10/19/01
Mario
Jan 18,1999
The 6:00am alarm clock always came around too damn early for me. It was about as lovely as a fog horn sounding in the middle of an exquisite concert that otherwise would have brought tears to your eyes. I drug my tired ass out of bed, opened the bottom drawer, and reached for the mirror, razor blade, and glass straw. After selecting a Beatles cd, I put it in my portable cd player, and turned the volume on full blast as I prepared my morning cup of coffee, a special blend called "TJ's coffee." Unlike most coffees, you didn't have to brew or heat up TJ's. Putting the glass to my nose, OUCH! The burn and the bite I loved to hate. Getting my juices going, doing another line, ah what the hell let's do 3, here we go, ready to start the day!
The day was Wednesday, the last day of my work week. After I put on a tie dye dress, I walked outside my bedroom door, and I was ready to start my work day. Tie dye dress uniform and a commute that consisted of walking outside my bedroom door were 2 giant advantages of this job. Sun night thru Wednesday morning I worked as a live in care giver for mentally disabled adults in a house in a regular residential neighborhood. Setting my cd player in the client's bathroom, I set about the morning task of showering, dressing, and changing my clients while Randy, the other morning employee prepared breakfast, fed, and gave them meds then sent them out the door when the bus arrived to take them to school.
Every morning he and I would alternate on this arrangement.
After the clients were gone, by 10:00am Randy and I finished with the mopping, laundry, washing and putting away the dishes, and then watch out, TJ was on her weekend and home free! Wednesday morning thru Sunday night were my fun and play time. I was paid $1200/mo for this job including room and board. However, due to a lesson I learned a year prior, I vowed never to live with the people that I worked for. Back in March of 1998, out of a desperate attempt to move out of Dave's garage, I had moved in with a couple old lady cunt slave drivers and got kicked out 4 days later after telling them in no uncertain terms would I allow them to verbally abuse me and treat me worse then a house ******. I learned the hard way NEVER to give an employer the power of taking away the roof over your head. It was bad enough they could cut off your paycheck.
Therefore, a year and a half later, when I agreed to be a "live in" I at least was granted 4 days off in a row and on those days I did not hang around. I did not move out of the place I was renting. On my days off, I went back to my own place. Therefore, it was great cause on my days off, my boss could not call me at "her" house and demand I work on my days off.
Needless to say, when I was called to the phone later that morning and told that my job description had been eliminated, I was very glad I had made the wise move of keeping the place I was renting. There were 2 of us "live in" employees. The other lady Vicky, poor sod, was totally taken advantage of because unlike me, she didn't have any other place to go on her "days off." However, I will say that the boss and I were on good terms at the time and she agreed to let me keep my room there for a couple weeks, even though I didn't need to.
The boss gave me the rest of the day off along with a paycheck that covered the next month's rent of my "real" home. Also, I was entitled to unemployment, so I didn't panic about trying to find another job. Last but not least, because I was tweaking, I was extremely optimistic about the whole thing, whereas if I would have been stone cold sober, I'd have brooded about and gotten caught up in worry.
Going about life in tweakerville that day, I got on this phone dating service free to women. I tweaked and listened, talked to different men and agreed to a date with this one guy at a dance club later that night. Because I didn't want to drive under the influence, the bosses son drove me down to the club. I figured I could get a ride back from my date whose name was Martin. I decided to go with a conservative look in terms of dressing. I wore a pretty blouse and a skirt that went past my knees. Underneath the skirt was a different story. I wore a pair of black spandex shorts and under those a pair of purple thong panties and a purple see thru bra.
I met Martin at the club and almost from the get go it was a total diaster. He didn't like the way I was dressed. I guess it was too conservative. He had said on the phone he liked leather, but my leather was all the way at my other home, not the home I had at work. I am quite a dancer and I love to dance. Martin sucked on the dance floor. It was obvious that we weren't compatable on the dance floor so he suggested a game of pool. The problem was I suck at pool. Hell I barely know how to play and I thought, "Why continue with this agony?" I wanted to just tell Martin, let's call it a night, but I thought that would be rude. So, in my brilliant tweaker logic, I came up with another plan.
Instead of telling him the truth and telling him to get lost, I went into the ladies room where there was a pay phone and stayed on the phone for 45 minutes.
For what it's worth, I guess I should mention that Martin kept making rude comments about how he liked submissive women and that he should be the one to be in control. The woman should do what he wanted and do what he said. His wife had recently left him and he just couldn't understand why. He also explained that in bed he should do what he wanted and how she should be tied up and restrained at his will and that's it. If he felt like inflicting pain, well that's his choice. I told the homeboy if I were his wife the only pain experienced would be the boot he felt going deep up his ass while I explained and taught him some manners. He laughed and said that perhaps he and I wouldn't be compatable sex partners. Well gee no shit sherlock. The man ought to be a rocket fucking scientist.
Martin was pissed off after I came out of the bathroom 45 minutes later and said we ought to part company. I didn't argue. The great thing about being an optimist in a situation like that night was feeling like being rid of him was the highlight of the date! "I'm free," I began singing under my breath, the song by The Who. "And I'm going inside the stall to snort another line....."
At 11:00 at night, TJ was going on another one of her infamous walks home. "Ah well what the fuck, life is GOOD!," I thought as I started on my walk back home. I was however, a bit thankful for the fact I had a long skirt and blouse on the walk home. Being a gringo walking along in barrioville at night might tend to implant impure thoughts in the minds of some otherwise innocent gentlemen. LMFAO.
