The Ladder [myenclosedview]

What do you love about me?

2011-04-21T16:53:00.009-05:00

"What do you love about me?" I asked Bart.
Bart's answer: "Deb, I love everything about you. I love that you're kind and considerate and curious. You're beautiful and sexy and affectionate. I love that you are loyal and honest, innocent, genuine, and sincere. I love your gentleness. You're lovable, gentle, caring, accepting, sensitive, supportive. I love that you're real, and not manipulative. I love that you are a good conversationalist and a unique individual. I love you because you're always growing. And that you are creative. You're talented. You're a natural dancer and undeveloped visual artist. You have fun hobbies; photography, travel, creative writing. You write interesting, short autobiographical stories. I love your beautiful eyes, beautiful tenderness, great skin, and beautiful figure. I love that you're athletic and active, and love to play sports and that you're good at sports. I love that you're a moderate drinker and that you have a great love for red wines. I love that we have a lot in common and have the same interests and that we are a lot alike. I love that you introduced me to your world. I love your family. I love that you're sensitive and vulnerable, which makes me want to protect you. I love that you're giving and thoughtful. You give loving massages. You write me loving notes. I love you because you think of me. I love your Debisms. I love your humor. I love you because you love me back. I love you because you love me for who I am. I love you because you love me. You're supportive of my career, ZC, and the #1 fan. You give me feedback and I appreciate it. And I appreciate all that you do for me.
I love you a lot. I love everything about you, Deb. I love you more than anyone and anything. I have the deepest love and feelings for you. When we make love, I have the best orgasms with you. We fit. It's magic. You have that jena sais quio about you. You are the most beautiful girl in the world to me and you're the best girlfriend I've ever had. I love you because you love me. You're my family. You'll always be part of my family. You're worth it. You're worth fighting for.
You can trust me."

Top 10

2011-01-10T17:28:00.006-06:00

Johnny Depp
Josh Holloway
James Franco
Jason Bateman
Jeff Probst
Joshua Morrow
Ian Somerhalder
Ethan Hawke
Ozzy Lusth
Geddy Lee

No particular order

All Time Favorite Shows

2011-01-10T16:38:00.003-06:00

Curb Your Enthusiasm
The Office
The Comeback
Taxi
Arrested Development
Survivor
Friends
Seinfeld

The Middle Cat

2011-01-09T11:58:00.020-06:00

I took to wondering.
If I and my 3 cats, Stinky, Cloe, and Fraidy Cat,
were on an island without any food,
which one would I eat?

My boyfriend said that the younger the better,
the meat would be more tender.

But I think I would eat Fraidy Cat.
She's healthy, not the youngest
but the middle child, I mean,
middle cat.
She has benign cancer in one of her legs
so I would chop off that first
and let the other 2 eat the cancered leg.

I don't think I would eat the youngest.
Sure, she's obese and I could get a lot of
juicy fats and tender meat off of her, but
personality goes a long way.

Stinky's my dawg.
He's the oldest and a skinn' littl' thing.
No good meat there.

This decision, of course, has nothing to do with
me being a middle child.

The Prince

2011-01-07T20:14:00.003-06:00

I should have not answered the door. To act like no one is home, like I do now. But I did answer the door to someone I did not know. What do you call them now? Someone trying to sell you something that you don't want. A traveling salesperson? A cold knocker? Anyway, he was a well-dressed, good-looking, young black man selling magazine subscriptions. I should have cut him off fast, I hardly read anyway. But I didn't. I was being polite while being trapped. He went into his long speech and I waited for a break to tell him that I wasn't interested. But I couldn't get a break.

Telling someone "no" is a hard thing for me to do when someone is so convincing. And the young man was convincing, and determined to get the sale. He wouldn't take no for an answer. I tried, but I guess I wasn't skilled enough in my no answers. I probably was indirect with my word usage like "let me think about it" and "maybe". I didn't want the sharp guy to think that he wasn't going to get the sale after his strong effort he put in to get the sale.

But then the salesperson hit his home run with me. He preceded to talk about how he met Prince a couple of weeks prior. And that Prince bought 30 subscription issues from him. The crafty salesman pointed to 1 of the 2 columns of the total 60 magazine selections on his sheet that Prince had bought.

Being 17 and barely on my own, I believed the sly salesman's load of crap. I was a big fan of Prince at the time. The salesman told me the story of how he met the great Artist. He went into specifics like Prince's full name and height, etc. And that Prince had a pool on his property that read "RAIN" in all capitol letters at the bottom of the deep end.

The slick salesman must have spent at least 20 to 30 minutes telling me the "true" story of how he and Prince met. I believed him. I was young, stupid, and naive. I was in such awe and amazement of someone meeting someone famous like the seductive Prince. I had his cassettes.

Clearly after all the time the clever salesperson spent entertaining me, I felt obligated to buy 2 magazine subscriptions so I signed up immediately. I wasn't interested in the 2 magazines that I would never read, but my obligation was stronger than my rejection. And then the salesperson was off to the next door.

After a few minutes...my thought process sunk in...ohhhh. That jerk lied to me! And he conned me into buying his product with his bogus bullshitted story. Luckily, the contract had a 3 day cancellation policy. I canceled the order within minutes after he left.

The Resolution Factor

2011-01-07T19:33:00.005-06:00

In November 2009, I wrote some goals in "Meltdown".
Plan A didn't happen, and as far as Another Plans, I did complete the renovations of my house and it was rented out immediately without any problems.

Here are new goals for 2011:
-Start having unprotected mating to possible pregnancy.
-Find a house for my boyfriend to buy.
-Live together.
-Get married.

Yes, in that order.

-Open to start a new and enjoyable career at any time.

The Negative Me - Deb Quotes 2

2011-01-07T19:28:00.000-06:00

I wish I could make a living out of my material.
I am stopping me.

Live Life

2011-01-07T19:12:00.013-06:00

I should do this!

The Interrogation

2010-12-31T13:55:00.010-06:00

I woke up with a migraine. I needed to take my full dosage of my prescribed medicine in order to get rid of it. So I called work to tell them just that. I said I was coming in, but I would be there a couple hours later than when my shift started.

This is what I have to go thru:

"What time did you get in last night?"
"1:30am" [None of her business]

"It's not a 4 hour commute to Central."
"You're right. It's 1 hour and 45 to 50 minutes there and 1 hour and 45 to 50 minutes back."(without traffic) [She's calling me a liar.]

"There are only 2 reasons that cause a migraine; red wine and chocolate."
"There are other reasons that can cause a migraine." [She's an idiot if she thinks that. She is also insinuating that I drank wine (which I didn't) and that I have a hangover from it. But even if I did, I'm allowed to and it's none of her business if I did or did not.]

"I talked to other people and they said that they couldn't believe that you would call out on the 26th." [She's airing laundry to other stores? That's not professional. And plus, if we were so busy, why does she have so much time on her hands to call other managers?]

"You need to act professional when you call out sick."
"I didn't feel good." [You get what you get when I call. She doesn't know the level of my pain. Plus, I wasn't on the clock when I called out the 2 hours. ]

I called HR and filed a complaint.

The Procrastinator

2010-12-08T16:19:00.003-06:00

4:20pm - I have 2 hours open to do my taxes today. Yes, it's December and I haven't done them yet. Every day that I'm off from work, I make a list of what things I need to do and priortize it. Taxes have made the To Do list every time, but it's usually one of the last items on the priority list. Cleaning usually comes before that, and that usually doesn't get done either.

Nap or Taxes - Nap or Taxes - Nap or Taxes - Nap or Taxes...hmmm....

I'll report in a couple of hours, unless I procrastinate on that too.

Strange Girl

2010-07-02T13:03:00.008-05:00

Song in the works. A collaboration by my boyfriend & me:

She's a strange, strange girl.
She's a strange, strange girl.

She don't like her name.
She don't like Debbie, De-bor-ah,
Deb, or Debra.
DJ's okay.

She's a strange, strange girl.
She's thinks she's normal, but
she's a strange, strange girl.

She's got a cat named Stinky.
And the litter is filthy.
She don't like to clean.
And we know what that means...
She's a strange, strange girl.

She's a strange, strange girl.
She's a strange, strange girl.
She's my Debbie Jean.
She's a strange, strange girl.
She's a strange, strange girl.
and I love her.

Last Night

2010-06-05T18:39:00.008-05:00

I woke up to the sound of someone shuffling around in my room. It didn't sound like my cats. I played like I was still asleep as my heart pounded faster and louder. I hoped that it would not be noticed. I continued to lay still with my eyes closed, but I forgot to breathe normally, until I found myself gasping for a deep breath. I wondered if this was a dream, but I was awake and aware. My plan was not to wake up if someone wanted to wake me up. I fell asleep waiting.

And then I was with Nicholas Cage. And we were loving on each other. And I liked it. But he's not in my top 5, much less on my list.

Waiting on Time

2010-05-09T20:27:00.003-05:00

Pre-trial is set for May 26, 2010 - I don't have to be there. And then maybe another pre-trial after that - I don't have to be there either. And then maybe a trial date will be set - I'll be there.

The Weak Weapon

2010-02-28T18:30:00.005-06:00

The best defense they have going for him is consent.

He pooed in my backyard! No dog about it.

If it was consent, why didn't he use my toilet? I had 2, and they both worked!

The Jury Juice

2010-02-28T16:39:00.002-06:00

The Grand Jury indicted rapist on all charges. It didn't take long before they made an united decision. His bail is set at $9 million dollars.

I didn't have to testify. The ADA decided that the expert witnesses were good enough. I will testify when it goes to trial.

Cutting it Close: Earlier this week, the ADA were thinking of postponing indictment charges another week. The deadline of indicting rapist is March 10, 2010. Also, this was the last week of the existing Grand Jury members to serve.

Press release some time in the near future.

A Taste of The Case

2010-02-12T22:21:00.005-06:00

I couldn't put the condom on. I tried to put the condom on, but I couldn't. My one available hand was not skilled enough with the angle it had and the other hand was pinned down underneath the covers. "What about a hand job?" I offered the unknown dark intruder as he held the knife to my throat. I thought that would have been a good option, but he said no.

Grand jury is set for Thursday, February 25, 2010. It will probably hit the news media soon afterwards.

How This Blog Began...

2009-12-30T10:52:00.004-06:00

Haunting Doors

2009-12-29T19:13:00.003-06:00

I'm at my parents' house and I'm trying to lock the exterior doors and I can't seem to successfully lock them. I feel unsafe. The doors and locks are flimsy. It is dark and no one is home. A car drives up the long driveway without it's headlights on, and I'm scrambling to get all the doors locked before the car reaches the house. It doesn't happen.

I've had that same reoccurring dream a couple of times a year for the past 20 years or so. I tend to dream about it right after a visit with my parents. I have issues with their doors. Growing up, the exterior door locks barely worked. Mom would put a chair in front of each door with the chair back propped under the door knob in hopes that it would be harder for an intruder to shove the door open. That's how it was. And pretty much still is.

Not one interior door would lock either. Mom and Dad would walk in my bedroom and bathroom without knocking. No privacy at all. Thank god I didn't discover masturbation until I left home. But I should have put a chair in front of my bedroom door anyway.

The interior doors were hollow as well. Worse yet, my bedroom wasn't too far from my parents' bedroom. A couple of times I heard their bed squeaking in the middle of the night, hoping they weren't doing what I thought they were doing, and praying they would quit very soon. When I heard that god-awful sound, I also made a strong agreement with myself, that if I ever have kids, they would have their bedrooms at the other end of the house. This may be the cause of me getting solid wood doors for my rental, and for hating hollow wood doors with a passion.

Naked With Shoes

2009-12-08T19:29:00.003-06:00

I was naked. That was the theme for the musicians' party Bart and I were attending. Bart didn't want to dress up for the party so he kept his clothes on.

We got into the Butterfly cab, not as reliable as United, but he knew the way. A 20 minute drive, go over a railroad crossing. I wondered why I didn't have a cover-up on, like a trench coat or something. Here we are in the backseat of the taxi, pale as I can be. I crossed my legs, at least I had my heels on.

The theme had changed to wear clothes, but I didn't get that message. I didn't know hardly anyone and no one bothered to offer me a piece of cloth, only a drink. I felt out of place and wanted to leave immediately. I got on the phone to call another cab, and I waited a long time for that Butterfly cab company to get there. I was willing to walk home to change into something more comfortable.

I wanted Bart to leave with me. I was naked. But he wanted to stay. Three of the musicians had one extra ticket to a performance and they had asked Bart to join them. And Bart didn't want to miss the show. I wanted Bart's support, I was naked. Bart reluctantly went with me as we bickered back and forth. The show was at 10:30pm. It was only 4pm at the time.

I have another party to attend to on the 19th. If there's a theme change, I hope I'm notified beforeskin.

The Salad - The Black or White Egg

2009-11-10T22:37:00.005-06:00

No gray egg about it.

