Posts tagged depression

take me to the hospital

2 years

by obesiverse in las vegas

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

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

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

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”. 🙂

luck

2 years

by obesiverse in las vegas

I don’t like to depend on “luck” as we call it, or think we know it. I live in Las Vegas, and I don’t really enjoy or feel compelled to gamble. It’s really ironic to move nearly 2000 miles from Louisiana to Las Vegas and not want to gamble.

I blame it on my cheapness, and my weak but solid knowledge of math, statistics, and odds. I make one assumption when I walk into one of those massive super store type casinos. The odds are in the house’s favor. Beyond that, I realize that any money lost would be a natural consequence for betting against that house.

The cheapskate trait that I have noticed most of my life comes in when I realize all the things I could do with money rather than gamble it away through some lottery or machine. I also make subtle calculations on how much money I would lose over time if I continued with a regular gambling habit that seemed small.

As cheap as I am, and as aware of odds as I am, I still smoked cigarettes for a few decades on and off. I had managed to quit before, for over a year, but something would eventually trigger me into going back to it. I’m only at day 17 and I’m acting like I have beat smoking already, but I am used to using patches and now there is the “emergency e-cig” too.

After just a few weeks, I’m already having dreams about smoking, but instead of fulfilling a fantasy of wanting to smoke in those dreams, they are more like nightmares, because of the feeling of disappointment after taking that first drag on the “dream cigarette”.

I have been in some kind of inner conflict for the longest about if luck is something that really exists, or if an old cliche’ is true about the more you work towards a goal, the more luck you happen to run into. I don’t test my luck in a casino because just like the psychics like to say “it doesn’t work that way.”

venus von willendorf statue, goddess or first porn model, feedee, and gainer

When I consider where I am right now, and how things are going, I am forced to remember what it was like when things were so different, and I was so different. My “growth” was hindered by the abuse of just one drug, alcohol, for months at a time, and I didn’t seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation I was placing myself in.

Now, I have only taken a baby step towards being somewhat “fixed” in quitting smoking. That is just one little habit in a long line of impulsive behavior I have to gain control over. In quitting smoking, I have given myself another level of confidence in what I can achieve when I put my mind to it.

The truth is, I was merely procrastinating from quitting smoking because the withdrawal is such a bitch. I would have done it long ago, as I have a few times before, but I just didn’t feel like the hassle of a few weeks in first world misery. Once I started using expressions like “first world” more often, I started to realize the arrogance of this concern over such a minor inconvenience.

I was only so “lucky” to get to smoke in the first place because I had the extra income to blow nearly $200 a month on the drug that would probably end up killing me eventually. It seems so simple, when you think of the assumed logical equation of smoking = death. Maybe people who smoke have a death wish. Maybe people who eat themselves up to nearly or over 500lbs also have a similar wish, but it has been modified to abuse a substance that provides life. Food.

I don’t usually post music videos, but I had to give credit to what I chose to listen to while I attempt to finish this blob post without hitting 5000 words, but then again, there is no way I can predict where my stream of consciousness writing will go.

I’m only 2 weeks into quitting smoking, but I already know I will be successful, because I have been reminded in what could be called a “nightmare” that I have to quit, “right now” apparently. There is some sense of synchronicity in this realization, because Candy experiences such breathing difficulty that she is on 2 different medications now.

I never smoked inside after Candy quit smoking, I started smoking outside before Candy ever quit actually. I made it a habit, because I always knew I would quit smoking, and I didn’t want my apartment and everything in it to be polluted with that horrible smell after I quit.

After I quit for just a week, i started to experience my true sense of smell again as well. Now I can taste better, and I can detect so many things in the air around me with a sense that had been dulled for years by this dreadful habit.

I can detect a female that is heavily “scented” from quite a distance. I can also detect when someone is smoking a cigarette in a very wide area. I can smell someone close to me and know if they are an alcoholic, or a smoker, or a pot smoker, or a crackhead.

With that realization alone, I am motivated to stay far away from inhaling burning matter on purpose, except for weed of course. I went to the trouble of getting a card at the DMV from the state of Nevada to get legal permission to smoke fucking weed. What a rigmarole.

i got my medical marijuana card!

I might be “lucky” to have quit smoking when I did, or in the long timeline, it’s already too late and the real tragedy is that I don’t even know it. Either way, I’ll take a higher quality of life while it is granted to this old, abused body. I am still trying to become more “enlightened” even though I realize that because of my age and my old ways, it will be much more difficult than a much younger version of me.

