last episode ends we go upstairs to go to bed. I don't even make it two steps before I feel the nausea coming back. Getting to the toilet just in time I throw upover..and overIts nothing but water and wine, which I'm thankful for. After a few minutes I stand up, brush my teeth, wash my face, and look in the mirror. I feel fine. The skin around my eyes is red from rubbing my eyes so much and I'm looking rather starved and out of it. I think about the popular "heroine chic" look that used to be fashionable and laugh at how completely unglamorous it is. I shut off all the lights and went and laid in bed. I knew it would be a while before I fully fell asleep. It's always like that and I like it. It's called the nods. I laid there slipping in and out of conciseness. Faces of demons and animals appear in the blackness. Waking in a state of ecstasy and bliss. Vivid dreams. And finally sleep.
I woke up this morning feeling as though I'd been resting for several days. Energy. The sun is out. It's a beautiful day. I probably won't see Ryan and his dope again for a few months. He always disappears for a while and then just shows up out of the blue for a day or two like that...
Spending all day waiting. Bored. Drinking Coffee. Typing. Sue keeps talking to me about things I don't care about. I wish everyone would just leave me alone while I'm working. More typing. My hand hurts. Probably The beginning of carpal tunnel. It's always the same hand. Why do the drivers all call me names like "sugar" and "babe"? Gosh that annoys me. 4:30 hits and I rush out the door. Driving home with the music too loud on my shitty car speakers. I need to replace them. I light up one of my pink cigarettes. Just Another day. Getting home. Mike already brought in the mail. Ryan's over again. I walk in the door. Mike forces me to try this cheese he just bought and makes me guess what it is. Smoked Swiss. I grab a piece of a pear to eat with it. It's quite good I tell him. God, I have a splitting headache for some reason I say. I glance over and see Ryan cutting up some dope. "This might help" he says calmly while asking me for a dollar bill. I pull a twenty out of my wallet and hand it to him. He rolls it up, snorts a line and hands it back to me. "Don't do all of that at first, it's pretty strong." I take a deep breath, breath out, lean over and snort three quarters of the line. "Thanks." Ryan shows me some bands on myspace that he likes. We talk about them. I like Ryan when he is like this. Normal. Sometimes all he talks about is girls and it drives me crazy. What girls he likes, what girls like him. Conversations he's had with girls. Girls Girls Girls. I could care less about girls. I tell them about two independent films I rented and we all decided that we will watch one. "I'm going to hit up the shower first" I say as I walk to the bathroom slowing peeling off my layers. First the hoodie, then the scarf, next a sweater, tee shirt and lastly as I step in the close the door to the bathroom, the cami and jeans. I cause so much laundry I think as I step into the hot shower. I lather up in my favorite body wash, Ylang Yalng Myrrh, while paying special attention not to get my hair wet. I don't feel like drying and fixing my hair tonight. I hop out of the shower, grab a towel, and wrap it around me. While walking to the bedroom to get dressed I start to get drainage and I gag. This is the worst part I say out loud and run back to the bathroom. I turn on the faucet and drink water from it like a cat. I stand up and gag again, roll my eyes, and drink more water. After I'm certain it's all drained I walk back in the bed room. I'm starting to feel high. I start shaking a little. It's imperative I wear comfortable clothes when I'm high so I grab my beloved fleece draw string pants and throw on a soft tee shirt and my pink and red striped slippers. I sit on the bed for a moment and bask in the glory of my comfortableness. Sometimes I wish I could wear lounge clothes like this all the time. Walking out the kitchen, I grab a glass and fill it with water. I tell Ryan I'm going to do the rest of the line. He tells me he's already put it away, but kindly gets it back out and lays it down in a neat line for me. There is much more there then before so I only do half and then flop down on the couch. Mike is distantly asking me to slice the cheese for the sandwiches he is getting ready to make but all I want to do is sit. It takes a few minutes for me to gather the energy to stand up and I amble into the kitchen and causelessly look for the cheese. Mike knows I'm a little out of it and hands me the mozzarella. I look at it awkwardly. Food is so foreign to me when I'm high although Mike and Ryan seem to feel differently, as there is always some sort of food preparation going on after we all do dope together. Mike