I get in trouble, again. I left 10 minutes early, after closing, at 9:20pm, instead of 9:30pm. The clock-watching egg checked my time. I told her that she's being ridiculous.

-Closing duties were all done.
-We were dead all day & night due to the tropical storm Ida brewing in the gulf.
-We had no tables, no business.
-It was my first day back from surgery.
-I came in 2 hours earlier to cover a waiter's missed shift. Working over 10 hours.

That doesn't matter, she says. Well yes it does. It matters because I'm tired! It matters because I'm not appreciated when petty matters like this come up.

I don't understand why she can't be just a little over-easy?

The Salad - No Black Olive

2009-11-10T22:28:00.002-06:00

The Black Olive, co-worker, gives her notice. She's leaving the Wilting Salad.

We think she's teaming up with Beet. Doesn't make sense when Beet beat-up and bullied Black Olive also.

Low Stoops

2009-11-10T20:09:00.007-06:00

The dating track of about 2 years before Cape:

Name; Looks; Duration; Dumper/ee?
Todd aka Small Penis Man (1inch)-did not have sex!; avg; 1 month; dumper
Luke aka womanizing weasel; hot; 2 months; dumpee
Scott aka Asshole; a humpty dumpty; 1 month; dumpee
Cameron aka young hot Mormon; hot!; 2 months; dumpee
Nicholas aka young & depressed; hot!; 2 months; dumpee
Cort aka dead-beat dad & drunk; kissed like a lizard but hot; 2 months; dumpee

Meltdown

2009-11-09T22:13:00.004-06:00

A Plan:
-Get married
-Move in with partner
-Stay with current job until Catelin or Capen or Catelin and Capen or Catelin and Sophie or Capen and Jack arrive.
-Start new job when he or she or they arrive.

Another Plan:
-Move in with partner
-Eventually marry or not??
-Stay with current job until house is renovated and fully rented out
-Get an inspiring and enjoyable career, with less pay, less/no benefits

Another Plan:
-Quit job
-Move in a hole

Being Followed - Part 6 - In and Out

2009-11-07T01:25:00.020-06:00

Cate was upset. Afraid of dying. Worrying that she was going to die. Going under was scary. Second thoughts catered the room. Cape wrote on her hand "Fibroid" to make sure that was what the doctor ordered, to get Jr out. But If something would have gone wrong, the doctor would have had to perform a hysterectomy on Cate anyway, to save her life. That scared her.

Cate kissed Cape goodbye, and a few seconds (2 hours) later she woke up in a white bright room with a man and a woman talking about her. Jr went for some testing. And she started cramping and bleeding, which is normal after a D and C. They drugged her more to get rid of the pain and nausea, but other than that she was fine, the surgery was successful.

The doctor told Cape that he couldn't have sex with Cate for a month. She wasn't able to masturbate as well. Well maybe clitoral?

In and out of consciousness, Cate mumbled to Cape something about Wal-Mart, a friend stealing her shoes and then put nail holes in them, then ending with a desire to have Cape's baby, all the while chewed-up crackers rented a room in Cate's mouth during her three bazarre comments over a 3 hour recovery period in the hospital.

An hour later, Cate was released. Found in an alley all alone, she was begging for change to get a ride home. The 39 year old was use to getting dumped. She had never had a boyfriend past 2 months.

Being Followed - Part 5 - The Attack

2009-11-04T11:23:00.013-06:00

The Doctor's office called to see if I could come earlier for surgery.
Fi Broid Jr was scheduled to come out today, arrival time 3:00pm. They just called and wanted me to come in earlier to surprise the little fellow. The best I could do was 2pm.

I guess I should make that will, just in case Jr gives me trouble.
Cats, house, car, electronics, contents. Check.
Anything else? Oh, I'll tell Bart to get rid of the black box in my apartment. If he forgets, Msh, you're on the job. It's under the bed. Still lots of good AA batteries in there.

Tango Twist

2009-10-28T09:52:00.017-05:00

The schedule was tight for leisure. The booking agent scheduled Cate 10 straight days of gigs in Buenos Aires. Cate had studied Tango there before with the famous Norma and it was great to see her old friends again upon her return. Her acts included:

See You Manana

The Player

Dancing with the Ghost

The acts were successful, and received raving reviews. Cate was networking for future gigs. Life was great, until one dark night when she disappeared.

* * *

CON-MAN CARPENTER FOR HIRE

2009-10-07T13:19:00.022-05:00

$30/Hour

Not Licensed
Not Insured
No Tools
No Accountability

That's fair.

I charge you for materials only, but slide tool receipts in there too. I'll get the wrong materials and charge you for returning them to get more of the wrong materials. I'll do this for months, keeping it real, putting in the hard hours, while you're working or healing from an injury. I'll go as long as I can go with this cushioned job.

"Shawn, how much would you charge to fix this 2ft x 5ft floor?" The client asked the "skilled" carpenter.
"Well, that's a 2 man job, I can ask my friend to help. He charges $15/hour, but he comes with his own tools." Shawn said.
"Well what kind of tools you need? A hammer and nails?"
"Yea" He replied.

The work you get is just SUPERB!

- Caulk on counter tops.

- Human hair stained into hardwood floors. Plus polyurethane spills in corners.

- A-line grout between slate pieces. Plus visible glue and missing grout.

-Sheetrock octagon arches.

- Plus Much More!

Once I get found out, I take no responsibility. No apologies, I just cover up and make excuses: "It's not my expertise."

Call Shawn or Reynolds
You can facebook me too!

I'm hot and I'm an actor.

I'll make you believe I can do good work on your house.

Crushed - Even in Dreams

2009-10-07T12:48:00.003-05:00

The red head guy from "Go" spoke to the man in charge about me auditioning to become one of the dancers. The man in charge said he would allow me only 2 auditions. The red head guy knew that 4 was the number for me to win the judges over. The red head guy flipped out some money from a briefcase to buy another 2. They discussed more. And I was waiting for the answer, but I knew the answer would be no.

A Dog in Therapy

2009-10-05T13:29:00.006-05:00

It was summer and I was 16. My friend, Kristi, recommended the movie "I Spit On Your Grave" to rent at the local video store. A rated R movie, it sounded interesting. We watched most of it, but my Dad came home early from work. The movie was in the vcr and I couldn't get it out in time enough. Dad said he would watch it with us, not knowing what the movie was about. I tried to lie about the movie, but I wasn't skilled enough. Got blue marks from the belt.

I wonder what Msh's cool city parents would have done?

I grew up with religion country-bumpkin hick-folks where fixing a dog or cat meant they were broken. Dad didn't believe in fences in the yard cause our dogs wouldn't have the freedom to roam around and dig into the neighbors' garbage.

We were treated like dogs growing up, but our dogs were free.

The Salad -- The Boiling Egg

2009-09-26T20:01:00.006-05:00

I was scheduled for a 10 hour shift. The boss wanted me to come in early to work a 14.5 hour shift to help out the team. I was 15 minutes late. The boss wasn't too happy with me. I thought she should have let that one slide, since I'm on time on a regular basis, and, I did arrive 4.25 hours earlier than my regular shift, to help out the team.

Then I got in trouble for being on time.

Crime Scene: The Ghetto Guessing Game

2009-09-13T00:08:00.021-05:00

"Ya gots a quarta?" the intruder asked on demand.
"Whaat?" I answered in confusion and tried to speak the bro language as he stood me on the bed like a paper doll.

I don't get ghetto talk.

"You knows, a quarta?"
We went back and forth with "whaat?" and "quarta?" a few times.

I wondered if he was asking for a quarter so he could use the pay phone to tell his Mama he was running late cause he got with a white girl--against her will of course.

Wouldn't he just ask for money or a purse or wallet instead of being so specific as to ask for a quarter?

I don't know the reasons why he would ask for a quarter instead of bigger bucks.

Well a quarter is bigger than a dime and, he did ask for the biggest of the common coins, I reasoned with his strange ghetto talk request. But, I am also having a conversation with a street punk idiotic rapist. Does he even know the difference?

Sure I have a quarter.

"Knows, a quarda," he spoke louder.
I guessed again, but with a louder response, "A camcorder?" as I shrugged my shoulders.
"Yeas, a corda."
I finally got it right. What a relief. Now he might leave.

Coincidence

2009-09-08T12:59:00.006-05:00

These last few days or so, I've been thinking about the time I was raped and the fact that they haven't caught the guy.

It's been almost 7.5 years. I usually think about it every April. For whatever reason, I thought of it just a few days ago. I even started writing Chapter 1 this past Saturday and had thoughts of different opening scenes. The one I had chosen for now was when the overweight dark-skinned detective cased the scene and asked me if the rapist made the cluttered mess on the sofa rummaging through my things. And my answer was "no, that's my mess". I'm not a good housekeeper.

I got a phone call today from the detective. They arrested the rapist last week.

Being Followed - Part 4 - The Suspect

2009-08-31T22:22:00.005-05:00

His name is Fi Broid Jr. He's a bloody little bastard, growing up, gettin' bigger, an aggravating littl' character, to say the least. Investigators advise me to act normal, according to plan, so they can make an attack on him when he least expects it. The aim is to get him while I'm asleep. They been tracking the little devil around for a while, since the Buenos Aires fall. They didn't take notice of him, well, until I complained that he was following me around. Maybe he's been there for years, but lately he's been taking a more active role and has become extremely aggressive and obvious. Investigators' plan of operation is to take him out on October 7th. Shhhh, keep this under your hat.

Being Followed - Part 3 - VULGAR

2009-08-24T15:46:00.006-05:00

STOP IT YOU BLOODY CUNT!!!
That's all you did for 3 of the 4 weeks.
Thanks for the 3rd week off.

Why you stain my panties with your bloody vomit chunks?
You can't hit the pad while I sleep?
Why you have to blow it out to the back
like it's coming out of my asshole?
Looks like someone shot someone's brains out,
leaving the guts behind.

Pussy is tired and sore from holding & clenching on
to the ultra thick super size tampon that absorbs
your daily jelly globs of goop.

Why you such a bloody bitch?
Can't you be a FUCKING PUSSY!?!!!!!!

Failed Effort

2009-08-12T19:10:00.003-05:00

I don't wear a bra when I'm lounging around my house. I've been known for getting my mail, which is right outside by my door, without a bra on. Okay, I've also taken out trash and gotten things out of my car without a bra on as well. Alright, I've sat on my porch and I've even answered my door from deliveries without a bra on. I'm okay with this.

But Bart doesn't like the fact that I run around without a bra on. I do it because I'm more comfortable and I don't care. But Bart says he knows what guys think and it's for my safety and protection to cover up. He's right since I live in the heart of crime, in a New Orleans neighborhood.

I wasn't wearing a bra when Bart and I decided to take a short drive. We were going down to the local convenient store to pick up some dinner. In and out. That's it. I decided to put my large brown scarf over my white tee shirt, with covering up the important part of the boobs. I was proud of my last minute invention.

Bart picked me up and we went to Verde Marte. I thought I was pretty savvy, I do say so myself. Getting away without wearing a bra and wearing a shaw over my shirt in the heat of the hot August New Orleans month.

But I didn't notice that my shaw moved away from my hard nipples when I opened the door and the strong breeze met the still hot air.

I was looking at the meals at the deli and noticing that the guy at the deli counter was staring straight at my breast. But I thought that was strange, given that I was covered up so well.

We ordered and waited for our food and Bart comes up to me and asked, "are you cold?" Excited about my cover-up boobs invention, I answered, "No Sweetie, I didn't want to wear a bra and I'm using this to cover up." And then he responds, "you would of never noticed the way your beamer lights are on."

Being Followed - Part 2

2009-08-02T18:02:00.003-05:00

I woke up from a nap and put my right hand underneath Cloe's body. I wanted to get rid of the pain my body was feeling so I thought maybe something heavy, like Cloe, could steer the pain away for the moment. But her pounds failed me.

This is the second day of menstrual pain. I usually only experience one day of it. I have a migraine too. I'm loaded up on prescribed menstrual medicine. The menstrual pain has been traveling with me nonstop.

Earlier I ordered a McDonald's run from my neighbor friend, Nathaniel. "2 mcdoubles, 2 small fries, and 1 small sprite please." All on the dollar menu. My body craved meat for the low-ironed body. I left only a small fry. The food didn't help. Now I have to take a dump. The pain went to the bathroom with me.

The imitrex took in and I took a nap. I woke up later with the migraine gone, but the menstrual pain dreamed with me. I was in a store shopping for a pair of white open-toe shoes. I saw a lot of nice looking shoes, but no white ones. The closest pairs were two-toned. But I knew it was difficult to find a pair of solid white shoes given that the fall season in retail just took off. I analyzed the different unique styles of shoes. There were no price tags on any of them. I wondered how much they cost. The shoe store was next to the very expensive huge Coach store that I dared not to enter into. I skipped a wallet store too, to search for another shoe store. But then I woke up to Fraidy Cat on my head. I wondered why I would dream such a dream like that. I'm not in the market for shoes, I hate shopping, and I valved not to buy any clothes or shoes this 2009 year. I've been successful so far.

