Posts tagged alcohol

take me to the hospital

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The title is a popular song by the electronic band Prodigy, and it’s an awesome song on it’s own, but I have a memory of being taken to the hospital, where I still get a bill every month that I spitefully pay just $5 a month on for that ride.  I didn’t get charged by the hospital, luckily, but the freaking ambulance company is up my ass about a ride they are charging me over $700 for.  The cab ride back to the apartment from the hospital was under $20 with tip.

I got to talk to someone else recently who has endured this kind of thing.  Calling out for help sometimes gets you in even more trouble than you started out with.

me in paper, so stylish

me in paper, so stylish

In this photo I look like I am a psycho nursing assistant or something, but it’s actually a patient “uniform” when you get checked in to the ER at Earl K Long in Baton Rouge for a psychiatric evaluation.  Never call a suicide hotline while drunk!  More importantly, make a cop take you to the hospital because you will end up with a bill over $700 for a ten minute ambulance ride!

Now I could probably try to get medicaid to pay that, but I don’t want them to get the cash that quickly.  I don’t think it’s right for people to get carted off in an ambulance when they could take the ride in a cop car.  I really should have refused the ambulance and someone should have offered a ride, but then again, I didn’t push it, so nobody threatened to “take me to jail” if I didn’t go in the ambulance.

I know a cop could have taken me, even if they had to cuff me, but then again, if the ones who showed up were too lazy, the one that did put me in a car would have probably threatened jail just to get me into the ambulance.  I was drunk and depressed, in that “drunk crying” mode.  I was allowing myself to literally shake with anxiety because in my mind, this was the potential start for a much longer journey than just the hospital trip.

I wasn’t sure at all about what it would be like, or how long they would really keep me, or what kind of accommodations I would find at wherever they were taking me.  I didn’t know if I should expect the kind of thing I see in the movies, or if it would be worse.

When I got there, I was admitted, and they tested my urine and gave me ativan because the figured I was a pretty high level alcoholic to have that level, and they didn’t want to deal with seizures if I was physically dependent.  Luckily, even though I have been drinking about six years, I still never got to the point where I could handle the kind of amounts that they were probably assuming.

I am lucky to have the background and history of smoking as much weed as I did, because I have read somewhere that it helps prevent seizures that can potentially come from sudden abstinence from alcohol after several years of using it regularly.

I was in a weird mood when I started this post, probably buzzed, and I even used that photo of me in the paper suit while I was creating the first draft.  I would say I’m “not feeling it” anymore, but something kept me coming back to this post in an effort to figure out what I was ranting about this time.

I know that I didn’t appreciate having a $700 plus bill show up in the mail after going through such an ordeal as putting myself in that situation in the first place.  Then I had to go to the hospital and show them my actual financial state at the time so that they didn’t hit me up for over $1200.  That would have been over 2 grand for making one drunk fucking phone call!

At least I didn’t get caught trying to drive while fucked up because commercials out here in Nevada indicate they will take $10,000 from you by the time it’s all said and done, and you lose your car and license, unless they are figuring that all in with that horrible threat.

I’ve posted enough about “luck” and that didn’t have anything to do with never getting caught driving while fucked up.  I actually have an anxiety about trying to get behind the wheel even if I have been drinking a little bit, because I know very well that if some a-hole pedestrian walks out in front of you, it’s their fault if you are sober but your fault if you are fucked up.

That makes no fucking sense to me whatsoever.  I mean, if some drunk guy hits a bus stop, like one just did recently very close to where I happen to live, he should get slapped with the harshest punishment available.  He fucking killed somebody.  At the same time, nearly every week, some asshole tries to cross the street in total darkness in the exact point between intersections where they should not fucking be crossing.  Add to that if they are drunk and wobbling all over the place while trying to cross the road in total darkness, and you can guess that Darwin’s law will prevail, and that asshole will be another statistic shown on the news.

Most of the time, those suicidal pedestrians are taken out by people who happen to be *TOTALLY FUCKING SOBER* and very lucky to have been on that occasion.  In those cases, the drivers aren’t charged, because the cops know you CAN’T FUCKING SEE THESE PEOPLE IN THE DARK.  If, on the other hand, the driver happens to have had as little as a few beers, then criminal charges come into the picture.

That’s why I am scared to drive drunk.  I’m not scared I would cause an accident, I’m scared that some idiot would cause an accident and then I am still at fault because I happened to be drunk.  Because of this, I don’t drive drunk myself, but I am not so militant about drunk drivers.  If I lost a loved one to a drunk driver, I still would not occupy my time or energy in pursuing “every other drunk driver on the planet”.  Those people do that so they don’t go buy a gun and take out the *one drunk driver* that really matters “to them”. 🙂  I know, dark.

I am not just lucky, but work hard at keeping myself as safe as possible when I am fucking around with a drug as dangerous as alcohol.  I like getting drunk, but I understand and respect the power of that drug, and I know that it’s ironic that out of all the drugs on the planet, this is the one “they” chose to sedate us with.

I really wonder how and why they could not have encouraged the use of marijuana over alcohol because it is so much less dangerous.  Then, I remember that they only made marijuana illegal in the first place because they were racist and wanted an easy way to lock up as many minorities as they could.  I have read that it started with Mexicans, but it worked so well for them that they kept the law in place for blacks.  I am guessing that crack was a real boom to police unions and private prison investors, as well as a big win for racists everywhere who want to continue to lock up more people than any country in the world.

I also keep in mind how big pharma and big alcohol love the lack of competition from this meek little harmless plant.  Occasionally, now that the walls are coming down against the removal of marijuana prohibition, people are trying to lump in pot smokers with alcoholics, and I am kind of offended, even though I happen to be both at the same time.

I know that if pot would have been legal, I never would have started using alcohol regularly in the first place.  I have to wonder how many investors in big alcohol know this for a fact, and are close to knowing an exact statistic of how many regular customers they would not have if weed was legal.

I also wonder how much cancer could have been prevented or slowed down from killing so many people if weed was legal, since it has been proven that weed does inhibit tumor growth.  I have read that this was discovered way back in the 70’s, but the information was suppressed because they were trying desperately to find something *wrong* with weed but just couldn’t.

In fact, I failed to mention how genesis 1:29 in the freaking bible says that God created all plants for man to use as food.  Hemp happens to be perfectly nutritionally balanced, and yet, the christians are not in an uproar that this “sacred plant food” has been taken away from us.

I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for the “food network” to talk about the merits of weed being the “perfectly balanced food” because they are so mainstream and busy slinging  out the pro alcohol propaganda while they conveniently act like weed doesn’t exist.  There is a “cocktail” recipe in nearly every show, with real alcohol, but they act like they have never heard of “marijuana edibles”.

I have to wonder how many people never would have resorted to overdosing on prescription medication if they never went to pills because they stayed happy with a little weed every day.  I have to wonder how many people are in serious pain, and being denied those same pills even when a doctor orders them, because some dickhead at some pharmacy looked them over and labeled them a “drug addict”, even though they are %100 fucking legit.

All that makes me hate big pharma even more.  if the drugs they  make aren’t killing you, you are left dying in pain because the masochistic pharmacist doesn’t want to give you the shit that a real fucking doctor said you should have.

I don’t know, I like to say “I’m not crazy, this fucking reality is out of it’s fucking mind crazy.”

Of course, that is a typical statement of someone who is bat shit crazy, to assume that they are normal and the rest of the world is just fucked in the head.

In my case, when I look around at the world, and see comments people make online about different things, I really start to wonder if everybody is really fucked up in just one small way, and they are only functional because they can hold down that little bit of crazy long enough to get out of the public eye and express it in some kind of fucked up ritual.

I am happy just smoking a little weed, but that was “too much to ask”, before moving 2000 miles and going to a doctor for x-rays that show I need a hip replacement at the age of 46, and I am going to suffer in pain until it is replaced.  If I still lived in Louisiana, they would be giving me fucking tylenol for this massive occasional hip pain.  Louisiana can forever suck my balls.

Even now, I consider how after surgery, I will probably be given some heavy duty shit, and because I have long hair, the dickhead at the pharmacy might deny me of it when I really need it.  On the other hand, I have a history with my pharmacist, and I don’t go in there all nervous, anxious, and itchy, bitching if there is any delay on my precious fucking pills.  I have been in there and watched the kind of people they have no choice but to turn away.  At the same time, the local news makes a big deal out of people who have had to go to up to 30 pharmacies to get one medication, and one of those fuckers was in a fucking wheelchair!

When I said “take me to the hospital” a little part of me had given up.  I reached a kind of “rock bottom” that didn’t require a televised intervention or even the participation of family and friends.  At the time, my family was literally scared of me more than they were scared for me, and my “friends” were pretty shitty and fucked up themselves at the moment.

I had nobody to turn to but myself, and while I did check in for a 3 day holiday, it was really educational.  After all the alcohol I had abused, it wasn’t until I was on ativan that I managed to see from a slightly different perspective, and pull my head out of my ass long enough to finally start to straighten out all the shit that was fucked up with my life.

In a way, the visit to the hospital did absolutely nothing to improve my “condition” on it’s own.  The medication combined with the intense boredom of being stuck with nobody to talk to but yourself was enough to change my perspective to the point where I realized that I either had to figure out a guaranteed way to take myself out, or I had to figure out a way to maximize the potential I have for growth and development in the future.

I think that a spiteful part of myself wanted to get back out there into “reality” just to see how much trouble I could cause without getting into trouble myself.  In a way, I think I am still doing that.  My work is pretty unique, because there aren’t many super sized, or super morbidly obese women who are approaching 500lbs who literally suck and fuck on the internet.

I had to sober up “just enough” to get a job, to keep the apartment, to meet a few women, to build my confidence, to get Candy back, to get back to work doing what I was meant to be doing all along.

In a way, my life is even more crazy now than it was when I was just drinking myself to sleep every time I woke up.  I was boring, typical, useless alcoholic.  Now, i create content that is just raunchy enough that it stands out against the competition just enough to pay me just enough to make me want to keep creating it.

I am kind of taking money away from other people who are doing the same thing.  Every dollar I make I am grateful for because it’s a dollar someone could have spent somewhere else, but didn’t.  I realize that everybody and their grandmother, LITERALLY, are trying to make a dollar in the adult realm online.

There are granny phone sex chicks that are super sized but don’t even use that to their advantage, or just started to recently, which gets them into modeling.  That’s how I met and got started with Dia from bbwdungeon.com.  She was in phone sex, she was a SSBBW, and she didn’t think that she could market her real look in order to promote her phone sex.  Now women are doing it all the time.

I love saying “grannies” because I did some math and concluded that a woman is old enough to be a “granny” at just 32, if she had a kid at 16 and that kid had a kid at 16.  When you raise that to 18, you get 36.  If you raise it to 18, you get 42.  Candy happens to be 42 right now. 🙂  I have concluded that when Candy does hardcore content, it is not just SSBBW hardcore, it is actually SSBBW granny hardcore. 🙂

 

ssbbw candy godiva swallows

ssbbw candy godiva swallows

Being a ‘granny’ isn’t just for “parents” anymore. 🙂  Being a MILF probably doesn’t require having kids anymore.  Even if someone has biological kids, it doesn’t mean they have to have custody of said children when they do porn in order to be called a “MILF”.  I think that is just one of many “flattering” terms that have been given to fetishes and sexual preferences that don’t involve magazine cut out “allegedly perfect women”.

For example, “BBW” is supposed to mean “big beautiful women”, but I have often commented upon how the “beautiful” is easily disputable not only based on facial charisma, but on personality and general attitude.  In other words, there are some fat women out there who are just real bitchy cunts!  They really don’t deserve to use bbw no matter what they look like, but I like to call them “big bitchy women”. 🙂

So, the content that I create can get a little crazy, because all I have to do is cross over into a few more fetishes and it gets insane.  I put on a horse head mask for one video and so there is “mask play” and “pony play” as well as the already crazy combination of SSBBW granny porn.  If I toss some food in there on top of that, you have “feed me fuck me” ssbbw granny porn with mask play.

ssbbw sex with horsehead masked man

ssbbw sex with horsehead masked man

I don’t know, but maybe I just found a way to end this post, and justify the title “take me to the hospital”. 🙂

Also, this reminds me of how badly I want to do another SSBBW “feed me fuck me” hardcore clip and Candy has been procrastinating because she is fixated on the food she wants for feedee videos!

My life really is “crazy”. 🙂

 

mr hyde

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now, i am buzzed.  i am coming back because after a really full day of activity, i realize how much the earlier writing exercise helped me.  i was given a little time on my own upon waking, and the thoughts were racing about everything i had experience during the last episode of online activity that literally had me concerned.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dr._Jekyll_and_Mr._Hyde_(1931_film)

i was trying to restrict the use of links to outside sites while typing, but this is the reference to the title, for those who are culturally challenged when it comes to real cinema versus hollywood movies.

i realize that while my behavior in this one little forum was really inexcusable, unprofessional, irrational, and made me look like a crazy person, it had some kind of purpose.  a part of me tries so hard to recover memories from dreams every night, but during the day, i can only collect scraps of memory that were lost for a few hours because of the drunken condition i was in the night before.

i believe that my little experiment with alcohol needs to come to an end, eventually.  candy has left as a direct result of my use of alcohol, before she realized that it was a trigger that caused her to be a total bitch, and both of us were not totally aware of it at the time.

i have wondered if there is some correlation between her inability to control that impulse, and my own inability to control my alcohol intake when i am facing an extremely painful situation.  i don’t mean emotional pain, i mean physical pain, that i don’t choose to inflict on myself, but is inflicted upon me by my prior abuse of my entire left side.

one should not need a hip replacement before the age of fifty, but here we are.  i could get all kinds of pills, but i don’t even try, because i know that it is a road that goes somewhere i don’t want to go.  it is extremely ironic that someone who admits to being an alcoholic has severe hesitation in even trying to get serious drugs.

if anything, alcohol was a very risky experiment on it’s own.  i have to pull myself out of some compulsion to keep drinking when i decided to start writing this.  or, i was so unnerved by my own behavior recently that i had to take a look inside for a moment with my writing.

i know i was wrong.  i know i was irrational.  i know i was insensitive, and completely out of control.  a part of me seems to know that i was going to go there, and allowed it, which means that i still take responsibility as the more sane partner in this strange inner struggle with just one chemical.

i only started using alcohol on a regular basis shortly after turning 40.  i’m 46 now, so this is year six.  while some alcoholics count out how much time they have been sober, i am counting down how long it will take for me to be able to consume this one chemical without being a slave to it.

rather than abstinence, a part of me knows that i can control it, but unfortunately, i have to go through some kind of period of complete upheaval, much like “rock bottom” but without homelessness and bankruptcy. 🙂

i guess there are advantages to being a fully functional drug addict.  i choose not to get on the pills, for good reason.  i can’t just walk into a store and buy pills.  if i could walk into a store to buy weed, i would not have started fucking drinking to begin with.

i started to experiment with alcohol because of this horrible episode with my best friend and weed dealer.  he got on crack and/or meth, and he started to orchestrate my weed deals with his crack buys.  i don’t think he will ever understand how much it influenced me when his wife threatened to call the cops on us while i just bought an ounce of weed in freaking louisiana…

i stopped talking to that guy, the best friend from high school, because i had such built up resentment for his disrespect and his lack of consideration.  he started to use this beer can crack pipe in my car after i told him not to smoke crack in my car.  he doesn’t understand the seriousness of that offense.

just because i’m a pot head, doesn’t mean i can tolerate a crack head.  he used to keep one of his wife’s name tags on him to stab holes in the side of a beer can after denting it.  then, he would place a few cigarette ashes over the holes, and carefully place his precious fucking crack on them, and smoke it through the hole you would drink through.

that shit is pathetic, and intolerable.  what’s worse is the way he would act after smoking crack.  he would be all paranoid and start turning the lights on and off, and then looking out the window over and over.  i hated it, and told him he was doing it, but he was oblivious.

now, i realize that the moment i allowed mr hyde to get out there and log in, even in some obscure, dying forum, i was out of control.  i am grateful to all those people for helping me to realize and understand, through totally predictable behavior, that i was out of control.

it’s wild when you can do an intervention on your own damn self.

today i typed over 3000 words in this blog, and then i added a clip to the clip stores that had already been prepared days earlier.  then, i went to big wonderful wal mart and did grocery shopping.  then, i came home, had a few beers because i was still sore from the rains days ago, and got online.  rather than going all manic crazy person on some forum, i came here.

i felt compelled to point out some things that i had learned about my own behavior.  if i ever allow myself to get drunk to a certain degree, and then go into forums where i already have issues with people, it is a catastrophe waiting to happen, and i should try much harder than i have recently to prevent that from happening.

i learned some kind of fucked up coping mechanism when candy was gone for eight months, and i learned to lash out online to help myself release all kinds of negative energy.  i used to only do it on facebook, but this one little tiny forum seemed ok to fuck around with, and somehow, a part of me let drunk me go in there and go fucking crazy.

now, i realize the value of that experience.  i still feel badly for anyone who might have taken anything really personally, but i am pretty sure they just wrote me off as that crazy alcoholic mean guy.  i think that’s what some part of me meant to allow to happen all along, to snap myself out of some tendency to focus on one tiny spot online like some kind of magnifying glass and burn a big hole there, in some scorched earth policy that makes me look like some kind of monster.  mr hyde is a fucking monster, and on those few occasions i am allowed to see it for myself, i realize the degree of severity as to how much i am losing the battle with alcohol.

i am willing to admit it, but i have other alternative coping mechanisms, like writing.  i can’t even fucking read straight while drunk, but somehow i can manage to type.  that shit is scary.

there was a time when i stopped smoking weed completely, and started substituting vodka.  candy doesn’t remember it, because it was before she got on lexapro and ended up in virginia.  there was at least a six month period where i totally stopped smoking weed after nearly twenty years of consecutive use every day.

i continued to watch candy smoke it, and i continued to purchase it, but for that period of time, because i wasn’t smoking, i didn’t have to pick it up as often, and i didn’t have to deal with my wonderful crack smoking best friend, and i didn’t have to worry about some kind of domestic dispute that was launched because i tipped my friend enough money for him to buy and consume crack.