There was really no way to break through to younger me though, as it is, I didn’t become a full fledged alcoholic until after hitting 40, and I am already backtracking at 46. When I gain control over alcohol though, I won’t need to abstain, I will just use it sparingly when the desire arises to reconnect with this aggravating part of myself.

I have had access to more pharmaceuticals than I can pronounce, and I don’t abuse those at all. I know where that road goes, I chose to start using alcohol when I already knew how fucking serious it was and dangerous that particular compulsion can be to people like myself who have issues with impulse control and procrastination and anxiety and depression.

I lost so much while I chose to experiment with alcohol. Candy didn’t even know the full extent of her ability to emotionally disconnect and withdraw when exposed to a “typical alcoholic”. She had family issues going way back with alcoholism, and me being “that guy” brought her back to a family situation that she fled from as a mere child. There was no way she would tolerate that behavior from me.

I don’t think it’s too late for me though, I started reading “Be Here Now” and it gave me an insight and perception that I had not thought of or realized for a very long time. It was like reading that first Dianetics book and realizing that there were a lot of statements in there that I “knew already but never thought of in that way.”

I realized as I was reading Be Here Now by Ram Dass how similar his ability to recall things everyone already kind of knows in a different way is to L Ron Hubbard. The severe difference is that L Ron Hubbard doesn’t write from the perspective of someone who has done LSD.

Ram Dass also traveled India extensively and met with many gurus who made a profound impact on his perception of this reality. The influence of being on LSD a lot of the time could have impacted or biased that experience, but when you think about it, it would bias it in exactly the direction he was meant to go.

Be here now is all about figuring out the simple truth that you are exactly where you are supposed to be at any given time, given your desire to either find enlightenment or hide from it.

Everyone is on a path, and some people ride that path with blinders on, protecting them from seeing the potential branches that they could take which would change their lives for the better, forever.

I have used “drugs” to open my perception beyond what my bias and upbringing and limited education would allow. I have expanded the very experience of my reality by opening my mind up to alternate states of consciousness.

People who are all like “drugs, ew” are so “white and uptight” that it kills me. I can easily see why so many Caucasians will reject the race that they happened to be assigned at birth in favor of one that isn’t so fucking uptight!

I have spent a great deal of time in waiting rooms, getting the much needed and neglected medical attention for myself and “The Candy” simply because the opportunity was provided by this thing “Obamacare” that so many “fake conservatives” are all worked up over. I dread another “republican in name only” getting into office to destroy any chance I have to get medical care while at the same time creating a moral panic over “obscenity” to appeal to the religious right. 🙁

I have read a great deal of spiritual material in those waiting rooms, and I feel that I am very very far from total enlightenment, but even the very first step towards it is enthralling, exhilarating, and beautiful.

I have realized that no matter who I was, or have been, there is room in my heart for change, for the better.

I know that no matter what beliefs I have stubbornly held onto in the past, I can see the “big picture” just a little clearer now. I know that my dependence on any substance has been some kind of false idol that I worship and make sacrifice to in order to maintain my personal status quo of procrastination.

If the first step in solving a problem is admitting there is a problem. I passed that little nugget of self awareness months, if not years ago. I just needed a reason to grow emotionally. I needed to find hope and salvation in the potential of a future I really wanted in order to make myself prepared and available for that future to occur in this reality.

Now, as I take the baby step of quitting smoking, I realize that there is something in my distant future that requires and demands that little positive change in order to allow a chain of events to occur. I am thinking of time a little differently now. Instead of thinking of time on a straight line, I can see how the present intersects with the future due to consequence in ways that I could not see or did not want to see before.

The simple act of quitting smoking has caused me to begin to realize a whole set of new future realities, that never would have occurred to me without having had the experiences I have had, good and bad.

If I had not gone through so much bad shit, I would not have had the motivation or inspiration to continue to get better, and continue to grow spiritually. When I say grow spiritually, do not confuse that with the whole fucked up and contradictory phenomenon known as “religion”.

They are not the same, and can’t be, because current mainstream eastern religion inhibits personal growth by keeping women down and restricting sexual behavior. It will always seem back woods and “redneck”. Just look at any given argument against “same sex marriage”.