Stinky was by my side too. I guess they were all waiting for their Mommy to feed them as all three napped along with me. Mommy Cat doesn't feel good yet.

I've been having unusual periods-longer, heavier, and painful- since the Buenos Aires' sidewalk fall and the ladder fall. I got checked out by my doctor and she said that my unusual periods and the 2 falls were not linked together. It just happened by consequence at the same time. It can be corrected by surgery, but I didn't want to be operated on. I decided to pain it out with prescription medication and monitor it. Scraping and more, plus not able to drive home wasn't appealing to me.

The pain followed me to the shower. And then lingered with me to the kitchen to feed the cats. Now I'm trying to write the pain away. It isn't working yet.

Calling You Out

2009-08-01T00:29:00.007-05:00

Hey Carpenter Porch Guy,

I know your type. I've seen it before. Thanks to Shawn, David, & Cort.

You have trouble cashing a check.
You have no licence and you're not insured.

You're either a drunk or a deadbeat dad on the run. Or both.
Family emergency. You disappear. Bullshit!

I bet you would have finished the job if you had not gotten paid in advance. Luckily for me this time, I didn't authorize payment until the job is finished, so the middle man doesn't get his cut yet.

From: A Dried & Tired Asshole

Limited

2009-07-31T23:35:00.006-05:00

8 months after ladder fall:

The wrist snaps.
Tail bone could use a few naps.
The legs ache.
The pain I take.

The wrist ain't a cereal but cracks & pops.
Tail bone's no cushioned mop.
The legs hurt tight.
I constantly fight.

The wrist's stiff.
Tail bone could use a lift.
The legs sometimes limp.
And then I'm a gimp.

The Perverted Phone Survey

2009-07-30T22:13:00.015-05:00

"Hello. Who's this?
Sure. Why not. Anything to help out your census.

Almost every day. Sometimes I take a day or 2 off though.
And I'm not interested during the heavy days at all.

My best time has been clocked-in at 3 minutes.
I can go as long as 22, but 15 is about average.

The 2nd one comes right away. Within 1 or 2 after the 1st.
However, the 3rd one takes longer than the 2nd,
but not as long as the 1st.

Well, usually 3 before work, unless I'm running late.
I allow about 15-20, but sometimes I only have 5 to spare.
But I've been known to have 2 in 5, and 3 in 6 or 7.
But if I go for 6 or 7, I have to make up time. You know, like cut something out, so I usually eat in the car on my way to work.

When I'm off from work, 6 is usually the number.
Sometimes I'll have 3, take a 2 or 3 hour break,
then go for another 3.
Or 6 in 1 setting, but not usually.

Best time is right after a shower.
Late afternoon is a good time too.

Alright. Glad to help. Thank you.

What? No I am not playing with myself. What am I wearing? No, that's disgusting. No! Who is this again?"

The Rented Hour

2009-07-29T17:43:00.018-05:00

The water splashed in my face as I met the wind and I felt free at last. From high in the air I lunged into the waves while the winds and boats made love to the ocean. I zoomed away from my friend after our idle time together to enjoy the fast moving motorcycle on water. No looking back until it was too late, for I had lost my friend as he became just a small figure to the wonders of the big deep pool. No one in sight as I continued my run. Oh there goes a tiny little speed boat, I jumped their waves as I held on tightly to the handle bars.

The worrisome of looking both ways sped along with my journey. They made us watch a safety video. Don't want to be clobbered by a moving object on my motorbike. Damn, I worried the whole hour of crashing into someone to become either hurt or killed. But the fear didn't stop me from excelling fast and enjoying the moving waters. Moments of feeling free, but the worry really never left.

One hour isn't long enough. Damn, I'm far away. Where is my friend? I stopped for a few seconds to enjoy the short time I had left out here in the big waters. To maybe see a few dolphins like I did last time, but none in sight. Thinking if I had enough time to change my return route instead of the straight line I took to get here to nowhere.

As I headed back, the wind became my enemy as the strong waters shot bullets into my eyes, no matter what speed or route I decided to take back. With one eye shut and the other opened as they took turns, I knew I was loosing face, not sure if I can make the timed hour.

At some point, I closed both eyes together tightly to readjust the wicked salt that flew in them. Moments later, when I reopened one eye, I realized that I was flying dead on into a massive metal buoy. I swerved and missed it by a couple of inches, but the high waves and my sudden left turn jerked me off the wave runner and I flew high in the air and landed in the deep cold water.

I gathered myself and swam to the cycle. I was kind of worried that I might be eaten by a shark. I always had that fear. I noticed a familiar hat that looked like my friend's, floating in the water nearby the slightly invisible buoy. I didn't pick it up nor did I do any further investigations, because I was running out of time and didn't want to be late. But I wondered if my friend was okay or did I just leave him behind?

It took a few times to climb back on the bike, for my right wrist isn't that strong and flexible since my ladder fall. I had to use my forearm in place of my wrist to pull myself back up. I continued on with the strong winds and waters that battled against me and thought for sure that I would surpass my rented hour and my friend was left for dead.

In the end, I never found my friend. I wished I would have at least saved his hat. But I did make it back on time, barely.

The Arguer

2009-07-22T21:55:00.008-05:00

I had issues letting my ex run the house renovation project. For good reasons. Not that he could do a good job, but the fact that we just don't get along. And he doesn't see that. He sees that I went with other people instead of him. I wanted peace of mind. I knew it would be a disaster going with him. I didn't want the constant fight and bicker. But that's his middle name. He loves the challenge of arguments.

So I'm low on funds from all the butt fucking without lubrication, and decided to finally give the ex a chance. I knew he wouldn't fuck me up like the last 2 guys did, but I also knew that I would have to pay a stressful price with our severe communication problem in our dysfunctional relationship.

I wish he would stop bitching and moaning and playing the blame game: "I should have done this," "If you would have listened to me," "That's just stupid," "It's not my fault". On and on and on like that bunny with the battery.

I don't care. I don't want to hear it. Move forward and get the job fucking done!

"Why do you have to fight me on everything?"
"No I don't."

A Lost Fear

2009-07-12T18:37:00.006-05:00

A plane flies over my house
and the loud sound of it seems close by.

For years I used to fear a plane crashing down
hitting my house as I lay on my back in bed
naked while masturbating.
And the thought continued
that later I would be found,
naked, with a device inside of me.

In this thought of mine I didn't fear dying
I just feared what people might have seen.
And then I thought
maybe one day they would all laugh
and tell a story of a girl they found dead
who had been masturbating right as the plane crashed.
And someone would say
at least she was feeling good right before she went away.

The Salad -- A Cracked Egg

2009-07-09T18:35:00.009-05:00

"I'm always early!" the bubbly Egg cheered. The new manager arrived this week, replacing sliced Karrot. "I would just get stir crazy if I was 3 minutes late" she added. She arrived 1 hour before her shift began. I wanted to chime in with a laugh "I'm usually always on time, never early and sometimes late!" but I didn't. The eager Egg has to sit high on the wall. She would probably not appreciate my humor.

"Come on you guys, what's going on? You haven't made your numbers in quite a while. I'm a numbers person and I am use to getting results," she bellowed. I don't know who she thinks she's talking to, I use to count money for a hobby.

"My restaurant was in the top 5 in the company for the last 9 months" she bragged. The anxious Egg managed one of the restaurants in Philly. Well, lets look at the real numbers as to why her stats were so good. All 11 restaurants recently closed down in Philly in the last year. And then her business started booming. Hmm, I wonder why? Is it because her restaurant was the last one standing? No, I think it's because she's just awesome! What's interesting enough is why did all the restaurants close in that area? And then a few months later her restaurant closed for good. Was it lease problems in all 12 locations? I don't believe all 12 restaurants had the same lease problem. Just my statistical analysis point of view.

I guess the delusional Egg wasn't informed that our restaurant was in the top 3 in the country a couple of years ago, right after the famous Katrina rolled in. I wonder why our numbers were so great back then? We had the same people working for us as we do today. Was it because a lot of businesses were closed down and the few people in town were looking for somewhere to eat. Nah, I think it's because we're awesome!

We've been fighting those numbers ever since the busy days after Katrina. Not to mention that the sluggish economy has kept almost all businesses down, across the board, well except for her flourishing restaurant, that also closed. Go figure.

"I'm use to working from open to close" the little Egg declared, almost shocking us. But then we found out the little chipped Egg's restaurant was only open for lunch. Like the one I ran uptown, a few years ago. And further more, her restaurant dealt in smaller volume than my uptown location.

Our restaurant does 3.5 times the volume more than the one she ran in Philly. In volume and size. And the foot traffic, well it's massive compared to her previous Philly location.

I wonder why the cracked Egg was chosen? She's missing some yolk with her delusions of grandeur. But I'll give the little critter a chance to see if she can pull the numbers in. She's excited and motivated with her unrealistic fomulas. I'll wait until until she's fried to give further analysis.

The Salad -- No Beet

2009-07-08T11:38:00.006-05:00

Beet's leaving the salad. She realizes that the salad's wilted and wants a fresh salad to toss around. At least her beetings will be gone, and hopefully I won't get anymore.

The Lame Lay

2009-07-06T15:56:00.023-05:00

I just laid there,
staring at the ceiling
as she pumped away
at me.
I could barely move
as she dug her claws
into me.
I closed my eyes a few times
and waited for her to stop.
But she kept poking
inside of me.
I felt my blood and juices come
out of me.
I was on my period,
but that didn't matter.
Her fingers were
inside of me
and more of my juices poured
out of me.

She had me pinned down
and made me hold a device
as she continued to pound away
inside of me.
I usually just lay there
and let someone else do all the work.
But this time was different,
I had to participate.
Even though my juices flowed,
you would have thought I was enjoying it.
But I wasn't.
I wanted to take a break,
so I could catch my breath.
But she did not allow it
or even notice
that I wanted one,
for her face was buried
in my insides.
I knew I would be
sore for a couple of days.

And when it was over,
I wiped my blood and spit
from my face.
Then paid and left.
My buildup of

gutterpunk plaque
was gone.

The Salad

2009-07-03T22:13:00.002-05:00

All "The Vegetable" series are now refered to "The Salad". We are all in a bowl mixed in with each other, fighting for survivor before we get eaten, beaten, or spit out.

Wanting A Renovation Rescue

2009-07-01T10:36:00.003-05:00

I'm lost. I don't know what to do.

My house has been under renovation for over a year now, not much done. Hired the wrong people and wasted more money & time on their fuck-ups. I can't finish the project. I have a full-time+ job. I want someone to take over and do a good job.

I would like to give the job to my ex-boyfriend. He would charge me less than what contractors charge. However, he's always busy with his other job, and when he is free, he's unavailable. He was hired 2 months ago, and nothing has been done, nor any initiative/plan to get it done. He'll come up with excuses that he can't get a whole of me, but the fact is, he has a key to the house and I can be contacted thru email and phone. He has said he has left me messages and I haven't returned his phone call. It's interesting, b/c I've called him several times in the last 2 months and he has always been busy with his job, taking a mini-vacation, or watching a game. And when we have been in contact with each other, he wasn't available to talk. But he blames me, and then we argue and hang up on each other.

Yes, I know the simple answer. My ex-boyfriend is confident of taking over, but he has to blame me for not getting in touch with me. But he has free range. It's too much drama.

I am currently getting an estimate from another contractor. It's going to be expensive. And I can't afford him. The contractor has already mentioned he charges anywhere from $50 to $100 per sq ft. I asked the contractor if he would take the entire sq footage of 1800, even when 600 of it is almost completely done. And he said yes. So if he were to take this job, at minimum, it will cost me $85,000 to complete. This was a rough figure. He is going to give me a more accurate written estimate in a couple of days.

I want this to go away. And I don't have the money for this contractor. I would like to give this project to my ex-boyfriend. He would make money. I would not spend as much. And a good project would be had. But I don't see the light.

The Vegetable -- A Petty Stir Continues

2009-06-30T17:54:00.004-05:00

Today was the first encounter to work with Black Olive since our incident on Saturday. We didn't say much to each other, just what we had to in order to get by. I think it's childish the way she's acting toward me, giving me the cold shoulder. It's interesting that she rather be right, then seek the truth.

I've always tried to get along with everyone in order to keep the peace; avoiding confrontation, apologizing for no wrong doing. There are tire marks all over me. I'm not going to lay in the street anymore.

The Buzz

2009-06-29T12:01:00.003-05:00

I'm so high right now, that I have great confidence that I can learn to play a song on my man-magnet guitar. The song is called "It Doesn't Matter". I just need to contact my boyfriend to get the chords. He's sleeping now, he'll be up in a couple of hours. Damn, my high will be gone by then.

The Mouse Trap

2009-06-29T10:20:00.004-05:00

A short horror film gets a review.

