Massive Attack was totally fucking with me tonight

Naked girls and cocaine

Two of my favorite things

Cocaine fuelled naked brawl

FEB 5, 2010

A man who struggled with his wife on his neighbour's lawn was sentenced to house arrest
By NEIL BOWEN

SARNIA, Ont. -- A Sarnia man who bruised his spouse from head to toe during a cocaine-fuelled evening that ended with the naked couple struggling on a neighbour's lawn was sentenced to house arrest in Sarnia court.

The 40-year-old man had previously pleaded guilty to assault causing bodily harm Oct. 1, 2007, but was also convicted of forcible confinement following a Superior Court trial.

A publication ban imposed to protect the spouse's identity prevents his identification.

The bruises on the woman's face, legs, back and arms were so severe she couldn't look at herself in a mirror, she told the court during a trial last November.

"He went ballistic on me," she said.

At one point during the four-hour confrontation, she hit him with a beer bottle, which left a bleeding gash on his head.

"He suffered very serious injuries," said defence lawyer David Stoesser, who argued the man was defending himself.

Justice John Desotti concluded the woman, who is about seven inches shorter and 25 pounds lighter than her husband, had too many bruises for him to claim self-defence.

The couple admitted using cocaine that evening. He also drank beer, but testified neither substance affected his actions.

The confrontation took place in several rooms of their Sarnia home, including the kitchen, where the couple faced each other holding knives. At another point they were in a jacuzzi together.

The confrontation began after the husband exchanged intimate photos of themselves with another couple. The man from the other couple wanted to come to their home.

The woman had become involved in sexual activity with the other man when the couple previously visited the Sarnia pair.

She asked for a divorce, which he rejected, along with her suggestion of an open marriage in which they could date others.

He suggested bringing other couples into the relationship.

The relationship was very rocky in the fall of 2007 because she was involved with other men and incommunicative, the man said during the November trial.

The husband's concern about her infidelity let to the confrontation, said Stoesser. It ended when she bolted naked from the home with her husband chasing her.

The neighbour testified he heard shouting and saw the couple, whom he vaguely knew, on his front lawn. The man had pinned her to the ground.

He told the neighbour everything was fine, but the neighbour called 911.

The woman got loose and darted into the house.

"She was shaking so bad she could hardly breathe," the neighbour testified.

The husband realizes the relationship is now finished, said Stoesser.

Spirits

So I was absently doing a line of cocaine earlier with the funky sounds of Parliament playing in the background when the sensation gripped me like a hand around my throat. The spirit of my brother lives in me.

OK, was that dramatic or what? I guess that was the idea.

My idea of spirits has changed dramatically over the years. Thanks to my mother’s intense fascination with the occult, I had a pretty terrifying view of spirits as a kid. Like straight horror movie action.

Now, I see spirits as intense impressions. The more impressionable a person is on you in the life, the more apt they are to “haunt” you in death. I believe the human mind retains the impressions (aka psychic energy) to the point that they see ghosts, have visitations, etc.

Tonight as I was walking to 7-11, smoking a joint in route to purchase beer, chips and ice cream, I had to laugh. This is exactly what my brother did every night of his life for years.

When I was still a kid, there was a point where my bro lived at home. He was much older than considered appropriate to be doing so. In his defense, he was never shown how to live on his own. I should know—they never taught me anything about self-reliance either. Sure, my parents made it happen for us financially and otherwise, but the whole ‘lead by example’ model doesn’t really work, people. You just end up with kids totally unable to live on their own. And that really sucks for the kid.

But while my brother was living at home in the basement (of course), every night he would get terrifically stoned and walk to the corner store for all sorts of munchies. Hostess chocolate cupcakes with ice-cold milk were always a favorite. Then he would go back into the basement, smoke more weed, eat and listen to crazy records like Parliament and Funkadelic.