I have to laugh when I see what bigoted fools the highly reverent and religious are making of themselves to this current, slightly more enlightened generation.

Maybe I am so lucky, because while in one of my altered states of consciousness, I had this crazy idea of leaving everything I knew so well to travel west and land in allegedly fabulous Las Vegas. I followed some sense of what I know will happen in the future. I know that Louisiana will be one of the very last hold outs to legalizing marijuana.

I know that as voters turn down medical marijuana in the deep southern state of Florida, voters in Nevada approved medical marijuana over a decade ago, but the state of Nevada is pussyfooting around because they are so scared of being hassled over “gaming”. Dicks.

I think that I realize just how lucky I am, to have moved to where I did, just when I did, and follow a highly disciplined regimen of living on next to nothing for over 3 years. It sounds totally crazy, even to me, but I seem to know what’s coming, and I am planning every step of the way before I even realize what I am planning for.

Everything just happens as it is supposed to. I take limited risks in tiny micro social environments, and I create an outcome that I really want. I am faced with a challenge larger than I have ever attempted in all my life in the future. I have to make everything exactly the way I want it, in a way that is even more perfect than I have set it up in the present. The scary part is, I know I am capable of doing it, and it will be done.

I am just that lucky. 🙂

$200 a month on cigarettes addiction alcoholism altered states of consciousness anxiety be here now casino caucasians cheap childhood trauma cliche consequence control death depression devo dianetics dream cigarette drugs enhanced sense of smell enlightenment experiment extra income family issues florida food food addiction gambling gaming guru impulse control irony it doesn't work that way L Ron Hubbard las vegas louisiana lsd luck lucky medical marijuana nevada perception procrastination psychic PTSD quit smoking Ram Dass reality religion rigmarole same sex marriage scent detection smell smoking spirituality stream of consciousness that guy typical alcoholic weed white and uptight

over a decade

2 years

by obesiverse in las vegas

I wonder myself sometimes how everything that has happened has actually happened. The thought of Candy leaving twice, and my going literally insane both times is such a weird set of memories to process. I know that there are times that I still experience the anxiety I felt at that time out of the blue, with no additional stimulus required. At the same time, when real shit is doing down in my life I tend to use another type of anxiety to motivate, inspire, and push myself into doing what needs to be done.

There are times I have had some pretty heavy duty shit going on, like having to pull a huge, heavy fuel tank off a big ass van to replace the fuel pump, or pull the dash apart to replace an automotive computer. Those two things were just last year, and while I do consider myself a hobby mechanic, both of those jobs were things I had not done before, and I had to face a certain type of anxiety in order to successfully complete both of them, and still have working transportation that is paid for, and amazes me to this day that it is still going.

The biggest obstacles I have come across in my life never came anywhere near the level of intensity I felt when I lost Candy. It was as if everything in my life before those events meant absolutely nothing. All the accomplishments, all the hurdles overcome, all the disappointment, all the pain, none of it meant anything when I lost the one person in the world that I felt I loved more than anyone or anything else.

I literally wanted to drink myself to death. I went online and I started to reject everything I held dear all of my life. I started to become the absolute worst troll that even I had ever come across in the realm of ‘SSBBW’ or super size big beautiful women. I would not lash out so much at individuals, except for a very small handful of people who were directly involved, because they cared enough to save Candy from me if I wasn’t making her happy.

I would go into every fat specific area of the internet I could find to bitch and raise hell about how I should not be attracted to women who look like this. I should not be in such pain because I chose someone to love who would leave me. I was lashing out partially because I was severely intoxicated most of the time, but also because I was hurt deeper than I had ever been hurt in my life.

I am still resolving feelings of guilt over how I acted. I have apologized over and over to one person who was mature enough not to take any of it too personally in the first place. I have wondered what must be going through the minds of people who Candy met and interacted with while she was gone, only to run back to me, after previous accusations of abuse.

We were in a destructive, abusive relationship for at least one or two years before the point where she left, but we didn’t realize it, because there were circumstances that Candy wasn’t fully aware of that triggered negative behavior in her. When Candy and I met, we were both potheads. She had what amounted to a near allergic reaction to alcoholics. She had previous family history with alcoholics, and she herself feels as if she went through a period of alcoholism in her earlier years before we ever met.