King of Big & Small quotes: "This much-anticipated summer action thriller left me in the dark--literally. I questioned the director's choice to shoot the beginning of the film in the dark. But I then realized the artistic genius behind it. The shaky camera, the barely visible interior of the house, and the co-star's "Get 'em, get 'em" all peaked my curiosity and kept me from getting up out of my seat and leaving the theater.

Chloe's choice to torture, instead of kill, the creepy antagonist, lead me to wonder if perhaps there wasn't some evil lurking inside her, especially after hearing her menacing growls.

Toward the end of the movie, the frantic screams of the co-star, along with the Blair Witch style of filming, made the price of admission worth it. The ending was brilliant and left it wide open for "The Mouse Trap, Part Two."

All in all, a good movie."

http://www.youtube.com/user/thedebcard

The Vegetable - A Petty Stir

2009-06-27T22:45:00.006-05:00

Black Olive acted unprofessionally on Saturday, June 27, 2009. She yelled at me and accused me of lying and an employee overheard her yelling at me.

It was 4:50pm. I just got back from lunch and needed to do some paperwork for EOW business update to send to Beet. Black Olive commented I was just now getting on the computer. Yea, I said, I just got back from lunch. She said I went to lunch at 4pm. I said no, I went to lunch at 4:15pm. She started yelling at me and said I was lying. I told her I was telling the truth. She walked away and said she didn't want to talk about it.

Lettuce over heard Black Olive yelling at me. Lettuce and I went to lunch at the same time. I had to retrace my steps. I wondered, maybe I did go to lunch at 4pm instead of 4:15pm. (but even if I did, what the fuck is the big deal of 15 minutes??) I spoke with Lettuce and she confirmed that we went to lunch at the same time and that we went at 4:15pm. I asked Lettuce to confirm that with Black Olive, but Black Olive didn't want to listen to Lettuce and told her that this was between the Black Olive (her) and the Olive's Pit (me). With further investigation, I looked through the media and noticed that I did a transaction at 3:59pm. So if I did go to lunch at 4pm, then I would have had to excuse myself and quickly leave my customer, without any small talk and not properly bagging her purchase, jump/run 75 feet to get to the back room, and not wait for Tomato to come out on the floor. And that just did not happen.

4pm, 4:15pm. So what! I didn't take an extra 15 minutes, but so what if i did. I work 10 hour shifts+ with only a 30 minute lunch break. The point is, Black Olive yelled at me, accused me of lying, and Lettuce overheard her yelling at me. Black Olive acted unprofessionally and had no right to yell at me. I did nothing wrong. I value honesty and integrity in all parts of my life, and that includes the workplace.

Black Olive will probably tell Beet that I took a 45 minute lunch and lied about it. Even though I have a witness, I'm sure it will get twisted around and I'll get in trouble.

Wasteful Windows

2009-06-16T01:14:00.006-05:00

I'm obsessed with this job abuse bullshit. Well if you figure why, lets do the math. I spend 50 to 55 hours a week there, that includes the 30 minute lunch breaks. Add 5 hours of drive time per week. Getting ready, another 5 hours. Listening to vmails at home, 1 hour. Thinking and stressing about it, 5 hours on average workday and an 8 hour shift on off days. Talking about it, 3 hours a day, 21 hours/week. Documentation, 10 hours a week. Sleep time is tricky. Sometimes I don't sleep that well, I worry about the bad day I just had. So lets say 2 hours a night on average, 14/week. Dreaming/nightmares, another mystery. Sometimes I dream about this fucking mess. So, lets just add 15 minutes a night on average, 4.45 hours/week. If you add all that up, it's 156 hours and 45 minutes a week that I spend on this crap in my system. Well, there's only 168 hours in a week. That gives me 11 hours and 15 minutes a week that I think of something else.

Rock Relates

2009-06-16T00:52:00.004-05:00

"I got myself a career, not a job. If you got a career, don't talk to anyone who has a job. They don't want to talk to anyone who is happy in their career. I had a job back in the day and was only given a 30 minute lunch break...."

Chris Rock said something like that in one of his funny stand-up routines.

Job Abuse - Documentation

2009-06-15T18:23:00.003-05:00

Company Work Guidelines: 42 -45 hours a week.

Thursday, 5/28/09: After being back to work for 2 weeks, Beat pulls me in the office and gives me 3 verbal warnings.
1. Being in the office. --But Beat gives me tasks that require office time.
2. Not communicating being in the office. -- Well I did communicate with the manager on duty. But Beat said I still get a verbal warning because I didn't communicate it with the part-time employee.
3. Using poor judgement, I should have communicated sooner about the special napkin supply issue. I communicated to Beat at 3:30pm, Friday, about running low on special napkins, but I was too late, she had already left the restaurant.

Saturday 6/6/09: Switched shifts with another manager for next week's Thursday, 6/11/09 so each manager would have 2 night shifts each (to be fair) and communicated the switch with Beat. (Thinking if it was a problem, she would tell me since it was communicated to her 5 days in advance.)

Tuesday 6/9/09: Given a new task at 6pm as I was walking out the door at end of shift. I stayed 2 hours extra in order to complete the task, with working a total of 11 hours with only 1 30 minute lunch break.

Wednesday, 6/10/09: Told to do schedules for month to be completed today. Not allowed enough office time to do it. Worked total 10.50 hours with 1 30 minute lunch break.

Beat tells me that I used poor judgement by switching shifts and that I am not a team player and that I am only out for myself. I told her if I wasn't a team player, I wouldn't have stayed late in order to complete the late unorganized tasks that were given at the end of my shift the day before. She said that is expected of me.

Beat falsely accuses me of retaliating against another employee. She said she could fire me on the spot.

Retaliate definition: (verb) pay someone back, hit back, strike back, reciprocate, take revenge, get back at someone, get even with the score, get your own back wreak vengeance, exact retribution, give as good as you get, take an eye for an eye, make reprisal, give a taste of his or her own medicine, give tit for tat, return like for like

I did not do any of that. I communicated with the employee to let them know reasons why I was in the office and that the manager on duty knew I was in the office.

Beat tells me that she has seen no improvement with communication and using good judgement.

Sunday, 6/14/09: Worked 10am to 10pm, with 1 15 minute break only.

The Vegetable -- End of the Rope

2009-06-10T19:55:00.005-05:00

I switched shifts with another manager in order make shifts fair to two nights each. She had 1 night and I had 3. The beet tells me that I am only after myself and I'm not a team player.

One recent example of me not being a team player:
--After working 9 hours and at the end of my shift, we get a message to complete several tasks. I stayed 2 hours later than my shift in order to get the task done.

Murder At The Bend

2009-06-09T20:54:00.004-05:00

Body and guts found in hallway of the above shotgun apartment. Head missing.

Suspects:
1 black male, thin and tall.
2 colored females, with 1 average-looking and the other obese.

The black male, middle-class upbringing, appears to be dominate and overpowering. He's strong & athletic. The average-looking female came from a broken home and was abandoned as a youngster. She appears to be nervous, but quick on her feet. The obese female was picked up in Treme. She was living rough on the streets for years. All 3 have a history of violent killings.

Witnesses aren't talking and keeping low profile.

Giant is afraid of going barefooted. Especially in the dark.

Testing Time

2009-06-02T18:01:00.003-05:00

The Eager Beaver almost made me late for a job interview. I have a ritual just about every day after a shower. 3 times before I go to work and however many times when I'm not working. Now periods get in the way. This morning I went for a 4th and realized that time was running away from me. I needed to get across town near Kenner and only had 20 minutes to get there. I knew if I showed up late, I would have no chance. Well thank god for all the recent layoffs and slump economy. There was no traffic and I'm zoomed in there 2 minutes before the interview.

The Good Things of the Dark Month

2009-05-30T22:39:00.004-05:00

wonderful, loving man
Stinky and my cats
good friends
caring parents
good health
multiple orgasms

The Dark Month

2009-05-30T22:25:00.005-05:00

I'm getting a lot of bruises from all the beatings.

Rap Song: '3' - Continuation

2009-05-30T22:13:00.004-05:00

One of the metals is a fake.

Vegetable 4 - The Olive's Pit

2009-05-29T08:14:00.005-05:00

Beet is beating me down. After just 2 weeks of being back at work, I received 3 verbal warnings for either stuff that isn't true or not warrant for a verbal warning. I'm not getting a fair trial.

I'm being chewed up and about to be spit out.

Vegetable 3 --The Funny Joke

2009-05-26T11:15:00.006-05:00

Karrot hired a little Cheeze right before she was sliced.

1st scheduled shift: worked entire 3 hour shift.
2nd, 3rd, 4th, & 5th scheduled shifts: deathly ill, did not work.
6th shift: left early; needed to study for huge exam.
7th shift: did not work; 2 flat tires, to the rim.
8th shift: left early; forgot she had a bridal shower that night for her best friend.
9th shift: left early; injured herself with a hanger, went to the after hour care.
10th shift: worked entire shift.
11th shift: did not work; broke 2 toes & 1 finger. called me at home on day off. told her to call mod & bring in doctor's note. saved her unknown number into cell phone to avoid at all cost.

The Backup

2009-05-25T22:32:00.003-05:00

Learning to play the Bongos.

Got rhythm, timing, and looks.

5% chance of getting the gig.

5 days to practice.

Hope

2009-05-23T11:20:00.001-05:00

I'm an artist living in the business world.

I want to fall off the ladder again.

The Vegetable 2 -- The Planned Slice

2009-05-17T01:57:00.006-05:00

Karrot sliced. Didn't like her anyway.

Beet's a bitch. Her plan isn't finished.

Fuck um.

Searching for drink.

The Aggravation

2009-05-16T21:13:00.003-05:00

The cat hairs cover the sheets of the bed. I try to get a nap.
My mind races to the burdens of the moment. It will not take a time out.
The short nap becomes a long restless wait of thinking
and hoping to get some shut eye.
But instead, I think of the day and breathe the nearby cat hairs.
And one hair in particular aggravates my left nostril.
I wiggle my nose and put my finger in it and up it and give it a whirl.
Off and on, it continues to tickle me. An hour plus goes by
and I get up and change the sheets and pillow case.
Clear of the hairs and no cat nearby.
I try another go for a nap, but unsuccessful again.
The stress eats me up.
And the same spot in my nose triggers an itch.
It can't be the same cat hair or a new one exactly in the same spot, I wondered.
My thought geared toward a microscopic worm
finding comfort with soft tissue like a booger.

request: words of encouragement

2009-05-13T12:15:00.000-05:00

Tails To Tell

2009-04-05T17:25:00.002-05:00

This story is influenced by a pool party I attended with friends yesterday. We played the game, Gestures, after we got out of the pool. One of the words to charade was pigtails.

I asked: "what are pigtails? Oh, I've been saying pic-tails for years."

And here is one of my many comedy stand-up stories for the road some day:

I get ponytail.
They look like a pony's tail.

I don't get pigtails?
They don't look like a pig's tail.
And a pig don't have 2 tails.

I get pictails.
You get to pick your own tails.

The audience heckler:
"A lot of people referred to BRAIDED ponytails as pigtails because of
the thinness (like the thinness of a pig's tail)."

I continued with my story:

What about the people who just have thin hair and not a lot of it, like me. All those years I've been pulling my hair up into one tail, thinking it was a ponytail. But I was just putting it into one pigtail. And what about those people with short or medium hair length? Have they been putting their hair up into a pigtail too, since a pony has a long tail?

I still don't think pigtails look like a pig's tail. A pig's tail is short and curly and yes, thinner than a pony's tail.

Is really the correct definition of a ponytail is that you have to have long, straight, thick hair to look like you have a pony's tail (aka ponytail) on your head?

And very short, thin, curly hair to have a pig's tail/s (aka pigtail/s) on your head?

And the BRAIDED bullshit doesn't reflect pigtails at all, even though hair may look thinner, one braided ponytail is still the same amount of hair as a non-braided ponytail. I've even seen actual horses' tails braided, when that is the case, does that mean a horse has a pig's tail on his/her butt-end?

I just don't buy the pigtail theory. To have a correct pigtail, you have to have short, thin-hair, defined curls. My hair would be in that category if I just didn't have this frizz shit. The mousse may help to get the defined in and the frizz out. Oh that might work, short, thin-hair, oily curls. Just like a pig. Pigs come off oily in the mud. Yea, I'm getting the definition now, but not a lot of people have pigtails. Just people like me, when I put oil in it, or when I just don't wash it for a while, the natural oil.

And why don't they call dreadlocks, lamb hair or sheep-tails?

Whomever decided, way back when, to call a half of a ponytail, a pigtail, was just stupid. Or maybe this person was genius. To con the whole world into thinking & calling 2 small ponytails on 1 head, the famous Pigtails. I would like to laugh with this person!

a true debism: I'm sticking with my pic-tails! That way, I can pick any tail to wear on my head!

