I'm trying a new font, but it doesn't look any fucking different. Whatever!
So your probably wondering whats on my mind tonight. Well it is a full moon. I know because I keep track of it on my google homepage. So at around 8pm Hawaii time, I went outside and admired the beauty of the moon. The colors behind the moon, how the sky looks iridescent, and when clouds pass by it looks utterly stunning. I can't take my eyes off it.
At 8pm is when my dad got home from the bar, so I was able to leave the apartment. Not that I want to, because my mom tried to cut my dog Eleanor's hair with a electric cutters yesterday, and shaved almost all the hair off her legs, and cut her neck and chin. Now Eleanor is lethargic, and in pain. I gave her a half of a baby aspirin hidden in her food so she can get some sleep. I also put this salve on it, and keep her from itching her neck. Poor baby girl. When she hurts, I hurt.
So with Eleanor sleeping, I told my father I was going to Seven Eleven, and thats when I noticed the moon was in an optimal viewing spot from outside our door. I stopped, and took it all in. All my surroundings. The smell of the air, the look of the sky, the look of the sky scrapers all around our building. The slight breeze coming of the ocean, leaving just a lingering sent of salt water. The traffic below leaving the smell of car exhaust, and the drunk people wandering the streets on a Saturday night, leaving the smell of alcohol behind them. I can even smell the hot thick air, it smells like sweat, not body sweat, but earth sweat. Here in Hawaii, there is no spring, we go from the rainy season, with temperatures in the 70s starting in November to temps in the upper 80's starting in April. Oh how I miss the mainland, and the seasons. Still I couldn't help but take all these sights, smells, and sounds in without feeling like when I leave Hawaii hell I will miss it. Unfortunately we see our past in rose colored glasses. Not the way you truly felt almost each day living here. Too hot, too many people, most of whom don't speak English, too many tourists asking for directions, not enough grass, just cement as far as the eye can see, except for the football field size parks they make every 15 miles or so.
I've come to realize that I hate the daytime here, but I love the night time. When it cools down, and the traffic isn't a constant sound running past us every second, and the Sky Scraper being built right across from our apartment with its jack hammers, and cranes, pounding, pouring, and just constant loud annoying noises.
Tonight all I really want to do is ride my bike to the beach, and watch the moon over the ocean. Normally I hate sand, but late at night, and early in the morning I love the beach. Probably because no-one is there yet. By 9am there is thousands of people on the beach. Just taunting me. The sand is hot, and after swimming, it is sticky, and gets into ever curve of my body, and right now my body has many crevasses. Just to be alone on the beach watching the moon, and then the sunrise, would be a wonderful feeling. Free from my passed out dad, and free from the morning when I wake up in a pissy mood, and my body hurts because my methadone has worn off.
I'm afraid if I go to the beach alone tonight I get all sentimental, and start to wonder why life can't be like this all the time, and then I take off my sandals, and walk into the water, and swim out in the dark, and then just let the water take me where ever it wants, and then I go under and inhale a lung full of water, and drown myself. Everyone who knows me would be like she shouldn't have read that biography of Virgina Wolfe. Really I've never read one of Virgina's novels which is probably why I spelled her name wrong. All I did was read her biography. Although she didn't drown herself in the ocean she did in a river if I remember correctly.
I have to pee, and I don't want to get up and go, because I'm afraid I'll loose my train of thought, and suddenly this blog will be about something else entirely. Fuck this blog is sucking ass, so I am going to go pee, and when I get back hopefully the blog will be much better.
Okay I'm back, and nope I didn't wash my hands. Ha ha mom, and swine flu. Wouldn't it be ironic if I died from swine flu, or am I an idiot and don't know the meaning of ironic? Alanis Morrisett didn't know the meaning and she made a song about the word, and it made her rich, so fuck yes it would be ironic. Correct meaning or not!
While I was peeing I queefed. For those of you who do not know what a queef is, I will explain. It is when air gets into a woman's vagina, and the woman sit down, or a guy pulls his cock out after doing her doggy style, and she pretty much farts from her vagina, but its not a fart, it just sounds like one. Really its just air being released from the vagina.
I fondly remember the first time I queefed during sex. I was 15, and my redneck alcoholic boyfriend who was 20 was doing me doggy style, and he was doing me hard, then he came, and pulled his penis out of my vagina, and suddenly I felt my vagina bubbling, and making this loud farting noise. I tried to hold it in, but the harder I tried to hold it in, the more that would come out, air that is, along with his cum. He looks at me like, are you really sitting on my bed naked blowing ass. I know my face was beet read with embarrassment, and I tried to explain to him what a queef was. How a 20 year old man had never experienced such a thing I do not know. Then again he was a 20 year old dating a 15 year old highschool Sophomore. I doubt he got laid much before I came along.