My brother was also crazy. I’m pretty sure he was bi-polar. The guy had mad issues. He put the fear of God into my mother, who immediately shipped my off to private schools deep in the suburbs when the time came. The die had been cast; I was NOT going to turn out like my brother.

I was always fascinated and kind of scared of him. When he was up, he was the coolest guy in the world. But when he was down, he became the meanest bastard on the planet.

I didn’t even know what weed was back then. But his room in the basement always reeked of it. When he was stoned, he would let me come down and hang out. He’d play music or we’d watch TV (“Saturday Night Live” was one he would always watch together. Back when it was the best show on TV. Man, those were such amazing times).

Over the years I became a totally sheltered nerd, and he hated it. A lot.

An already long story short, I find it very interesting that I’m basically re-enacting that era of his life. Like to a freaking T. As I roll yet another joint, and finish off this bag of BBQ potato chips. Oh, and turn up the volume on “Funk or Walk,” the 1978 debut from Brides of Funkenstein.

Somewhere, my brother is loving all of this right now. And marveling at the exemplary quality of the marijuana I smoke. He’s gotta be impressed.

COCAINE PARTY ON DISCO MOUNTAIN*

Only for the sexxxy people. Clothing optional, swinging encouraged! Play safe and have fun, kids.

My new favorite position

white xxmas

My coke dealer is hilarious.

Not that I blame him. I’ve been hitting dude up for grams literally every other day for over a week now.

So tonight he had a better idea.

“Look, I’ve got this 8-ball right here. I’m sure you’ll get at least that much soon enough. Let me just front it to you. Give me however much you can afford, and I’ll get the rest later. I know you’re good for it.”

Here I am in my apt, looking at an 8-ball of cocaine.

And the postman delivered a copy of "Bang Van #7" to my door today. Good times.

Cult Logic

All my life I've been the slave of consequence
wondering how this life could be so intricate.
I wanna rewrite my heart and let the future in
I wanna open it up and let somebody in

can you free me from the logic that I knew
I believe it even if it is not true.

Am I falling asleep on my feet again?
I call out, is anybody listening
and it's like I'm diving into emptiness
but at least there's something beating in my chest

can you free me from the logic that I knew
I believe it even if it is not true.

Love is a grenade

It was late, a little after 2AM.

Suddenly, my phone erupted in a series of short, staccato bursts of vibrations.

Txt messages from...Sex Bomb?! Wow.

My crazy one-night-stand with an old and dear friend over the summer. The messages were self-explanatory.

"Just left the Viper Room. Someone gave me a line. I am exhausted. But awake. You got a line? Wanna do one and chat for an hour? Put a cap on it! I'll bring some wine?"

Snort the pain away

It's just weird, especially given the way that we ended. It was all so open-ended and "not the end of us, not by far." I should have smelled that for the bullshit it was. But my dumb ass totally took the words at face value. Stupidstupidstupid.

It's all right there. Pictures, funny little inside jokes (shared for all the world to see, of course), happy fun time and yay aren't we all so very happy?

Um, no.

There simply isn't enough cocaine. After tonight, I will have blown through an 8-ball in less than 72 hours. All by myself.

More, more, more. I'm actually tempted to say fuck it and grab two grams tonight instead of just one. Why the fuck not? I don't have anything to do tomorrow. I don't have a fucking job.

Ah, slow your roll, player. Dr. Feelgood isn't going anywhere. Besides, at some point you're gonna wanna call your OTHER Dr. Feelgood (the one that brings the kind buds to your door).

Yay, drugs?

I just did a line of cocaine for the first time in what feels like forever

The first one didn't seem to faze me. I waited a few minutes and did another one. That was about five minutes ago. Right now I feel very warm and tingly and my heart is beating really fast. I can feel blood rushing towards my groin.

Just the beginning

Still spinnin’

Sometimes I feel the guy that still buys CDs. But I can’t help it—I still buy porn DVDs.

