April 18, 2010 at 11:39 pm (Uncategorized)

Mmm, mmm. Oxycodone. And grapefruit juice. And nausea.

I made a pot of coffee before work about a month ago, realized I was running late, and utterly forgot about it. Until today.



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April 16, 2010 at 12:48 am (doctors, hair) (, )

So I just pulled a clump of hair and lint out of buttgyna (the friendly nickname I’ve given my pilonidal cyst’s large sinus and her six lovely sisters). This was painful and utterly terrifying, as it was the first time I’ve ever pulled anything out of the scary little black pit of doom back there. I am not looking forward to getting it removed, as this will probably mean another long recovery, and while it’s not really detrimental to my every day life, I. Want. It. Out. There’s still a hair sticking out of there, too. I was too afraid to pull on it anymore, partially out of the unrealistic fear that this would unravel the whole thing and somehow I’d end up pulling out the contents of the cyst through the sinus. Yeah, this really is TMI.

Making the TMI stuff blend with the background, because yeah, that’s probably more than you needed to know. Highlight it at your own risk. Appointment to get that shit taken care of is in about a month, so hopefully it’ll go well and away. I don’t seem to have updated about my appointment on Monday (the drug test fail sort of distracted me, apparently), but it went okay. I got a refill. I got the Steri-Strips removed. I have a big gash on my bikini line and all the area surrounding it is numb.

I think I’m going to bleach my hair more tomorrow. There was a brief spike in guys hitting on me (hello, forty year old at the library), but that seems to have diminished and I feel like the hair’s just ugly now. I’m just kind of cranky because I’ve been in withdrawal all day, am not looking forward to dealing with the rest of my medical problems, am tired, etc. Also am in fear that new $15/hr month-long job opportunity that both J and I might be embarking on next week will drug test and then we’ll have lost the chance to make $4,000. Will find out this weekend.

I need to fetch myself a scrip for Ativan. I’m pretty sure it would help immensely.

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April 12, 2010 at 9:35 pm (drugs) (, )

a needle in a vein and i am floating away
a black balloon and an overcast sky
and i never want to die

detatched thoughts come out and play
the same ones i’ve had before
my good old friends

rhymes without structure
and lines with no end
the deep dark emereld of a forest

the trees bend in the storm
i slip away into the wind
fading in and out

cling to the feeling
every second closer to leaving
and i’ll be back here again

on the cold hard ground
reality harsh and bright
i’ll never be found

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drug tests

April 12, 2010 at 9:15 pm (drugs, rant) (, , )

Suck. I went to Colonial Lanes for my first day of work today after my doctor’s appointment. The supervisor seemed surprised by my presence, took me back to the office where they mentioned something about having hired someone else and decided to track down Amelia (who, last Thursday, told me that I should come in Monday to start/that I just needed to bring in my prescription and the drug test was fine).

Apparently it wasn’t, because the fellow that had gone off with my cup of pee last week and some older lady informed me that I had tested positive. “Well, I’m on painkillers,” I informed them, as I had the prescription with me.

“One of them was positive for opium,” she said.

“Yeah,” I interjected.

“The other was positive for marijuana.”

I was unsure as to whether she was talking about two separate drug tests (i.e., mine and someone else’s) because the way she phrased it sure sounded like it (above is a rough approximation), but at that point I didn’t really give a fuck, said okay.

“Sorry,” she said, and I left.

Rather upset, actually. Thanks for wasting my time and invading my privacy, fuckwads. I can get behind drug tests for certain professions– cops, people who work in pharmacies/have access to drugs, etc– but calling people up to give them updates about bowling leagues? Really? What does it matter what I do in my free time? As long as I’m not high at work, they shouldn’t give a fuck. What does it really mean if I do drugs? That I’m not trustworthy? That I’m not a good worker? If I had a felony drug conviction and listed it on my application, they couldn’t use that information as grounds not to hire me or I could take them to court. So just because I haven’t gotten caught using drugs, I can be discriminated against because of it? Taking a puff of weed every so often is a fuck of a lot better than getting drunk off my ass all the time, but if I did the latter, I’d be making $9/hr bothering people at dinner right now.

Even if I didn’t do drugs, coming in to fill out an application under the pretense that I was already hired and then having a surprise cup to pee in shoved in my face rubs me the wrong way. I should have been informed of that part before I came in–i.e., when I talked to her on the phone, or in the ad for the job. I think drug tests in general are a pretty severe invasion of privacy, and constitute unreasonable search and seizure. Fourth amendment, motherfuckers. Quit making me pee in cups.

