Take advice from fuckups.they're the only ones that can tell you about the bottom & how to avoid it


Monday, May 31, 2010


I don't care...here's my email ginger_kid138@yahoo.com

I don't know what's going on, but ALL of your comments have somehow been erased. I just thought that no one had been reading, but I've looked on to discover that the reason why no one has left any comments on my recent posts is because something is preventing everyone from commenting.


If you have any comments you wish to leave me or have any kind of explaination for this, PLEASE, email me.



Saturday, May 29, 2010

The Night

Whenever anyone I've been around has been afraid of the dark, I've always told them "There's nothing there in the dark that isn't there in the light."

But maybe the dark is for lack of better words "dark".

Is there really a more powerful presence of all things foreboding and evil in dark places?

In shadows

In tunnels


and what about the hours or days of darkness throughout the cycles of the earth?

I think that maybe part of it has something to do with some primordial leftover fear of being more vulnerable to predators...

Are we really, as civilized humans, more prone to being hurt, raped, murdered, or killed in an accident at night? And lookie, lookie...

if this were the case our predators would be none other than


Not monsters, not animals wishing to eat us, or demonghosts.

I don't know what it is about the dark.

What it is about it that incites boredom, racing of thoughts, curiosity, and reflection within me.

What is it about the night?

Crazy check

I was asked a pretty messed up question yesterday. I was on the phone with a pretty close buddy of mine. Poor guy. I called him to basically vent. I felt like an asshole that I had to rant to this dude of all people, but to tell you the truth no one else seems to give much of a shit or have any decent input to give. We were just kind of talking about all of the fucked up shit in our lives. I bitched about the perfect job that I'm not going to get. Then, he asked me...
"Shelly, with all the fucked up shit you've been through throughout the entire course of your life, including everything going on with Royal, you have to realize that you're mentally ill. You can't expected to be well. Why don't you just see if you can't get on Social Security?"
I thought about it. Me? Get a crazy check? Am I really that bad off? Aren't there people that have had shit way worse and that are way more crazy than I am that need that money?
Well, I can't get a job. Even if I did get hired by most of the places I apply at, I would be terrified of everyone, I'd fuck shit up during busy hours of the day because people make me nervous, I'd cry anytime anyone brashley complained at me, and my back would go out at some point and I'd probably end up having to quit. Besides that, I never even know how I'm gonna get to these places. I have to beg and plead to even get someone to take me to the store.
Maybe it's just unrealistic to think that I can live like a normal human being. I have so much shit going on in my head that I don't think I could handle anything else. There are certain things that I could see myself succeeding at doing for a living, but those kind of jobs are out of my reach unless I go to school. I have no clue how I'd even begin to get back into a college. I can't even finish the FASFA application for assistance. Too much paperwork I don't have. I don't know where my dad is. I don't know where my diploma is, not even in the county public records. I can't get a social security card.
People just don't get it. Maybe I do need a crazy check.

