Last night, at around 9 PM, I left Andy a message letting him know he could call if he wanted to talk. He was on the phone when I called, as usual, and I know he got the message shortly after I left it, cuz I called his machine to check. Not that I’m bitching, but I haven’t heard from him since. He must be pretty busy. Or else he’s mad at me for reasons I don’t know and don’t care about. I think, for the most part, he knows we’re finished when I move, so he’s probably figuring - what the hell? Why bother to go out of our way to talk when it’s just about over between us?

Yesterday I went through my makeup. Most of it I’ve had for a decade or more, so it seems, so I got rid of most of the old makeup I’ve had.

I saw a tall doll I want to get when we move if she’s still available. She’s a closed edition. There were only 300 of her ever made. Her name is Ciara and she’s 38” tall at $148.68. Her face and hair aren’t great, but better than most tall dolls seem to be. Her dress, though, is stunning. She has curly blondish hair that’s about to her waist, blue eyes, and a powder blue dress. Yeah, blue really is a popular color. It’s gorgeous, though. It’s satin with lots of pearl beads and rhinestone accents trimmed in lace. She also has a little purse and pretty lace gloves that go just above the elbow. I liked how they left some doll visible. It seems that most dolls are smothered in such full, bulky, baggy outfits, but this one is nearly sleeveless. The gown is long, but that doesn’t detract from the doll at all. She also doesn’t have a huge, tacky hat of some kind like most dolls do. What was weird about her, though, was that she had a womanly face and a womanly dress, yet she had girlie shoes. Tom said it was a nice doll, but that she had an odd expression for reasons he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

God, I really hope I can get the two Indian dolls I want from Ashton-Drake, this doll, and a realistic-looking doll from the mall store! I can’t wait to go back to that mall store! I just hope we can get most, if not all, the things we want on our list too, like a living room, bedroom, and kitchen set. A computer desk for me, etc.

OK, now for my freeloader update - the letter’s going out today as I’ve had it with next door’s shit! God, how I’ve had it! How many years now of shit from that house have I been having to listen to? Damn, I resent God for sticking this shit on me year after year! It’s become an obsession with him since 1992 and you know, it scares me. It really scares me. What’s he gonna do when we move? Tom says there won’t be stereos banging about, but yes there will. As soon as we move in God will stick them on me. Those stereos are perfectly capable of traveling from property to property out there. Someone’s teenager that’s home alone after school for a few hours or so will thump me out, and if there isn’t a regular problem with neighbor noise, there’ll be something. But at least it can’t get as close as a few feet to the house.

Anyway, I got up and was making my coffee when I heard thump, thump, thump. Not a very thrilling thing to have to wake up to. Sure enough, it was coming from the one and only infamous, notorious address next door, but amazingly, it was only for a few minutes, and sure enough Deb didn’t have a clue as to what was going on cuz she was out, but she came back in shortly after it stopped. Well, she better put two and two together real fast and figure it out, but I think I might know who the culprit is, and now there are 4 adults over there. When I say adult, I mean one that’s in their late teens. She was chubby, almost fat, with a long braid nearly to her ass. I saw her when she was out with the kids who were running up and down between the houses screaming their little asses off and I think she’s the one doing this. I’m surprised she doesn’t do it every time the van leaves, which is 2-3 times an hour. Sometimes the van stays in all night, though, but this was in the late afternoon.

Tom still plans to write the mayor and boy let me tell you, that cunt has no idea how lucky she is we’re moving, cuz if we weren’t - I’d be doing everything in my power to see that they got evicted, and that that house got sold. Sold to a white person(s). That shouldn’t be too hard, though, since freeloaders rarely can afford to buy houses and when they can, it’s not in a legal kind of way. I’d do whatever it took, be it legal letters or terrorizing the shit out of them.

I’ve simply had it with other people’s noise and I just wish they’d leave me the fuck alone!

