Still no dog next door, so the sick fuck had to blast in at 11 PM. And I’m sure it was him I heard last night, too. Oh, how I want just 5 minutes with this boy. Just 5 minutes! And she’s welcome to come to this door again too, as a bonus for me.

I pounded once last night, but tonight, given the fact that the music was even louder and I’m getting more and more pissed and closer to breaking my promise to Tom, I’ll be out there pounding every hour. It helps vent some of this anger and frustration, but not like it would if it were their heads I was pounding.

One of these days, I’m gonna break this promise to Tom, and why not? He’s broken promises to me and promises were meant to be broken, anyway. So when I see that this letter that he says he’s sending at the end of this week doesn’t work, and when the bed doesn’t change anything, and when he casually tries to lie his way out of it, I’m sure that’ll throw me over the edge. Then no more freeloader problems for me.

Tom was bitching about my name-calling when I referred to the sick fuck next door in a rather mean way. I told him I could see him not liking me calling him a name to his face or some family member he loves, but why can’t I call someone a name in our own home? Someone we barely know and who’s pissed me the fuck off? He said that that’d cause me to get into the habit of name-calling, in his opinion, and he doesn’t like to be called names. OK. However, if I’m gonna call him a name, I’m gonna call him a name regardless. I just think it’s OK to call someone names in journals and to people whom it can’t get back to and not to their face. The only thing that I think shouldn’t be written or discussed with others is if you have a problem with someone. Well, obviously my talking to the freeloader about his musical ways that are rubbing bad chords with me, didn’t do shit, so my fists will have to do what my mouth couldn’t do when that letter proves useless and when the bed does, too. Don’t get me wrong. The bed will help with some things, but if Tom thinks, or thinks that I think that it’ll cause lots of squirts and a planted seed, he’s got to be real damn naïve, if he isn’t lying intentionally.

I removed hairs from my tits and from my lower stomach, even if it took forever. I’m gonna wait and see if the hairs grow back. If they don’t, then I’ll continue on with more hair removal, but like I said, it’ll take me 5 lifetimes before I remove all I want removed.

I chatted with Andy, and while he got the new car, he still seems to be quite a sad case. I feel really bad for him. I do and I don’t. A part of him has made his own bed that he has to lie in, and he knows this, but we both also know that it isn’t easy to pick oneself up again, after a fall. And I know that some people just can’t help but be attracted to losers, users, and abusers, who are druggies and who live on the edge. Andy’s always been one of them, although he knows the consequences of being attracted to what he’s attracted to. It’s one of those cases where it’s easier to do what you want and not what’s best for you.

He still hasn’t gone job hunting out of fear that he won’t be hired anywhere due to what happened at Cocoa’s.

He also told me something that he even admitted was sad, sick, and desperate. If you’re a friend of Laura’s, you’re either a druggie, an alkie, or both. A 24-year-old alkie pal of hers really turned him on, so Laura called him from a payphone the other day and told him she could bring this guy (Aubrey) over to him, but that he was wicked drunk. Also, Aubrey told Laura to tell him that if he paid Aubrey $15, he could give him a blowjob. Well, I guess in the end Andy didn’t have to pay him, but that really really is very desperate and seriously sad. He should be saving as much money as possible and he should’ve been hightailing it to job interviews days ago.