somehow, time passed, and eventually, candy took off for that first period.  candy has left for a four month period and then an eight month period.  she was fortunate enough to receive counseling to help her see her triggers, and therefore, she was mature enough to create a compromise to deal with my temporary use of alcohol.

even if it seems like a long period of time, six years is nothing when compared to 46.  i allowed myself to dip into this little interest after years of hating alcohol, because i realized how much that industry probably lobbied against marijuana legalization.

there are so many industries, to take a little side trip, that will want to prevent this.  first there are police unions.  i am not attempting to be racist here, but there is no better way to incarcerate more african americans than to bust them with some weed, and i continue to wonder how that racist prohibition continues to this day.  i have read text that indicates it was more suited to lock up the mexicans at first, but it worked so well with the african americans that they said “what the hell?”

then of course there are corrections unions.  all the people that make a living keeping all those locked up “animals” under control.  you know they don’t want to let anybody out any time soon.

then there are the investors that continue to maintain and build new private prisons.  free enterprise and capitalism lead to some kind of inspiration to continue to be the incarceration capital of the world.  if you break down the actual incarcerated population, you would find racial disparities that make me think people have ample reason to protest in furgeson.  i begin to want to compare the naacp to naafa in effectiveness, political agenda, and main focus.

maybe the recent investigation into that little police department was just a small step in many other changes that really, seriously need to take place in the future.

wow, it was so easy for me to be distracted.  so much injustice in the world, that so many people find so easy to ignore.  there is a little tiny track in the back of my mind that keeps track of shit like that, and maybe i should cut it loose so i don’t get so pissed off in forums that do not have anything to do with my own personal issues and aggravations.

bringing up how many times and how long candy left is relevant.  without professional therapy to deal with those events, and my behavior during, i am pretty much forced to seriously analyze myself when i pull something fucked up.  at least i am not getting locked up in the process.  if i do have “abusive tendencies”, i still seem to have some ability to redirect them in the least destructive way possible.

while my “social reputation” could be damaged by such outbursts, this forum is so obscure that nobody will see any of it anyway.  even if the moderator of the forum where i went off decided not to delete some of my horrible rant, i am willing to bet that the forum may be more active than it has ever been because of my participation, even if they are talking shit about me.

unlike so many sociopaths, i rather seem to enjoy gossip about me that i can’t see.  i don’t have any other means to express some kind of narcissistic megalomaniac personality, so i can achieve a level online that i really would not prefer to attempt in person.

i don’t think i am sociopathic, i think those guys are the ones that look like mr perfect until they get you alone and then use intimidation to keep you from “going to the cops”.

i tend to go totally crazy online every once in a while, then feel badly about it for a day or two, and then analyze the fuck out of myself for allowing myself to log in at all while that intoxicated.  it’s one thing to watch that television show “cops” and wonder why drunk people actually attempt to fight several cops at once.  i think there is a correlation between a virtual environment and that real life environment.

i think that if i am a troll down deep, i do it as “myself” instead of being anonymous.  one would assume that while i am using an identity that is readily available in other locations, i am taking a big public relations hit every time i pull this crazy shit.  in reality, i am just remaining relevant for just about the only thing besides candy that has ever made anybody ever notice me.

wow, the anatomy of a troll.  i don’t want to be a troll.  i am a good person.  i am really nice to people in real life.  i give people a lot of leeway in traffic, and i don’t have road rage.  i am so very patient with candy that most people could not even imagine, even when she is not in a good mood and totally goes off for almost no reason without being as drunk as i am when i do it.

at the same time, i have this ability to be really, really mean.  i can use minimal observations to create the most insulting or passive aggressive statements, and the worst part is, i am not even trying.  it just comes out.  it’s one thing if i was having to focus to be so mean, but it’s so fucking easy.  it comes to naturally to me that it scares me at times, and it should, if i want to be a better person over all.

i have to wonder if i have made it to age 46 with so many issues without being arrested or going suicide by cop because i have this ability to express my negativity in a relatively controlled environment.  even while totally intoxicated, i know the difference between being highly insulting and making terrorist threats…  i just don’t do that shit.  i came close to doing it at my very worst, when candy was gone, and i regret being that fucking creepy to this day.  those events contributed to the creation of a drunken character that i am forced to understand is just an extension of myself, down deep, and i don’t like it.

while candy was gone for eight months the last time, i went through an extraordinary transformation.  i had never been mean online, i would never imagine cursing people out, or making broad accusations, or calling people out for being fucking liars.

something happened when candy was gone, it probably started in the first four months while she was in virginia, and then when she want to boston, i experienced a total recurring nightmare.  candy has informed me on more than one occasion that i could have gotten her back much more quickly, but a part of me was trying so hard to let her go because she left for the second time.

i don’t think i have gotten over that period of time in it’s entirety just yet.  i think that there are lingering resentments, and while i used to be obnoxious and mean online to cope with her rejection, there is still a part of me that resorts to this behavior, and now that part of me is taking innocent online victims in the process.  my behavior in that forum is reprehensible, and i know it.  i understand though that i needed to go through that, and put other people through it in the process, in some selfish attempt to figure my own shit out.

while i would feel really bad for “using” people in some online forum to achieve this end, i also have to remind myself that they are a bunch of selfish, deviant, agenda driven motherfuckers who don’t give two shits about what i did, or who i am, or what it was all about.

maybe i needed to finally cultivate a selfish side too.  i was always too forgiving, to accommodating, too selfless.  i may have been the nice guy for so many years, even over a few decades, but i guess eventually it fucking wears off.  it’s ironic, how many women would like a nice guy, but they will tend to reject them over and over without even realizing it, because they are awkward, and don’t know how to look like mr right.  the guy who knows exactly what to say is the one you need to worry about.

while i used to be really nice, there has been some obvious modifications, because while i was still working through unresolved feelings of candy rejecting me in the past, some bitch came along and took me for nearly $300 and trashed a hotel room that i was nice enough to get for her while she was here.  being nice can get you fucked in the ass, and now i wonder if it’s all about candy’s past rejection, or the way that people have been fucking me over all my life, and continue to fuck me over to this day, and i am just not fucking taking it anymore.

my focus and fixation on this one little forum was just as potent and relentless as my participation here right now in this blog.  this leads me to believe that i wanted to type and type somewhere and be reminded about how i am typing in the wrong place, to a bunch of fuck heads who could never begin to understand it, even if they were offered the entire back story of this blog itself, because they don’t really fucking care.

every once in a while, you run into someone who sincerely cares.  they care enough not to offer unsolicited advice, or tell you where to go to find some social interaction that you have already said you are not interested in.  somewhere, buried in time and space, is our personal audience.  i have this image of the future, and i have no idea how to make it happen just yet, but because i can visualize it, i know it is inevitable.

i am motivated by my dreams, because when i was in high school, i had a recurring nightmare about having to repeat a year of high school.  i got busted with a joint in a cigarette pack right in my front pocket and was suspended.  i received the call from the school board, set up a hearing as my father, and never told them, so nobody showed up.

because of the traumatic way that the school administrators reached out to my parents, they had no interest in attending any hearing to be further humiliated.  i am reminded though, with the wisdom i have now, that it was wrong for them to confront me without legal counsel and try to bargain with me to rat someone out to save my school year.

i chose to repeat an entire year of high school instead of being a fucking rat.  maybe that was the beginning of a process that created so much real world experience that i would end up a hermit troll, making big statements online because i can no longer be partying it up when i have to take care of the one person in this reality that means more to me than my own life.

i had this anorexic looking undercover cop attempt to seduce me, to bust the best friend that i would later abandon because he smoked crack in my car against my wishes.

i found the love of my life, and told her that i would give up an open relationship because i had finally found the woman that could make me forget all others, and then she left me, twice.

i take responsibility for my part in all of this, because i was trying to do the right thing for the future, and for her, and it blew up in my face.  i can understand so much better why i would go to some obscure forum, attempt to befriend people, and then go the fuck off on them when they disappointed me exactly the way that i predicted they would.

a part of me knew candy would leave, both times.  i refused to acknowledge it, and continued to test her, because she tested me.  we were stuck in this loop of daring each other to just break up and get it over with.  we were miserable, but we loved each other more than anyone else in each other’s lives.  what a tragedy.

it’s no wonder we end up together now.  candy had to forsake all kinds of new, wonderful friends, because as much as most of them said they understood, they really don’t, and they never will.  they never really knew her, like i know her.  they will never know me, like she knows me.

i have given most of them every reason to hate me for the rest of my life, and the only one that really matters has attempted to let me know on so many occasions that she forgives me.  it is really beyond my own belief, how she could tolerate so much shit, from someone so currently insignificant, and still forgive me.  she is the closest thing to jesus i have ever known in this lifetime, in my 46 years.

i realize that i had to “blow up” again, just one more time, to teach myself a lesson.  i’m buzzed now, but i refuse to enter that state again after seeing for myself what i can do under it’s influence.  i am not worried about damage to “reputation”, because i am notorious for being such an amazing, incredible dick head.

i have had a busy day.  i can feel the energy draining as i have produced all of this potentially meaningless and incoherent text.  i have actually put up a new clip today, along with the shopping, and i should promote it, but that kind of takes care of itself when you open up to four different clip stores, all hungry.

i have created more work in the last few months than i have in the last few years.  candy has been so cooperative, that one might think that nearly breaking up that last and final third time opened both our fucking eyes.  i know i can’t get so fucked up.  i have somehow restrained myself today, because it is after midnight and i could not even finish the sixth beer.  that is a move in the right direction.

all of this focus on this blog at this time is not due to my interaction with the forum recently.  i believe that the opposite is true.  i needed to create that distraction there, in order for me to realize that i needed to redirect my writing back here.

now, i create photos and videos as a ‘job’ and i can release excess energy in my writing instead of bugging candy or any useless forum with my manic rambling.  i can redirect it here and get “writing practice” too, and it isn’t wasted on emails to empty vessels or groups with endless agendas…  it is all mine… 🙂

 

 

ssbbw candy godiva is stuffed

agendas

0

you know, i kind of like this style of not capitalizing, but that was one way when people could tell when i was intoxicated.  at this point, i am getting a thrill out of writing more while not intoxicated, so without that little hint, it should still be obvious if i am drunk or not, or if i might be just a tiny bit high.

i re-read the prior post, and i could go back and clean it up a bit, but i want to leave it, because i did announce that i was somewhat intoxicated, although not nearly to the degree that i have been in the past during my worst online behavior ever.

there has been some talk about an ebook that came out recently, written by a friend of candy’s, and this work was not very appreciated at all by so many people.  at the same time, so many people provided negative feedback.  when i see something like that, i am reminded of just how irrelevant my own writing can be, and how i am probably just ‘talking to myself’ more than expressing anything of any value or interest.

i realize that there are times when i go off on some tangent and i really try to get deep into something, but some of my own descriptions seem somewhat disconnected and incoherent at times.  that is probably more related to practice than if i am intoxicated on alcohol.

i went into that forum i talked about before with an agenda.  the main agenda was to just “make new friends and meet new people”.  this seems harmless enough, but now i realize that the typical agenda of the individual in that forum is not going to be quite that simple.  i forget that the “making friends” part is just “part one” in the advanced long term agenda.

i was fighting a losing battle to assume that my honestly simple agenda would hold much interest for those who would focus, rightfully, on those individuals who had an agenda that came somewhere close to their own.  when i talk about “just friends”, that pretty much eliminates us from the swingers, the voyeurs, the unicorn hunters, and most importantly, the “fat herder”.

i briefly mentioned this “ptsd episode” where “drunk me” decided to “go off” in some forum because i felt that people hadn’t paid enough attention to me or something.  i had been somewhat offended by the tendency for one person who ran the group to hit me with information about a group get together in response to my initial post, where i said in the last paragraph that candy was not into that stuff.

i felt disregarded, a little disrespected, and somewhat offended by that exchange.  as time went on, that sense of being offended and blown off increased as there was literally no other response to anything i would post in that thread or any other thread i attempted to participate in.

now, if i had creeped people out already with my participation, or anything i had said, it still didn’t stop someone from blindly pursuing an agenda even though i stated in my post that we were not candidates for that agenda.  this kind of social media cold calling is always very unattractive, because it’s going to draw in the kind of guys who are not so open and up front about wanting to “make new friends”, because they are looking for easy prey for one of many possible agendas.

it was really unfair for me to try to communicate with the most social acting person in that and literally hundreds of other forums, because i should have realized that she too was casting a large net, but for something that i would have no interest in if it involved having sex in front of people that we don’t know.

i should have known better that this person would really like to “get to know new people” as she seemed to try so hard to do with every other person in the forum.  she was casting this net out there, reeling in as many people as she could herself, but as she said it was about friendship, it really wasn’t, and the vague and ambiguous nature of “he likes to watch” wasn’t very informative as to her likes and dislikes as an intellectual friend.

maybe a part of me was so used to being rejected sexually as a single male, that now, i am really insulted when i am rejected for simple friendship that doesn’t involve eventually fucking someone or watching them get fucked by someone else, or letting them fuck my old lady, or whatever.

i am really grateful for that whole experience, even if it made me “look bad” in the eyes of all those people who have an agenda that doesn’t match mine or candy’s anyway.  maybe, just maybe, no matter how bad i get online, there are people out there who wanted to say the same things, but just didn’t want to deal with the burden of being a social media outcast.

candy should be ashamed or at least embarrassed by some of my behavior online, but she’s “used to it” now.  she knows that as i go around making a fool of myself occasionally, that i am only scaring off the vultures and the buzzards that don’t want true friendship as much as they seem to want to find new sex partners gathered around the corpse they consume.

that is a horrible and morbid association, but that’s how i view the whole alleged size acceptance community at this point.  people love to use that phrase, size acceptance, while they hold these gatherings where socialization comes at a price at the door, and the smaller bbws can stare and gawk at the ssbbws in much the same way everybody else in society does.  i have heard, and fortunately not experienced, that this type of behavior is not only tolerated at some past events, but encouraged for amusement and entertainment.

that is a harsh allegation, but i have heard some pretty low down stuff about the ‘vegas bbw bash’ before it changed management and became ‘something else’.  in the last year before the management changed, i somehow stumbled upon facebook posts by people who left early for some reason or another.  luckily for them, all was not lost because the new group was forming as the old group was dying.  it’s just a kind of changing of the guard, and for all i know, it may be better, but candy doesn’t want to submit herself to the mere possibility that she could end up being the entertainment when things might fall apart.

it doesn’t help matters that there has not really been any kind of close friendships online with the kind of people who shell out hundreds of dollars to “meet new people” at these events.

i am really cheap, so not only is it not really affordable to begin with, i simply can’t allow myself to invest without some kind of return on investment.  that would provide me with an agenda as i paid hundreds of dollars, and the chance for real disappointment if i didn’t get exactly what i wanted.

that’s why i can just simply elect not to participate, for the comfort of everyone else involved, and because candy has no desire to walk into a room full of complete strangers, and watch the cliques form and she’s stuck with the online asshole that is me.

now, there are gatherings that are free to attend, and there are gatherings that have a small cost at the door per person, much more manageable, and without building up much expectation.  the only problem with those gatherings is shared with the larger gatherings.  there is a lack of interest to get to know people before or unless they actually attend one of these things first.

i have some fucked up perception at times, but this reminds me of a guy who doesn’t want to waste any time having to get to know a woman online before hooking up first.  i am sure the ladies of a more feminist persuasion would love that argument.

much the same way, candy enjoys the online attention at times for being a ssbbw celebrity of sorts, but at the same time, it would be awkward and uncomfortable for her to enter a situation where the only attention she receives is from guys who wish they could fuck her, or women who pity her and want to give her advice to help her change because they used to be like her.

we went to hang out in a hotel room while an event was going on because candy wanted to hang out with just one person who was there for a bit.  after candy got up to go to the bathroom, and her friend was off for a few minutes doing something, a woman walked up to candy and started sincerely talking to her about how she used to suffer like candy, and how horrible it was, and how much she worked to correct it.

i realize there is a natural instinct to be nice and helpful, but candy has had to remind me on many occasions about how offensive unsolicited advice can be, and this situation was not only uncomfortable for candy, but depressing, and further inspiration not to want to hang out with a bunch of fat people just because she is fat.

there are events in the past that candy has attended, but only because she was good friends with the organizer, so she got to hang out with the “cool kids” and she was protected from any possibility of being made a spectacle or being shunned for being super sized.  it kind of helps when the group organizer is super morbidly obese herself, so candy doesn’t feel like the only one.

i know i was unfair in that group, i tried to contribute, but probably appeared kind of manic like i just wouldn’t shut up.  this is after repeated complaints about how quiet members are.  once i try to make conversation, every comment is followed by an empty box, until i come back and think of something new.

if i am talking to myself anyway, why the fuck should i be there?  i could be typing here, and if i do that every day, this shit will eventually pay off in some way.  this is the kind of agenda i should get behind.

that’s probably why i got impatient with myself and with the members of that tiny little insignificant group, and allowed myself to truly get nasty with people out of some need to burn out rather than fade away.

i did try to attend 2 different events on my own, to scout the waters of las vegas bbw interaction.  the first event was called a “bbw take over” at some local bar.  the bar was split into two main sections, and one was inhabited by people who obviously had nothing to do with the bbw thing.  it was obvious in no time which section was designated for the bbw event, because there was nothing but rap music going, and a few women that seemed a little larger than the ones on the other side.

i mention rap music as it relates to bbw events, and have to take a time out for this little complaint.  i might occasionally like to hear some house, or techno, like turning it into a mini rave for just a few minutes, but at this event, it was rap and only rap music.  occasionally there was something popular in the dance category, but mostly, there were what sounded like independent rap artists that made references to “big women” repeatedly, usually making graphic sexual comparisons in the process.