Masturbating to Miles

2009-03-26T13:06:00.002-05:00

My mind continued to change like a rotating window. Pop-ins and pop-outs. Almost everyone I crossed paths with came by. Some stayed longer than others. Some I wanted to spit at.

No one in particular I could focus on. "Think this person, think this person" my mind would say to me. So this person would drop by, but this person wouldn't stay long, because that person was in the next rotation of the revolving window.

Worries came about. My enemies distracted me. "Come on, get the fuck out!" I yelled at them. They would, but then someone else would come by that I had no desire for and decided to stick around and hang out. Even Acquaintances wanted-in on some action. Some even wanted to chat. It didn't matter what sex they were, they all came by and took a glance, or two. "WTF! This isn't a circus. Can't you see I'm in the middle of something?"

"Come on, you can to this! I know you can. Focus. Focus," my voice would say to me...

What was the name of the hurricane in Curb Your Enthusiasm?
a. Cheryl
b. Katrina
c. Wilhelmina
d. Edna
e. Velda

What was the last name of the family that Cheryl & Larry David rescued from the hurricane?
a. Black
b. David
c. White
d. Greenmeadows
e. Jew

What am I doing!

20 or so minutes into this, I knew nothing was going to happen.

I left Davis.

And then I found Mingus.

Caught in the Moment

2009-03-21T15:45:00.003-05:00

I sit on my balcony of the shotgun, under the shade of the roof above me.
And Shade is nice.

The doors are open and the wind moves thru the house. I catch the wind on the tail end.
And Breeze is lovely.

The Mingus music travels outside to my ears. And to the nearby neighbors backyards.
And Tune is soothing.

And for the moment, the zone didn’t zoom by. And I’m in a good mood.

Masturbating to Mingus

2009-03-21T15:19:00.003-05:00

The horns started to dance to a sexy tune.

And then the horns screamed and I screamed alone with them.

And I kept screaming to their scream and the doors were open. And I wanted to continue to scream but I closed my lips. And my sound still kept sounding. And my sound sounded like a horse's giddy-up.

And finally the horns spoke, "are you done, are you done?"
"No, I'm not," the sexy horn's voice appeared as the horns strutted slowly down the alley into the silhouette darkness.

The nearby table blew kisses into the moonlight.

And I rested.

Wishful Thinking

2009-03-20T23:31:00.004-05:00

There was a dog outside on the patio of my parents house.
He was black and white with a collie body and a lab face.
The dog had appeared and decided to stay for a while.
My 7 year old nephew was excited and real happy about it.

But according to the dream rule,
Dad had to give the dog up to the pound,
to see if anyone would claim Blake's new dog.
That was the rule in this dream of mine.

In the first round, no one had claimed the dog.
But Blake was sad while his dog was in jail.
The dog came back, no one had claimed him for this run.

But the dream rule was that the dog had to go back
to the pound again for one more round
before Dad could claim Blake's dog solely.

The dog would be gone for days.
And Blake would be sad again,
not knowing where his dog was
and if his dog was ever coming back.

And Dad would be sad, because Blake was sad.

Dad said he was going to work real hard to train
Blake's new dog who may enter into their lives.

Dad didn't want to break Blake's heart.

The Job

2009-03-14T21:21:00.002-05:00

I feel the weight on my shoulders, arms, and legs. The load is heavy. I walk from room to room, and it just follows me. I lay there, hoping it will disappear and find something else to entertain. But it just lays with me, on top of me, all around on me. I give it tears, and it just takes a shower. I talk, and it dances to the music. I drink wine, and then it gets mad, while enjoying another shower. I take a drug. There, it leaves. A sign of relief. ahhh.

In the morning, the uniform is already on and pressed up against me. I push and pull, but it enjoys the laughter. Then I lay there to give up while it rapes me and takes a morning shower. I go to breakfast at the corner bar, and it watches and hangs out near me at the next table, waiting for another failed attempt to escape. I successfully sneak out; leaving the heavy jacket behind. But when I return home, the armor is waiting for me to put it back on.

MoMS BaLL - MaRDI GrAS 2o09

2009-03-09T18:41:00.006-05:00

MoMS BaLL 2009:

- ouTrageoUs - nuDiTy - SeXY - beauTy - viViD - boLD -
-- wHere paiNt, canDy, and sTraPs...
beCome tHE coSTumes foR tHe niGht. --

thE moCk bAll oF aLL...

http://www.youtube.com/thedebcard#p/u/7/6CHfTc1Wg-I

Mardi Gras Day 2009 --The Message

2009-03-05T22:27:00.004-06:00

I was minding my own business enjoying
a lovely conversation between jesus and 2 doubters,
when all of a sudden a couple of hicks came by
and wanted to see my hair under my armpits.
I didn't mind. I knew jesus didn't mind either.
There were no razors in adam & eve days.
Why should I be judged now, especially
in the presence of jesus. I didn't care for the hick
to touch my armpit though, but at least
he didn't touch my boob. So afterwards,
I continued to watch the miracle worker
do his work in my presence.
And as I watched him work,
I was rudely interrupted
by one of his peeps.
She wanted to give me a hug.
Sure why not, everyone
needs a hug I thought.
But I thought wrong.
The claimed follower
just wanted to feel me up.
Oh she claimed it was jesus
who hugged me, but we both knew
she enjoyed caressing her breast against mine.
That's okay, at least I know I didn't do anything
wrong in the presence of jesus. Then I told her that
jesus would want her to spend money in New Orleans
to save the city. She didn't seem to get the message
as I walked away. And maybe I didn't get hers.

http://www.youtube.com/thedebcard

Deb Quotes

2009-02-21T20:10:00.004-06:00

Deb Quotes "will be updated as often as I think of more thoughts."

Saying nothing is better most of the time, but it's hard to control.
I think there may be something out there, but I'm not sure.
It takes effort to leave the bed to pee.
Sometimes I forget to eat. I'm not hungry.
Writing is a recording of my thoughts.
I dream, but then I run out of hot water.
I was always a Democrat, but didn't know it.

The Enemy

2009-02-19T20:33:00.001-06:00

I don't know how to play the game.
I'm honest. Too honest.

I say what I feel.
I say what is on my mind.
I don't hold back.

It gets me in trouble.

Losing What I Found

2009-02-17T13:47:00.002-06:00

I took Work & TV out of my life the last 2 months or so. It made room for others that were on the back burners. Some of the others were not even discovered. Some I never knew I had on the back burner.

I feel like "George" from Seinfeld when he took sex out of his life and became smart. I feel Alive. I not only discovered writing & drawing, but I've become more of a feeler. More compassionate. More passionate.

I cry more. Maybe I just notice more. I've always cried a lot. I don't hold back. I say what I feel. Sometimes it gets me in a lot of trouble. But that's just me. I've tried to hold back, not to express what I feel, but I'll just cry doing it either way. 2nd guessing myself. So why do I have to hide how I feel, when it makes me feel bad when I try too.

When I read or hear or see sad stories, I cry. Yea, I’ve always cried. But when I retell the stories that I read or hear or see, I cry when I retell it. I state it with passion and compassion. I didn't know I had empathy until I was on this crippled journey.

I have a weaker stomach since the accident. Well, at least I think I do, maybe I just notice more. When I see someone throw-up, I will throw-up. My cats vomit all the time. If I wait long enough, it will disappear. Cloe, my fat cat, will eat her vomit and my other 2 cats' vomit. But Cloe needs to loose weight. And I don't know how to do it without throwing her outside. (She will not go outside!) So I try to pick up vomit spills as much as I can so Cloe doesn't gain any more weight. I vomit when I do. Gag sometimes, if I'm lucky. It's just warm cat food.

I also vomit when I see my vomit.

I've become smarter too. Learning a lot. Going to Wikapedia and Dictionary and Google searching. Finding new worlds in blogs and facebooks. Trying to pronounce better. I still have trouble with that. I don't think mispronunciation is in my genes, although procrastination and going-on-tangents are.

I just found out the other day that I had 2 breaks in my pubis, one was dislocated and the other held my pelvis together. That is why I didn't have to have pelvis surgery, just a lot of bed rest to heal. And did you know that the pubis is, in fact, the pubic bone, one of the 3 bones in the pelvis. I broke the front and back of the pubic bone. No wonder I couldn't and didn't want to have sex for a few weeks.

My organisms are more intense, and more often. More passionate. Maybe it's because I haven't had an organism since the ladder fall. A lot of buildup waiting to be exposed. But I had no desire after the ladder fall. The pain became priority for the first few weeks. But now that I'm stronger, I can't get enough. They come faster and seem to never end. I have to end them without ending, because they just come, now and all the time. I've finally got my scream controlled. But when I first started coming, weeks after the ladder fall, it sounded like a girl was being murdered. I'm sure the neighbors thought something was weird, but didn't call the police.

So I'm afraid to go back to Work, when I go back to work. Not afraid of TV, but it'll be there after work for relaxation b/c of work. Sure I can find balance, somewhere? But when I do find the balance, I still will not have much time to have for myself.

It's not just work, the 40 to 50 hours I work every week. It's time after work that suffers too. The traffic. The drive home. The exhaustion. The relaxation and stress relief that you find or search to find. The nap or the drink or the couch potato you become just to relax and relieve yourself of the time and energy you spent at work. It's the thinking of the work too. The stress, the presentation, the preparation, the project, the dreams and nightmares....

I'm afraid of returning to work. I'm afraid of work b/c I will not be able to enjoy what I found, when I found myself.

Jail

2009-02-16T22:03:00.002-06:00

I just finished my home improvement project and went outside to see the white appliances in line. There is a rat and he jumps on me and lands on my back. He goes down my white dress. I squirm and do the Elaine dance to free myself. Another rat is bigger and his mid section is a vomit orange. He jumps toward me and I catch him with my left hand. His mouth had opened and tightly held a grip to my thumb. I hang on to the dirty rat as he digs into my skin. And I wondered if I am safe.

The Charm of the Farm

2009-02-15T21:19:00.004-06:00

Bart had walked ahead of me, a normal walk, to get to Wayne's house, 2 doors down from where Bart lives. Wayne was on his front porch chatting with another neighbor. I wanted to thank Wayne for carrying me up & down the steps a couple of times when I was first injured from my ladder fall accident.

Bart was cheering me on at the huddle, "come on my little Turtle" as I slowly caned my way to Wayne's house.

I told Wayne how much I appreciated his kindness. He said it was nothing; he knew how I felt. He broke his leg before and didn't go to the hospital until 20 hours later. Then the next year, he broke the same leg around the same place.
"Dis time I droves my self to da hospital with my duce and a quata." Wayne described.
In confusion, Bart and I replied, "What?" at the same time.
Wayne explained further, "My duce and a quarta. My bruir."
I was still confused, but Bart understood. "You know deb, a tall boy, a beer."
"Oh, yea" I understood. He drove himself to the hospital with a tall boy.
"Not my brueer, my bruirc." Wayne corrected us.
"What?"
"Brewk."
I shrugged my shoulders, "I don't understand?" Bart and I said in question.
The other neighbor replied, "You know, bru-ok."
We were both still clueless.
"You knows, a big choar" Wayne chimed-in again.
"Ooooh, a Buick." Bart and I finally got it.
"I use to have a 1979 Oldsmobile Delta 88 back in the day." I related to his story.
"Den you knows what I'm talkin' bout."
"Yea you right." I finally agreed. High 5...anyone?

I forgot that Bart had told me that the neighbors called him Burt.

A Few Good Days

2009-02-13T23:37:00.002-06:00

"GIT your ASS into GEAR girl!" Doc said, more like a command. "3 weeks, you hear me, 3 WEEKS! That's it."
"Can't I Milk my bones a little more, Doc? Can't I?" I pleaded and then added "and speaking of milk, I need to run some errands."
"You CAN't Run!" The Sergeant shouted.
I wondered if the next line was: "You CAN’t handle the truth?"
"You CAN't even walk Fast!" He continued his shout.
Nope, I guess not.
"Or climb ladders" I chimed-in confidently. Then thought about my decision I had made, oops, I shouldn't have said that.
"3 WEEKS then back to Business." His voice became louder. He didn't scare me though.
"But I like being a crip." I stood up for myself. "I like being a gutter punk. I like to sponge off society and git my weekly check from the government."
"You NO Gutter punk!" Doc raised his voice again. Is he going to demand 10 push-ups from me? He quickly pulled off my cap. "You DON'T HAVE dreadlocks!"
I snapped back at him, "Well I USE TOO!" Bart had cleaned me up a month ago. I calmed down a little, "But I still have HAIR under my ARM PITS!" I lifted up my arm and stuck my dark weeds into his face. "You see." I was so proud. I grew them in the last 2 months. They didn't need any water either.
"FOCUS, FOCUS" Doc blasted and snapped his fingers. A spit left his mouth and hit me on the cheek. Now that's too close, I mean, he's just too damn close to me.
"I want to know what YOU CAN do, young lady."
"Thanks" I said with a smile. He called me young.
He grinned and not in a good way. His face started turning red. Am I a small child, and is he my dad and getting aggravated with me?
"Wellll Doccc...
I can write, I can read.
I can draw, that ain't all..."
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT!" Doc interrupted with his roar.
I made a face at him when he wasn't looking. And mocked him too.
"Well I can rock and I can roll.
I can drag and I can tag.
I can stand, on demand.
I can crawl and I can howler.
I can walk with my walker.
I can bend; I can do a half spin.
I can crack and I can pop.
I can do hip-hop, but I can't flip" Doc screamed, "I said CAN!"
"FLOP--I CAN USE a rail. I can hurt my tail.
I can use a cane. It's a real pain.
I can walk slow. I can hang with Joe.
I can be fun. I need some sun.
I can limp and I'm A GIMP!"
Doc’s strong emotion expressed a rhetorical question, "THAT'S ALL?!“ The Grouch slightly paused and then continued with his loud vocals “I don't want to see your face for 3 WEEKS. YOU'RE DISMISSED. Now, git out of my sight & quarters, and don't hit your behind on the way out!"
"Yes Sir." My gimp ass wrist gave him a salute.