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eight forty five

April 12, 2010 at 8:58 pm (drugs, poetry) (, )

the bitter taste of a warm embrace
tumbles down your throat

and black
blink of your eyelids
the world opens in flame

red surface of another planet
reeling head says two and two make three
kaleidoscope wreck

scratch, scratch
scratch the termites at your door

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everyone i know goes away in the end

April 10, 2010 at 5:39 pm (drugs, hair) (, , )

I’m on the last of my Percs for now. I’ve taken three of them since I woke up at one. I have eight left, and because I will abuse them if they are within my reach, Jim is going to hide them so that we’ll have them for later. I really hope I can get a refill. If not, I will be trying the poppy seeds from By the Pound soon (although I don’t really like the idea of that method, as it’s unreliable), or ordering from the Philippines.

My hair doesn’t look so bad– I kind of like it. I’m going to bleach it again though, in about a week, once it’s recovered. I don’t know if I like the picture to the right– I couldn’t decide which one to put here, but it’s going to be that one, because there’s cleavage in it and I can’t post anything slutty to my Facebook. No one knows about this blog so I will post however much cleavage I want to the depths of the internet. Fuck you, certain family members and friends.

Also, I should probably note that I failed to stick to the resolution I made when I started writing this yesterday. I popped another perc this morning (and last evening) because it really fucking hurts. I wanted to use them with J, because it’s so awesome to be as close as it lets us, but I suppose I will just find some elsewhere.

I finished working on the Solio Productions website like Ari asked me to weeks ago. I really need to get organized, because while I could have done that sooner, I didn’t. It’s like if I’m even slightly busy with other things, it’s impossible for me to get stuff done. He said he’d pay me $50 though, which I’m really glad for, because yeah, I need it. I start working at Colonial Lanes on Monday, and am slightly freaked out about it. I don’t want to have to work while I’m recovering, but without the money, we’re going to be fucked. This should keep us going until I can get back to PJ’s. I still can’t believe I passed that drug test.

Things I hope to do this week: read a book other than the one Jodi Picoult novel I managed to finish, edit my Ohio documentary, apply to better jobs, write a poem/draw/other creative endeavor, finish my hair.

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Jodi Picoult is a bitch

April 9, 2010 at 3:33 am (hair) (, )

I’m in the process of turning myself blonde in order to dye my hair purple and become unemployable. I’m terrified. I peeked under the Meijer bag I have wrapped around my head, and as always, it looks like it’s turning out blotchy. Why can I never dye my hair without it becoming blotchy? I blame my mother, as she was the reason I didn’t go to a proper hair salon (not even a shitty hair cutting place, for that matter) until well into my teens. I’m not super into salons at all, but I definitely could have used a more flattering haircut. She also hovered nearby with a disapproving glare whenever I deigned to experiment with my hair, peppering the experience with “that’s enough!” or, “you’re putting too much on!” Manic Panic was not her thing, and such timid usage of brightly colored dyes yielded unsatisfactory results.

I figured it’d turn out better without her over my shoulder, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to. Old dye jobs and not enough bleach have led to me looking like someone dumped a bucket of paint over my head. So yeah. Sigh.

I think I’m going to go wash it out now and pop a few more percocets.

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day two

April 5, 2010 at 2:39 am (doctors) (, )

My dermoid cyst was apparently not as cool as this one, since it didn’t have any teeth. It was, however, ten centimeters long (the size of a grapefruit). Two days ago, its claws were dislodged from my left ovary by some surgeons that were also kind enough to drain a cyst on my right ovary while they were down there poking around.

The result of this is that the weird pain in my right ovary that I had for about a week should no longer be an issue, that it will no longer come and go at its own leisure, or hurt when I go to the bathroom. It also means I have a massive gash in my stomach that’s taped together, and that I can’t do anything for four to six weeks while I heal. As a result, I began this blog while sitting in my hospital bed, waiting for my boyfriend to come back from feeding the cat to keep me company for the second night of no sleep and sweaty, narcotic induced nightmares.

I’m home now, wondering what I’m going to do for the next month, and slightly concerned about the fact that I’m not going to be able to work for that long. I didn’t do much today other than eat obscene amounts of pasta from Noodles and Co., but maybe tomorrow will yield something more exciting. I lost four pairs of earrings during this ordeal– I had to remove them prior to surgery, and because my mother didn’t put the container holding them in my personal belongings bag, I am now missing one very expensive pair of internally threaded onyx and titanium earrings, another pair that I’ve had since I was a baby, a pair shaped like stars that my mom bought for me, and a lame silver pair from The Icing that had a very finicky backing. Since the decision to retire most of my piercings has been made for me, I think I’m going to take advantage of not having to work to dye my hair purple.

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