there was a “booty meat” competition.  sometimes i realize the very real handicap in being caucasian and having a preference for big butt white women.  i can’t get away with telling a woman i like her big booty. black women will usually show off a big booty in a profile rather than cutting off all photos at the neck or maybe waist.  that’s where i come up with a phrase i like to use, “white and uptight“.  i totally understand how some people can have a racial preference other than their own when they just happen to be white.

i would not have really noticed that i was the only white guy there until i overheard one woman saying as she walked out “that’s the white guy“.  it’s like somebody had a running bet on if any white guys would show up at all, and if so, how many.  that wasn’t uncomfortable or anything!

that is connected to the second thing i showed up at.  i always thought it would be cool to go to a fat strip club, or a strip club that had a fat/bbw night.  there was this thing that a woman i have seen on a few websites was doing, and i went.  i walked in, hung out at the bar, and this guy comes up to me saying “we’re the only white guys here!”  ok, that was fucking uncomfortable. again, i hadn’t noticed it myself and it was not a thought that had jumped into my head, until this jabroni said it.

i was not really impressed by the dancers, except for one, julia sands.  she is teeny tiny in my realm of interest on a physical or sexual level, but she was honestly the most talented woman there.  most of the others just kind of walked around on stage with their pendulous breasts swinging, and it just wasn’t really attractive to me at all.

after that experience, i realize i would rather watch some of those women in pre-recorded content than ever see them attempt “stripping”.  i am sorry for being so negative, but they were just not very good at dancing, the ones i let myself actually look at here and there.  the one cutest girl there danced when i was outside getting high with the “only other white guy”, and that is what caused the cops to show up and harass some black guys later.  cops are so freaking racist, and weed being prohibited is fucking racist, where is the naacp on that shit?

at the bbw take over event, the only person in that entire place that attempted to socialize with me was a skinny woman who pulled me onto the dance floor, and i think she was a prostitute.  i managed to overhear the “white guy” comment because i was outside on the phone with candy, and a couple were leaving and walked close enough for me to hear that.  it felt kind of racist to tell you the truth, but because of ‘white privilege’ i’m not supposed to feel discriminated against.

at the bbw strip club thing, i was still looking for a good weed connection, and one chance encounter at that place was vital for that to happen, but it was a guy i already knew from years before, who only came in to see one model for a private lap dance and then get the hell out of there.

i am still so grateful to him for that connection, because the woman organizing the event offered to sell me weed right there, but never followed through with it.  she just wanted me to go to the atm to have money to tip dancers, and i wasn’t going to, because i was really uncomfortable with the whole strip club dynamic.

i had been to a strip club over a decade before, with a guy i worked with, because his girlfriend worked there.  yeah, i was hanging with pretty interesting people long before the internet came along.  it was only once, and nobody there hustled me for dances or anything, so i didn’t get the full experience.

at the strip club, the only people who talked to me were the guy i already knew, and the “only other white guy“, who talked about selling weed, but he never contacted me when i wrote to the email address he gave me.  then there were the dancers, and again, i was just too intimidated and depressed by the over all energy of that environment that i could not bring myself to participate.  i felt weird, like it would be deceptive to candy to let someone just dance for me, even though it might have helped to get a future modeling collaboration with candy if i had at least tried to tip and show some interest.

i felt weird and awkward, as if tipping someone would lead to an assumption that i was creepy or predatory.  i never fully understood the whole strip club thing, and it probably has a lot to do with the fact that i have always chosen to socialize with women on a much more interpersonal and intellectual level.  this tip for a show mentality felt deviant and primal to me.  that’s ironic coming from a pornographer.  being a producer of pornography, i control my environment, and i have decades of experience with the modeling dynamic as a photographer.  the stripper and customer exchange feels too much like prostitution to me, which i believe should be legal, but i would never participate in it.

i had an agenda in going to those places, to “make new friends and meet new people”, and maybe see if anybody wanted to sell some weed.  it turned out that the only person of any help to me at that time was one guy i *already knew* and candy begged him for the weed hook up via email days or weeks after that event.  actually, probably the day after.  thank god that happened.  just like a game of grand theft auto, i had to hang out at a strip club to get my weed connection before i had the medical marijuana card.  it took eight months to get that connection.  yes, again, eight fucking months.

i really am grateful to that guy, and i should try to thank him online at some point, but it was no big deal to him, and he gets plenty of action to the point where he probably forgot even helping us out so much. 🙂

about the strippers that asked me if i wanted a lap dance, i was way too uncomfortable for that.  even after 2 beers, a hard limit while having to drive, i was too inhibited to go for a “lap dance”.  i did get to talk to julia sands, and again, while i have no fixation on her sexually, i admire her work ethic and her talent, and it would be awesome to get to work with her at some point.  candy would probably be star struck and very uncomfortable though, so that may never happen unless candy goes for it, not me. 🙂

so, i was really aggravated about the woman at the strip club telling me she could hook me up with weed when she had no intention of it.  maybe the cops showing up stopped it from happening, but it’s not like she ever followed up on it later.  candy tells me she is probably a pill head who didn’t remember talking to me later in the same evening.

since i mentioned the naacp way back in this post, and something i believe they should look into, i should also mention how my main gripe with any attempt at social dependent size acceptance is in the group naafa.  the national association for the advancement of fat acceptance.  that group was created in an effort to raise awareness of size discrimination, but they quickly became more obsessed with growing membership and having “bashes” rather than doing anything having to do with raising awareness outside of the “pay to play” social group.

that shit is fucking classism.  i know it’s easy for me to cry injustice in classism because i happen to be living in a controlled state of poverty.  i don’t freak out about being “poor” because I am “poor on purpose” in order to be totally legally eligible for medicaid.  i have done that as part of an experiment to see just how shitty medicaid is, and how many medical professionals attempt to fuck you up the ass when you have medicaid.  that exercise in bureaucracy in and of itself took about three years.  the first year was the year before obamacare even started, just seeing if i could regulate income at that level and actually live comfortably doing so.  it turns out, in the third year, yes i can. 🙂

while i mention my distaste in the way that size acceptance was eventually used as a for profit social platform, it doesn’t mean i am against it because i can’t afford it.  if i really, really wanted to participate in that stuff, i would make sure it happened.  it took almost $300 just to get my medical marijuana card, so while i live in this regulated state of poverty, i was still able to achieve that easily.  the point is, that investment is going to have a much higher return in personal pleasure and joy than attending a social event with a bunch of people i don’t know that i could not go to unless i paid hundreds to get in, or even nearly a hundred for both of us.

i watched as naafa basically disintegrated after the million pound march, where speaker carnie wilson would later end up being a living commercial for lap band, and convince countless women to endure this surgical experiment.  one of those women was known by candy long before she ever met me, and that woman never made it out of the hospital alive.

now carnie wilson is probably having her third weight loss surgical procedure, because as long as it’s a celebrity, it’s not insane to keep doing the same thing expecting different results.  it works so well i did it three times!  what a fuck head.

i guess the name of this post, “agendas” was appropriate.  i have given so much information already, and i feel like i could type for another two hours.  this little exercise was therapeutic, because it prevented me from “day drinking”.

i will get so much more done and feel so much better to have gotten all of this out.  this is obviously the proper medium for me to take out my frustrations with the state of affairs in everything having to do with fat socialization at this point in our history, comparing it to the past, and other failed experiments in the same vein.

now i am free from writing in inappropriate areas as well.  this one little, or not so little post has given me insight into myself, my behavior, and my reasoning and perception of the world that exists around me that i only occasionally have to enter into.

 

ssbbw candy godiva is stuffed

candy godiva is so stuffed ssbbw

alcoholism

0

I got an impulse to write a note here, after months, and after abusing anything resembling “writing skills” by making a nuisance of myself to a few people online.

I have recognized a behavior, that has taken place over the past couple of months, that was simply a progression of an embedded behavior that started years ago, with my experiment in addiction transfer.

It is probably obvious what I transferred to, and I think that there is a blog post here from the distant past that goes into very specific detail about the process.  I have to check that, because if I wasted it on facebook I am a dumb ass.

I may have written it in a long, drawn out, mostly skimmed over or completely unread email, to someone who could not take me seriously because I was making the observation while intoxicated.

Over the past few weeks, I made a serious effort to break out of the loop I had created and neatly inserted myself into.  I created a series of “personal ads” on any and every site that would allow for contact before having to pay a membership.

In the process, I came across someone very unique.  She had an hour glass shape, but she had a career that prevented any kind of sexual content from being created involving her.  I got to know her well enough to respect her career enough to tell her never to let me or anyone else ever take nude photos of her.

Over the course of just days, some of the emails got pretty intense.  I got to know things about this woman that she told me most of her closest friends didn’t know.  Before I knew it, I was talking to a person instead of a body.

It had been a long time, since I had serious, in depth, mutually beneficial contact with the outside world.  Over just a few days of talking to her, the energy I expelled was so great that I was distracted from drinking.  After a few weeks of heavy drinking to knock back the stress of taxes and a malfunctioning health insurance exchange, I had started to cause a progression of the drinking that was draining me, and draining Candy as well.

While talking to this one individual, I was granted with a temptation to keep my facilities in tact instead of blowing them away partially with 8-10 Milwaukee’s Best Ice.  I only realized after a few days how easy it was for me to pour myself into my interests rather than kill interest in anything with the abuse of alcohol.

I broke down the exact mechanism by which I was using alcohol to wipe out anxiety, but I needed that anxiety in order to maintain order.  The more I allowed myself to escape a familiar, inspirational form of anxiety, the further behind I got on everything, and everyone.

Candy hadn’t gotten to the point where she was threatening to leave.  She was patient, and somehow tolerating my behavior, occasionally reminding me that it was hurting her, and occasionally blowing up in such a way that made it very difficult to restrain myself from escalating, especially while intoxicated.

Just a few days of some kind of deep, intimate, intellectual contact with another human being helped me to see from her perspective what I was doing to Candy.  She had her own issues to work out, and I was trying to help her with them, because I let her know how grateful I was that she helped me to see things from just one outside perspective.

I had been isolating myself for so very long, based on many contributing factors.  First, there is Candy’s social anxiety.  I would feel guilty to go out every weekend partying with the fabulous people of Las Vegas while she sat at home, exploring a virtual world of “second life”.

While she would not show any signs of missing out to me, I am sure she would feel some kind of disappointment or envy if I casually walked out of the apartment to meet groups of people, while she sat confined by her own anxiety.

Just the thought of what she might feel caused me to start isolating myself.  I removed myself from local groups on facebook, and I made absolutely no attempts to socialize locally.  Every once in a while, I would get really loaded and write some weird 5000 word rant to someone in email, because I was having distress about my first world problems.

That wasn’t interaction, that was a one sided psychic barrage of negative energy, that the recipient didn’t need to deal with.  I would be tempted to attempt an apology to each and every person I have ranted to like this, but I probably apologized at the end of it, knowing that I was in psycho drunk mode.

Talking to that one human being, that I never met, made me want to be a better person for Candy, because from her perspective.  I could see more in depth how my behavior was hurting her, and more importantly, hurting myself.  I knew I was letting myself get behind, I knew I was letting myself and everything I care about slip by as I literally walked right outside of time and space itself, creating a whole reality that only I could see.

That’s the biggest problem with alcohol.  It’s a beautiful drug, with a potentially wonderful high, but once an individual is under it’s spell, it is way too tempting to pass way beyond any reasonable or acceptable limit.  Once the limit is passed, one part of me is sleeping, and a very obnoxious, negative, pessimistic, condescending, arrogant, asshole comes out.

I would watch the television show “Cops” and laugh at the topless drunk guys trying to fight four or five police at once.  I know exactly what is going through that guys mind, and it is depressing to me.  The ride up to that point is fun, thrilling, and mind altering.  The problem comes in when the mind has been altered to a point beyond reason and the ability to see consequence.

The woman I talked to for days eventually burned out, exactly like I told her she would.  I made a comparison to her with a high wattage light bulb, that burns out so much faster than a lower wattage one.  I told her this just days before she freaked out and could not handle the restraint it took to stop being a slut and make a few real friends for once.

I knew it got too deep, too fast, and she was developing feelings for me because I was the first guy who resisted her advances in order to get to know her as a person.  It was not easy.  She has a wonderful hour glass shape, much like the Venus of Willendorf I love to rant about so much.  I told her about this, and of course, she had seen one of those statues a long time ago and remarked how much her body resembled it.

I told her that as a “fat woman”, she had an appeal that remarkably few “fat women” have.  I have this whole obsession with the way that those Venus statues have that shape for a reason.  That shape is extremely powerful, visually stimulating, and highly distracting.  Even guys who don’t think they have any interest in “fat chicks” could easily get tripped up while under the spell of the “involuntary stare reflex”.  The sight of such proportions has to be visually stimulating to more people than most people think, because I knew that the first woman I found with this shape would be noticed instantly once she had a web site.

It would appear that my new found friend had suffered the kind of sex drive that one might imagine could come with such a powerful figure.  She never could figure out why she thought of herself as ugly because she was “too big”, yet guys hit on her mercilessly.  She had impulse control issues, so she would give in, and then feel shame and guilt over it later.  Once I got to know that much about her, it was easy to resist her occasional sexual comment out of respect to her as a person, and the trouble she had gone through with such a condition.

We helped each other somehow, and neither one of us got what our fantasies really would have wanted from the situation.  I know that both of us really wanted to fuck each other badly, and in the back of my mind, I would involuntarily be working out a way for that to potentially happen “one day”.

One day could not come soon enough though, because the second the woman talked to Candy, she started to kind of hit on her as if she was a guy.  Candy is no stranger to that kind of attention, and she resisted any sexual response.  That actually offended the woman, because she had not hit on a woman in over a decade, and now she was rejected.

It’s sad, that the one time that Candy got her hopes up to meet someone that could be a new friend since October of last year, and the woman starts acting like a guy that wants to “hit that”.  Candy could forgive this, but because the woman allegedly felt so ashamed, she had to call off a meeting that would have been planned just days later.  She deleted her email account and her personal ad, but within 24 hours I found her replacement, visited it, and she was already writing me back.

I was disappointed, because here I was, sobering up so that I could focus and concentrate hard enough to “make something happen” after almost a decade of self isolation.  The first visit would have been set up with no expectations of any physical contact at all.  We were all trying to act like responsible adults, and meet as friends, get to know each other, and see what happens over time.  It would have been awesome for a first visit to be completely non sexual, for the sake of Candy getting to know a fraction about this woman that I already learned.

Part of the reason I was so fascinated with getting these two women together was because of their personalities, not because I wanted to see them awkwardly attempt some kind of super sized lesbian encounter.  I really wanted to see the energy exchanged between two women who held the same power, and suffered from some of the exact same consequences, over some periods of time that are literally just a few years off in age from each other.

They had the same trauma, the same issues, and the same heightened sexuality as a result of being stimulated for the first time in a highly inappropriate situation at an age that would create conflicting feelings about an event that should never have happened to them.  I called it “sexually advanced”, because even though it was a result of trauma and abuse, it still happened to them, maybe because they held this power of attraction their whole lives, and a few weak souls who were wrongly given opportunity took advantage of it in the worst way possible.  They would also be conflicted about their abuse, because at times, thoughts of it would feel just as stimulating and erotic to them as it felt wrong and traumatic.

Because I spent so much brain power figuring this woman out, and predicting exactly what was going to happen, I was finally inspired in two ways.  First, to break the cycle that I placed myself in with alcohol.  I didn’t really want to see it as a loop, because when you are in one, it is very difficult to WANT to see you are in one.  If an individual is escaping reality to begin with, time is unfortunately a part of that very reality.  Second, because of her insight, I could see myself from Candy’s eyes, as I tried not to get drunk so I could type properly to her.

The loop is easily established because humans are creatures of habit.  We want regularity, schedule, and self discipline.  Alcohol can over-ride the impulse to create order, and the anxiety that is in place to keep us on our toes in a very brutal reality.  While alcohol seems wonderful and magical in wiping out anxiety, it seems to work a little too well on people with my specific condition, so far undiagnosed professionally.

While alcohol is kicking ass on anxiety, it is also taking away ambition, drive, motivation, inspiration, dedication, devotion, discipline, control, and vision.  It takes away the ability to see what it is doing to yourself.  I am very skilled at abusing things, because I got to the point where I could drink the cheapest and nastiest beer I can find at room temp, to avoid making trips to the fridge that Candy could hear, each one bringing her deeper into a level of potential conflict.

Maybe I needed to “sneak around”, and because I devoted myself to Candy, beer was the last great frontier of taboo behavior.  I don’t crave the substance itself, I crave the altered head space.  I enjoy the personality that comes out in the early phases of alcohol intoxication, but that is already an alter ego, who will gladly break all limitations that sober me put on myself.

I kept trying to fool myself into thinking that I could get a 12 pack, and not wipe more than half of it out.  I thought I could stop at 6, saving another 6 for another day, and not even the very next day.  That got fucked up though.  I started getting a 12 pack, almost finishing it, feeling like crap the next day.  Then, I might not drink that day, or, I might finish off the 2 or 3 left, get a little buzz, and get way too tempted to get another 12 pack and start over.  That was progression.  I wanted to keep using it so badly that I was fooling myself into believing that I was trying to control intake, when the drug was controlling me.

All this started because I placed a few personal ads, not because I thought the grass was greener, but quite the opposite.  I created the ads to return to a mind space where Candy was gone for those 8 months.  I could probably feel her disappointment and resentment over my losing control of the beer, when she only came back because I agreed to give up vodka.

From the moment I created the first ad, I could see the exact same patterns in the women that would appear available in my age group.  It appeared that the few I would be attracted to went to a great deal of trouble to explain how unavailable they were, which meant they had baggage, which meant they were self conflicted, which meant they could be highly sexual.

Yeah, I am way beyond the “fat chicks are easy” thing.  I know better.  Fat chicks are actually harder, unless you know how to pick them.  🙂

I spent so much time wondering if I was conflicted about my real agenda in creating the personal ads, because obviously I have a very active imagination, which is something else the alcohol was killing.  It was also pulling my sex drive down just a little bit.  Not too much though, because even though Candy doesn’t want to have sex with a drunk guy, the drunk guy has literally worn her pussy out.