Friday, May 28, 2010

Impending Doom

I'm freaking the fuck out about so much right now. I'm sorry, but this has to kind of be my diary for a while. I hate it when people post boring crap about uninteresting problems, but I don't know how else to deal with it.
My boyfriend is starting to do what every guy does once I'm with him a while...He's starting to be a dick to me. He won't take me ANYWHERE but Wal Mart, and that's only when we don't have a crumb to eat in the house. He wouldn't even take me to a job interview, but I'm sure he won't have a problem bitching at me about money anytime soon. I've basically become his blow up doll. He doesn't talk to me very much, we don't do much of anything together, and I'm afraid to confront him because I don't want the classic "I pay the bills so I get to be a dick to you" bullshit that I always end up hearing at some point in a relationship.
The people about to give me this job loved my resume. The interview went awesomely. I actually got told by one of the interviewers that he'd be really sad if he couldn't get me some work because I said everything he wanted to hear from someone he was hiring. I thought I flopped, but apparently I didn't. But...then...
they're gonna do a background check. I just became frozen with fear and told them I lied on my application. I told him I didn't have any felonies, and that I got picked up for stealing gas once. I left out the fact that the same time I was being arrested for the gas they found a piece of an unused bowl under my seat. I got charged with a paraphernalia ticket. They didn't even test it to see if it had resin on it. I also, of course, left out the obstruction of justice charge that's on my record that I have no fucking clue the origin of. I've never been arrested for such a thing in my life. The year the systems claim I caught this charge was one of the years I was in DOC. I couldn't have been arrested and had a trial for something while I was locked up. I think I would remember something like that. I never tell people about that because I'm sure they just think I'm full of shit. There's nothing I can do to have it taken off of my record or expunged, either. I have to hire a privately paid attourney and basically sue the state. Yeah. That totslly sound like something I can accomplish...IN DREAMVILLE.
Meeting with these foster parents that are probably adopting my son isn't gonna be no walk in the park, either. I'm so afraid they're gonna fuck me over. I don't know what I'll do. It would kill me if I let them take him and they keep him from me. IT sucks, too knowing that he'll never come home...and it sucks to face the fact that no matter how bad it hurts, I can't kill myself or go bananas. I would never want Royal to ever grow up wondering why I blew my brains out or became a degenerate. I don't want him to waste away in a miserable life with me, either, so I have to go through with it the adoption. I always wanted children. I love them. I always thought that if I had a kid I could feel good about putting someone out there that I always did my best to protect from the things I've been through and seen. Now I'm wondering if I should ever have another one. I don't want any child to be subjected to how damaged I am from the things I've been through and seen. I don't want to ever have to feel this kind of emptiness again, nor do I ever want my baby to have to feel the emptiness of having a mother that's not really in his/her life if ever the time comes where I find myself absent in any sense.
What am I going to do? I can't get a job, my boyfriend who supports me is going to dump me, I'm facing such monumental loneliness in giving up on everyone and everything in my life. But I have to. It's the only way I can stop being a burden to everyone I come in contact with.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Tired-ass bullshit

MY back hurts. It started out about a week ago as a dull ache. It just kept getting worse and it's starting to become unbearable. I managed to hustle up some pharmeceuticals, and have been taking them accordingly as needed, but somehow along the way I ended up with a few Klonopin. I'm gonna need them.
I have a job interview on Wednesday for a home health care company that needs a part time caretaker for a disabled person two days a week. This is the work I know. It should be a nice gig for me. However, there's always the question of whether or not I can lift anyone with a fucked back, how the fuck am I gonna get to work, and there's a pretty damn good possibilty I won't even get fucking hired if they end up doing a background check on me. I suppose I'll take a klonopin before the interview and hope my ass off that they don't do a background check.
Then I have a meeting on Friday with my kid's foster parent to discuss the arrangements in the open adoption. I'm fucking terrified that at some point these people are going to fuck me over on seeing Royal. They have every legal right to after the papers are signed. In the state of Illinois, once the papers are signed, it's a done deal, I'll basically be at their mercy. I'm so scared they're going to insult my intelligence and take advantage of me. I suppose I'll have a Klonopin before this meeting, too.
For some reason I get the feeling that I'm on thin ice with my boyfriend. He hasn't been very caring, nurturing, or comforting lately. He's been getting snappy and bitchy about really trivial things like dinner and whether or not there's any tea made. When I get to being in really bad pain, he gets displays signs of subtle anger and annoyment. I asked him the other night with tears in my eyes to rub some mint oil on the spot where my back hurts the worst to which he whiningly declined, then asked if I was going to make him dinner. He's grown increasingly selfish in bed despite the fact that making me do all the work causes me physical pain and makes me feel like he doesn't want me.
I feel ugly and fat. I'm hairy and I'm afraid to shave my naughty bits because I feel a breakout coming on and I don't want to take the chance of spreading it. Besides that I feel like there's no point in keeping myself groomed because I never get touched, kissed or licked anywhere but my face, so what's the point. I feel so disgustingly fat and ugly. I finally got to the point where I was getting a little bit of excersise, but I don't know if I should continue any of it because it puts me in so much pain during and afterward.
I'm broke and I'm sick of looking like a fat skank because I can't afford new clothes. It's getting harder and harder to even find tasteful clothes that look good on me since I'm a fucking cow with a mishapen ass, fat arms, big tits, and thick thighs...not to mention the disgusting flap of omentum from carrying an 8 lb baby full term right on top of my pelvic bone, then gaining weight...stretched loose skin, fat, and stretch marks...
no wonder no one wants to touch me.

