Tom and I just screwed, but he was too tired to get on top. That’s OK. That happens sometimes.

I shouldn’t have bragged about how Caddy Kid hasn’t been around, because he’s back, although I don’t know for sure that it’s him. All I know is that someone banged by at 4:30 AM yesterday morning and at 11 PM last night.

Tom and I played with Ratsy on the bed a little while ago. He really likes Tom. Man, does he stink like hell, too!

Later…

Gonna cool down into the upper 90s by next weekend. Getting pretty pleasant for some ball games, huh Joely? Think you can have your gal pals and their mistakes come over and play for me? You know I can’t legally complain about that. I should be able to, though. No one should be allowed to have basketball hoops in their driveways when you’ve got a house as close as 3’ away from you.

For a minute just now, I missed my cigarettes. I miss having the vice, the act of smoking. Now, all I do is drink coffee and pop Tic-Tacs in my mouth. Although Tic-Tacs are only 1½ calories and I have about 50 of them a day, I suppose I should stop the tics. I will when I get the braces off. I’ll have them once a week or so then, then just chew gum. It’s too much of a hassle to chew gum except after eating because I have my braces waxed. So, I only chew gum when I go to take out the wax to eat or brush my teeth.

Tom left for work a couple of hours ago and good fucking riddance! It’s not that I don’t still love him and want to be with him forever, but I just get so sick of him and he tends to bore me at times. It’s nothing new, though - you can’t always communicate with the guy, he takes things the wrong way, instead of speaking up, he makes excuses, the sex has come to be totally boring and cumless for me as well, and I’m sick of having to compete with and live with that fucking TV!

He says he wants to spend time with me, but then why does he sit down in front of the TV instead? He denies this, but he watches hour after hour of TV, then complains he’s tired. Tom’s not a lazy man. He’s on his feet at work and he does a lot of errands but maybe if he walked on the treadmill himself instead of spending so much time just sitting, he’d have more energy to do more things around here. I thought computers were supposed to be his favorite thing. If that’s so, then why is he at the TV 80% of the time he’s here?

I asked him about trimming the tree out front and the hedges that he said he’d do weeks ago and what was his excuse? That he didn’t want to use electrical stuff if it was gonna rain. It was nowhere near raining today. What he really wanted to do was spend it sitting in front of the TV, but he didn’t want to say so, so he used rain as a lame excuse. To me, this is the same as lying and I don’t like it. He uses having to clear out his ma’s house as an excuse for not stopping to get a carry box for White Paws so we can take her to a shelter. But he wasn’t even doing his ma’s house this weekend. And he sure had time to pick up the new phone and mattress pad. As I told him, why not just come out and admit that he doesn’t want to get rid of that cat? He wants that cat, and he’d never admit this part, but I think he enjoys forcing it on me, too. Well, if he can say one thing and do another, so can I. I said I’d feed her. No more. If he wants her fed, he can feed her himself. I don’t make him take care of Ratsy, he doesn’t like rats, so why should I take care of his cat for him? Let him deal with her because I have my own cat I love and take care of. That we love and take care of because it’s a cat that we both want.

We both admitted we misunderstood each other about when he was to pick up orange juice and that it was OK if I took the water pill an hour before I had some orange juice, but then of course he just had to leave the bathroom sink faucet dripping which he knows I don’t like just to spite me. It’s so childish, too, but these are things I no longer confront him with because I know he’ll just deny it. That’s Tom for you - you don’t want to do something or admit to something - deny it. Just deny it. Or make excuses. Want to know what he’d say if I told him, I made comments saying he’s been cumming all along just to see if he’d be honest enough to admit that wasn’t true, but he went right along with me and that’s lying. You know what this bold, but very bad liar would say as a lying excuse? He’d tell me something like, “But you never gave me the chance.” Yes, Tom S would have the bold nerve to use such a lying, obvious, bullshit, lame excuse like that.

They say that if you can lie about one thing, you can lie about other things. I’ve never felt that there was a chance Tom would ever cheat on me. Most guys who were too afraid to get off with their wives would, but he has close to no sex drive at all, so he’s not missing anything with me. It’d be much more convenient for him to just take care of himself if he got that built up. And remember, he says he has wet dreams. It takes an awful lot to build this guy up, he can take care of himself, but what if I’m wrong? What if he’s getting it on with some young, thin, attractive thing that’s on birth control? What about Wendy (since looks really don’t matter all that much to him compared to most of us)? He’s the sanest, smartest, safest man around, but if he can lie and make excuses for the things he has, why not more things? Why not bigger things?

Well, I still doubt Tom S would cheat on me. Whores are a dime a dozen, but Tom S is one in a million. If he did take up with someone else occasionally, it’d be OK, it’s his body, so if it made him happy, OK. If he was a major slut who was stepping out on me left and right, that’d be different, but he’d have to die and come back a whole different person before he’d be that type.

I meant it when I said I was sick of the TV, too. I wake up to the TV, I eat to the TV, etc. Everything I do, I do to the sound of the TV and it gets really fucking old.

Unbelievably, I only have three more journals left to proofread.