I have to point out, that I was compelled almost involuntarily to write here, after months of no activity.  That gap in time between now and the last blog post is probably the length of time that I was falling down the alcohol spiral of non motivation, and I just allowed it to continue.

Maybe it was actually painful for me to use my brain for a while.  When I am sober, I can tell I will be one of those hyper thinking former alcoholic types, because the abuse of alcohol was partially attributed to racing thoughts and high mental energy.

The effort I invested in getting to know this woman on a deeper level than just a few random fucks behind someone else’s back was invaluable.  The perspective is something I could not obtain from a shrink I could not afford.  Even though she dumped me, technically, even as just “friends”, I could only be disappointed for a little while because she granted me with something that I never would have had if I had not virtually met her online.

So few women have such a sexy shape, and even fewer have the intuition to show it off in full length body photos instead of hiding it away out of frame in endless face photos.

She was naturally going to get an avalanche of response, because that’s what she needed to build her confidence, because of a non existent, failing movement known as “size acceptance”.

Right here in Las Vegas, where there is “bbw shit” going on every other week, there are literally tons of beautiful, sexy, intelligent, amazing fat women who will never even know about it, much less have a desire to expose themselves to the kind of social pecking order that must exist in those types of environments.

Candy isolated herself once she hit a certain size because she was smaller herself once, and she always felt sorry for women that look like she does now.  She can’t go out, even with a group of allegedly like minded “fellow fatties”, because she will project the judgement and shame of her size on every person she meets, even if that was the last thing on their minds.

She is embarrassed and humiliated, to the point where she imagines that some repeated invitations to meet out at some bar with some group were just to ridicule how fat she had gotten.  Yes, if you were not aware, fat women do ridicule other fat women because of their size differences.  🙁  THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SIZE ACCEPTANCE.  It costs the diet industry TOO MUCH FUCKING MONEY.  It is much better to make fat people hate themselves, because you can make more money on drugs, surgery, and “treatment centers” that shoot people up with God knows what.

Because Candy hasn’t wanted to go out to bars to meet entire groups of strangers all at once, she has felt a sense of rejection that all attention directed to her seems to have something to do with enticing her into doing exactly what she doesn’t want to do.  These strange people have no idea of how humiliating it is to her to be asked to go somewhere, and when she declines, that’s pretty much the end of interest in her.  We have been in Las Vegas for almost 2 years, and no model has ever appeared with Candy Godiva in that time.

It’s no skin off my teeth, I am perfectly grateful and content just to work with her and only her for the rest of my life.  I just thought it was very ironic that in a city that is allegedly buzzing with bbw activity, there is at least one SSBBW who did get left behind.

I guess I drifted just a little, which means I have to wrap this up, because I have shit to do, and now I have to re-read all of this!  It is easy to see why alcohol has been so tempting for me.  My mind really works like this.  I think like this.  It is sometimes difficult for me to stay on track with just one subject, because I see connections that always lead so very far away.  I am still trying to figure out how to exploit this talent to my advantage, and it’s not even about money, because obviously I am not too concerned with that.  What irony, I live in Vegas, where everybody is trying to screw everybody else over, and I don’t give a fuck about money anymore.

Wow, what an observation.  I am not on alcohol either.  I have often said on facebook that I think I get even weirder off of alcohol, because there is some part of me that I have pushed down for so very long that I have to get used to being that person all over again.

Part of the person I used to be, was a model recruiter.  Even if I don’t give two shits if I find a single model in this awful, God forsaken place, I will at least try.  It has helped me to overcome another compulsion that was hurting me and my relationship.  The grass is not greener.  Another good reason for creating personal ads was to see all of the trauma and human debris that has been discarded for decades, sometimes for very good reason.

I wanted to see the horror and disappointment I would be faced with, having such a specific preference, being so very old, and knowing that I am actually “picky” even though I am attracted to the type of women most guys claim they could never be attracted to, but jerk off to secretly, thanks to me, and my super morbidly obese porn.

Yeah, it is going to take some getting used to, this part of me that I was literally drowning in ice beer.  It is only just coming to the surface, and I have placed personal ads at ok cupid, fet life, plenty of fish, saucydates, connectingsingles, myfreepersonals, and datehookup.  I have openly admitted to being in a relationship (where they even allow), and my only ambition there is to make new friends.

I may have fantasies, and one day a few of them may actually come true.  They don’t rule me though, and I am living with an ultimate fantasy that I never thought I would see again when she left the last time.  I was driving her away again, because I wanted to escape my isolation into a secondary alcohol induced isolation.

I believe that I wanted to take control of my decision to isolate myself, as painful as it may have been, by sinking into a state where I had to isolate myself from Candy for the periods of time that I was drinking too heavily.  That probably makes absolutely no sense.

By creating all of this attempt to be social (and no, facebook isn’t social, it’s fucking fake social), I was able to find just one person who actually read most of my ranting instead of ignoring it.  Unfortunately, I did not mean to create feelings in her that would have caused her to need to reject the friendship, but I hope I was able to teach her that she can find a guy that is just as interested in what’s in her head as he is about her massive, ginormous cup size…

I had my own fantasies of course, and Candy had to know it, as I awkwardly attempted to lure the sexiest woman I found locally on ok cupid right into the apartment to meet with us as purely friends with no expectations.

If I was so fumbling and awkward this time, I have learned.  Candy knows that I will not be isolated any longer, and she also knows that as I set a better example for her by not drinking at all, I expect more out of her in facing her fears too.

I won’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to, but just for a few days, Candy wanted to meet this fucking woman.  The one thing that kind of pisses me off is that this woman hurt Candy more than me, because Candy never even saw this shit coming.  She is talking to a woman about meeting up on sunday just to talk at first.  Then she is being told that she is too sexy and she will cause this woman to embarrass herself if she makes a move that she allegedly could not help herself from making, because she wanted to fuck both of us that bad, and she could not be patient… 🙁

I wasn’t even trying to fuck the woman from the first damn visit, but in my extreme self examination with her, she got pulled into something that was way too deep for her to handle.  It would surprise you to know that she has a career in a field where she has to work with people.

I know it’s in the back of Candy’s mind, that some day, maybe…  As long as I am not the horny, pushy, sleazy guy who is pushing hard or forcing her into it.  No, I am making new friends… What happens from there is up to her.  If i get a raging boner I do have 2 wonderful holes and a multitude of fat creases to use to relieve that condition, that happened to be owned by a woman I really never thought I would still be with, much less living in Las Vegas with, and defeating alcoholism with.

I did slip just the other day, when this woman broke up with “us” before ever meeting “us”.  I was disappointed that I caused Candy disappointment, because I knew I was never going to be smooth enough to pull off what I probably was trying to pull off in the back of my mind.

I hate to say that there is an equal exchange thing going on, but Candy hated drunk me.  She knows that drunk me is a manifestation of my issues with abandonment, anxiety, insecurity, and isolation.  She knows I can’t isolate myself, which is why she actively participates in my attempts to make new friends, even if she has serious anxiety about it, because she knows what I am capable of when I am not drinking…

I know I will probably still drink occasionally, but I will see it as a “slip” and not a “habit”.  By habituating the regular use of beer, I was making it a part of a loop that caused me to allow everything I care about to decay and atrophy.   I know that Candy is aware that there is a great energy shift going on, because if I even raise my voice while talking to her at this point, she has to say “energy!”, to remind me that I am psychically impacting her.

Oh, that’s another thing.  I had totally been downplaying the psychic thing because it’s something I like to think about, and fantasize about having, but I am endlessly frustrated by the way it always happens in a way that looks like coincidence instead of intuition.  I like to imagine that I use calculation to determine the future from using data of the past and present.  I have to imagine that occasionally, there is a calculation that is just too close to call, so maybe there is actually something to the small nudge that some kind of inner intuition can create.

Alcohol was also destroying intuition, because it interfered with an ability to calculate probability, and visualize consequence.  Visualization was also highly distorted.  All of this shit feels really awesome when you are “drunk”, but if I get drunk as often as every other day, the residual effects that alcohol has will still continue to influence me even when I appear to be sober.  Damn my studies in neurology!  I have to go!

complexity

0

I wanted to write, the last post being created from a perspective that had not yet completed a specific objective which required multiple prerequisites.  The stress of that upcoming change, decision, or action caused ripples in the time before it, extending months.  The planning that had gone into it was set into motion years before that.

I signed in, signed up, and shopped for my plan.  The plan would be free, but I didn’t quite know it at the moment before taking the actions.  I had employed some type of psychic accounting in order to prevent liability, but I had taken it to such an extreme and I probably did not need to.

A moment here or there, sober or intoxicated, taking a peek at subsidy calculators and the current table of poverty guidelines issued by the same people that think one can live on 700 a month.  I could have worked it out much more skillfully, but some frantic, manic, procrastinating, lazy fool chose to take over for a bit instead.

I still haven’t done the research, but a part of me even chose a specific number as an income target.  It wasn’t very well thought out, except some simple math showed that I would have to make one amount in order to maintain bills, maybe save a little, and still have the reserve capacity to make big payments in order to sustain a business model that even I believe is unsustainable.

It takes money to make money.  Even if I had a crazy plan to make as little as possible and still keep everything going as if nothing was wrong, there would still be times when I know I would have to come up with 500, 750, maybe even a cool grand at different points in the future.  As it stands, there are only two main expenses to my entire business model.  Hosting and payment processing.

Without having to file a thousand little receipts I can just pop out those two and the rest is small change.  I just don’t spend money.  On very much at all.  Ever.  Sure, a few bad habits have somehow slipped through the cracks.  Cheap cigarettes in the hopes I’ll quit, cheap beer because I don’t drink it for the taste.  A 22 year old vehicle that I somehow prevent from completely disintegrating before my eyes, and a body that insists on working without intervention from a cruel and malevolent medical complex.

I don’t spend money with some ignorant assumption that I’ll just “write it off”, because when the predicted income level is below a certain point, there is not going to be very much cash to throw around in the hopes of “writing it off”.  In other words, if you know you aren’t going to make a specific amount by purchasing any product from the use of that product, the purchase isn’t a write off, it’s a loss.

Maybe my past experience of getting burned in Orlando by that mystical creature Alexis did more help than harm in the long count calendar after all.  I mistakenly trusted her to access my credit, thus destroying my credit for that 7 year waiting period for everything to just disappear from the credit report.  During those 7 years, one can become quite disciplined in not depending on other people’s money to maintain regular expenses or splurge on what I like to call “stupid shit”.

All those years of avoiding collection efforts, waiting for time to pass, and finding rental accommodations that did not depend on excellent credit really taught me some valuable lessons.  To this day, I couldn’t get unsecured credit if I tried, and I have made it that way on purpose.  I didn’t use any identity protection “service”, I simply made sure that while my score is actually considered “good”, I do not meet at least one of the criteria for being easily granted credit.  I also monitor it myself with an alternate service that is free, except of course for all the ads that are actually paying for it.

There was a built in incentive to be super cheap when you know that the money you have stashed is all you can depend on, and there will be no “safety net” because the credit done run dry and the parents are dead, well, one of them.  It provides quite an incentive to view money as “time” instead of seeing it as all the shit you have been told you need on television.

When I went through my last severe depression, I was prepared to release all possessions and live on the street for a while, just as an experiment.  I was impressed and disappointed with myself at the same time as I got the job that prevented homelessness at the last minute.  I was impressed because I didn’t think I could really pull it off, but I was disappointed because by getting that job, I was abandoning my “plan B”.  I didn’t have the balls to be homeless.

I was too selfish to let go of everything I had created and maintained online, even though, being homeless didn’t mean being “host-less”.  I could still have existed comfortably on the digital plane even as I was sleeping in a 20 year old van.  Hosting is just over $50 a month, rent was $450.  I was ready to trade down and allow my physical self to exist in limbo in order to maintain my digital presence for as long as possible.  I didn’t have the balls to go through with it.  Getting a job, making some cash the old fashioned way, was actually easier for me than just being a lazy fuck and panhandling until I got disability.

It didn’t help that shortly after Candy’s first departure, I made a friend in a guy named Mark.  He was 59, and he had been homeless for about a year after coming to Baton Rouge from Chicago.  I met him the day after he moved in to an apartment upstairs, just after getting his back payment from social security.  This was probably in the second week after Candy left.  I would need to review the video footage to make sure, but I don’t think I started making little videos with him until after a month.

He was very abrasive, demanding, insulting, intolerant, somewhat racist, homophobic, unpredictable, unstable, alcoholic, and addicted to Tramadol.  He was a real Archie Bunker type, but add the severe alcoholism and drug abuse.  I was at a very low point, and I don’t think he saw me for more than an hour of any day sober.  The times he would see me sober were when he nagged at me to drive him somewhere after waking me up by phone or knock on the door to wake me up before I could start pounding vodka.  Even then, I had to constantly resist the urge to down beers with him that I told him not to open before we would even return “home”.

He shared quite a bit of information about exactly how to “be homeless”, survive, even thrive.  The information was geographically specific because he had spent the prior year learning these things right in my own backyard.  If I saw him on the street at some point before really meeting him, which I very well could have, I would have refused to acknowledge him, while being aware of his presence just in case he pulled some shit on me.  I have a sneaky suspicion that I had seen him too, because he was familiar, and I would have faded memories of those times when I ran some errand and had to avoid “those people”.

Even with his encouragement, and offer of limited support in this venture, I couldn’t go through with it.  The alternative was to cut my hair, shave, bathe for once, and wait to start drinking until AFTER I went to at least 3 places in person to drop off a resume and fill out an application, if they even fucking let me.  Instead of basing my search at the time on typical want ads, I created ever widening spheres of physical distance I would have to travel for each “zone” where I applied.  The closest places weren’t interested at all, but things started looking up when I hit about 3 miles out…

That decision changed a whole lot of future shit.  It changed where I live right now, how much cash I have, what computer I’m using, if I still owned that van, and in a way, it has changed who I actually am, “right now”.  This changes over time, I know, but that was one of those pivotal moments when I had a distinct choice about how to proceed, and the choice I made led to a future that I am more than satisfied with.

My decision to occasionally rant and rave about this and that over the course of the last six months may have been an indirect effect of the pressure and stress brought about by my fear of missing another mark.  Doing it all wrong.  My occasional visit with my sometimes evil, insensitive, alcohol induced alter ego hasn’t helped very much.  I was in such a panic over having to pay some crazy new monthly bill, that I somehow created a plan that I don’t think I allowed myself to be fully aware of at the time.

I picked a number, and I was so very amazed to see that it was less than $100 off from what I was “hoping for”.  I know that the number itself would not inspire very much celebration to a lot of people, because it is a very low number.  I am astounded that I am able to maintain the reserve that I have while working at such a low margin for almost an entire year.  I know I was sabotaging myself here and there when it came to making money.  I could have encouraged someone to get off their *ss and help me out a little more often.  I could have taken the massive reserve of unused content and add it to two websites that have not been updated in over two years now.

I didn’t do any of that though.  I got lazy.  I wonder even now just how much of it was intentional, and how much of it was following along with a plan that I created when I was too intoxicated to even remember it on a conscious level.  I never even bothered to do more research to find a much more exact number, or even a slightly higher number that would have still created the same result.  Full subsidized healthcare.

I may have created all of this knowing that as a regular earner of one amount, I will be penalized by a lack of subsidies in such a way that would probably not seem fair or proportionate to whatever financial pain I may perceive as an individual who has lived, saved, and been very comfortable with an income level considered “%100 poverty”.   I haven’t really worked out the math, but a part of me glanced over at the federal table of poverty level income at one point and I realized that I might not have gotten much of a subsidy at all if I had made as little as 5K more that same year.  In fact, my worry was that making one dollar more than some cut off amount would lead to me making one higher amount, and then being forced to pay out so much over the course of a year that I still end up at poverty level income anyway.

If I have to just give it all to them, why even try to make more than a certain amount?  It was difficult to even try writing that out without using specific numbers in an example, because I didn’t do the fucking math myself.  I just kind of guessed that there would be some kind of steep cut off for subsidies way too low to be realistic or reasonable.  So, I went for a target income, when considering expenses, would end up at a point where I do not exceed the federal standard for %100 poverty level by more than 1K.

That was a crazy sounding plan, I know, it seems crazy as I type it.  It was convenient that I worked that one full time job the year before last, and I noticed, that without the W-2 from that job, the desired target income was not that much more.  It seems even more crazy to me that I would have a serious anxiety about making “too much” money.  I should have been adding it up with each statement all through the year, but I was just making general estimations based on quick glances at deposits.

Now, I’m “here”.  I enrolled by the deadline.  I almost didn’t, because the state exchange that I used was going bat shit crazy on sunday night, and I just kind of gave up because I knew monday was the deadline.  I am talking about a state exchange, not the feds.  The feds site is such a piece of shit that they keep extending the deadline for them…  Nope, my state has an exchange, and the site almost fucked me over because I had to do this big complex application, but the site shit out before I could put my “free” medicaid plan into some arbitrary fucking shopping cart.  That shopping cart shit almost fucked me out of enrolling in time, which would have cost me an additional $95 as a “mandate tax”.

I was lucky that I felt compelled to “double check” and go back to the site on the day of the actual deadline, because while the site did say I had “enrolled”, it still forced me to do the shopping cart step, threatening me with potential non enrollment, even though I “digitally signed” this big ass document that took at least 20 minutes to fucking fill out.  I came up with the term “entrolled”, because I thought I was enrolled but because that shit is already more fucking complex than taxes, it is almost impossible sometimes to know for sure.

I shouldn’t complain, but it was stressful.  It fucked up this whole tax season procrastination thing I had going.  I would have made estimated payments through the year based on estimations, but I never knew just how close my fucking estimation would be to what I ended up with.  I didn’t know until I was forced to do all the fucking work of filing my taxes without actually filling out the fucking web form…

I would have procrastinated to do all that shit until at least march, but now I have already been forced to do it, I have all the numbers, and as long as I don’t have a deposit or buy any business related shit, I was ready to do fucking taxes before fucking christmas.  That is fucking bogus.  Oh well, it’s done.  I was also super thorough and honest in giving my future psychic prediction of exactly to the penny what I will be making in 2014 too.