I just need to face the fact that I'm ugly and useless. I don't have any kids. If I had any more, I couldn't take good care of them. I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to work any job that is available to me. I'm fat and ugly so I can't rely on my looks to land me any kind of gig.

I found a commune in Missouri that isn't full of green fags and vegetarians. It's full of potheads that make sandals all day. I'm thinking about just running away.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Don't Stop Believin'

I know it makes me sound like a fag, but I was looking back on the days when I still believed in God. I kind of miss them. What started it was I was reading something that ended up listing some bible verses in it when I had the sudden urge to sneeze...It made me think of the old dusty church I used to go to. Having bible verses in my eyes and allergic reactions going on in my nose brought back the smell of old musty good books and hymnals. For some reason, Bibles and hymnals always smelled old to me, even when they were new. It's hard to describe the feeling you get by reading something you believe to be the true word of god as a child, and it's even more difficult to try to compare it to how I feel when I read something like Bukowski now that I'm an adult. It sounds awful, but the truth is that faith felt better than 'this'. Since I don't believe in god anymore, my gods have more or less become my heroes...and my heroes are celebrities in some form or another. There's always the sting in the back of my head reminding me that these people are either dead and I will never have the chance to be in their presence or that they are human, and humans generally suck. It's really depressing to be let on that there isn't anything bigger than me because I know that I'm a piece of shit.
I wish I didn't know this.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

The Best Guy I Never Talk About

Certain members of my family, and probably some of my friends, are going to be treating me like a worthless piece of shit for quite a while. Not that they ever treated me that great to begin with, but the shitstorm is on the horizon.
I have a son. I don't talk about him very often because I know no one wants to hear about how depressing the situation is with him. When he was about 9mos old, he was basically taken away from me because we were homeless. Certain members of my family made it worse by witholding information from me and sticking their nose in it, and he ended up in foster care. It's a fucking surreal nightmare. I know so many people that don't deserve to have their kids that don't even get investigated. It's about the only thing in my life that's too painful to even think about, let alone write about.
I have pretty much decided on going through a joint adoption with my son's foster parents. I have to. He's been there since he was one. They're well off and have adopted all of the rest of their foster kids except for mine because I was in the process of getting him back. However, due to Royal's (my son's) father being a sociopathic cokehead/alcoholic that keeps sticking his nose in this shit when he needs to leave it alone, and the fact that my attempt to get him back has repeatedly been foiled due to additions of requirements by the agency, transportation issues, and my lack of an extra bedroom, this ordeal has been stretched out for over two years. Since it has taken so long and because of Royal's dad's shenanigans, the case is up for termintation. Translation: This is going to be on trial for about another two years, I probably won't win it, and if I have any more babies while this trial is going on they can be instantly taken from me. I can't put this child through this anymore. He's getting older and smarter, asking questions and figuring out that shit isn't right. He is happy and healthy at this point, though. He loves his foster siblings. I know he loves me, too, as I do him, but I'm sure he also loves his foster parents. I can't take that away from him out of the selfishness of just wanting him with me.
I went through the system and it failed me miserably. I SHOULD HAVE been taken out of the household I grew up in, but I had to spend sixteen years in it. I ended up going to jail to escape. That's where I ended up surrounded by state kids. Prison is full of them. My son is at the end of the rope for being prime choice adoption age. Adoptees want babies and toddlers, not older kids and teenagers that most likely have been traumatized and have behavioral problems...that is, unless, they want to RAPE them, or use them for a check. I can't take the risk of allowing this to go on for two more years if that could potentially wind up happening to Royal. I know all too well where it ends.
Since the adoption will be open, I will be allowed to correspond with Royal throughout his life. I'll even get to visit him. It just sounds like this is the way to go if I want this boy to have a decent life. I'm doing this for him. I don't want to give up my child, anyone who would think that I want to do this is fucking nuts. I love him more than anything I've ever loved, and I want him to have a happy, comfortable life. I don't want him to ever know a hint of the pain and insanity that I've witnessed and endured. No child should ever know of it and I'll be god fuckin damned if I let mine go through it. I don't know why this is so hard for people to grasp. There are people that don't respect or support my decision at all, and THAT's hard for me to grasp.
Sorry. I'm sure no one wanted to hear that. Thanks if you did actually read it.