When I made the brilliant decision to stop smoking pot and start drinking in it’s place, that created an environment where I would start drinking in the evening, and as I got more and more intoxicated, Candy would grow more and more anxious and upset. If I were to talk a little too much, or about the wrong subjects while intoxicated, it would give her the reason she was looking for to just “go off” on me. I had a great deal of restraint, after being through everything I have been through back in Florida with Alexis, so I would let it go.

There were just a few times when I would have gotten upset along with her for being upset, and I would allow an argument to escalate to a certain point. Then, I would get tired out from being drunk and just want to quit arguing, usually before anything significant happened.

One evening, things did get really intense, and rather than cooling off and calming down, Candy made a snap decision to take off. She wasn’t just leaving for a day, or a few days, she was packing a back to move out completely. Because she had just done the same thing a few months before, I started to reach a point where I didn’t want her to come back. I had been so hurt by her leaving the last time, and so excited when she came back, that watching her leave yet again would have me telling myself that I didn’t deserve that shit, I was over it, and I can’t be in love with someone who leaves me over little shit.

For the first few weeks she was gone, she had probably intended to come back all along. Because I entered this mindset of believing I didn’t want her back, I would allow myself to get drunk and log on Facebook to rant and rave about how shitty it was for her to leave the way she did, and how she was “not a good girlfriend” if she was going to use this tactic of leaving me to control me.

At one point, maybe 2 and a half weeks in, I got so drunk that I posted some really horrible shit on Facebook, where instead of complaining, I started getting highly insulting. At that point, any thought Candy had of coming back started to evaporate, and instead of getting her back sooner, I pushed her away for even longer.

After about 3 months of doing nothing but getting drunk every single day and passing out, I finally decided to get back out there and try to meet people. The first attempt was this woman in her 20’s who I talked to on the phone. She acted like she really wanted to meet right away, so she suggested I go to some bar to meet up with her. She totally stood me up. I tried calling her, no answer, of course, she knew what she was doing.

I will never forget the drive home from that place, how depressing it was, and how everything I passed on the way home reminded me of being with Candy. I was reminded of how much I loved and missed her, and I was hurt so very deeply to have the first moment of encouragement turn out to be another taunt by life itself.

I didn’t try to contact that woman, but a few days later she sent me an email trying to apologize. I basically cursed her out, told her how useless and pathetic she was for doing that to me, and I told her not to contact me anymore. I also wrote out at least 3 pretty harsh jokes about her having only one hand. I know that was totally uncalled for now, but it felt good at the time to do it. She was writing me as if there was some big misunderstanding about the plans she had made with me. She may have attempted to say she “chickened out”, but it didn’t matter. She was already putting me in the position of meeting her “with friends”, which I absolutely hate doing. Then, after agreeing to that really shitty scenario, she stood me up.

I stayed at that bar until around 1am, not because I had hope she would show up, but because I wanted to put myself through the misery of being someplace I didn’t want to be because some bitch lied me into going in the first place. I wanted to absorb all of that negative emotion for as long as I could stand it, until I really wanted to go home and slam more vodka.

There was no giving up at that point though. I had to meet someone. Hanging out with old alcoholic guys was more depressing than being alone, and the more I was alone, the more time I had to act like a total dickhead on Facebook. I believe a part of me hates Facebook to this day for giving me an outlet to make such an ass of myself. I still get drunk and act stupid online, but I am not mean, depressed, and cruel to people.

When that woman stood me up on the very first date planned since Candy left, it reminded me of the long, hard road ahead in finding someone I am attracted to, who was available, who I could trust. The person I was at that time would not allow me to find the “perfect woman for me” though, because I wasn’t myself. I was lying to myself about not being in love with Candy and wanting her back, so I would naturally lie to myself about the kind of woman I would be truly happy with.

One woman was so physically awesome, and she agreed to model, and I still have yet to figure out what site I want to add her to. It has been nearly 4 years since I took those photos, and I have yet to ever use any of them. A part of me looks at that work as inferior because i was so very drunk most of the time. Another part of me looks at that work and feels the pain I was in at that time. Something has blocked me from using those photos, even though I have an ID, a model release, and she is physically amazing and impressive as a SSBBW.

unnamed ssbbw

It was awesome and amazing to meet someone so physically amazing and incredible. I would have been instantly in love with her appearance with the hopes that her personality would not let me down. She was unavailable though, of course. She was available to mess around, but she was living in a situation that prevented any possibility of us being together.