I have always thought it was amazing that psychic accounting will soon become a regular term in our vocabulary, because according to the form I filled out at the state exchange I used, I have to honestly predict my income for next year under threat of fraud and perjury.  It’s bad enough I had to do my fucking taxes before christmas, now the assholes are going to threaten me to psychically call to the dead and ask exactly how much my fat porn is going to make next fucking year.

Wow, mood change there!  I can bitch and complain about having to figure out taxes to the penny months early, but it is a genuine “first world problem” isn’t it?  I mean, the alternate me, on a timeline where I never got that job, would probably not be too worried about being hit up for a mandate tax that he would not have to pay because he would not have an income to pay taxes on.  Although, I am curious about the details of that potential alternate reality, like, would I still be liable for a mandate tax even though I did not meet the minimum filing threshold of income.  Maybe I didn’t do more research on that detail because I didn’t really want to know, or I just don’t give a fuck because it is so detached from the future that ended up taking place.

Either way, here we are.  I am not homeless, and I somehow tricked Candy into coming back willingly. 🙂  I have endured the year 2013 with a local move, and the first year payment to process visa on the websites.  That was a lump payment of 750 right there.  It does take money to make money indeed.  All the while, I was making less than $1000 over what my government declares %100 poverty level.  I keep typing that phrase out, because after enduring the alleged hardship of making that income, I still have money in the bank.  Am I “poor” because of my income alone when I am still “comfortable” and actually have “savings”?

In fact, I seem to have everything I want and need, and the only pressing things I still really want are not going to cost any money.  If one of my final goals is to get a specific certification, it is up to me to make it happen.  Money is not an obstacle to education because I would find a cheap way to have someone else pay for it without going into debt.  If I want to gain yet another type of certification that I don’t want to get into, there are very defined steps for me to obtain that “license”, and because of the very thing I have been complaining about, I may now start a process that will not even cost anything.  I will finally have a “doctor”.  That could be scary, because Mark taught me some stuff about handling medicaid doctors too… 🙂

This latest experiment in living just over poverty level has been educational, not only in showing me that I could do it, but also in changing my perception of poverty in general.  It is ironic that I chose to sit down and write on christmas day itself, a day which represents a loop of disappointment, resulting charity, disappointment, repeat.  As a I phase out and watch local news, a part of me would be involuntarily touched for a moment by the generous act of a charity group handing out toys to poor children.

After a moment, I would realize, that I was just afflicted on a subconscious level by a phenomenon that has been created as a direct result of corporate capitalism and blind consumerism.  In other words, if christmas did not exist to begin with, poor children would not be denied that specific positive event, created to raise the bottom line of retailers across the board.  There is a desire, as a human, to allow myself to just flow with this feeling of charitable propaganda, because I want to feel for the children, to see them happy.  The logical side of my reasoning has to ruin the party though, because I am quickly reminded that this entire system has been created out of a new type of greed and sophisticated marketing and propaganda.

I don’t need all the shit on television, I don’t need this or that specific thing, I have not created a ritual involving this or that over priced “treat”.  I have a very short list of very specific things that I would choose to have in my life, but I would let go of those things with little bitterness if my hand was forced and shit got out of control.  For example, there does exist a price point where I would say “fuck this, I quit smoking!”  While it seems like beer is going up and up, I am fortunate that my prior experimentation has not left me physically dependent, so even if I still enjoy psychological exploration of my intoxicated alter ego, it is not a daily habit, and a habit that can be scaled back to such infrequency that I would begin to miss it altogether, if all the assholes that sold beer passed some price point that I am not quite sure about this second.

The only thing I can’t do without is a person, and I lost her before, over and over.  There is no amount of money that could keep her, or lose her.  There is only my bad choices that could lose her.  I am lucky that one of the only bad choices I have even been tempted by was alcohol, and I am very fortunate that she was able to make a compromise to allow occasional use of a lesser source of this chemical.  Trade down from vodka to beer, and attempt to restrict intake to a point that leaves me much less intoxicated than I used to get on vodka.  Every once in a while, there is a breach in my own security, and a part of my own self attempt so live dangerously and push my limits.  Both with myself, and with her.

I know it is wrong, I know I don’t need it.  I know I would always choose her over it.  I guess that is where the term “guilty pleasure” comes from.  There is a part of me that argues “I’m a grown man, if I want to get really fucked up on some ice beer now and then just cut me some slack!”.  It is not that simple though, not nearly.  It never is.  Compromise is a very delicate and complex thing.  Both sides have to give.  I am grateful she has bent to the degree that she has, and while there has been one dented wall incident from a thrown mug (not at me thank god), she has shown remarkable restraint when I have chosen to take my ice beer intake one can over the line.

I can’t make excuses, I can’t even really talk to her about it, because it makes her too uncomfortable.  I have to assume that I am “alcoholic”, even if I don’t feel like I am.  Even if I don’t crave alcohol intoxication every day, or every other day, or I let it slip for 3 or 4 days so my resistance is super low, I still seem to thoroughly enjoy the initial intoxication, and once afflicted, I am driven to push further and further.  I think that is called “binge drinking”, but it is nowhere near as severe as my little relationship with vodka was.

I still “use and abuse” alcohol, like some kind of explicit street drug.  I deny myself for days, sometimes really just “forgetting to drink”, sometimes getting it while out, knowing that I won’t be running errands for nearly a week and I want to take a little trip to fuzzy reality land just once before I have to go out again.  I can’t purchase a “30 pack” because at some point I might allow myself to consume more than 12.  If I get a 12 pack, I have to put 6 in the cooler and give Candy the other 6, or I will most probably get up to 10, maybe opening number 11 but not being able to finish it, leaving a sorry sight of 1.5 beer total the day after I got a fucking 12 pack.  I could have gotten loaded twice, but instead, 5 beer me said “fuck that shit I want to get fucked up!”

It is hard to figure all this shit out at times, if it’s not one thing it’s another.  I felt like writing for a bit, and I came up with the title complexity before I knew for sure i wanted to write about.  I didn’t even get into some stuff I was thinking about when I first started, like trying harder to apologize for all my ranting and raving about weight loss surgery.  I thought that subject was limited to drunk me being stupid, but it appears that frustrated sober me before mandate compliance was using distraction and misdirection yet again.

If I seem so skilled at tricking myself into this or that behavior, I have come to another theory, about how I may be able to re-align my thinking and goal orientation in such a way where I actually “forget to drink”, or even better, procrastinate from drinking.  That’s a thought.  I was using alcohol while I was committing the act of procrastination, but maybe, I can turn some shit around so that I am literally too busy with some other shit I would rather be doing to be tempted to take a trip to that place where I hang out with a part of myself that I hate but am fascinated with at the same time.

I wondered myself why I would feel compelled to hyper post all over facebook when intoxicated on alcohol.  I would ask myself “who am I talking to?”  I think I might kind of be talking to myself there.  I have reached some point where I only get loaded about twice a week, the second time is not as severe as the first because I am still dreading the last time.  This last time I did it, I noticed something about it that was already turning into a habit, a game that I was playing with myself that I wasn’t fully aware of as I was doing it.

Within 2 days after one of these binges and facebook rants, I would slowly begin to remember things that I would have typed, as well as music and news articles I may have posted.  If I posted photos, those will come back to me later too.  One of the reasons I avoid facebook after a drunken rant session could be related to this fuzzy memory game I have been playing that I didn’t “remember”.   When I use terms like distraction, misdirection, and even regression I might be minimizing the actual phenomenon.

What started out as using alcohol for escapism and avoiding reality has definitely evolved into something else.  It is still not habit, it’s not every day, I don’t consume alternate substances not meant for consumption that contain alcohol, and if there was just one beer in the fridge it would not be appealing to me in the least unless I went out and picked up a sufficient amount to “peak”.

It is kind of ironic, that I will take on the responsibility of having a problem with alcohol, but at the same time, I am forced to reconcile with the fact that occasional alcohol intoxication would be acceptable, if it was mild and I didn’t have to push it to the point where I am starting to have trouble walking and typing.  Even worse, it would not be so bad if there were not a part of myself that has a limit, but it is a very very high limit.  I noticed that I stopped taking diphenhydramine to enhance alcohol altogether, because I literally can’t type at a much lower level of alcohol consumption.

I realize that this problem would not even be as “bad” or unacceptable if it wasn’t compounded by the past trauma and experience of my partner, who resents that fact that she can’t keep multiple forms of alcohol to make cocktails with because I might raid it.  She is ok with alcohol consumption, but not alcohol binging.  That is very ironic, because she occasionally enjoys a food binge.  We have had to fight against co-enabling by making very distinct compromises.  The complexity of love… 🙂

I am running out of steam, I don’t know how or why I got over 4500 words, but hey, I won’t be drinking.  Not tonight. 🙂

 

trollgasm

0

Oh shit.  I’m actually fucking going to write in this thing sober?  What the fuck???

Well, the drunk asshole came out, finally, bitching and complaining about being here for eight months without very much social interaction or interest on either of our parts in making it happen.  Candy would have reminded me over and over since getting here not to lean on anyone else for anything I want.  She had to drag me back to reality by stating that I didn’t realize how fucked up I was, and what I was doing.  I wish I could have kept momentum and set it all up as planned, without getting so freaking lazy, only to freak out after months of inactivity like I just blinked back into my body after a long vacation.  There is a stress hanging over us, the stress of knowing we could give something up, but how it sucks having to really do it, because we suck so bad at it (being drug addicts).  She tried to tell me there was a time and a place for that shit, and dealing with these interactive social organizations would not help me to get what I want in the long run.  Trying to even use facebook for any “real purpose” would be a mistake in the long run.  I was just curious, but this drunk troll fucker knows something I don’t and he put a quick stop to it for whatever reason…

I am guessing that’s why this last time I went over a week without drinking and then downed a whole six pack in about 15 minutes, I totally went the fuck off on a few Las Vegas bbw specific groups… Man… I don’t even remember most of it, but I do remember finding out that I had gotten kicked from at least one group.  Most wouldn’t guess, but it surprised the shit out of me that “drunk asshole” didn’t make a “clean sweep” and get “me” booted out of “all of them”….  After all, the even weirder drunk persona probably referred to “the group” as “the facebook group”, not any specific “category” of social interaction.  A push, after several attempts to stay off facebook for weeks at a time, to finally just do away with it.  But…  There is no telling what the response would be to “complete” invisibility.

Maybe being invisible again is what I need to go back to doing what I have an opportunity to do but haven’t, because I’m so preoccupied with time, geography, and finding the right “alternate” drug of choice when I’m not supposed to have it here, but I can have it over there.

Remove all connections to Las Vegas, maybe even pushing myself to deal with fucking snow so I could get 420 without having to depend on ANYFUCKINGBODY at all whatsoever…  It’s what a part of me wants to happen anyway, so I couldn’t resist getting loaded and flipping the bird at everyone around me in visual range as I plot out the next “place” and have that additional emotional “umph” behind it, having myself feel almost pushed out instead of choosing to leave.  🙂  I am a user on a level that most people don’t even fucking know because so many of them are so fucking ignorant as I am to the true nature or value in this ability or inability.  I have cash though, so the arrogant part of me thinks it’s fine as long as I grease the right palms, if they get that close without fear of biting.  🙂  The problem is, I know how vastly different snow climate is, in all kinds of fucked up ways, and I never wanted it.  I seem to occasionally need great pushes of energy to force me into doing shit I don’t want to do for the sake of getting what I want, just like every fucking body else. 🙂

Candy assures me Seattle is more rainy than snowy.  That’s awesome.  Dry was so fucking cool though, dishes dried fast, wiping up spills was faster, let’s go back to humid, with cold periods…  But mountains and rain.  Awesome.  Let’s just “go for it”… See, that’s what I mean… Vegas actually had much better weather, although, it would occasionally rain and flood the piss out of just one area leaving everything else ok.  If it starts running low on water I’m sure that is going to be a big hassle too.  I think a part of me almost wishes for the degree of isolation that long cold periods would bring, and the necessity for planning ahead while keeping an eye on the weather.  I also believe that I could find a niche where I fit in that has absolutely nothing to do with a sexual preference.

I wrote out some big long blog post in the blog at exotic right before getting the beer, and I am surprised at the way in which the drunk asshole living deep in my head would have used the shit I wrote against me.  At some point in that blog post, I had said something about Las Vegas people being anti-social because of how most people here are fucking scum bag con artists, so people have to be really careful about where they go, what they do, and who they hang out with.  The truth was that I was being “socially” lazy, in every way, and now that I get some energy I just explode so the negativity can be “flushed”, and I can further push myself to do what I want to do deep down.  It’s going to be an immense pain in the ass though.    Moving, and a fucking snow climate to top it off…  Yeah, sit around being a lazy fuck for eight months and then freak out and move again… Real smooth.. ROFLMAO

It’s kind of sad, how the troll inside of me seems to use “everyone” to get some emotional response.  Candy wasn’t joking when she put up that emotional vampire meme, she may have seen some kind of freak out coming.  Shit, some of my facebook posts in the days before the drunk escapades I fucking talked about “going crazy” and needing an emotional outlet for my frustration…  She held up, but it’s not like it helped her general state of mind.  She had to see me getting loaded and pushing out all the negative emotional shit that built up over an amount of time that was probably more significant than I knew as it was happening.   What a fucked up coping mechanism…  That’s what drugs are for.  Except, I can get prozac or hydroxyzine but not thc.  I can, however, get a legal analog cannabinoid receptor agonist, right across the street, called “spice”.

When I analyze what I can remember about my latest outburst, I realize that I am in fact the “anti social” one.  A part of me seems to actually like it too, enjoying my bad behavior to the maximum possible degree.  Most of the time I would feel a little guilty or ashamed or at least sorry about what I had done, but this time was different.  This time I could break down my behavior in an effort to put the puzzle pieces together that some hidden part of my mind shuffled up on the table that is my brain.  This time, at least a small part of it may have been “necessary” for the general purposes of exploring my “mental illness” while intoxicated.  The change that happened 4 months after the move here was reactivating in my head 4 more months down the line.  Now I “only have” 4 months to get off my ass, really go through shit, throw %50 away, and seriously plan the next weird ass move.  I’m so fucking conflicted.  The pros and cons are not so simple.  I’m grateful I can afford to just pick up and go, I know that this place has serious issues going on because it’s so tourism connected in the areas that it is.  I try to rationalize that the crime potential is actually lower than Baton Rouge, but it doesn’t always feel that way when you see the shit going down every time I’m out there.

Who am I?  I’ve said that more than once, it’s a running theme in my writing and even in my behavior on that stupid fucking site facebook.  It seems like I don’t really like facebook as much as I like to “fuck with people online”.  Again, a reason I was trying to cut it out for a while, and now I will be even more “inspired” to do so. 🙂  I think that I make a terrible troll, but the problem is, the troll side of my personality doesn’t have any fucking “strategy” in his fucking game… Maybe he does and “I” just don’t know it yet…  Maybe “he” really is trying to help me get to the bottom of what I really want, knowing that Vegas was cheap and positioned “in between” several alternatives, but not meant to stay in too long…  It is very fucking dangerous.  I mean, Baton Rouge wasn’t a fucking picnic by any means, especially with the New Orleans migration after Katrina, but this place is absolutely fucking crazy with cops and shit going on.  A part of me is trying to evolve to fit in emotionally with this geography and it is obviously fucking with me because of what I see in the very little time that I venture outside.

Four months after moving to Las Vegas, the voters of CO and WA decided to legalize weed.  This came after I spent at least 2000 on the move, and put myself in a typically shitty cheap Las Vegas neighborhood.  I went to so much time, trouble, effort, and expense to do this.  I should have known a part of my brain would literally freak out the moment I saw reports and read articles about what those two states had done, after what I had done.  According to the direction my rage took recently, drunk me took offense with a perception of people with shit to sell, trying to make their money, do their little fucking hustle, saying anything and everything to anyone who shows the slightest interest because each individual might add a few more dollars to someone’s little haul.  They don’t know how potentially fucked up the rabid animal is in that cage before they rattle it for loose change. 🙂

Rational me can totally support everything they do, and even hope that they find success in whatever they are trying to accomplish.  The one delusion that drunk me would assume and focus on was that they were kind of “baiting”.  They were not freaking baiting!  They were being “nice” and I’m an asshole while intoxicated at specific blood level alcohol, which I should have already been equipped to test regularly during a “binge period”.  🙂  attention attenion attention, yom yom yom… she eats food, i eat energy, positive or negative…  By that, I mean this thing that has happened to me over and over with the passage of time, especially since that first major break up, where if I go past a certain point, in absolute laziness, I push myself to a point of necessity.

This time Candy was kind of freaking out in two ways, maybe it was a strategy to distract her from already “drinking without warning”.  I never think it’s a big deal every time it happens, but she almost breaks down crying at times saying that “Nobody has done shit to you and your such a dick”  Then that conceited, arrogant, condescending side of me comes out again and says “it’s what they haven’t fucking done for me.”  LOL that guy is a dick, but I think I need him for strength this time.  I almost totally lost my shit when I found out CO and WA both legalized after I moved into this fucking shit hole.  OMFG I felt like “the biggest loser” because I know vegas is fucked up because I have actually lived here before.  It got even fucking worse since last time too!  See, that’s sad, I chose… well, she chose I agreed, but I didn’t want snow…  yeah, that drunk guy keeps rolling that around forever, even as he knows his time is limited because it’s going to be sobriety land because i am working hard to prevent any delay in my own procrastination by actually being successful online with the ‘facebook group’.  So inappropriate.   🙂

I try to explain to Candy that the part of my brain that enjoys trolling so much, even if he sucks hard at it, or maybe not, seems to have a real egotistical issue about wanting to be “known”, even if he is “hated” in some circles (simple attention whore).  In fact, I woke up with a thought rolling around in my mind about how the troll inside of me knows that me, as a person, is not very “likable, interesting, or charismatic” so he would rather take the easier route and accept dislike over mediocre, flighty, not very beneficial indifference going upwards to the level of offers on the fly.  Maybe that part of my brain has such a disorder that he’s like “Thomas motherfucking Obesiverse was fucking here motherfuckers!!!  Now suck it!!!”  I know, it’s horrible, but it’s drunk me.  I didn’t stop him, but then again, I wasn’t able to test blood alcohol, and i think, no i just stopped spice too…. damn that shit is scary.