The tubes sites just don’t do it for me. All grainy and shit. I mean, they’re nice in a pinch. But given my druthers, I’ll take a DVD every time.

Since I’m also a cheap bastard, I rooted around until I found Adult DVD Marketplace. It’s an ingenious idea—it’s basically an Ebay for porn. You post the ones you want to sell, and can browse the stuff other people are getting away with. It’s pretty sweet, and DVDs can be had for less than a dollar.

Today I received my latest order. I grabbed two this time—“Crazy Insane Blowjob Orgies” and “Roly Poly Gangbang Vol. 9.”

I was checking them out earlier, and both of them are on point. The blowjob disc seems to be a compilation of scenes from various editions of “The American Cocksucking Championships,” which is nice. Lots of babes sucking lots of dicks.

The fattie disc is also hot. It has a scene with my new favorite big girl, Glory Foxxx. But it looks like I’ve found a new friend in a blond named simply “Solsa.” She’s got the kind of big-girl body I like. Big, but not too big. I will get plenty of mileage from both discs.

So that last coke score wasn’t so great. That olive-smelling stuff is kind of rough, and not in a good way. So I went back to the old tried and true tonight, and I’m glad I did. Appreciate what you have, kids.

As such, I’m gonna blow a couple more lines and dig into this blowjob tape. See you later….

Still choppin

Work hard, play hard.

Those words have begun to rule my life.


The past month has been a frantic blur of deadlines, freelance assignments, added responsibility at the office—it feels like I’ve been working three jobs. At least. Somewhere, my father is loving this.

Oh, but we haven’t forgotten the play hard part of the equation. I’ve been burning through cocaine like Lindsay Lohan. Take the gram I scored last night, that was supposed to last me the weekend. I polished that off over an hour ago. Which is why I drove a half-hour to meet up with Mr. Dependable, my old tried and true coke dealer from back in the day.

For one, I just couldn’t hit up my current guy twice in two days. That’s just too cracky. A guy’s gotta keep up some appearances, anyway. 

But I also feel like his bags have been kinda light lately, and I’m pretty sure that shit’s mad diluted. I mean, I know I’m a cokehead and all, but I should not be able to snort through a gram that quickly. Famous last words, right?

*Excuse me while I do a line…

Oh yeah, that’s that craaaaazy shit. The stuff that smells faintly of olives. Fuck, just one rail of that shit and I’m vibrating over here. Nice.

*OK, here goes line number two…

Whew. But fuck it. I’ve been working like a mad person. I’ve been out every night this week. The weekend is here, and I’m not committed to shit. Except getting fucked up and watching “Orgy World Vol. 9,” which showed up in the post today. Good times.

Objectification

Sometimes it snows in April

“Dude, are you psychic or something?”

On the other end of the phone is my friend/drug dealer. I figure I can make this distinction, as he was my friend first. Met him through one of my best friends in the world, who’s a mutual acquaintance. I’d been buying marijuana from him for the longest time before he finally let me know that he handled blow. Needless to say that was a good day.

He was questioning my psychic abilities because even though he told me a few weeks ago that he was out of the coke game for the foreseeable future, I rang him up the other night.

I called under the guise of wanting to know if he knew anybody that might have something. As it turns out, his connection re-upped and he was getting a supply later on that same evening.

“My guy called me like 20 minutes ago. And then you just called. This is fucking weird, bro.”

I always have kind of felt like Sookie Stackhouse in that way. My mother used to say I was “extra sensitive.” She was a wise but extremely troubled woman. She was deep into metaphysics. She filled my young brain with all sorts of profound thoughts, ideas and theories.

So from a young age, I’ve always had this intrinsic idea that anything is possible. And on the rare occasion when I do quiet my mind and allow myself to just be, I’m consistently amazed at the things I’m able to kind of channel from the universe.

I’m always a little clearer after being sick. All of that down time allows my being to slow down long enough that I have an extra little charge when I’m back to health.