This was another harsh reminder to me of the long hard road ahead in finding someone I could love like Candy. The first woman to appear and actually come through and meet me would turn out to be someone that I would never have a chance of being with. A woman who I could probably be content to be monogamous with for the rest of my life is just another fantasy. Of course.

I didn’t give up though, I kept searching, and I reached another compromise. There was one woman who was kind of aggressive online about wanting to meet up, but at the same time, she was a certain “type” that I was always hesitant to get involved with heavily. I’ll just say it, she was a freaking “christian”. She was eager to meet me though, and that seemed to be a rare occurrence for me in the online dating world, so I agreed to meet with her.

the christian bbw

She was beautiful, and happened to remind me of someone from the distant past facially. She had full, sexy arms, and DDD breasts, but she had kind of the typical “top heavy” figure, which has never been my total favorite. Anyone who has seen images of Candy would realize quickly that her mass is more heavily distributed on the lower half.

Since as long as I can remember, there has been this thing about larger thighs. In a previous post, I went into great detail about a theory that I have about being near sighted as a child and going years without wearing glasses. I may have started to distinguish male from female by body shape more heavily than face, and because I had such an intense sexuality, I started to become attracted to larger and larger representations of visual femininity in the body. I could recognize someone from a great distance before seeing their face by seeing their shape and even their walk. I still do this, because I can recognize some people from a distance, looking at their back while they walk away. I once picked out a woman I knew in a crowded mall on a Saturday from the second floor while she walked away on the first floor a great distance below and away from me.

Because of this, I have to admit even to myself that I developed a kind of “fetish” for large thighs. I tried to overcome this, because I kept telling myself that I didn’t love Candy, I was no longer attracted to Candy, and I was not going to limit my potential sexual partners to women who are “Super sized” or super morbidly obese, who happen to have large thighs too. That was too specific for my old, ugly, drunk ass.

I kind of settled, which is horrible, and I still feel guilt over how it hurt her when I had to tell her Candy was coming back. I settled on her being religious, her being top heavy, and her being kind of distant and controlling herself. It’s not like I wasn’t attracted to her, because at her size, with her shape, I could do things with her that I could not physically accomplish with Candy, ever. She could literally ride me to the point where I was struggling to control climax. Having those pendulous breasts swinging in my face while she gyrated on top of me was something that was kind of “new” to me, and it was literally amazing.

I know that sex is not the only thing that can keep a relationship together, and while I was still fixated on my preference for large thighs, I would end up cheating on the christian in order to see and photograph the unavailable ssbbw. One time they actually passed each other in the parking lot because I was such a bastard. I can’t believe that I was able to pull off that kind of timing while I was so hopelessly intoxicated most of the time.

By the time I started to “date” again, I did reduce the drinking a great deal. I also got a job, which surprised even me at the time. I didn’t just get a job, I got 2 offers and had to choose between them. I also pulled that off just weeks before it would have bankrupted me to pay rent before getting the first paycheck. My timing does seem pretty amazing, even when I am impaired.

I must have been dating the christian for a few months, because it really hurt her when I sat her down and told her that Candy was coming back to me. I had to also admit that I had been talking to Candy behind her back, and that I loved Candy all along, even if I was trying to lie to myself about not loving her because she left me.

All of this seems to have wanted to come out of me today because it has been a few months since I had to hurt someone else emotionally, when Candy thought she wanted to leave and somehow we managed to work it out yet again. I thought there was no way that I could have met someone that I would be so fond of while I was still living with Candy, even if she was planning to leave. Maybe the fact that she didn’t just eject herself much faster gave me some kind of ability to find and meet exactly the kind of woman I would want to be with after she was gone.

That hurt me this time. I had a few months to get to know someone who is physically amazing and complex intellectually. Because Candy was leaving yet again, I was giving myself an opportunity to find the near perfect woman while Candy was still with me. Of course, the second I find one that seemed to be really compatible, and have real potential, it would be ripped away from me because I cannot resist the loyalty of my love for Candy, and she changed her mind yet again.

Being with Candy for over a decade, I have been through more emotional turmoil than ever in my life. That is saying a lot, since I lost my very first SSBBW porn site in a divorce when I left Lexi in Florida. I was so young and foolish and impulsive, and even way back then, I had a level of maturity to realize that I had to leave that situation or I was going to end up getting in more and more trouble over time.