East Side Days

The year that I turned 21 I had a period of about three months where I frequented clubs and bars that I had absolutely no business being in with a group of wild ass black girls. The one I wonder about the most nowadays is Kel.
She was the epitome of what some would call "ghetto". She'd call me up and be like "You wanna go to the club, pick me up. I'm payin." On more than one occasion I'd go to get her only to find out that her kids had to ride all the way to the city with us. None of them had car seats, and they were bad as hell. They were always hilarious to say the least. There was the toddler, whom they called "Sparkle", but I still have to figure out what the little girl's name really was. She would always just kind of take in the chaos around her as if it were entertainment. She would always just look about the car, the room, whatever, with her eyes wide open, observing and smiling. There was the oldest one, Keisha, who was about 8 or 9...smart as a fuckin whip, this kid was. I'd always catch her saying smart-assed witty comments under her breath while her mother or other adults would be talking. For those of you who don't know, women like Kel don't play when it comes to getting on their kids. Every once in a while Keisha would be trying to play off like she didn't say anything after sassing an adult, to which Kel would turn to me whoever Keisha was spoutin' off to and tell them, "You can smack the shit outta her if you want." ...THEN...there was Kedrion.
This child was BAD. So bad that you would have to hide from him so that you wouldn't crack up every time he fucked up. One day I was at a cookout in the Sparta projects, smoking a blunt, when all of the people I was hanging out with noticed Kedrion on a bike in his underoos riding past. One of the dudes there told him to get his ass home. Then my friend LaShondra proceded to ask him where he got his bike to which he replied that he stole it, and then shouted, "Let me hit that blunt!"
LaShondra started to walk toward the street to whoop his ass since he was being an asshole and was clear across town on his bike unsupervised, but Kedrion kept zipping past her on the bike, taunting her with obscenities. "Get away from me, ya ole chickenhead-assed ho!" Was one of the lines he spat at her. Oh, and how could I forget, "Nigger, nigger nigger!"-sung to the tune of nanny nanny boo-boo. That was one of his favorites. I couldn't help but crack up when that kid would do that. The grown ups would always kind of nudge me and tell me, "That ain't funny" or "don't laugh at him, he won't stop." I didn't want him to. He was a riot.
Sometimes when this kid was at home he would go into the bathroom and put his underwear on backwards, and wear the narrow part of them up his butt, then run out and just go fucking wild all over the apartment. Jumping on the furniture, leaping into shit. When Kel would find him like that she would always say "Shelly look how he wearin his draws, he gay", or "ignore him, he bein a faggot like his daddy." Kel would let him drink off of her beers and shit. It was crazy.
On these crazy ventures to East St. Louis with the kids and whoever else ended up tagging along, packed into my Dodge Neon on a donut, Kel would chug E&J and smoke joints as she pleased, and usually ask me to let her drive. I usually would once we were in the city and the kids were dropped off because I didn't know my way around like she did. I'd usually find out sometime along the way that we didn't have any money and that Kel was gonna have to go to three or four different hoods to "hustle up some money outta (her) cousin", and she didn't mean cousin in slang, this girl was really related to people all over East Saint. Somebody would always come through and she could usually make enough for us to get back and forth. We would go to some places I just know I had no business being in. One of them had supposedly had a corpse found behind it sometime while we were frequenting the place. It was alright, though. One of the bartenders there was a gay white guy that talked like a straight black guy. I had to be careful when I danced there because there was this tall, big-armed light skinned girl that would always try to whoop my ass for "dancing with her man", even if I wasn't dancing with him. He would always defend me and curse her out when she did it, though.
One place called The Four Aces in Centerville was nuts. The place was basically a HUGE pole barn. There was, for some reason, two lounge rooms in the front of the place, they would have REAL djs, and it was the fucking wild west in this motherfucker. People smoking blunts in groups everywhere. Everyone was friendly...BUT THE GANGBANGERS. One night a giant brawl broke out between two cliques. As soon as it popped off, the dj pulled the needle off the record and told everyone to get the fuck out. The place turned into total pandemonium. Chairs breaking, glass flying, clouds of fists and dust in the distance, and a crowd pushing to get out. I was trying to get into the flow of people with my friends, when the bartender pulled me up over the bar to get me some safety. We eventually made it out and as we all got into the car the canyon sized pothole covered parking lot was a sea of flashing cop lights.
Another place, called Eddie's Nights, in ESTL, was an alright joint, too. It was way laid back, and I loved it on "grown folks night" when they would play a lot of obscure r&b from the eighties and people over (I think) 35 got in for free. For some reason, people in there always thought I was a prostitute. One night I partied with a pimp. He didn't ask me to do anything but get our drinks.
-Like I said, my ass had no business being in any of these places.