The Interview

2009-02-13T14:03:00.002-06:00

In April, 2002, almost 7 years ago, you were raped. You lost your freedom and life for a couple of years. But what did you find from this god-awful experience?

I found family.

In August, 2005, 3.5 years ago, Katrina rolled-in. You lost your house and all of your contents and some could not be replaced. What did you find from this sad experience?

I found friendships.

In December 2008, 2 months ago, you fell off a ladder 5 feet from the ground. You broke 3 bones, 2 in the pelvis and 1 in the wrist. You could not leave the bed for 8 days. You didn't bathe for 2 weeks. You peed & pooed in a pan. And your hair was mangy & knotted-up. You did not watch TV. You did not go outside much. What did you find from this horrific experience?

I found myself.

The Decision

2009-02-11T17:20:00.005-06:00

It's hard for me to make a decision.
I stress out.
I want to make the right decision but it's a difficult decision to make.
The wrong decision is a decision I have to live with.
And not making a decision is a decision I make by choice.

It's hard for me
to make a decision.
A hard decision
isn't an easy decision.
And an easy decision
isn't hard at all.
But the decision
is a decision
by any decision
whether I make it
or not.
I stress out.

It's hard
for me
to make
a decision.
I want
to make
the best
decision.
But often
I make
the worse
decision.
I search
for the
best decision.
But the
frustrated
decision is
often made.
I stress
out.

It's hard for
me
to make a
decision.
I have too
many
decisions to make.
Eeny,
meeny, miny, moe
I
can't make a
decision
by it's toe...

It's hard for
me to make
a decision. But
my decision is
finally made. My
decision is to
NOT make a
decision when there's
a decision I
have to make.
I stress out.

It's haRd 4 mE
_______2 MakE
_______1
_______ decision.
Butt
___ I think I mAde
___mY
___Decision.
b U t t __ I ' m
uN-
___sUre
_______of the uNwanted
___de-
_____cisiOn
________I finally made.
____i
___StReSS
________________ouT_______________.

------Sin-cerely,
____________inDe-
__________cisivE
___________deB

To: all
of the in-
decisive peo-ple
out there.

Deb quotes, "I feel your pain...I feel like this just about everyday."

+++++A+true poem about The True Deb.+++++

___________a
__________pOem
___________by deb

PS __I'm unsure of the unwanted decision I think I made. I made that decision but I'll have to think about that decision twice, as I think about my first decision that I made, if indeed I made the right, the hard, the best decision of all. My second decision thinks that I made the wrong, frustrated, unsure, unwanted decision. Too many decisions for me to decide. I can't decide. I'm not making that decision at all. hmmm.... ;)

Influenced
by: home
re-novations,
phone-
calls,
stress,
family,
fi-
nances,
work, relations-
ships,
life....

....to be continued...I think. Maybe. I don't know.

Fear

2009-02-10T02:16:00.001-06:00

It was dark and I couldn't see.
I waited but my eyes did not adjust to
the darkness that was before me.
I got out of bed.
I had no direction as to what
direction I was walking towards.
Somehow I made it down the small hall
and into the next room. The TV
was laying face down on the floor.
Someone had been here.
Someone had been here while I was here.
And with a quick second thought
someone may still be here.
And I'm here.
But if someone is still here,
what direction do I go
to get out of here.
I can't see. I can't see where
someone may be.
Maybe I should try to go forward
toward the front door, to the nearest
way out. Someone from behind me
grabbed me.

Cripps du Vieux

2009-02-10T00:24:00.012-06:00

I didn't see much of the parade.

I think I need to fire one of my bodyguards...

He does have a nice ass though.

It Sucks To Be Me

2009-02-08T00:30:00.001-06:00

Movie star life is great. But it does have its drawbacks. You lose your freedom of being a normal person. Some of your good friends don't want to hang out with you, b/c they don't want to hang out with a movie star. They just want to hang out with their friend. It's the price I pay every day of my life when I recently was discovered. My friends don't want the entourage, the big production, or the hassle that comes along with my fame. Some of my friends just avoid my phone calls all together, while others just make excuses not to hang with me and my guards.

Just recently, I invited my friends to tag along with me and my buddies to see the Krewe de Vieux Parade. The first Mardi Gras Parade that rolls out every year. It's my favorite parade yet. The parade route is near my mansion home, roughly 2 blocks away. Very easily to get to. And you can make stops along the way if you need to. Stops like bars for food & drink and convenience stores for necessities like cigarettes, snacks, drinks, film, & tampons. And homes, bushes & sidewalks for emergency purposes like teeing and gagging.

I called 7 of my good friends and one said yes. But the other 6, well...some of them didn't even bother to answer the phone. And some did. It was very interesting. I got all the excuses in the book as to why they couldn't meet up with me and my people at the same parade they were attending as I was. I heard excuses like "you live in a bad area." I laugh inside. The whole parade is in the bad area. "It's dark for 4 blocks." You mean dark as in night? Well, it's dark in every block at night. But the well-lit streets, the vehicle headlights, and the houses & business lights nearby provide all the light you need. "It's just too dangerous." Well, aren't you from New Orleans? And didn't you live uptown in New Orleans all of your younger life? And aren't you going to New Orleans to see a New Orleans parade? Everywhere in New Orleans is dangerous, even your chosen New Orleans' spot to see this New Orleans' parade.

My area is probably safer now on a parade night than a non-parade average night. There are more people and more cops out on the streets. More people walk in groups. And the cops are practically at every block of the parade route. And more police cars circle the nearby parade routes, which includes the area of where my house is located and the route we would take to get to this parade.

But I get it. And I don't blame my friends. It's really the fact that I'm a movie star and my friends want to have freedom and enjoy themselves without all the fiasco that I have to go thru. They have to be part of the bullshit to hang with me. Even being near me in public is a big deal and a big unwanted nuisance. I know, because I feel the same way as they do. I don't want to be held back from my freedom, which I recently was robbed of. And I don't want to hold anybody else back from their freedom. I want my friends to enjoy themselves.

Being a Movie star is tough. You're trapped inside. You can't just go out into public without all the hype. You can't just walk like a normal person and be treated like a normal person. People stare at you. Strangers talk to you. And they talk and whisper about you, in front of you, in their presence of you.

I get it. But movie star life still sucks. If I had a choice to be a movie star or a successful working unknown actor, I would choose a successful working unknown actor. Then my life would be normal.

The Marriage

2009-02-04T19:36:00.003-06:00

Stinky & I have been involved with each other for 15 years. We’ve known each other since a young age. We have a great relationship. He’s definitely the man of the house. What he says goes. Except when he tries to eat plastic. I try not to give him a hard time; he’s bulimic. But I won’t stand for his tantrum right away. I yell at him. The yell usually stops him; he just wants attention from me. I’ve been working all day and he’s been working all day; he just wants to relax in our relationship of passion & pizzazz. It’s hard to spend quality time in personal relationships. It’s about trust, commitment, & compromise. I see his point; our relationship should come first over our careers because we love each other very much. We depend on each other.

We’ve developed a bed routine over the years. Yes, we still sleep together, every night, just like any passionate couple. We lie at the foot of the bed and spoon each other every night. He stretches his beautiful long black body close to me. We hold hands too during the night. I put my right hand into his left hand. I put my right wedding finger into the palm of his left hand. He holds on to my finger as he squeezes & caresses his fingers up against mine. It’s romantic. It’s true love. Every night.

But two nights ago, I had a bad dream about Stinky. The usual bed routine where we stretch-out & spoon each other made the dream. However, this time, Stinky was cold and dead.

I woke up immediately (no time to waste) and freaked out. Just as the dream predicted, Stinky was laying there beside me in his usual spot. I touched him; he didn’t move. And he was cold. I quickly started panicking with fear inside. I shook his lower half body. Finally, I got a rise out of him. Stinky woke up and was startled by me. It was as if I had just awakened a cranky old man. He stared me down and then his eyes began to speak, “You know I was trying to get some sleep deb. I was in a heavy state when you rudely woke my ass up. I was gettin’ some pussy. ‘Thanks’ for waking me up; are you happy now?” Yes, I’m so happy. I hugged Stinky so good, put my arm underneath him, and spooned him. I felt his warm body, and then we held hands.

The Vegetable

2009-01-31T18:18:00.003-06:00

Bad Dream:

The phone rings. Ali answers and then says "it’s for you.”
“Who is it?” I asked.
“It’s Karrot.”
“Tell her I can’t walk.” I whispered.
“No you tell her. I can’t stand the red-head bitch.” Ali walked away from the phone.
"Well I don’t wanna talk to the kunt either.” my voice traveled toward Ali’s direction.

The phone was never picked up.

It’s the Andy Griffith Dream

2009-01-31T16:37:00.000-06:00

Starring:

Dad as Paw
Oppy as Debbie
Ron Howard as Himself

Paw is digging a hole with a shovel. He’s in his own little world of thought. Ron motions me over toward him. Ron’s on the sidelines with the other fans, waiting for the next scene. I walk over to Ron. He asks me how I’m doing. He had heard about my accident. What a nice man, I thought, to ask about me. I couldn’t answer because we were interrupted by a yell.

Paw yells, “Debbie, now come over here and help me dig this pond.”
“Comin', Paw.”

Feeling Trapped

2009-01-31T16:10:00.001-06:00

I’m upside down. Lloyd is drunk and says he likes to be upside-down. I, I, I’m claustrophobic? I wake up. The heavy cover has pinned me down and my head is between 2 cats. I throw the cover off me and lay back down again into the exact dream of Lloyd is drunk and likes to be upside-down, and I’m upside-down and hate it. I can’t breathe. I’m claustrophobic again. I wake up. The cover is on me. The ear warmers are still there. I move one of the fur balls out of my way and spoon the other. I push the cover halfway down to my knees and deal with the coldness of the air. I fall asleep again to different dream.

A Description of This Person

2009-01-31T16:05:00.000-06:00

This person comes over and crashes at my place. This person doesn’t ask me how I’m doing. I mention in conversation that I’m hungry.This person and this person’s babysitter leave to go to a coffee shop. This person doesn’t invite me. This person doesn’t do the polite thing “can I bring you back anything?” either. This person takes food out of this person’s car. Food of bananas, apples, and biscuits. This person offers food “You want a banana, biscuit, apple?“ to this person’s babysitter. The babysitter politely says no. I wouldn’t mind any of them. This person doesn’t offer me any food as this person walks pass me to the kitchen. I say nothing. This person puts food in my refrigerator and leaves.

Tight Leash

2009-01-26T20:12:00.002-06:00

My owner doesn't let me out that much. Sometimes he opens the door and I get to peep outside. I can't roam the streets. I can't be alone. Sometimes, he'll go watch me pee. He occasionally says, "You wanna go out for a ride?" I'm at the door faster than the words "Here girl!" The owner gets the leash and some plastic grocery bags. What are the bags for, I wondered.

I make my way down the steps, one-step at a time. It looks like I drag my ass since my ass is so close to the ground. It looks like I move slow, but I move at my fastest pace. My owner pets me on the head as he passes by. I look up at my master all happy and smiling. Glaring into his eyes, breathing heavy with my tongue sticking out and my forehead lines crunched together like crashing waves. And my master looks and smiles down back at me and says, "That's a good girl, I gotta treat for you."

He took me to a coffee shop and we sat inside. What happened to the park?