It’s all been going into work lately, which is fine. I’ve been on top of all sorts of assignments, and even got publicly commended by my ‘boss’ today, which was all sorts of awesome.

Since I achieved most of this while under the weather, it was the perfect excuse to purchase two grams of blow from my man.

The timing couldn’t have been better. On Tuesday night I had to attend the opening of a “hot” new West Hollywood club. Perhaps if I were younger, dumber and I don’t know, idly richer, I might be able to enjoy these things.

But when it’s just far too many bodies crammed into some space where the DJ is spinning the same abysmal garbage that’s endlessly repeated on Top 40 radio and a cocktail is $19, excuse me for not feeling especially privileged for the opportunity.

Thankfully I had my bullet in my pocket, which allows for discreet snorting. So I just kind of skied my way through it all, which needless to say made things far more bearable.

I'll be taking my little friend to the big rock show tonight. I feel like coke is more appropriate for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs than just taking a joint, you know?

Gone fishin'

Saturday night special beat service

The bad news. When I called my dealer to score a gram of blow, he informed me that he was out of the coke game for the foreseeable future. Fuck.

But being a dedicated fiend, I have more than one dealer. I was able to hook up with my back up guy tonight and cop what he calls ‘a 16th’. I’m chopping it up now.

I haven’t gotten coke from this dude in a while, but I remember it as being pretty hit or miss.

OK, just did a line. Pretty harsh, compared to what I’m used to these days.

This shit has a weird smell to it. Kind of smells like olives. Hmm.

Well I feel pretty good. Maybe this is a good score.

Just did third line.

Other than this weird olive smell, it seems like pretty good cocaine.

OK yeah shit this coke is fucking serious. Whoa.

This should definitely do the trick for my little vacation next weekend. Oh yes.

I just hope the fat girl is down to party for real. I’d really rather not have to ring up some dirty street whore to serve as my cum receptacle. I’m hoping that it will be a female that I know who will be interacting with my penis next weekend.

Throwdown kinda bitch

Having a semi-delicious whiskey cocktail.

I’ve been sort of getting back into alcohol lately.

It started last weekend at a party in San Francisco. I got terrifically drunk for the first time in ages and it was fantastic.

So I went ahead and bought myself a pint of whiskey yesterday on my way home from work and before the concert.

When I drove to the concert I totally scored rock star parking on the street like a block away.

I sat in my car drinking whiskey, smoking weed and listening to music until I was good and lit up.

Then I went inside the concert. It was sold out. There were lots of young people being wanton and carefree, as there should be at these things.

I was pretty fucked up, just kind of wandering around and taking it all in.

(Excuse me while I smoke another bowl. I did a bunch of lines earlier and it helped me blaze through some laundry and fueled a satisfying wank to young miss Aaralyn Barra).

The concert was great. The band sounded hot and Slug was so solid on the mic and I stood in close proximity to so many fine-ass bitches. Like crazy stripper-looking bitches.

Slug has a big problem with cocaine. He tells kids not to do it onstage and in the liner notes of his records. I think this is a very good thing. Those little fuckers really listen to dude.

Me, I’m still having my moment with the powder. It works for me. I enjoy it. What can I say?

I’m going out of town for real next week. Friday through Monday. It should be interesting to say the least.

I wonder what will happen when I actually see the fat girl. It probably depends on how fucked up I/we get. It would be nice to lick on those massive tits though. I bet her nipples are just stellar. And I have a feeling those babies are in dire need of some undivided attention.

Dirty White Snow Bunnies has sold out and Twitters now

I figure, what the fuck? Maybe I can get lucky trolling for whores there.

http://twitter.com/dirtysnowbunny

Follow me and I'll follow you.

Otherwise, blew a bunch of lines earlier, jerked off to Kelly Wells and now I'm smoking weed and warming up some Indian food leftovers.

Monday.