Infectious Grooves pt.II Summer is ready when you are...

Wanna know what it feels like to mainline methamphetamine?

This song makes me think of walking around in the city in the summertime...being sweaty and smelling busy people's sweat on the metro bus.

Another one of those songs that feel like breeze on sweat.

Chilled out funk...what could be better to grill meat and drink beer to?

This is the musical equivalent to schizophrenia...this is what my head sounds like when I don't have any music to listen to.

For those of you who don't know...I'm a rabid Britney fan. It's awful and terrible to deal with at times, like when I'm drunk and I get the urge to hear some BitBit...It eats me up inside until I find my way to a jukebox or computer so that I can relieve myself with this crazy whore's tunes. This is my fave...dig the creepy way they sexualize horses in this vid. It kind of reminds me of a Telenovella soap.

I fell in love with the first boy I fell in love with...to this song.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Awesomely Weird Greatness

This is Ariel Pink. He's a buddy of John Maus. They've made some pretty sweet tunes together. No John in this particular diddy, but for some reason, I love it so much. I don't why. I love it when he says "Nancy", and I swear to god he says "you know I'm always gettin' raped" at the end of a verse. I don't care what the lyric engines claim he's really sayin'.

This lady also sings under "Bubonic Plague". She's got a nice pair, and this video makes it possible to understand the glory of this woman's body when it's naked because of the way those sheet toga dresses hang off of her braless upper torso. Dig the "OOOH NOOO!" parts, too. They crack me up. (*I had to go flick my bean after I watched this, I ended up passing out...it kind of ruined my day. I had shit to do...like post this stupid shit.)

Yeah. It really is an Italian song about a rock n' roll robot.

Listening to a lot of M.I.A. is probably partly responsible for my recent dabbling in foreign music (I'm not gonna call it "World" cos it makes me sound like a fag). I don't even remember how I became interested in Eritrea. I don't know quite how to explain it, but there's something slightly haunting about this country...it's people are beautiful...and it's kinda creepy.