The D&G Tour

2009-01-26T20:01:00.001-06:00

“What up G?”
“What up D?”
“G are you my bitch?”
“No D I’m your Caucasian. Are you my Caucasian?”
“G I’m so white, I’m your Cracka. And we gonna crack this house up.
Yo, here we go, here we go, G’s IN THE HOUSE. That’s right. Give it up to G. What up GGGG”

“Yea I’m GINA THE G.
Yea the cool og.
I’m orGINAll.
You don’t have to call.
I’m on FACEBOOK.
I’ve got the look.
I got DOGS.
We walk & jog.
I got WORK.
I play & surf.
On the NET.
Yea, type & set.
Send me PICS.
I’ll video it.
Cause I’m THE G.
Give it up now to the D”

“Yea, I’m Crippy D, yo, yo, here we go, here we go.
I RAP.
I use to tap.
I TALK.
I use to walk.
I FIGHT.
I use to bike.
I’m not DULL.
I use to travell.
I’m FUN.
I use to run.
Got roMANce.
I use to dance.
Got rhyTHEM.
Knees use to bend them.
Got STYLE.
you should hear my howl.
Cause I’m CRIPPY D.
Just smooth operating me.”

Rap Song: `3'

2009-01-25T22:46:00.002-06:00

Hi my name is Deb
I broke 3 bones; I’m on meds.
Here’s a story; it should be rapped, read & said.
About 3 guys who have been kind to care for the deb.

A year before I found Gold at the sPOTted Cat.
His name was Bart, and I said “where ya at?”
Some say Michael Douglas? Don’t tell him.
Bart’s a musician & artist, but not in film.
He talks in his sleep.
A good guy to keep.
Now, he changes my bed
He makes sure that I am fed.
I think he may just love the Deb.
He’s caring and smart.
He’s my main man, he’s my Bart.
--
8 months before
I was upset & sore.
I lost a few thousand, add another four.
So I jumped in my car,
I went down to Mimi’s Bar.
It wasn’t that far.
I ran into Silver in a cloud of smoke.
I was sitting on a sofa lining, now that’s no joke.
His name was Shawn, a carpenter and more.
A Johnny Depp look, & a competent roar
We exchanged numbers, we definitely scored,
Are you thinking, what I’m not. No I ain’t no whore.
I was thinking he could fix the core
of my house as well as the door
and the floor.
But he’s slow on the job now, cause I’m really really poor.
You know I broke 3 bones; can’t walk, can’t work, can’t drive no coahr.
--
I was injured on the job by a ladder fall.
On Workman’s comp by the act of '93 law,
Steel I met, he gave me a call.
His name was Taylor, a trainer I saw.
Reminds me of Schwarzenegger, built & tall.
He’s hard as nails, but nice as a doll.
He makes me work, I can hold up a wall.
My arms are now stronger then after all.

3 guys, 3 metals, 3 look-a-likes indeed
They all work for little humble me.
3 are deserving of precious beads.
They just follow my lead
when I’m in the need.
I get all the feed.
I think I just peed.

The Conflict

2009-01-25T00:07:00.002-06:00

I lay to rest without resting. I try to sleep without sleeping. I hear voices inside my head. I can't control it. Insecurity, paranoia, & fear; all controlled by my mind. My voices try to take over, but my mind will not let it. My voices strategize and issue a pep talk, "Think ocean, beach, serenity." But my mind overpowers it with depression and obsession. Voice asserts "Open a window, turn on some music." Mind speaks; "Can't reach, can't move. Will not reach, will not move." Voice calms down "Just relax, take a chill pill." My other voice interferes & declares, "These meds would do." My mind confidently responds "Go for it; I'll still be in your dreams." Voices think twice; "My mind's right, I haven't had a good dream yet." My background voice whispers, "Not since the accident." Voice shouts "But I'm TIRED". Mind articulates, "So what, I'm exhausted." Voices think, “My mind is so determined, it always thinks. I wonder if it will ever give-in to my voice.” My mind stares into space. It’s just not sold on my voice now.

The Challenge

2009-01-22T18:37:00.003-06:00

My friend, Msh, likes experimenting too. He's got some stories that will make you roll over & laugh. One night, he turned off all the lights in his apartment. Maybe he blindfolded himself too, I'm not sure. He started walking and/or crawling his way around, feeling for furniture, objects, & things. I'm sure some toes or a knee or two got in the way of his path. Going to the refrigerator probably was an interesting journey. Or maybe shuffling thru his massive CD collection was even more of a challenge.

I asked Msh why he did such a thing. Msh told me he wanted to experience being a blind person for a night. He wanted to see how it felt. He wanted to see if his other senses would become a stronger substitute for his blinded eyes.

So I have an experiment for you. A challenge for anyone of you who is interested in experimenting & experiencing. Interested in how life is as a Cripple for a day? If so, you may want to pencil in this experiment when you have a free day. A free day off from work, worries, and errands. A day where you have nothing better to do other than relax. Maybe you would like to do it in your home or someone else's home. Maybe you would like to do it by yourself or invite others to do it with you. Whatever you choose, it's all the same. My challenge to you is called The Cripplet Game. Fill free to play the advance levels too. There are many other versions and different names out there as well. I never played this game or any different version of this game before, until I became one. I never even thought of it. Have you? Would you like to play The Cripplet Game? Here are the rules:

The Cripplet Game

What you CAN use 100% of the time:
Left leg, ankle, and foot
Left arm
Left wrist
Hands and Fingers
Right arm from elbow on up (biceps & elbow)
Right wrist can only be held in one position; straight and motionless
Right leg may be dragged around
Right hand may carry items, only if wrist is straight

What you CAN NOT use 100% of the time:
Right leg
Right wrist

Right leg and right wrist: No motion, no bend. No muscles, no weight. No pressure, no nothing.

Once you have mastered The Cripplet Game, you may want to play the Advanced levels:

The Advanced Cripplet Game: Level 1

Same rules as The Cripplet Game, but you can't leave your bedroom.

The Advanced Cripplet Game: Level 2

Same rules as The Advanced Cripplet Game: Level 1, but you can't open the windows.

The Advanced Cripplet Game: Level 3

Same rules as The Advanced Cripplet Game: Level 2, but you can't leave your bed.

The Advanced Cripplet Game: Level 4

Same rules as The Advanced Cripplet Game: Level 3, but do it for 8 days straight.

SleepLess

2009-01-21T01:36:00.006-06:00

Jan. 20, 2009

I would not try to call me. You may get a full ear load of exhaustion, emotion, and delirium. I haven’t gotten much sleep in the last 3 days or so. I can’t find sleep. I just lay there restless, sometimes in pain, but most the time, my mind will not wonder into fairyland. I’m on 80 hours and counting. Sure, I got an hour here and an hour there of sleep, broken up at least 10 or so times to a total of 7 hours in the last 80. I’m not my crazy-usual self. I’m crazy-extreme self. I think it may be better for you to email or text if you need to get a hold of me. It might be the best route to take, for right now.

Yea, I did the drug thing to relax. I ended up writing for hours. I did the red wine thing too. It just gave me a migraine later and then I took my Imitrex to get rid of it. That’s when I got 2 hours straight of sleep, the most I got in one sleeping shot in the last 3 and a half days. But the migraine is gone. My good old Imitrex buddy came thru for me. He works for me 80% of the time. I also did the wine thing--the cry of exhaustion, pain, & helplessness. It didn’t work either. Nothing is working for me. My mind is going crazy and I can’t seem to stop it.

I’m not trying not to sleep. Warning: Even though I don’t work now, I still want to sleep now. This is not a Sleep-Less experiment. However, I do remember a brother of one of my dear friends who did a similar sleep-less experiment back in the old college days.

His name was Chris. Very good-looking, smart, cute personality, & good kisser. He was studying to be a doctor. I was friends with his sister, Amy. Chris was always pushing the envelope of discovering and trying out new things. One day, he thought he would experiment on not sleeping. He wanted to find out if the human body actually required sleep if it was properly trained into not sleeping.

So Chris outlined an 8-week, very detailed & well thought-out proposal on how to train his mind, body, & soul not to sleep. His studied plan was to delete 1 hour of sleep each and every night for a week until he could sleep no more. Soon Chris would be the Master of Non-Sleep. The Pre-Master thought we as humans waste a lot of time sleeping. In his strong opinion, Chris believed if we did not sleep, we could get more things accomplished. He was very confident in his thought process.

During the experiment, Chris kept an accurate count of the hours and minutes of actual sleep verses actual wake. He marked his calendar daily while adjusting to the extra hour of wake and looking forward to even more efficiency the next week. The young experimenter recorded notes along the way on how he felt each night during the 8-week exercise. Sometimes there were lots of notes and sometimes few on the development of non-sleep.

I never did find out what the result was right after the 8-week duration of the experimentation. Chris and I lost contact over the years. However, about ten years later, we bumped into each other. Still gorgeous and cute and nice as ever. Dr. Chris and I talked for a while, remembering the few times we hung out, remembering our past. It was very nice running into him. Chris and I got to talking about his Sleep-Less Experiment as well. I asked him how that experiment ended for him. He shyly smiled and admitted his result. “Not that well, I fell asleep."

I’m sure my unplanned sleep-less experiment will not work for me either. I'm sure I will crash soon. And I think I know the reason why I can’t sleep...Pat’s back.

disturbed, deb

My 2 Black Friends

2009-01-20T01:44:00.004-06:00

January 19, 2009

Hello everyone. I hope you all had a good Martin Luther King Day.

I like blacks. I like all kinds of blacks. Particularly, I have 2 black friends who I'm close to and like very much. Well the truth is, I do like them both, but I'm in-love with one on an emotional level and I love the other one on a physical level. But I’m not attracted to the one I’m in-love with. And I’m not in-love with the one I’m attracted to. Nonetheless, here’s my 2 stories of my 2 black friends.

Meet my friend, Clicky. He’s my black friend. I just met him. I love him, but I’m not in-love with him. I just have sex with him. Bart doesn’t mind. It’s purely a physical relationship. I don’t think about Clicky in that way. However, I do like the way he feels. I like the way he feels against my skin when we caress each other. I gave up on my other friends. I gave up on all of my lovers, partners, and friends. They all physically disappointed me.

I’ve tried different ones over the years, over and over, I couldn‘t quite be satisfied. Never even came close. They were too thin, too short, too small, too thick, too long, and too big, couldn’t last, didn’t last, didn’t last long enough, etc. They were just not right. I was searching for the perfect size, but not knowing it. Nevertheless, I finally found him and it was just recently we made that strong connection.

I’m in Clicky’s click now, or should I say, he’s in my click. He’s average in length. Not too long, and not too short. He’s perfect for me. He’s just the right size for me. A little thicker than the average. I like to feel my friend. I like to hold and squeeze him in my skin. He wears a rubber too, one with ridges. I like ridges, if he didn’t have ridges, I wouldn’t enjoy it as well. He would slide out of my skin from the dampness of all the action we do. It is a sweaty workout.

He’s black and performs like a black. He cums all the time. Stays hard too, while cumming, and after cumming. I just can’t get enough of it. It’s nothing like having a good buddy hold my hand while I have sex with him, to him, on him.

I like his voice too. I like to hear him make his sounds. Such a masculine, strong and attractive voice he has. But when I want him to shut up, his pussy-whipped ass shuts up. I just give him a little push. One little push, that’s all.

Before Clicky came along, I would sleep with anybody. Yea, the true slut I was. I tried to stay with one partner, but I just wasn’t committed. I didn’t feel right. I didn’t see potential in any of my partners for that matter. I didn’t realize I was looking and searching all of my life for that special one who could fulfill me in that way. Clicky kinda fell into my lap, literally, by accident.

I just wanted somebody new. I was restless and tired of all of my performers. I was in search for a new black friend&partner. I always knew what I wanted, but never expressed what I wanted, until I found Clicky. I wanted someone who was easy to handle & hold & grip, someone who could hang with me and be very easily accessible to me anytime, and someone who didn’t wear clothes or caps, but wore protection that I could actually feel against my skin and enjoy it. All of which are important to me. All of which I found with Clicky.

Msh introduced me to Clicky, without even knowing it. But actually, Bart brought Clicky over one day and that‘s when the love affair began. Clicky was my sympathetic black friend after my accident. He serviced me best since I was laid up, and he was less likely to make a mess in the bed. Clicky has a lot of fine features and I’ve been with Clicky ever since.

You can call me a slut or a snob. Whatever. Msh knows what I’m talking ‘bout. He used to use him all the time. I wonder if he still uses Clicky from time to time and enjoys him as much as I do. I'm sure Carlos doesn't mind. I wonder if he or anyone else is in Clicky’s Click. Not everyone is in the click. Not everyone wants to be in the click. I joined Clicky’s Click just recently, when I met my true black clicky friend, Clicky. He showed me the difference; he showed me the black clicky way. And I am so proud, and so honored, to be part of such a fine group, of such a fine click, the Clicky Pens Click with my black clicky friend, Clicky.

* * * * * * *

Stinky is my other black friend who I'm close to. Although we have never made love, I'm in love with him very much. I've known him for 15 years. I met him in New Orleans in the Marigny Rectangle. He's been my black buddy ever since. I haven't seen him much lately, but I could definitely spot him out in a crowded room full of blacks. And he's definitely black. Blacker than brown-black. He's all black, no black about it. He's my blackest friend I've ever had. I can tell him apart easily from other blacks. I know some people say that it's hard to tell a certain race apart, but I have no problem when it comes to my black friend, Stinky.