I’m sure a lot of people have a strong ego, but mine has been fucked with in ways that I probably could not afford the psychological evaluation to figure out.  🙂 I am extraordinarily lucky and fortunate, as I seem to want to write all of the time, in an effort to remind myself of how lucky I am and how good I’ve got it, even as a part of me dwells way too heavily on just one little thing that I want but can’t have.

That seemingly unobtainable thing is supposed to be there, because deep down, you know that you observe not having it as “uncomfortable”, even as you do not realize one potential alternate reality where it was easy to get that one thing, but something else is fucked up in ways that made you wish you could trade one reality for another “in a heartbeat”.

On another note, before I forget, I had a major deja vu that would not have been possible if it weren’t for the use of “salvia” about 2 months ago plus the major episode of drunk douche bag recently.  I uttered something going into a short trip, and that shit came true.  Then again, I made it come true… was the trolling predicted?  or did I troll because I had this one vision 2 months ago and it tried to express itself while i was intoxicated to prevent future events from occurring?  Was it necessary for some reason that is actually external to me or my level of observation?  🙂  Never know now, or maybe I already do.  🙂

Maybe some really fucked up shit might have happened if I let myself go without her. Probably not, but maybe so.. 🙂  lol  I would not drink anyway, because drinking is strictly prohibited for me not only while driving, but while being “social”, or even attempting to be online.  The recent behavior is also an illustration why I would not be drinking in bars, because instead of pissing off a few people online I would be getting arrested in real life.  Maybe I had to give them a taste to see if they could handle it, since it is a bar thing. 🙂

It’s like I get off on being denied that one thing for months, and then I have a weak moment and freak out because I am not letting myself do EVERYTHING possible to get it.  Then, the asshole side of my personality raises difficulty on “me” even more by totally burning the bridges of “maybe” for the relief of “pulling off the band aid” and getting a “fuck you” along with a “no”… lol  Then all the “fake concern” will stop (evil smile wringing hands), maybe even an effort of “divide and conquer“…. LOL  these people have no fucking idea of how weird i really am or “who” they are dealing with, because I don’t even know myself all the time

I really don’t hold it against them, but playing it any further on either side might not be as fun if I take responsibility for being wrong.  It really would be too soon to even try, because now I don’t want anyone to think I was being nice for my own benefit, because even as a self centered jerk, it doesn’t benefit me to fake it.  It’s better to be cleared out and then do it, to show that it wasn’t really them, it was my need to kick myself in the balls for a while.   It’s so irrelevant in the “big picture”, that I know I’m wrong, and I know that no matter what I say or do, I am sharing the same cosmic mental energy with each and every living being on this planet at this time.  They already call it “drama”, so again, drunk fuckers must do it all the time.  🙂

The sad thing is that I could really get herb by trying repeatedly off craigslist, even willing to lose money getting ripped off or take chances with “safety”, but a part of me would end up denying myself for a period of time and actually give one specific “group” of people (later realized the entirity of the facebook group in and of itself on my side or “profile”) 8 months to do just one small favor, that I would pay them for. 🙂 If they failed (of course they would fail, i didn’t work it right), it would give a horrible, resentful part of myself a reason to tell them all to fuck off, only upsetting Candy and saving myself a tiny amount of cash in the process… 🙂  omfg  no way…

It’s more like saving time, saving the gas to go anywhere, and saving myself from the headache of sitting around in a bar for hours and feeling too awkward to talk to anyone, like in that first week I was in Vegas and went to EXACTLY THE WRONG FUCKING BBW EVENT...  Approaching an inappropriate real life group of people for an inappropriate reason and unrelated motive.  I had to burn out on it, and most importantly, not drink.  Maybe I hate myself for taking so long to figure out a simple concept.  If Candy liked doing the party thing, she would let me fucking drink without hassle.  The more I pushed myself to go if she wasn’t interested, the further self hatred would brew over my desire to have alcohol regularly but self restriction from it.  I can’t drink every day though, just like I shouldn’t do spice every day.  It actually starts to make sense to me in a very weird way maybe.  The “drunk me” wishes he could drink and hang out in a bar again, but he can’t, because he’s really fucking rude and shit.  If I go, I can’t drink though, and I still have to go on my own because of the multitude of reasons I have tried to get to the bottom of in why Candy won’t go.

I meant to do that though, maybe?  LOL  That drunk fucker… He’s done it again… I know, it’s me, but still… Shit, no wonder Candy doesn’t want me drinking, but if she let me do it every 3 days or so I wouldn’t binge and gorge myself on the shit when I get my hands on it like somebody trying to smoke a golf ball sized crack rock.

When I asked Candy why there would be two bbw events on the same weekend, she had to remind me that there were two rival groups, and there was a big possibility that personal politics had something to do with it.  I am so naive when it comes to local shit that the thought never occurred to me.  What a fucked up alternate reality I am fucking in…  Man I deleted half a paragraph… Great job!  Progress…. Maybe…  I have no idea of whatever was going on over there in facebook land, because I was so inactive, so “drunk me” went over there and tried to force some reaction with some attention because I was never going to crack that nut anyway over there…  I was letting myself get distracted from the methodology I had planned on using in coming here, and for that, again I was projecting my self anger onto something that I made up.  Weird, but again, necessary for the purposes of psychiatric evaluation that I can’t afford to pay for. And a rush you can’t get from drugs.

Why can I remember overhearing some comment under someone’s breath almost eight months ago and I can’t even remember the “juicy stuff” that got me kicked out of a fucking las vegas bbw group???  Maybe drinking bottled water versus a six pack quickly had something to do with it.  Man I was fucked up, and I think I was laughing out loud for real and shit, trying to be quiet because Candy was so fucking pissed…  Man…  That shit is like playing with fire.  But, it’s still controlled, and self contained.

Not to mention the fucking dreams…  Fucking human brain… I hate it so much…  God, not only do I “hate myself” but it’s because I hate the physiological and emotional limitations of being a stupid fucking human to begin with…  I want to go back to my prior ethereal being sometimes…  There is hope, because death is inevitable so it will come, and thanks to the force of irony and probability combined with uncertainty, it probably happens exactly when I don’t want it to… 🙂  that’s probably not funny, but maybe to very few.

Anyway… The troll thing seems to go to waste if “I” can’t even fucking remember it!!!  That’s part of what sucks about being an inexperienced troll who doesn’t even really want to be a troll, but has some strange compulsion while drunk to make up and point out what I feel is bullshit, which in turn, causes individuals or entire groups of people to become infuriated with me…  Maybe I still fantasize about death, like when Candy was gone… Only, while in Vegas, we could both be shot to death as we slept together, or went to walmart, or some casino, being mutually put out of the misery in never being able to find a true “home” and hating our human bodies with a passion…  Man, I hate my brain chemistry and she hates about 200 out of 500 pounds of weight…  🙂  So tragic, too bad I didn’t try harder with a joke angle, but this was kind of a dark post.

How could I have it so good and fantasize about death?  How is it that every time I hear about another “mass shooting”, instead of being angry, sad, or sympathetic, I’m getting past a split second where I am fucking ever so slightly jealous?  The first funeral for someone I knew very personally brought me to tears, but I was happy for her not sad for myself, and there was that slight jealousy.  She had “a lot of shit going on” like who doesn’t, and I didn’t know how much fucking bullshit I would have to put up with after that point in my timeline too!  Considering my failure to help her gain more control over her necessary “addiction transfer” process eventually, I hope it’s the best thing that Candy and I ended up back together for her benefit.  I wrote before about how two crazy people can’t co-exist… There has to be the crazy one and the “responsible” one, and I’m supposed to be the responsible one and not the crazy one, but I tend to think at times that I really have seen at least a tiny bit of what it’s like to be insane.  It’s someplace a part of me got very very curious about for a time.

Part of me will let myself act it out in little bits, other parts of me are much more diabolical…  Who would imagine the drunk would suddenly use the number 8 months to bring his facebook experiment to an end, “failed” when nobody on facebook even knew what I was talking about?  The “facebook group” only exists in the drunks mind as this antagonist I used while Candy was gone.  Now, getting out of Candy’s hair has occasionally given me way too much time to play with that thing again.  I was so busted too for drinking… Like she wouldn’t know… What’s astonishing is if I have to troll, why don’t I do it anonymously???  Shit…  Very strange…

What’s kind of scary, even to me, is that I am almost totally sober as I write that.  Smoking the resin build up from a pipe doesn’t count!  It might be the combination of shit that wants to “bring out the crazy” just now…  As wonderfuckingful as everything seems to be, and as lucky as Candy and I are, there are still all kinds of horrible shit just waiting to happen eventually, including the inevitability of death itself.  If one no longer fears death, they can truly and finally begin to live.  If Candy doesn’t get control of the eating thing she may experience it sooner than either one of us want to believe…

Another one of the little details, along with watching CO and WA do just about the coolest fucking thing ever in my lifetime and maybe in this country’s history while I just moved to the wrong fucking state for exactly that substance, would be the risk factors in getting fucking robbed or shot in Las Vegas.  I’m not scared of getting shot, I’m more scared of getting fucking permanently disabled instead of outright fucking killed quickly…  Candy has enough issues, I can only image her being faced with some life threatening close call shit either.  It’s bad enough that I got her into a car accident recently because some sick twisted part of me was “just having fun” and I let some guy plow into the back of the van, seeing it coming, knowing it was going to happen, and getting off on the adrenaline rush right after…  Damn, 8 months ago I drove a 16 foot fully insured, rented truck 2000 miles and I never fucked around like that…

There is the “spice” too…  That shit was outlawed in LA really quickly, but not before I did a few packets of it here and there.  For the first few months of living in Vegas, I would smoke that spice shit because it was all we had, and because, obviously, it’s harder to find a fucking good drug dealer in vegas while depending on any specific social group for “help” and not really “trying” at that.  I will find a drug dealer in Vegas, it’s going to happen, even if it’s in the last fucking 2 weeks that I end up living here.  It will be a matter of principle now, not addiction.  lol Or, I can tell myself that…  Weed isn’t supposed to be addictive!  The last time someone in this place was actually gracious and helped us out, I went right back to the spice so that Candy would have more of her medicine.    That friend was just helping out another friend a few times though until we found our own hook up.  Little did that friend realize what a social failure I am, and how much I seem to get off on being that character I thought for a moment I hated.  Actually me and my little “character” have a mutual hatred for each other, but I believe we kind of need each other too.  You think I did all that fucking driving??? lol

So, I can walk across the fucking street and get ice beer, or “spice”.  It’s not even a fucking smoke shop, and those fucking things are on every fucking block here.  The other night, I decided to get beer because I had to give the spice a rest.  I wanted to breathe again rather than keep getting high on that nasty shit.  The last few grams of that shit I smoked I hit too hard, too much, and I had an acute upper respiratory infection for a few days, like I really had just spent twenty minutes in a burning fucking house.

The fact that I have had to resist spice, resist alcohol (most of the time), and be denied regularly available weed after 8 months and over 2000 spent moving to Vegas is just too fucking much for my brain to handle after days of sobriety, passing smoke shops at every turn on every errand. One drunk moment might make it harder, or make me fucking look harder…  At this point, the switch-over has been made…  I would rather own being a complete and total asshole and release my rage and fury towards the entire state of NV than “be nice and hope for the best”.

Why the whole state and not just Vegas?  Well, there is the medical cannabis law that voters passed in 2001, while leaving other conflicting state laws in place which prevent any dispensary, even when you get a medical card…  I’m bitching about 8 months and these fucking jerk offs have gone 12 years without making that law constitutional…  You are still operating basically one step above the black market in NV even if you have a medical cannabis card, because dispensaries are illegal, and the only people even trying to provide medicine are doing call in deliveries.   That is exactly like the craigslist people, except the medical people demand your medical cannabis card number.  Still so very fucked up when compared to CO or CA…

If I have to go to so much trouble to get a card just to remove legal liability, why do it in NV since they are so fucked up?  I thought this time there would be a few cool people to help me out, but fuck no…  Just the fake concern for Candy for a few seconds without consideration that it is contributing to a larger social issue within her that pissed the drunk guy off.  He’s drunk, but he thinks he knows shit.

Maybe a part of me is also angry and resentful towards Candy herself.  I had to fucking fall in love with someone, my anti social ass spending just the right amount of time with Candy over the course of years to actually become “addicted” or “dependent” on her emotionally…  There is always a fly in the ointment though… Candy hates to see anyone intoxicated on alcohol… I know that makes up yet another part of her anxiety about hanging out in fucking bars, which is the only “social avenue” for fat people in vegas apparently besides spending hundreds to go to some fucking weekend party… 🙂  lol

All the while, NONE OF THAT SHIT GETS ME WHAT I WANT, and what I want is most important here! 🙂  Yeah, I can be a dick, but it’s kind of fun… It must fucking be because drunk me can’t help himself.  I have become “entitled”, which is a really prick like quality in most people, except, a lot of pricks do get exactly what they want eventually…  “NICE GUYS FINISH LAST MOTHERFUCKER.”  The troll part of my brain has to remind me regularly that almost all people are just useless fucks, most of them better to avoid than have any contact with at all.  I do a horrible job at playing “elimination” while drunk and then I work that much harder when I’m forced to be sober… The wall is “under construction”…

So, I love Candy so fucking much I accept that she can’t tolerate seeing alcohol intoxication.  No biggie, I’ll just get some weed…. Wait…. FUCK!!! LOL

So… A part of myself has “won” a small battle of troll versus nice guy.  Troll would say “Fuck this place, fuck all these people, fuck this shit…”  The logical side of me moved here because I wanted something, and now I am going to have to deal with exactly the sub culture element I didn’t know how to deal with, even in a state with medical and decriminalized cannabis.

Yeah, I really suck badly at “making friends” because this shit would come easy to most people.  Not me though.  Nothing can fucking be that easy for me…  I’m lucky because the things I “need” come so easily while the very very few things I want are always a bitch…  I’m too fucking lucky as it is… I’m a cranky old bastard that has to bitch about something, and then I get attention so I can still get to say they are awesome in the long run.  If they ever get it, or I ever stop doing it.  No wonder I’m going to have fucking trouble with “people”…. Fucking unpredictable, unreliable variables that are only consistent in their ability to hunt down the prey…  Sometimes I think I don’t need them, but people like Keven, and Robert, and Mark, and Chayla, and Jay, and Brian, and many others that I could list off that go beyond ten years…  The would laugh out loud at the worst, most abusive bullshit I could type anywhere…  but Candy might be a little offended…  but it’s like so freaking weird, 8 months…, who fucking knows…   Everybody likes cash though, so eventually, someone will wise up…  lol that was harsh, glad i re-read… geez…  i should have tossed in the diphenhydramine to put me down faster.

Maybe the 8 month thing is a post traumatic stress related issue to the 8 months that Candy was gone when she left last time…   I was nailing this woman who was almost as big and built in a way that was visually stunning, and I was still stuck on Candy…  It was not exactly, well, nevermind… Too soon… 🙂 Maybe a part of me hates me for loving her, and somehow getting her back and holding onto her no matter how much she might want to leave me again at times or how there are times when I *think* I “don’t give a fuck” if she leaves, because it must have become an involuntary emotional defense mechanism.

Maybe the damage done in her leaving twice already is too much, something both of us will never quite get over.  I am not used to putting someone ahead of myself, after all, I’m a self centered asshole…  Yet, I make sacrifices and try to do everything for her that she wants me to do.  Maybe a part of me hates her as much as I love her because after all I do for her, she can’t even let me have an alcohol intoxication once a week without fucking throwing shit. ~ that was harsh…  re-read… i don’t know, leave it…

So… I have to resist alcohol, and in order to breathe normally I must avoid spice too…  {later, lol omfg at least it was small amount} Even though, I could walk across the street and spend the money i can’t invest in one thing to get two cheaper and more convenient alternatives…. That I don’t fucking want and Candy fucking hates…  When you got the money, can’t find drugs, and visa versa… 🙂  Also, no shortage of fucking irony in this asshole’s life!