Anyway, Tom and I had an argument earlier. We were in bed planning on screwing when I told him I doubted he’d build himself a computer desk after we move cuz I know how much he loves to talk about things versus doing them. A lot of us are like that. It’s easy for me to talk about getting down to 100 pounds, but another to do that. I’ll always be 110 pounds or more. He wasn’t too happy with my saying that, though. He says that if I tell him I know he won’t, or I don’t think he’ll do a certain thing, then that makes it harder for him to succeed. This is understandable and I intend to watch what I say from now on. Then he says that he can’t help it if the animals need food or I need books and that that delays him from making things. No wonder he never wanted a kid, I thought, but then he said he didn’t mind shuffling things around to accommodate schedules and tasks and all that.

Then he suddenly got a stress headache. Always one thing or another when we’re in bed. So I figured I ought to just get up and forget the sex since he’d just quit on me and use the headache as an excuse. He said he would’ve had sex and that the headache would’ve been fine in just a few minutes. He said, “When you say I quit in the middle of sex, well, what is the middle? What’s the beginning, what’s the end?” Well, usually the first half, maybe a little more, is spent doing side action, and the rest is on top, but what I mean by “quitting in the middle of sex” is that he’s been quitting after a few minutes a lot lately. If we’re gonna have sex, let’s just do it, I told him. Let’s stop with the constant excuses. Then he says he’s got chronic pains such as tendonitis and all that all the time. Yeah, but it’s quite a coincidence that things seem to affect him mostly in bed, I told him. Then he tried telling me that wasn’t necessary so, but I told him he ought to consider doing just side action if he’s got too many aches and pains when he goes on top, and that if he’s got any fears, he ought to admit it and deal with it. As always, though. He denies the fears. Nonetheless, maybe some of his excuses in bed are legit, but there are just so many that it’s always made me wonder.

Anyway, as I was trying to point out to him - he is how he is, and whether or not his procrastinations are intentional or not, can’t be helped, and can't be changed, he has procrastinated a lot since I’ve known him. I feel like he’s trying to pin the blame on me for it, just like he blames me for his not cumming. He doesn’t cum cuz he doesn’t want to. Period. And because it’s not in his nature. He can’t blame things that are going on in life for it, or me. I mean, he agrees I don’t control him in one breath, then tells me it’s cuz I mention it every time I mention sex (even though I don’t tell him, you’ve got to cum, or you’ll never cum, or I wish you’d cum, as I used to a lot back when I wanted a kid) and if I do mention sex at all in any way when I mention sex, it’s cuz orgasms and sex usually go hand in hand. Well, for most people they do. Anyway, I’m going to prove a point to him. The point is that we’re all set in our ways for the most part. We have ways that can’t usually be changed, even if we want them to or think they can be. For the next 3 months, I’m not going to mention cumming and I’m going to prove to him that even if I never mentioned the word again in front of him, he’ll still rarely cum and he’ll make sure that when he does, it’s at the so-called wrong time (even though I know that all the time is the wrong time for me). I’m going to prove to him that even if I never said he wouldn’t do this, or I didn’t think he’d do that, he’ll still find reasons, legit or not, to either delay things or forget about them altogether. That’s OK, though, that he’ll rarely ever cum. I guess that even though God has done his work and made his plans final, he still appreciates the dramatic cutback in cumming since I’ve said I didn’t want a kid (which gives him the perfect excuse to do what he’s never wanted to do and that is that he’s never wanted to cum with me cuz he’s never wanted me to get pregnant. He took risks a few times, though, and he would’ve been a great father if I’d conceived, but deep down, he always preferred and hoped that I didn’t) and as long as he’s happy in bed - great.

So I agreed we’d do what he wants in bed for whatever length of time he wants, even if that means too much screwing and not enough of him going down on me, and I agreed not to tell him he won’t do whatever. I’m still gonna bring this up some time in October, though, just to prove my point. It never mattered what I said or didn’t say. At least that’s what I believe. I think he’s him and that he naturally tends to procrastinate or cancel things out, and that he doesn’t want to get off with me. Whatever makes him happy and whatever’s in his nature is just how it is. And sometimes we just can’t help whatever these things are.