Date With Duck Lips...

Lovely name, right? Today I get to reap the benefits of being a guinea pig. I showered and shaved and lotioned my body up. Getting ready to see Mr. Gyno who should be pleased that I smell clean and not like a rough night of sex (like I'm sure I've done before on accident) and that I feel soft on the arms as he gets my metal and other medical buddies ready for entry. I've known women who freak out about these such "dates" but having 4 the first year I started getting them, they don't phase me. I'm just surprised that there's a man that just goes down there to look and prod with smaller phallic objects (and spiffy flashlight!) without actually taking out his phallic object. It's a relief.
I get a bit of cash because again, I'm a guinea pig. There is so much I want to say there...best if I stop myself!
Then I head on up to have a REAL probe: ultra-sound. It wears a condom for me and everything! All in a days work...sorta.
Every last cent goes towards my big black bastard (pet cat...not some 70's bush or pimp). Unlike the $100's I've been throwing at people like some maniac at a stripclub. No wonder I'm poor, I'm just giving it away (though we will say the last time it was me paying for sexual services and not because I'm a pathetically good friend giving my buddy tow-truck money. Makes me sound badass...or desparate).

This morning I had some good dreams that I will have no idea how to interpret.
First one started out in some garden center in the middle of no where (ok, in the valley of mountains). It was beautiful. I gathered some plastic-potted-place-directly-in-garden flowers and somehow jumped to some dark apartment building with a bunch of these flowers and dogs and cats on leashes. I was reading names and addresses off a paper and dropping these pets and flowers off. "Thank you for allowing me to look after your pet" kind of stuff...it was weird. Why was I buying them something and thanking them for doing work? These people were all rich, and HELL! One of the bastards stole my cat!! "Yeah, I would love to have him back, but I guess whenever you want to give him back will do."
Apparently this dream wasn't as pleasant. I think it was the aspect of being such a good soul to so many people that made me feel all gooey and gross inside (like it's my fucking duty to appease people, but hey, throwing money at loved ones because they are hard up for cash, BUT HAVE STABLE FUCKING JOBS, which I lack, is part of having a generous nature...or hoping all the cash will roll in at once so I can pay rent. It's like saving for a rainy day by giving other people the money).
The second dream was me wandering around a busy road close to my doctors building and finding that I need a shower before my appointment. I follow a bunch of university students who must know where I can hose my stink off. It was like a bomb shelter as it was a set of doors under a hill. I went into the one with the woman symbol. The washroom was creepy and the only shower stall I could see was at the end of a dimly lit hall...the hall did a sort of Hitchcock shot as I neared the stall. The water was running and I never made it there...I started to leave because fuck this noise, there are better options, like the wetnap bath my buddy always talks about.
I got outside, but ended up following some girl back into that Hell. The place was nicer and full of people, nicer stalls lined up in long rows. I noticed men were in the room as well, which was a what the fuck? Wrong bathroom moment, but no, some guy reassured me somehow, like the washroom at the gay bar where it didn't seem to matter, which made the gender signs obsolete. The girl took notice of my tattoos...and we ended up in bed together. I didn't wake up smooshed at the fold of my futon and needed to check if I was alone. Apparently I assume that I don't need to leave the house to end up with some stranger in my bed. A discomforting thought, but hey, random cute girl, who's complaining?
My dreams seemed much more satisfying, but now they seem horrible in very passive-aggressive ways. My minds way of torturing me for sleeping more and not being fucked out of my tree, mentally of course, as often as it would like.

On to something different...um...SUNDAY! Sunday I was in a delightful mood. I was running low on booze and had not a cigarette to fill my lungs with, but was happy anyway. I didn't realize until MUCH later, how much my whole body hurt from a crazy night with a close friend (legs and breasts still hurt). Even meeting up with my ex to get over the discomfort of being around each other wasn't a thought that would upset me. Handing the day over to him and we took 4 years and crammed it into 4 some odd hours, except we were both drinking. He handed me cigarettes (sweet cloves...*salivates*), he thought I was trying to poison him, we hugged, smacked each other, we were like two stupid kids who got into the liquor cabinet (which is true because we polished off everything that remained. It's awful to live in a dry house). We fought over a book of smut and he went home after a couple of tears...it was a fucked up day, in our fucked up lives. I was on the top of the world, then in a small dark hole, so I passed out.

Time to tart myself up for my appointment.
Adieu...

Well...

...rather than ranting to myself (because yay angry, miserable me, at the moment), might as well write. It's what I have when I don't want to manually write EVERYTHING out. So Ghost stuffs and the like. I watched a clipping from AboveTopSecret.com on how this one show is SO much better than the rest as it gets all scientific rather than "did you hear that?! Did you see that?!" It's very difficult to get physical proof of something only one person can see. When more than one person can tell one way or another that they are not the only ones in a room, that is more evidence than playing around with cameras. Growing up I felt crazy because I could see and on rare occations hear something that didn't technically exist. In the past two years I have run into 4 people who can "sense" something else to the point where I can finish their sentence and creep the ba-jesus out of them. "Yeah, he went that way." "WHAT?! How did you know?!" I'm getting sick of the fake stuff and miserable and sleepless off the real stuff (three people in one household can tell that there is an extra male, but only one gets to see his...um...lovely face and body every coherent night. Yay booze?). You can't make a believer out of a non-believer and you can only go off what you see and feel, etc. Understandably, I have a mental illness (on the way to schitzoville), but for the time being, I am capable of talking about what is going on and still have a few strands of reality where I can vaguely tell what is real and not real (thus the questions to those who understand). If I see people, I ask. If I know I'm the lone gunman, I just act casual. Not too much longer that state of mind will exist, but whatever, there is not much to help aside from talking. Better to clarify rather than creating lies for others, than claim to be right with false evidence.
Ran on with a tangent...drinking and it being 5:45am currently where I am, exploring things that get the mental ball rolling...all boring, pointless dribble in the end. It's just nice to have clarity, my mind in tact for the most part.