Candy, all the while, lives as happily as she can live, being nearly constantly embarrassed over my bad behavior, which is spawned by my fucking compliance to what she fucking wants…  Yes… “be careful what you ask for…”  I didn’t get off on trolling at all until she left the first time…  That’s when “a troll was born”.  That’s why I suck at it so badly, I never learned how to “use” it to my emotional advantage.  It appears I’m doing just that now, changing slowly into YET ANOTHER FUCKING PERSON because instead of multiple personalities, I believe I have multiple evolving moods that resemble entire personalities on their own…

I nearly constantly kiss Candy’s ass for example, never going off on her, even as she throws shit at me and makes a mess when she has a tantrum over me getting drunk.  This would happen even as a part of me would sacrifice the only remaining herb to her by taking an alternate intoxicant route with beer…  Fucked up shit right there.  I’ve given up vodka, but when I don’t drink at all for a week, then I slam a six pack in a few minutes, I might as well have drank a half bottle of vodka anyfucking way… The vodka could be even better, forcing me to pass the fuck out before going into “troll mode” and pissing off anyone and everyone I can because that part of me feels like “they are all full of shit anyway” in my delusional intoxicated state. because i was at such a high level suddenly, i became belligerent and incoherent.  it wouldn’t matter if it was minor, i guess that side of me had to make it big…

Then there is fucking snow…  I’ve joked around on facebook with a “real life” friend of mine (yes a few of those actually fucking do exist), and I said that there has to be a god, and he has to have a sick fucking sense of humor to make it so I have to deal with fucking snow in order to live where weed is legal…  Then I proclaim that if this god does exist, he really is one hell of a fucking prick.  If you bother to actually read the bible, you know what I’m talking about… I really love the hint left at Genesis 1:29 where it is said that man was given “all seed bearing plants”, and there is no fucking asterisk exempting cannabis…

Fucking christians are fucking oblivious, of course, AS USUAL, to the greater truths of this reality…  This reality sucks, and we all have to die for a reason, ‘escape’.  🙂  I believe if we were all immortal we would still kill each other and our selves off eventually just to finally leave this place…  It’s bad enough that people who claim to follow the bible pick on porn, which is not exactly “covered” because of technology, except for “vanity”.  One doesn’t have to make porn to execute the sin of vanity though… I do it all the fucking time. 🙂  Also, since I mention the bible, I’ll also quickly point out that god kills more motherfuckers in there than satan even fucking talks to!  Why do you think so many serial killers have a “god complex”?  It might make it even harder to imagine the infinite probability that exists right now in several parallel realities that I am only privileged to visit in my fucking sleep.  Even then, my own human asshole fucking brain releases DMT while I’m sleeping so I fucking forget most of that shit too…

I really have picked up a strange fucking collection of abilities or “eccentricities” over time, and they are only being added to as time moves forward, and I move with it like a particle accumulating mass in he higgs field of quantum physics… And there that shit goes again… How the fuck is quantum physics going to help you get fucking weed?  Get the fuck out of here with that shit.  lol One ability is being able to “transfer addiction“.  That shit contributed to Candy leaving both times.  The first time she left she didn’t consciously realize it was alcohol, but the second time she left, I was stubbornly refusing to quit using it almost daily, and at the time, I must have been willing to let her go because I wanted or needed to go through my six months of nearly constant intoxication.  It didn’t fucking kill me, as much as I actually tried through part of it with pills given to me by “the system” added…

Addiction transfer is talked about heavily with weight loss surgery, because a person is used to eating their ass off all the time and suddenly they physically can’t.  The impulse to eat has to be replaced, because it has become habit and addiction in a way.  These people have to switch over to “something” or they will eat too much anyway and rupture their fucking “new” stomach.  In my case, I picked up the ability to switch from weed to booze, because I was fucking sick and tired of dealing with the kind of people I was forced to deal with in order to continue using weed regularly.  In my little world, the actions of just 2 or 3 people had more impact than they knew at the time, or they could take advantage of any better than they did. 🙂  I got so fucking sick of the bullshit involved in looking for weed that I said “fuck it, I quit that shit”.  My best friend got all up into crack and meth, he started to freak out, he was the first connection.  Second connection had a dry spell, third connection kind of ripped me off because he borrowed money and wanted to pay me back in herb.  This fucked me hard though…. I’m still here, so i guess it didn’t fuck me hard enough…  So, addiction transfer is kind of cool, but you must choose wisely and carefully, more than I did with booze…

The moment I give in to Candy and agree to manage and control alcohol intake seriously, I just thought I would switch back over.  This is where the move to Vegas comes in.  Candy wanted to come back for the longest time, but it was really just to get the fuck out of Louisiana because let’s be honest, most of that state, and all of it’s politics suck ass so much harder than NV.   At least Vegas did allow decriminalization, even as they continue to cock block people from GETTING THEIR FUCKING MEDICINE by locking up those who would try and fail to run dispensaries here to supply the prescription to those who a doctor agreed needed it…

How can I be a “drug addict” when big pharma wants you to get addicted to prozac all your life?  How can I be a fucking “drug addict” when 2 states have legalized this shit, and 16 other states allow for medical cannabis?  How can I be a drug addict when it’s a fucking plant, created by this alleged “god” character, and even hinted at in the bible itself with the “seed bearing plant” thing?  A “drug addict” is apparently someone who has not yet performed addiction transfer to substances “they” want you to fucking use…  How does hemp seed oil end up being so fucking perfect nutritionally yet it is the only plant that is fucking “banned”???  How is it that people don’t understand why we are getting so fucking fat when hemp is nearly a perfect food and of course we can’t fucking have it?

Over all, people are fucking stupid, and I am fucking stupid right along with most of them, but unfortunately, I have this deep introspective thing going on where I seem to hate everybody and everything when intoxicated on alcohol, and if there was a big red button to push to destroy it all, I probably would.  I did delete most of this fucking blog after years of typing away in it…  Why wouldn’t a god just fucking blow it all up?  It’s funny, because I say I “hate everyone” and I don’t realize how close to the truth that might actually be at different times in my life…. My best friends, my girlfriend, my self, fuck I think there is a little hate in my heart for every-fucking-one.  🙂  That’s so dramatic…

This blog is where I should have taken my drunk ass to rant and rave because nobody fucking reads it anyway.  i get myself into trouble when I assume nobody will really notice some shit and then I go off all drunk anywhere and everywhere, or even weirder, I pick on one little tiny place and then act all innocent everywhere else… Sneaky fucker…  If I’m drunk and not even fully aware when I do that shit I have to give some credit to drunk self for coming up with it, even though I still don’t quite fucking understand why or what it’s about (yet).  I did remind Candy though, usually when I release such a vast amount of emotional energy, some shit happens, one way or another, so die or get weed, it makes no difference to me or probably her at this point.  lol

It’s weird, that a part of my brain actually has to be ready to face death in order to get weed because I still have to deal with people who are technically “criminals” even in a physical geography where it is “decriminalized”.  Fuck this reality is so fucked up, do people really wonder why everybody is just as fucked up???  Really?  Stupid fucking people…  They know they can’t fix “mental illness” because we seem to be the people who need to go off in extreme ways now and then for tiny little shit because the drunk side gets off on it in some way that the alternate mood swing is repulsed by.  I can’t help but note the coincidence in the fascination with “SSBBW”.  Someone once said to me that he would watch out for my “experiments” but I didn’t fully understand his meaning.

I’m only just beginning to catch on, I think, but I’m still much lower than that in philosophical understanding.  I really went off… I don’t even know how bad it is, and I will have this attitude of “go forward not back” and if really confronted I would try, as efficiently and acceptably as I could, to take responsibility for my actions and try harder, like I said last time, to stop doing this weird drunk negative stuff…  Damn this guy thought he was funny or something, making a big huge deal out of something he was just about to fix anyway.  I have nothing to promote that is “me” maybe… Who knows… The constant but slow entry onto the main domain based on limitations in space due to the other domains annoys me too, and no, so does the time frames that exist when creating anything is possible because it will mostly be necessity based stuff or more hardcore stuff.  I’m misdirecting and projecting… 🙂  So simple, and it’s sad that you know you did it when you did it.  At least I wasn’t driving and killed a kid or something…  Still, once a week… dammit… Shouldn’t be so out of control…

This really weird dude deep down in the chambers of inner childish emotions rarely gets to screw around, but when he does, it’s really wierd shit like :

I know that those who pass judgement on me are so perfect too.  They have every little aspect of their life sewn together in the most awesome way, with no problems in life at all.  They are fucking mentally perfect.  They have been touched by “god” itself.  They are so fucking better than me…  Unfortunately, they aren’t, and it’s all a fucking con that I know very well myself…  After all, I would much rather bypass all the bullshit and just be hated rather than disappointed first…

So, the eight month thing…  There may be more tied in there than I thought.  Most of the weird fucking shit that goes on in my head seems to be tied to dates, times, and the calendar, even if I don’t realize it at the time but I see the connections later… For example… I’ve been here 8 months, don’t get exactly what I want, turn into massive troll asshole while really drunk.  I think that the night I went troll fucking crazy might have been on the 19th, which is the date before Candy left me last time, the 20th, I think.  See, I don’t even remember when I try to, but then I look at my behavior, and I realize that I am really TRAPPED INSIDE OF A LOOPING FUCKING CALENDAR and there is no way I can change what will happen, just continue to walk forward on a path where I get fucked up and fucked over repeatedly until I finally “get it” for real, and figure IT ALL OUT, and therefore become a “better fucking person” and all that fucking jazz…

Considering, nobody will believe me, but I never never “hurt” someone more than I knew they could take in a moment for dramatic impact, and they knew even as I did it that it was limited and somehow, even in the heat of the moment, controlled.  Slightly unpredictable, but still controlled to a degree because shit was already out of my control.   In the future, I would rather take a blade to the gut from one specific woman than lay a finger on her in anger.  that doesn’t mean i’ll have an ability to restrain myself electronically at times with any other living entity in the reality i am perceiving though. “drunk me” is a dick, but he’s trapped behind a keyboard too. “drunk time” is educational to me, too.  I have to maintain the strict level of low mental functioning.  sometimes more than people would believe… The wall can be tall, have to watch out how high you build that wall.

Then there is Candy.  It’s interesting how much I have built up a protective barrier around her where I would never hurt her under any circumstance, yet emotionally, I will not always be a “PERFECT GOOD LITTLE FUCKING BOY” either…  That give and take is typical in any relationship.  Rebellion doesn’t seem to manifest in me beyond my desire for occasional intoxication itself, and sometimes, when unexpected, it’s “forbidden”.  It’s still not hard liquor, so still “controlled”.  It has recently devolved into this troll shit though…  I don’t have to fuck anybody else to get off in that weird, egotistical way, even though Candy would have said to me recently that because of my outburst, she thought I wasn’t jerking off enough lately.  Really, no joke, she thinks I just needed to get laid, so that might have been another hint. lol

Any and all frustration with her and her lack of patience, her quick fuse, her psychotic outbursts must be projected somewhere, because I sure can’t beat the piss out of her, at least not without tying her up first, setting the mood, and using whatever fucking props are designed for BDSM shit… lol  We were supposed to experiment more with that, at least from what I promised to get her back this last time… lol, remember that??? omfg  We have a few books, we have NOTHING BUT FUCKING TIME…  We certainly aren’t constantly annoyed and bugged by people from “the outside”…  🙂  Maybe that would be a healthier alternative to acting a fool on the internet, and I could make some fucking cash by filming it too…

Maybe it’s all me.  Maybe Candy’s bad behavior,  impatience, and intolerance of alcohol use is really easy to handle, but I’m such a crazy fuck that it is difficult at times for me.    There have been at least 2 occasions where Candy couldn’t resist saying how easy it would be to leave again.  Instead of being massively hurt or angered, I just made note, reminding her how fucked up doing that is and how it isn’t going to work on me because each and every time she has left I did not stop her…  By the time I got her back, I was only just STARTING to get to the point where I was “over her”.  In fact, it took progress in getting over her in order to get her back…  Yeah… Wonder why I’m such a fucked up fucking self hating mess? omfg lol

A while back, another friend said that I was better off without her, that we were not good for each other because of who we were, and the way we thoroughly understood each other and still failed to accept certain shit about each other.  Although I accept her, I know that there are ways in which she doesn’t accept me, and I have to maintain an equilibrium in order to accept that I must always be, in some aspect, on the ass kissing side of a relationship that I believe I want, even though I am not, by any means, a total ass kisser all the time…

We talked about getting “counseling”, but we can barely leave the house for the 3 times in 8 months it took trying to get a fucking ID in the state of NV…. Another sore point with this ‘entire state’…  It’s kind of hard to imagine I will get a medical cannabis card in the next four months if it has taken 8 months to get a fucking ID…  It’s not like I could pick a bitch up and kidnap her to the fucking DMV… Too heavy…  And I have a fucking vehicle… Fucking sad.  Just sad… If I still had that urge to get laid or even find models at least I would not have lost the ambition to leave the house at all, ever, even for the possibility of making small steps towards the holy grail of medical cannabis…

A part of me has come to the realization that “drunk asshole did NOT want me to go out this weekend”.  I still don’t know what it means, but it’s usually something I don’t get a choice in.  Wait, the “sober” me doesn’t get a choice.  That asshole only gets partial control for so little time, yet he makes the most important decisions for me… 🙂   What a dick… He really really didn’t want to go, as if he already knew deep down something Candy kept trying to tell “me”.  She would say that this was an inappropriate group to scout out for that shit… Buying a few other things is possible, just not that… 🙂  I guess I would tend to ask for the one thing I should not be asking for from the exact people I should not be asking for it… 🙂  That is my fault, not theirs, and I’ll take responsibility, and say I’m sorry if anyone was hurt in my weirdness, even if I know that they don’t know me and I don’t know them.  “in reality”  I was “joking around” really, there must have been some “:)” and “lol” in there…

It will be a kick in the ass when not only I succeed in finding the magic herb, but end up having to get it twice repeatedly because we made promises to more than one potential connection, and we didn’t want to pass up a chance once we fucking spent so long looking… lol  No matter… I have the fucking money!!! lol  That shit drives me crazy….  There are probably multiple people in this fucking apartment complex who would love to make a deal and that is just not where fate is pushing me…

Oh then there is this other thing… My recent effort to engage in “positive thinking” had kind of a blow back effect on the asshole side…  I spent days “thinking positive” and trying to be more positive, trying to offer some kind of alternative to the fuck head that I have been for so long.  It just didn’t work though.  The phrase “fake it till you make it” doesn’t take into consideration the way in which the brain bounces back to a former state with surprising insistence when it has been pulled away from habit and horror for a few moments…  It was a mistake for me to try to “be more positive” when I am simply not ready for it, and I have not dealt with so much bullshit that floats around in my head.

I have one neighbor who is a kind of “asshole type”, and she can be heard screaming and yelling all the time through the closed windows of the apartment.  She gets away with this behavior because of some previously built tolerance within her relationship by the guy she’s living with.  He can handle it.  She can yell, scream, curse, and maybe even throw shit too like Candy, but he deals with it.  Since I’m the one who usually has to hear all the crying and bitching about stuff, it’s hard sometimes to hold back when I’m in a mood to bitch, and I know ahead of time she doesn’t want to hear it.  The problem with facebook is that she can still “see it” and she even told me she was about to “unfriend” me on my last rampage.  It also makes sense that in the digital realm, I have to grab the biggest guy in jail and be a prick, it simply wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t that way, think about it.  lol  That drunk bastard isn’t as stupid as I think… Never underestimate him… he kept using that word too…

I decided to name this post “trollgasm” because there was no other way I could approach the way in which trolling, just a little, even while drunk and not really remembering, gave me such a nut I didn’t want to touch a computer for over 24 hours…  It’s like sleeping with someone you really don’t like that much but they are “hot”, and once you climax you want to get out of there as soon as possible, and wait at least a week before letting it happen again.  The trolling thing is still kind of “new” to me because I didn’t realize that it was turning into some kind of coping mechanism as it was happening.  Even now, I think I remember a point where I made a comment to someone about how I felt similar to the way I did when Candy was gone and I was just “going off” on anyone and everyone who had fucked up and interacted with me previously, at least in a way that I eventually took some offense to.

The recent troll fest was not so much “personal” for me, even though I know it would be perceived that way by anyone who witnessed it.  I was “projecting” as I have said i do over and over, some tiny feeling of self hatred drifting off me as I express hate and vitriol to those around me who have offended some part of the drunk self.  If you have experience in being around drunk people, you realize they often do this kind of thing, projecting anger and sometimes pure rage at some small perceived offense…  It’s really simple, and people should blow it off, but some don’t, and they get all butt hurt.  It’s ok though.  The drunk self was pissed at “me”, and also pissed at Candy when he was reminded by her how much she wants to be a bitch about beer.

She was already about to start throwing shit at some point, so with me knowing this, and knowing how unnecessary it all is, I blow off some of my inner rage online while loaded, which is only indirectly related to anyone specific in the moment.  Then, the drunk self thinks about it, searching desperately for someone to blame, and *bam*!  It don’t take long!  “If” people did what they say (including me), “then” I would already have herb, because people have said it’s no problem.  but… i don’t have it, so that means certain people are “full of shit” all the sudden, and I’m already pissed, so “it’s on”.

Also, because of repeated attempts of Candy to stop me from disappointing myself, instead of ignoring a group of people and simply “giving up on them”, I rage out so that I can get the “fuck you note” and stop future bullshit interaction, which causes Candy disappointment each and every time it fucking happens…  Not too difficult to figure out huh?  Yes, it’s “wrong”, yes it’s fucked up, but it gave me pleasure in the moment, for whatever reason, and it helped solidify my intent on getting the fuck out of here now that there are areas where kissing ass isn’t a requirement in getting a drug that is already legal there.  “legal weed”… just the thought…  fucking wild shit…. i think it might really fucking be worth putting up with snow now…

Maybe my over-reaction wasn’t too extreme after all though.  I mean, take the average couple (yeah, right), put them in a kind of social isolation for 8 months.  Then, introduce an agenda, a reason for us to have moved here, making anyone and everyone painfully aware of exactly what we want.  Then, we get tapped on here and there like minnows picking at dog puke in a pond by people selling shit that we don’t really want to buy.  They hint at helping us get what we want while tempting and drawing us in to some shit they make money from, or have another agenda to promote, that they are not being as up front as we are about whatever it is that they really want.

Seeing Candy “run out” yet again because of our mutual failures and the bullshit potential of other people, I fucking lost it.  I think I would do it all over again now too.  I could take it a step further, as I usually do, and say that if Candy doesn’t like it, she knows where to go… 🙂  It’s kind of humorous, in a long gone crazy type of way I guess…  I got balls to type that while she’s sleeping less than twenty feet away from me. 🙂 Candy tells me not to trust or depend on “those people” because she already got the fucking hit and run over and over, strangely, even a year before moving here.  I freak out and go off on who else?  Those people…  I’m so fucking crazy, but if being crazy has gotten me where I am right now, I guess it’s not too fucking bad for me.  I could just drink, but then again, I can’t…  Oh well, this is what I wanted most in the world, this is exactly what I fucking asked for…  Now we’re here, surrounded by bullshit, flakes, liars, cheats, hustlers, con artists, and criminals, and now I have to think like one of them to interact with them…  Drunk hate is not the worst a person could do motivated by such a perceived extreme set of circumstances…

Oh, there is yet another factor going on here… Every fucking time I have to watch Candy break down and lose it because she’s miserable in pain, complaining about how she feels physically and emotionally so fucked up she wants to die, that might be another fucking reason I have finally fucking lost it with the bullshit…  Eight months no ID, eight months no doctor visits, eight months zero progress and actually losing progress on letting a few medications run out…

They have no way of knowing that she can’t just go “hang out at a fucking bar”, no matter how it benefits them.  She doesn’t want to be around a bunch of drunk motherfuckers, or she would be letting me drink and maybe drinking herself to forget about this fucking weed bullshit, like I already learned how to do but fucking can’t because of her..  She can’t, or won’t. Obviously, she can’t transfer freaking eating… Fuck I don’t know how to fucking stop that…   Even now I have to wonder if her real reason for not wanting to go out to a bar would be the alcohol thing, or the physical humiliation in being rolled in, or the potential rejection of being encouraged so heavily with so much fake concern and then just ignored all over again.  Fuck that shit.  I won’t put her through it, even if I have to curse out every one of those fuckers…  🙂  That’s how “he” sees it, at least for now…  What a dick.