Later…

It is so very dark outside right now. The sky’s moonless and cloudless.

The bitch is in bed next door. Gotta get up early. Tom said it was quiet today and that Bill was over there. What? Does this spoiled bitch not only have her poor dad mistake-sitting, but mistake-sitting when she goes out with her stuck-up girlfriends, too?

There are so many things my mind has accepted that are in the past. I’ve gotten over them and basically just put them in the past where they belong and gotten on with life. But it really bothers me that I can’t do that with my anger. It’s like I accept the fact that certain family members have wronged me and are not good people, but I can’t always let go of the anger that goes with all this. I’m not hurt, I’m not sorry, I’m not even regretful, I’m just angry. Not so much with family, as with other people, though. Mostly past and present neighbors.

For the first time in my 32 years, I’ve dealt with my parents and brother the proper way and the way I should’ve years ago. I spoke out and up to these people, then I let them go. So my anger’s been fused for the most part with them. It’s the people I never dealt with correctly that are pissing me off.

Take that bitch next door for example. I never should’ve let her get one word out to me. She had nothing to say to me. Nothing that could benefit the situation. I should’ve grabbed that bitch, clamped a hand to her mouth, and given her three ultimatums. To either walk away peacefully and get rid of the dog and music. Or to walk away peacefully and not get rid of the dog and music and have me get her evicted, or at least rid of the dog and music. Or to say another word and get her ass kicked by me right then and there. She was the problem. She and her boy toy. I did nothing wrong. How dare she come to this door telling me to shut up when it’s she and her associates that have disrupted my life. I don’t know why I let her scream at me. Maybe I was subconsciously afraid that if I did beat her ass she’d have someone come and shoot me and poor Tom, too. Well, lucky for her if she never comes to this door again, because she wouldn’t get a word out of that fat black mouth of hers, and you know what? There’d be no words coming out of my mouth, either. I’d just do what I had to do.

I think back to people like Mary D and ask myself why I didn’t push to fight harder. Why didn’t I try harder to fight her better? Why didn’t I set Hank’s ass straight the moment he stepped out of line on me? Why didn’t I fix his poor drunk ass? He was getting up there in age. I could’ve set him easily straight. Now because I didn’t, I’m left with the anger of what I didn’t finish and of what I didn’t do that I should’ve done. Maybe some other 21-year-old girl, who’s the naïve little sucker I was, is having to listen to his mouth. Maybe this girl wouldn’t have to put up with him if I’d dealt with him, because maybe if I had taken care of him, he’d now be too afraid to step out of line again.

I can think of a lot of people that pushed me around and it really angers me, infuriates me, to know that I never even tried to set these people straight. Yes, some of them would’ve kicked my ass and hurt me for it, but in a sense, it would’ve been worth it, because I would’ve at least tried to get them off my ass in the first place. Not all of these people could’ve hurt me if I’d nailed their asses. Most of them would’ve been no match for me and most of them would not have friends that would’ve shot me for it, either.

Barbara, at the NHA, had a lot of sick friends. Her sick friends would probably have gang-beaten me if I had done anything to Barbara, but maybe they wouldn’t have. Maybe Barbara would’ve kicked my ass if I tried to lay a hand on her, maybe not. I never even tried. I could never have known for sure what would’ve happened because I never even tried. There are some things we know in advance, then there are some things that we just can’t know for sure, till we do it.

OK, it’s just past 10:30 here, so why are the dogs barking? One of them is. Yes, one’s worse than the other. Again, how can this bitch sleep through that?! That dog is right outside her bedroom window for God’s sake! If she stuck her arm out the window, she could practically reach out and touch the fucking dog. She can sleep through this shit, though.

Andy gave me Michelle’s number and said she likes Mary and all those computer voices, so I can feel free to leave her messages with those voices. She’ll be out during regular business hours. My schedule’s a little off for that right now, but as soon as I’m up when she’s at work, I’ll leave her a few messages.

Later…

Where oh where is this ferocious appetite coming from?! I’ve been up for just six hours and since then I’ve had a TV dinner and a can of bean soup, and I’m still starving. Fuck! Is there ever an end to all this fucking hunger? I swear, it’s either be fat and full, or thin and hungry. Although technically, I’m far from thin. Maybe I should’ve just stayed on the cigarettes and not changed my eating habits. Here I am eating healthier and less than I have in a long time, and I gave up my 220-calorie granola bars, but yet I’m a blimp. If I could get my hands on an appetite suppressant that works and that wouldn’t cause me to wake up just a few hours after falling asleep, then maybe I could discipline myself and stick to this diet better, but since I’ve got this constant hunger, I can’t. There’s no in-between here and there’s no being thin and not hungry all time. Not anymore there isn’t. I need to eat at least once an hour, and I need solid foods. Not foods that are like air like popcorn and salad which don’t do shit for me and which leave me starving. I’m seriously contemplating eating when I’m hungry and letting myself get as fat as I’m going to get.

Later…

Just had a hot dog and now I’m making another TV dinner. I’m up to 118 pounds, too, but you know what? I don’t give a shit. I just don’t give a shit anymore. All this slavery over just a few pounds lost? Fuck that shit!