My white friends have all met Stinky. Some have actually hung out with my black little fella friend. But I wonder if my white friends could tell my black pal apart if he was in a room full of other blacks.

If Stinky was in a line-up with 9 other blacks, and if all the blacks had the same height, weight, & built of my black friend, and no personality traits revealed, no voices heard, would my white friends be able to tell one black apart from the other blacks. Could they pi ck out Stinky in the line-up?

I'm sure Lloyd and Bart could tell my black friend apart from other blacks in a line-up. They both have hung out with Stinky. Lloyd even roomed with the black bro for a few years, a few years ago. In fact, Lloyd introduced me to Stinky. And Bart has been hanging out with Stinky and a couple of his buddies on a regular basis in the last year or so.

I know it's been a couple of years since my white friends-Msh, Carlos, King, Spaces, Gina, Vincent, Brandon & Julie- have seen my black friend-Stinky. But they all have met Stinky a few times over the past years. I wonder if my white friends could pick out my black friend in a line-up. I wonder if they can tell my Black apart from other blacks. They might just think that they all look alike, that they all look the same.

I have some other white friends-Matt, Tim, Nathaniel, Darwin & Shawn who all have hung out with Stinky just more recently. Well maybe not Matt, but he has crashed a night or two at Stinky's house after a night out. He's even had a couple of beers with Stinky at Stinky's place. I think all of my white friends in this paragraph have had a beer or two with my black bud. Tim and Darwin should know Stinky pretty well, much more than Matt, Nathaniel & Shawn, definitely, for sure. Stinky welcomed and took-in Tim and Darwin, each at different times, when the 2 whities were homeless for a few weeks or so.

But really, besides maybe Bart & Lloyd, I don't think any one of my white friends could pick out Stinky in a room full of blacks. I really don't think they paid that much attention to my black friend, even when Stinky was in the same room as them. Well he's black, what can I say, go Black Power!? No, I guess not. Even when I look at old photographs of Stinky and our friends, he’s just not that noticeable. His dark blackness over shadows his distinct features. He's just a cloud of black. He's just black.

It's easy for me to pick out my black friend. Stinky's my main man! You could put him up against any black and I got Stinky's black back. You see, I love Stinky. I love the fact that he's black all over and has one and only one gray hair on his mustache. Well, I call it a white whisker, and that's no meow about it!

Out of Kilter

2009-01-19T04:47:00.004-06:00

Jan. 18, 2009

I can't sleep. Over 27 hours of wake straight. My mind won't give it a rest. I try to rest, but I lay there restless. I'm in pain too; leg, wrist, sometimes stomach. I did a hard workout yesterday. My stomach was aching b/c I had to pee, but I was trying to fall asleep. I needed to hit 2 stones with that little bird before I gave it a whiz.

I even tried my leftover Oxycontin to get some zzz. It just got me high and then I just wrote for hours. It's now 5pm. I'm not even tired. I just took some herbal stuff five minutes ago, it suppose to make me sleepy. I'll just wait and see.

A yawn...hmmm...I think I'm ready to finally get some shuteye. It was probably about 5:45pm before I fell asleep. Ahhh, finally.

I slept about an hour and then the phone rang. I couldn't get back to sleep.

I tried to sleep again around 10pm. A good 40 minutes of sleep is what I got, and then the phone rang. Damn, I forgot to turn the ringer off. I didn't pick up. Then the phone rang again at midnight. Damn again, I forgot to turn off the ringer! I didn't answer that call either. I had told some friends that I'm up late every night. I guess I must have mentioned that my bedtime was around 4am. But can't they see that I need to get some sleep around here?

I laid their restless for another hour and then got up at 1am to start a new restless day.

My Life as a Movie Star--

2009-01-16T20:57:00.001-06:00

January 15, 2009

I got my pads, pills, & purse; I was ready for the set.

"LIGHTS?" "Check." "CAMERAS?" "Check" "Scene 1: The Doctor's Office. And...ACTION."...

"Your 3 breaks are healing on track, you should return to work in about a month or so. Keep with continued physical therapy," the Doctor says. Yippeeeee! In my mind, I sung and did the in-your-face dance: “I get another month off from work! I get another month off from work! unt, unt, un-un unt...Hiiiiirch,” (a car slams its breaks): "Wait a minute, what do you mean 3? I thought I broke 2, my wrist & pelvis," I questioned Doc. I don't remember 3; I guess I was on drugs when Doc told me previously. He pointed with his well-informed pen to each break on my x-ray charts, using the neon white lit board behind it to show the 3 fractures. The Medical Professional started teaching the classmate: "This is your wrist now, this is your wrist a month ago, and this is your wrist from your break 4 years ago. You have scar tissue from your first break, which makes that part of the Radius stronger. Since you fell on a different area of the same bone, that caused the breakage of the radius...bla, bla, bla." Doc moved his ruler pen over to the pelvis x-ray and continued to educate me "And here, you have a break in the front of your pubis and you have a break in the back of your pubis, both on the same sid e of your right pelvic bone. The pelvis controls a lot of the leg muscles...bla, bla, bla” I drifted off into space. No wonder I have trouble walking and the different movements & positions. I confirmed with Doc "So what you’re saying is that I broke 2 bones in 3 different places. “ Now how cool is that!!

Doc and his assistant finished with me and left the room. It was just Bart and I in the room. When I got off the patient’s table, I noticed a reddish brown smear on the white paper from where I was sitting on the table. Slightly embarrassed, I wanted to rip the paper off the bed, but Bart had already wheeled me out of the patient's room and said that the staff deals with that sort of thing all the time. Yea, I guess so, but they are probably thinking that I just pooed in my pants and I didn't. I bled in my pants!

I had to go to the bathroom. Down the hall and to the right. Bart was waiting for the desk to book my next appointment. I had to change my soaked pad. Do you need any help getting there? Bart had asked me. No Babe, I can do this on my own.

All of the sudden, someone got out of their chair in the waiting area and opened the door for me. Now that's nice. She offered to assist me to the bathroom too, but I told her no thanks. Wow, that was really nice of her.

"Scene 2: The Coffee Shop. Ready and ACTION."...

My appointment with Doc ran late, it was about 5:30pm when we left. Bart needed his coffee kick for the day. Kinda late for his caffeine, but Bart was really hurting. He desperately needed his fix. So we stopped at CC’s Coffee Shop on Esplanade Ave across where Vincent used to live, for a quick shot of poison. I was excited to stop at another destination. It was my third time since I was out in the public since the accident, a little over a month ago. I was just glad to be out of my prison cell and wanted to stay away from the hole as long as possible. I was also excited that I could use my wheelchair for the first time in public, other than the two times I had previously at Doc’s. I thought that people wouldn’t even have to see the wet stain on my ass in the rolling chair.

What nice people, another door opens for me. And people were so generous; they threw me to the beginning of the line. I didn't have to wait. Wow, I had a nice view of the muffins and cakes and all sorts of pastries that they displayed for the customers.

I was finding a table for us. And people started to back up and move chairs out of my walkway and admired me as if I was their idol. I kindly and humbly smiled and politely said thank you. I didn't realize I was on the red carpet today. People offered me prime window seating. Then I was flagged down for an autograph. I guess fame has its perks. I started to wonder if I would receive such special treatment if I wore sunglasses and a hat.

=0 A"Scene 3: Bart's Van. And...ACTION."...

I wanted to continue to stay out for a bit after visiting Doc and CC. I still can't manage to go outside without any assistance going up & down the steps. Therefore, if I have the opportunity to stay out as long as I can, then I'll take it. Bart says that we would be too vulnerable if I practiced legwork outside on the steps in the Ghetto Farm and Burgundy Bend. He's right, with all the recent close-call crime stories I hear about. So I just pretty much write and draw in my prison cell everyday without getting any fresh air. I do, however, open the curtain to let some sunshine in, but that's only for about 3 hours a day since I wake up at 2pm. Sometimes Bart will open the door and I can see the outside thru the locked bars. I stick my hand & arm out, and feel the weather run into my limb. I like the cool weather we are having this week. And I know it won't last long, but how would I really know, my fame keeps me from real world experiences. The price I have to pay.

Bart had his coffee, and we were both hungry so we decided to go to an uptown restaurant, our third place in public for the day before we headed back to once again, my trapped hard prison life.

"Scene 4: The Restaurant. ACTION."...

The Italian Bistro restaurant on Magazine St. is a little more than casual. My dress code was not appropriate, by all means. But that's all I have. I'm living in the Ghetto Far m now and all of my clothes are at Burgundy Bend. Bart had brought over a couple of my white short-sleeved tees and some undies, but I try to only ask Bart to bring over my essentials.

It was too cold to wear short sleeves. Bart let me borrow one of his shirts. I wore his maroon long-sleeved shirt, my gray warm-ups with pink thick strips going down the side of each part of the outer leg, yellow socks and white tennis shoes with aqua stripes. I put on my black denim jacket to tie-in my colorful attire all together. Let us not forget my knotted, filthy, and smelly dreadlock look. Nevertheless, who cares how I was dressed and smelled like; I'm a famous movie star.

The restaurant didn't have a runway. I had to use my walker. No problem. It's only 2 steps. I just back up into one; push myself up onto the first step. Then pivot to the front, place the walker onto the 2nd step, which is also the landing. Then push myself up onto the next level. My arms, stomach, and left leg muscle strength have really stepped up to the plate. Oopps, what about the brown blood stain on my butt? Oh, who cares when I look as good as I do.

The door opened for me. The maître de said hello and said my table was waiting for me. I made a comment as I passed him as he was staring and wondering whom I was. I guess he just couldn’t place me. No, I’m not Maggie Gyllenhaal in the film Mona Lisa's Smile, but good guess. She does kin da look like me. I added to his curious thought with a nod, "I broke 3 bones too". Wow, I got a sympathy sigh of “oouu”. Cool, I’m milking these bones! Bart thought he was being thoughtful when he requested the closest table to the door. Hell no! This star wanted to sit in their usual prime spot, before the accident.

Nice red wine, warm bread, Caesar salad, Rainbow trout with capers, and chocolate moose were served one by one. Ahh, it’s nice to be out in the atmosphere and enjoy the good life of no hassles of being famous like the normal people.

The maître de came over to the table to check on us as we finished our visit. He suggested that the restaurant had a ramp if I chose to use it when I left. What a very nice young man. Bart, my chaffer, went to get the car while I went to go check out the ramp. A far little walking distance, around the corner, in a dark alley, there stood an alone, lonely ramp. The deserted slope had a few leafs on it with more leafs being blown around in all kinds of directions by the cold wind.

"Scene 5: Leaving the Restaurant. ACTON."...

Is this guy crazy! WHAT IS THIS SHIT! This 23-year-old know-it-all doesn't know shit! I can't use that ramp with my walker. I would FALL ON MY ASS if I used that steep ass ramp! And who would catch me? Bart's gettin' the car. WHO, this stupid ass punk who suggested it in the first place!?--Does he even know who I think I am!
Maybe, it's a trick to get rid of me thru the back way. Maybe he wants to kill me for publicity. How DARE HE? What is he tired of catering to the rich and famous? THAT'S HIS JOB! This kid don't know nothing about nothing! My fans would be highly disappointed if they couldn't see their idol from across the street, while they sip on their beers, and sit in the outdoors of the Bulldog Bar & Grill, while I flash my stained presence upon them. My fans need me. My fans need to see me at the front entrance of the restaurant under their bright neon lights that say: If You Can Walk, You can Eat Restaurant. It’s fun to play with my fans. And I will not stand for ramping my ass under the buzzed sound of the broken, fused neon sign that says, The Fuck You If You Can't Walk Restaurant. I need the spot light. I need to be noticed in my fine threads and dreads.

A deranged stranger walked past me after I made my way down the two steps to ground level. He mumbled, “That’s what you signed up for” and kept walking. How did he know? I continued to get into my character and play my humble movie star part.

I made a mental note to look myself up on Youtube at the next opportunity. In my earlier days before my movie star fame, I acted on some TV shows like Survivor Metairie and did some singing stage performances with Delta Dawn before I got discovered. I only got 2 stars for the singing performanc e, but Survivor Metairie scored a big 5. I'm proud of all my earlier work. If you google, I think those two shows can still be seen on Youtube: Msh999's Channel. I think shows like U2 & GreenDay, a movie about musicians playing at the superdome while saints dropped food from the sky to the ants running around below them, and The Evolution of Dance, a story about a funny & talented comedian, can still be viewed on that channel as well. Maybe all of the shows on that channel could definitely be worth a view.

Yea, those were my earlier days of acting. I'm in various films now. Mostly comedy and suspense. I also did a horror film just recently. Some of my fans saw a sneak preview. It'll be joining Youtube soon. Maybe on the same network.

To be continued....