I’m so bad… But then again, I’m about to be dealing with fucking criminals, so being a fierce dickhead isn’t such a bad quality all the sudden.  I literally have no choice but to be the “bad guy” to get what I want, because I am otherwise a boring law abiding citizen, but because of the state I fucking live in right now, I want to break this one “half ass law”.  Again I stress how I am motivated by Candy’s pain, because she has failed to get an ID for so long, she was long long long out of any kind of prescribed medications, so the fucking woman is really in fucked up.  For small moments during high levels of alcohol intoxication, it can feel like nobody gives two fucking shits, but sober me knows that some really do.

I think I got so fucking pissed at this one woman while loaded because she was “so concerned” that she  built up Candy’s hopes at a time that was more critical than anyone outside would know, or I would have revealed, even as I ranted on facebook day in and day out for days about it.  I only gave her about 3 weeks though, but it was just bad timing that it was only 3 weeks kind of slightly friendly interaction before I had my 8 month freak out, but it is still kind of related, half way… Two thirds… Fail all the way around so far.   At least the feeders can do her a favor and help her keep shoveling it in so the pain will end sooner or later… that’s how she puts it at times…  Another panda express freaking card came in… I’m not complaining but…  omfg  I might really push for a freaking video, even if I would “make her” to two at a time, one eating to build me up for one potential hardcore…  I did order the taller tripod for 2nd high cam, but of course, it didn’t fucking come yet…  Neither did the fucking ID… Nothing can be “easy”.  It’s not supposed to be. 🙂

Now I can’t even hit the pipe resin because Candy could hear it, and she gets pissed, so she wants to tell me to go get spice again, since it’s right across the fucking street… Wow… She knows that shit will kill us, so I have to ask her if she’s now ready to die because she can’t have weed.  Her answer would probably not surprise you.  It wasn’t going to surprise me…  She’s pretty much ready, but she still has this little bit of nagging self preservation left.  Enough constant pain and denial of medicine she should already be entitled to should speed that up though! 🙂

Well I think I should end this one here.  Why not on a positive note?   What, you don’t think death is a positive note? lol  Your going to fucking die, we all will…  Get over it. 🙂  It’s funny, how time is at the center of all of this.  A few months down the line when I have set things up fucking correctly for once in my life to get what I fucking want, all of this will mean nothing at all to me.  Those who have fucked around with my head will mean even less…  Especially considering that nobody fucked with my head, it was actually a delusion of the “drunk self” that had some fun.  I think he had to “get out” a little… I hope he’s fucking happy now… 🙂  God, he’s so fucking angry!!!  He wants to hang out more, and I have to tell him to fuck off to keep Candy happy… Most of the time… Fucking beer… It’s so easy… I was actually surprised by how fast they went down this time…  I didn’t even pay attention.  The longer without using it, the more powerful it is.  So, abuse alcohol responsibly. 🙂  not digitally

 

 

reality orientation

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This ‘character’ obesiverse had manifested itself within the minds of a few people, to the extent of being called upon to hopefully provide some degree of entertainment and information in recent social interaction.   I think it’s ‘cool’ in a way, but at the same time, I face an irony in the way that I made some small attempt to partially destroy the character by removing so much ‘stuff’ from this thing recently.

ronald mcdonald gets busted for weed

ronald mcdonald gets busted for weed

There has been yet another shift in my thinking, major only to me, and the change to this blog was only a small surreal gesture in a much larger attempt to be more positive, a little more social, more aware and respectful of other people’s feelings, more aware of ‘self’, and of course, much more aware of the emotional state of the one person on this planet that has inspired what I believe is ‘growth’ in me.

Projected prevalence of obesity in adults by 2025

Projected prevalence of obesity in adults by 2025

I am not always able to observe things that are obvious to some people, and at the same time, I can sometimes see things that others will purposely block out in order to enjoy the moment, or maintain a status quo.  I know that in the past I would rant and rave about the right to exist at any size, and how society should chill out about the obesity issue, because it is internal and personal, and there is no way to shame or bully anyone into making positive change in their life.

jesus vs gates

jesus vs gates

Before moving to Vegas, maybe around the time that I started writing this thing, I believe I was having some real issues myself.  This would be obvious to anyone who witnessed my bad behavior in the time that Candy and I were separated  and it could be even more obvious in the way that Candy and I get along so good now, even though we did spend nearly a year apart over a two year period.

big feast, big belly

big feast, big belly

When Candy came back the last time, my decision to drop hard alcohol was a major factor.  While it would be easy to assume alcohol was the main problem in the relationship, it actually wasn’t.  It was a mere symptom, which was being used on my side improperly, and interpreted from her side with an extreme bias based on her past.  Alcohol appeared to be a ‘central issue’, but in reality, it wasn’t.  The main issue was the mere realization on both sides of how it would contribute to the much larger relationship areas of communication and mutual understanding.  I would be forced to compromise ‘the ego’ at times in order to retain balance and try to reinforce a positive atmosphere. If I didn’t have that ability, I didn’t have the right to assume I could change myself, or participate in another human’s efforts to change themselves.  I needed to take responsibility, and it’s weird the way it works out in time itself.

international no diet day

international no diet day

I was being immature, disrespectful, and blind to Candy’s feelings about alcohol, and I used it more regularly than I had to because of some stubborn need to ‘get what I want’ at the cost of causing her emotional discomfort.  As I write it out, it seems almost too simple to me, and I wish I could have reached this current frame of mind a lot sooner than I did.  If I had the ability to explore Candy’s emotional landscape with more efficiency and consideration, I could have gone the past two years without seeing Candy leave at all, much less twice.

"the spice" just like Dune! whoa.

“the spice” just like Dune

Even as I bring that up, I’m forced to reconcile my own temporary emotional downturn in trying to be more ‘acceptable’ and remove all legal liability by switching over from regular use of weed to alcohol…  Addiction transfer was all too easy for me, but the worst mistake I ever attempted in my life.  That one even outweighs the entire Florida thing, by far, because I have long tried to take responsibility in all of that too.

ssbbw candy godiva buffet style

ssbbw candy godiva buffet style

Way back, when I walked away and left all of it behind, I didn’t realize that it would be a way for me to stop fighting and stop denying the ways in which I was wrong, or misrepresented myself, or agreed to things that I was in no way ready to handle.  I’ll even go further and mention that all of my prior ranting about Alexis fails to take into account my own inability to recognize her specific needs at the time.  By leaving it behind, I think I was giving it all to her because as hard as it was, and as angry as I was at her, I was the one fucking up because of the way I behaved.  I was in those crazy early 30’s… Oh time is cruel.

metairie hurricane katrina

metairie hurricane katrina

As I hung out at a small gathering that I was privileged to be a part of, Candy would get to enjoy several small yet incredibly meaningful exchanges, and I did as well.  It was uplifting and inspirational to hear one woman’s story, and I can appreciate the amazing parallels that were brought up.  I am also grateful for the opportunity to see who ever would have happened to drop by the room ‘brother B’ was hanging out in for several hours on that afternoon and evening.

"complete hitch includes" ball mount, pin, and clip, uhaul says no!

“complete hitch includes” ball mount, pin, and clip, never got it anyway

The fact that such special circumstances had to occur to get Candy out of the apartment was amazing.  Considering how it has been difficult for her to maintain an aggressive pursuit of mere residency and medical requirements, I was glad to see her finally get out of the house to see a different group of people besides myself!  While I would easily get greedy for some kind of regular interaction on that level, it’s still more than Candy can handle currently, and I am feeling the pressure of not taking care of business and pushing harder myself for her to get paperwork straightened out and doctors already lined up.

trailer hitch mounting instructions from uhaul part one

trailer hitch mounting instructions from uhaul part one

It’s not like ‘super morbid obesity’ on it’s own is destroying Candy physically as much as a few very specific conditions, and it’s a kick to the ass to imagine that one hormone condition actually contributes in some way to her size as well.  Such a fucked up, misunderstood thing, even by me, or especially by me.  I could have pushed harder, and should have, as much as Candy might have objected or pushed back when it came to getting her back at that freaking DMV to get the ID.  Since before even moving here, Candy has been my first priority, and it was her choices and decisions that brought us both to where we are right now.  Sometimes I need to recognize when she is not making choices that are good for her and I need to step in, even as I try to have respect, understanding, and support for her limitations and boundaries.

ssbbw long story

ssbbw long story

Getting the ID was such a small first step.  Finding the right primary physician, even if she might decide to move to another state yet again eventually, is vital at this point.  The ID was just a small part of a bigger process that has gone months undone, and it’s horrible for me to remember how I complained about someone else not encouraging Candy harder in the past.

las vegas weekly and a map, vegas survival guide

las vegas weekly and a map, vegas survival guide

My awkward attempts to get Candy out of the house in some social context was almost an exercise in denial myself.  If it was so difficult for her to get to one government office, it was not going to be physically easy to do something as simple as ‘go to a bar’.  It was difficult for me to put it into context, because so many other people do it, but I am made aware of a new urgency to take care of business and get simple paperwork issues under control.  I always told Candy from ten year ago that letting shit slide will bust your balls later.  That’s why I’m eager to do my full audit, and I’m amazed at this very procrastination of thought organization as I let Candy sleep off a physical soreness that I know I can’t fully understand or appreciate.

Venus-of-Schelklingen name given, but photo in hohle fels specimen on wiki

Venus-of-Schelklingen name given, but photo in hohle fels specimen on wiki

I want to be diurnal!  Not really.  Oh, it’s unacceptable, I have let myself go and could be huge myself.  But, the drive isn’t there, the ‘hunger’ isn’t there.  I can selfishly over-indulge in a wide assortment of different legitimately prescribed pharma based products, over the counter antihistamines, cannabinoid receptor agonist analogs otherwise known as ‘spice’, and then say ‘ok a little alcohol’.  Probably ten years ago and then several years after that, I obtained and maintained a prescription for viagra, and I laugh at the irony that I never would have to use it with Candy. 🙂  I had recreational interests that involved being lucky enough to repeatedly end up in situations where I was filming myself with people who knew full well I was doing it and even signed a release! 🙂  Oh the time does fly… 🙂

peta hates fat people

peta hates fat people ? 🙂

I haven’t gone to the effort, but I found a small shop next to the post office that even has the whipped cream dispensers with nitrous oxide canisters that can make home made whipped cream and also make you really high for about 30 seconds.  It’s fun, been there done that, really a nice trip occasionally, but still very limited.  All of that fond talk about my own draw towards intoxication are related to it being the last great frontier of personal growth and development.  By not spending as much time ‘experimenting’, I can actually be more productive in this reality, where people have to do things like renew their ID, go to doctors, and make sure that the essentials are maintained by actually being productive. 🙂

close up of my sexy amazon trailer hitch

close up of my hitch

A little thing like my effort to draw Candy out, and then the get together at a hotel where a bbw party was going on, were extremely educational to me in terms of recognizing Candy’s limitations, and the urgency in taking care of business so that I can further hope to inspire a greater degree of seriousness when it comes to getting her weight under control first, and then going downward without great effort or psychological turmoil.   The last few issues I have with self control can be put into context better by watching how it could be effecting her.  I could fear for a moment that the last break up was even a subconscious attempt to drive her away because I felt that I was a bad influence because of enabling or whatever.

peep pizza! ripped from topcultured, hope they don't mind! :)

food porn at it’s finest

I ended up hanging out with a real ball buster for a while when Candy was gone last time, and I thought about it, how one lazy or crazy person needs another highly responsible, stable person right there to pick up the slack.  I know that Candy would not be offended if I refer to her as the ‘crazy one’ now and I have to be the one who is stable, in control, and able to not only handle assisting Candy in taking care of her business, but pushing and encouraging it.  Again, within certain limitations.

msbootay world of warcraft

what?  no. No! 🙂

All this thought coming from the fact that I realized Candy was ok in a hotel room hanging out with people, but even that had it’s limitations.  The realization that I had to help Candy out in the bathroom with just getting undressed because of what she was wearing was a big wake up for me.  The fact that she was nervous about even going and wanted to get up early to make sure she would not be late because of how long it would take her to ‘get her ass in gear’ should be another wake up.

synthetic weed what is in this shit? one molecule off? whoa...

synthetic weed what is in this shit? one molecule off? whoa…

I can’t let my own selfish desires to maintain a physical social connection to the real world overshadow the importance of helping Candy to finish urgent paperwork.  I don’t have the same motivations and inspirations that some might, because I am still so amazed to have Candy back that I can’t begin to imagine what it would even feel like to be tempted physically by another female. 🙂  At the same time, it’s amazing and intriguing to have opportunities to talk with people besides Candy, and I’m sure she feels even more strongly about having opportunities to talk to people besides me! 🙂

if u build it...

random furniture assembly

I am almost compelled to write a note to one woman who suggested coming out to one bar party, because I wanted to make her aware that I wasn’t thinking of Candy’s limitations before I suggested going or asked her about going to that get together.  It’s like, I made a small comment somewhere buried in the party page, and the mere potential created a whole new perspective for me.

my favorite big assed headless fatty in media

my favorite big assed headless fatty in media

It would end up being somewhat ‘creepy’ and not make any sense to her for me to thank her for the suggestion, because it brought about further thought in myself, and prepared me for supporting Candy in a much more neutral and ‘smaller’ environment.  In turn, that smaller get together made me even further aware of why Candy is having a difficult time and I need to help her get back on track to regular doctor visits to maybe finally help those few specific things that make her already difficult physical size even harder on her, especially in social environments.

 

It’s going to take some work to get Candy’s health better sorted out before I imagine or think of doing things like that.  It might be of interest to us, and it might even be good for her, but right now, I have to listen to her when she occasionally breaks down because she remembers what it was like to be able to physically participate more and she really wants to go, but feels self conscious now because of those limitations.

Maybe there are times I miss being ‘out there’ as I was so regularly in the past.  Being in Vegas provides constant temptation out there, always something going on in each and every single sub culture you can possibly imagine.  I didn’t come here for all of that though, I came here for her, so now I have to buckle down and make shit happen like I used to do so easily and effortlessly.

I have not only been too lazy when it came to the apartment, but I was being too lazy with Candy’s very health and well being.  It’s not like I was refusing to take her, she just didn’t want to go, and I would bring it up and she would push it off. It happened last week, but again, this outing better showed both of us the urgency now.   Maybe that’s what I was trying to make happen with the bar thing.  If I talked her into going, even if just for 2 hours or so, she would be reminded of her current limitations to the degree and extent that she would want to overcome any anxiety for the sake of getting that ID.

There were 2 efforts made, after all, getting the ID should be simple when your going in with a current ID from another state and an old, expired ID from the very state you are getting a new ID in right then and there.  No, that’s not going to happen this time in Vegas. 🙂  Last time we were here, the DMV was a one time quick stop, transferred Candy, the car, and I over to being new residents of the ‘silver state’.  Not this fucking time.  No way buddy. 🙂

chocolate covered bacon

chocolate covered bacon

Hey, I should be grateful in a way, leaving the DMV on the second attempt there was a minor accident where some guy hit my back bumper and I felt gracious because there was no light damage and let him go.  It also happened to help me finally fix an electrical problem that I should have corrected previously, but didn’t try before the tap to the back finally shook it loose enough to require being physically ‘touched’, or pulled loose totally and re-seated.

space shuttle looking '92 chevy lumina apv

space shuttle

Nothing bad has happened without something equally good or even a little better.  There has been nothing to complain about, everything has been so perfect, but it has all been in this tiny little world inside of the one bedroom apartment.  It’s been almost too comfortable, too easy, and putting off the DMV errand was too easy… “Normal” people would be like “what the fuck?”, but I have to remind those fortunate ones that some of us have to work hard at coming close to what most would consider ‘normal’. 🙂

ssbbw popeye's chicken

ssbbw popeye’s chicken

I have broken the 2000 word barrier! lol  I’m going to actually post this one instead of deleting it.  It turns out, if I think I got too negative, too personal, or too dumb in the post I would just delete it entirely.  I guess I can still have fun with this, it’s got to come in handy sooner or later. 🙂  It’s ‘obesiverse’ after all, so maybe my stories and observations actually could help other people who are stuck in the same time traps of convenience and status quo that I’ve been letting myself get caught in for, what, eight freaking months…

my view (plane not included)

my view (plane not included)

Maybe I can make new observations that help eventually lead to use of MRI to find a common neurological thread among those of us who are ‘super morbidly obese’, giving us a new tool in trying to figure out this magical, mystical, undeniably magnetic phenomenon of obesity.  It is a powerful thing, it is almost a force all on it’s own.  It is a human adaptation to store energy for use at a later time when energy sources may not be available.  I did have a lot of crazy theories and ideas before this new version of obesiverse, but my issue was ‘delivery’. 🙂

ssbbw candy godiva sub routine candy godiva ssbbw statistical and media paradox

ssbbw candy godiva 

Oh, and I do need to give myself a kick in the ass for doing more updates to the website and clip store!  So, I have even been lazy in the one area that is financially beneficial and positive in the way that it provides entertainment through observation of the force ‘obesity’ that I let myself get all stuck on for a moment there. 🙂

While the text is gone, I have to sift through the images and adjust descriptions.  I nearly want to delete half of them, but for whatever reason, they were in the images section, and I didn’t want to remove them.   They’ll run out eventually. 🙂

 

 

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