I have managed to resolve a lot of my feelings about Alexis, and what I went through in Florida, but it still impresses me that I was able to walk away from “my baby”. i cared more about that first website, fatfantasy.net, than I ever cared about Alexis, and that’s exactly why it had to be given up, to save myself.

me and alexis so long ago

Now I have to deal with unresolved feelings from when I was a total dickweed on Facebook while Candy was gone both times. I have to deal with the guilt of how I treated all the people involved who were just trying to help Candy, and they didn’t even love her the way I do. I still have issues with getting intense and typing too much in a place I shouldn’t be while I am somewhat intoxicated, but nothing reaches the level of pure crazy that I dove into while Candy was gone both times.

I had to break someone’s heart because I could not choose them over Candy. Not just because of the time I have known her, but because the intense level of emotion that has developed over that time. Now I have to deal with that too. I’m getting better, not letting myself get as drunk as I used to. I try harder to resist the temptation to log on to social media when I pass a certain level of intoxication, but sometimes it is just too tempting, and too satisfying.

Writing while intoxicated is something that I picked up as a kind of coping mechanism to deal with the loss and pain of Candy leaving both of those times. For a period of maybe a year or so since being in Vegas, Candy’s decisions kept me in a kind of emotional stasis where I had to go back to those habits to deal with what I was feeling at the time.

It’s amazing, that Candy and I were falling apart because we were staying in different rooms during the day, and the little interaction she got with me was when I would bust into the bedroom ranting about something on the news or something I saw online. I failed to see how just being apart from each other, even in the same residence, was slowly destroying our relationship. It would seem so obvious to anyone on the outside, but I was blinded by my bias, my emotions, and my past experiences.

I’m getting better, I’m writing this on day 6 without a cigarette, or I should say a real cigarette. I’m still using nicotine replacement, with the nicotine patches and an e-cig, only for use when cravings reach a level of intensity that make me want to give up and buy a pack of cigarettes. I’m limiting myself to a 12 pack of beer over a 2 day period, trying to give myself a break for a day or 2 between 12 packs. If I drink more than 6 beers in one day, I am limiting my future intake the next day, and I won’t let myself buy more.

I still get loaded and type, but now my mood is so different. I’m dealing with a lot of shit, and a lot of unresolved feelings, but I feel as if I am slowly stumbling out of some kind of haze that I have been living in for the past 3 to 4 years. It’s not just the alcohol, it’s the experience of how different I am and felt before I started drinking to begin with. It’s not like I am a life long alcoholic, I just started using it seriously after 40, and I’m 46 now. I used to hate alcohol because I knew it was put in place as a sedative to get people to stop doing ALL OTHER DRUGS, which is pure and total bullshit.

I’m not just for marijuana legalization, I believe that all kinds of psychedelics should be legal too, because humans were given this huge brain to use in ways that our current proper and prudish society are literally SCARED TO USE. After reading authors like Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert, I realize that there is great potential and discovery in using these drugs to stimulate parts of the brain that were probably created because humans were doing that shit millions of years ago to begin with! Of course, if you are a hardcore christian, you might believe there is no way this planet can be that old. That’s why I can’t get along with christians.

I have read studies about using LSD to cure alcoholism, and there are times I have to wonder if I inflicted that horrible disease on myself just to figure out how to cure myself later. I compare that theory to the way that I suspect some plus sized models have a goal point to reach before they get weight loss surgery and start the process all over again.

I have a lot of crazy theories, and none of the education required to truly experiment with them. My most intense theories are the ones I have about how one develops a fat fetish to begin with. That thing about body recognition and a need for a super feminine form is a pretty good one.

Ok, now I’m rambling, and going off course. This post should have ended when I used the term “over a decade” out of respect to the title. 🙂

alcoholism anxiety beautiful biggerandbetter.net bottom heavy candy godiva christian cigarette date denial depression disappointment drugs emotion falling apart fatfantasy.net florida heartbreak hurt irony job large thighs lexi lie loss love lsd lying to myself maturity mechanic modeling motivation over a decade pain passion porn pothead psychedelics quit smoking relationship search sex social media ssbbw ssbbw model ssbbw porn stood up super morbidly obese super sized thighs timing top heavy troll type unavailable unresolved feelings writing while intoxicated

alcoholism

3 years

by obesiverse in las vegas

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!

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trollgasm

4 years

by obesiverse in las vegas

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

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