After my first queef, I noticed it happened during doggy style positions mostly, I even queefed while a man's penis was inside of me. ( I wonder what that felt like for him). Still it was embarrassing having this man behind you thinking your blowing ass right in his face.
I've even queefed while a guy was going down on me. Pour guy, a rush of air, and pussy juice comes flying out of my vagina loudly, but he was a trooper and kept on going down on me until I climaxed, and after climax I let out the loudest queef I've ever herd. Even after masturbation sometimes I'll let out a long wet queef.
Women sure do have it hard. I've even queefed while on my period. Blood blew all over this guys mattress. He told me to go get some soap, water, and a towel and get my "pussy blood" off his mattress. I pretended to do as he said, while he jumped in the shower to get the blood off his cock and ball, and instead of cleaning up my mess, I snuck out the house and jumped in my car a speed home. Needless to say, he never called me again.
This is when I was much younger, and queefing was new to me. I thought something was wrong with my vagina, until mentioned it to a friend, who assured me it happens to all women, and its usually because of small penises. While they are pumping their small peckers in and out, air is going in with it, and it has to be let out somehow.
I haven't had sex in over a year, but nowadays, at the young age of 26, I could care less about a queef, or air being forced out of my vagina after sex, because its apart of sex. It happens. I once gave a BJ to a guy, and while he was coming he farted really loudly, and it stunk, but did I say anything to embarrass him? Nope, I just laughed, and so did he. I was a bit disgusted, but what can you do. Bodily functions aren't always pretty. As we all know when we have "the trots", or "the runs" aka diarrhea. Anyone who has been dope sick knows bodily functions can be brutal.
On time while in jail detoxing off of 140mgs of Methadone, and after attempting suicide so they would put in a hospital. Which they didn't, and instead they put me in a Solitary confinement naked, where I had shit coming out the bottom end, and vomit coming out the front. Sometimes I'd have my head in the toilet with the dry heaves, and suddenly I would feel my underwear, and orange jumpsuit fill up with liquid excrement. I had to push the button with a speaker attached to it, and let the Corrections officer know that I just shit my pants and I need more pepto bismol, which didn't work at all. I was also coming of benzos, but I had not mentioned this when I was being booked, so finally when the nurse came to see me, and give my whatever medication they could to help with the withdrawals, she ended up giving me Librium...a benzo. Unfortunately she only gave me enough for three days, and then it was all those blood pressure pills that supposedly help with withdrawal symptoms, and other such pills that they believe helps curb the withdrawal process. I just wish that those CO's could have been dope sick before, and know what I was going thru, instead, they laughed, and kept telling me its my fault, I did this to myself. I wanted to make them bit the curb, and take my foot and smash their teeth, jaw, and face into the sidewalk curb.In moments of weakness I think about such things, in reality I would never wish that upon anyone.
After the detox, sickness was over with, the depression set in. Really the depression was their the whole time, but I was so consumed with the sickness, that I didn't have time to think about it, but afterward, when the insomnia kicked in, and the thick black sadness overwhelmed me, I still to this day cannot believe I made it through that stay in jail alive. I thought about suicide every minute I was locked up. I thought about suicide and getting high, and getting out of jail. That is all. Anxiety attacks were a daily occurrence, and not sleeping was causing delusions.
Ignorant people say, think, scream, yell, she's a junky, instead of helping her, we'll punish her. I bet fundamental christians think that Heroin, and Morphine, and all other opiates are the devils doing, but when they have a toothache, or just had major surgery and are getting a Hydromorphone pump they aren't complaining. So if there is a god, did he put opiates here only for physical pain, or did he put it here for emotional pain too. Opiates taken daily for a person's entire adult life, causes no damage to any organ in the human body, it doesn't' cause bone loss, or tooth decay, if a addict had a lifetime supply he could live a long healthy life, as long as he/she didn't keep upping his dose to get so high he or she is nodding out all the time, which would lead to an overdose death. Hence Methadone Treatment...aka MMT.
Okay, enough is enough. I've gone on about three different subjects, and all of them random. Its Saturday night, and I wish I were sitting out on the beach watching the moon's reflection on the water, but instead I'm sitting in my apartment on the couch with the TV on mute, listening to my father snore, as I write a bunch of nonsense on a voodoo screen.
What ever it takes I'm moving to Washington.
I apologize in advance if I disgusted anyone with my queefing, but it is a fact of life. I'm sorry if your embarrassed, I was too. Now I'm just embarrassed of my naked body, except for my big boobs. Thank God or whomever for making my boobs big while I'm fat. I hope when I lose this weight they won't sag.
Anon, just leave me alone. You piss me off, and fuck 'em! Leave a comment, but don't call me names, and just be plane mean, and rude. Opinions are like assholes everyone has one, and everyone thinks everyone else's stinks. Still leave your opinion, stinky or not.
All my love to everyone out there who comes across this blog, and follows it on a regular basis.