walks away from the stove and comes over to me to kiss me. I smile because he is being so sweet and loving. I adore him. I clumsily slice the cheese and think about how it's a pretty hazardous thing for me to be doing at the moment. When I finally finish I stagger back over to the couch. When you are high it's almost like there is a fault in gravity and it keeps pulling you down. All I want to do is lie down and close my eyes. I talk to Ryan a little about his new ipod nano while I watch Mike grill the sandwiches. I decide I want an ipod so I look it up on the internet. The green is my favorite. I tell Mike that maybe I should hold off on getting one and maybe Santa Claus will bring me one for x-mas. He agrees, although I doubt he will even remember tomorrow that I've said that. Mike finishes with my sandwich and brings it over to the couch where I'm sitting. It looks delicious, but I've completely lost my appetite. I feel bad because he rarely cooks for me, and this once time he does I don't even want to eat. I take a bite. The sandwich is oozing with mozzarella and a homemade tomato sauce. He brushed olive oil on the bread and browned it in the skillet. It tastes so good, but I can't even chew it because I'm not hungry. Mike comes back over and forces me eat a bite of the bean soup with it, promising me it will taste amazing together. I hate it when he does this. He always forces me to eat things and will literally shove the food in my face until I eat it. I don't understand why he does itbut he does. I now have a bite of a sandwich and a spoonful of bean soup in my mouth. Mike tells me I look like a chipmunk because my cheeks are full of food. I still can't chew. I get up and go in the bathroom and spit the food out in the toilet. Gross. It wasn't the food that was gross, just that I spit it up. I think back to when I was a child and I'd stuff my mouth full of whatever food I couldn't stand and then excuse myself from the table to go to the restroom so I could secretly spit it out in the toilet. I dizzily walk back into the living area, slide on my hoodie, pull a cigarette out of my purse, and walk out on the back porch. If I recall correctly it was quite cold outside on my way home from work earlier, but it feels so mild and comfortable right now. I slump down on a chair and close my eyes. I can hear the dry leaves blowing off the tress and struggling against the wind. My mouth feels dry and I like the way my cigarette tastes. I feel on the urge of drifting in and out of consciousness every time I shut my eyes, and think to myself "Not Yet." So I put out my cig and walk back inside. We all decide to watch a movie. We settle on watching The Puffy Chair and prepare ourselves for a movie. I grab my cozy flannel sheet, a glass of water, a glass of wine, and my glasses. Mike changes into his flannel pants and Ryan grabs a blanket off the futon. Oh pure bliss is how I feel as we all make ourselves comfortable on the large red wrap around couch. I snuggle up with Mike and my cat Twiggy gets under my sheet and nestles with us. The Puffy Chair: is a low budget film, an indie romantic dramedy. Mike and Ryan won't stop talking thru the film. It is massively getting on my nerves but I don't say anything. The movie ends. I feel disappointed. I start to feel nauseous. Oh great. I hate it when this happens. I run to the bathroom only to have the feeling go away almost immediately. Ryan leaves to go to his brothers. Mike and I snuggle back up on the couch and watch two episodes of LOST. I start to get anxiety so I drink a pumpkin ale to help calm my nerves. When the last episode ends we go upstairs to go to bed. I don't even make it two steps before I feel the nausea coming back. Getting to the toilet just in time I throw upover..and overIts nothing but water and wine, which I'm thankful for. After a few minutes I stand up, brush my teeth, wash my face, and look in the mirror. I feel fine. The skin around my eyes is red from rubbing my eyes so much and I'm looking rather starved and out of it. I think about the popular "heroine chic" look that used to be fashionable and laugh at how completely unglamorous it is. I shut off all the lights and went and laid in bed. I knew it would be a while before I fully fell asleep. It's always like that and I like it. It's called the nods. I laid there slipping in and out of conciseness. Faces of demons and animals appear in the blackness. Waking in a state of ecstasy and bliss. Vivid dreams. And finally sleep.
I woke up this morning feeling as though I'd been resting for several days. Energy. The sun is out. It's a beautiful day. I probably won't see Ryan and his dope again for a few months. He always disappears for a while and then just shows up out of the blue for a day or two like that...
derivation:
Woah. 
= teh suck.
= teh suck.