Needless to say, after walking and being about half way home, I became aware of this noise I associate with my beautiful brown skinned brothers of the Mexican persuasion. Don't tell anyone, but I happen to find many tan gentlemen south of the border very enjoyable for my viewing pleasure, especially when they are tall. Something about them I like. Always did enjoy hot and spicy. "Psssssssst," I hear from across the street. That all time favorite line I have heard time and again out here in good old Southern California, normally would have been rewarded by a deaf ear. It so happens, it fell instead on an amused tweaker's ear. After all, it isn't everyday one gets fired, goes on a disaterous date with an asshole that claims he likes to dominate women in bed and is a lousy dancer, tweaks and walks home in the middle of the night and gets serenaded by a "psssst," from a south of the border brother.
So, like any reasonable tweaker, I remembered to behave with bizarre tweaker etiquette with manners and said, "Pssssst," back to him. Do you know what he said? He said "Psssssst," to which I said "Psssssst," right back. At that point he came up with a real clever line and said, "Psssssst," so I came back with the same clever line, sly devil that I am. Finally, he waves and me. I smiled and waved back at him and smiled as if I were smiling and waving at Mrs Jones my 2nd grade school teacher on my way home from school. Only in this case he looked kind of young. I was the teacher out for a stroll in the middle of the night and he was the nice young neighborhood gangster boy. He had on these oversized pants and shirt, attire that is famous for Mexican gang bangers here. At this point, he motions for me to cross the street and go over to him.
I made a show of looking around as if there was a crowd of 100 people and made this exaggerated "who me?" hand gesture. Out of all the foxy women walking down the street in the middle of the night, he had to choose me. What was I to do? Why what any reasonable, respectable, unpredictable tweaker would do! I walked across the street right over to the small enclosed fence that served as his condominiums backyard.
When I got there I was surprised that my young Mexican prince was even younger then I thought. Why he couldn't have been a day over 18! Damn that's young. Here I was 34 years old. Lord 18 looked sooo young, especially on a guy. "What's up?," I said as if it were just another day under the most routine circumstances in the world. "Not much," he said. "So how may I help you?," I ask in this jolly tone of voice. "I was wondering if you'd like to smoke a bong load with me," he said. I hadn't smoked any weed in 4 years. I had sort of given it up at age 30. "Sure, sounds like a plan," I said. "Give me a second. I need to climb over the fence," I said. "Hold on while I take off my skirt."
Needless to say, it was very convenient having a pair of shorts under my skirt. Taking off my skirt, I then proceeded to throw it over the fence. Next came my sandals, then my purse. I then climbed the fence, and in 10 seconds I was in his back yard. Once over, I apologized profusely for the fact he had to see me in my shorts and proceeded to put my skirt back on. "May I please have a glass of ice water and a chair?," I asked. "Would you like some coolaid instead?," he asked. "Sure that would be great!," I said.
He returned with another chair (there was one out there) and a glass of coolaid. "Hey thanks alot," I said. "This is really good." Sitting down next to me, he loads up his bong. "Damn I haven't smoked in a few years," I said. "Is this any good?," I asked. "Ah yeah," he said and handed me the lighter. Taking the bong from him, I lit up. Damn bong hits are powerful, especially when you haven't done them in a while. I took 2 more hits and finished it. Coughing, I took a few sips of my delicious coolaid. "Thanks alot," I began. "Hey don't mind me saying this, but you look a bit young," I said as I chuckled. "How old are you?," I asked. "I'm going to be 18 pretty soon," he said. Laughing out loud I said, "And when are you going to turn 18?," I asked. "In a couple months," he said trying to be evasive. "What month and day?," I asked. "Uh September 10th," he said. It was Jan 18. "Damn you just turned 17," I said laughing. "You are young! Do you know how old I am? I am 34, twice your age!," I said laughing. "Christ you're young enough to be my son," I said laughing even harder. "No way," he said. "You don't look that old." "Well sweety, I am that old." "What do you say we go inside?," he said. "Who else is in there?," I asked. "My younger brother," he said.
"Anyone else?," I asked. "No, just him," he said. "And how old is your younger brother?," I asked. "Twelve,"he said. "Where are your parents?," I asked. "My Mom's working." "And when does your Mom get back? I don't think she would like a total stranger in your house," I said laughing. "How are you going to explain an old gringo lady in your house at this hour,?" I asked laughing so hard the tears were running down my cheeks. "Oh she's working and doesn't get home until 7:30am," he said. "Are you sure?," I asked. "Yes," he said. "Cause I really don't feel like explaining what the hell I'm doing in your house. I'm sure that would go over REAL well," I said laughing. "No it's cool," he kept insisting.
"Naaa," I began. "Why don't we just kick it out here. Besides that way it won't appear that I have dishonorable intentions," I said. "No come on," he kept pleading. "Well I don't know. I mean what exactly did you have in mind?," I asked as if I didn't know. "Just to kick back and chill," he said. "We can chill out here," I said. "Oh come on. Look I'm sorry, I don't have any more pot so there's no reason to have to be out here. Let's kick it inside. Do you want some more coolaide?," he asked. "Well alright. Can we listen to some tunes in there?," I asked. "Oh yes," he said. "Come on, let's go inside," he said.
"Oh by the way," I said in a non cholent tone, "Not that it would ever enter your mind, but I think I should mention that no hanky panky can take place, but I know you're a nice catholic boy," I feigned in a serious tone of voice. I think he took me seriously. And what the fuck was I doing? I was at the point in my tweaking career where although I enjoyed people, places, things, and meeting nice young Mexican strangers and smoking pot with them in the middle of the night, I rarely had any interest in sex. But what respectable tweaker would refuse his invitation? After all I had a reputation to protect. Dare I risk defying all tweaker logic and not accept a total stranger's offer of being sociable in the middle of the night in his house and forever give tweakers a bad name? I think not.
"By the way, what is your name?," I asked extending my hand and shaking it before stepping inside his house. "Mario," he said and we shook hands.
End Part 1
Mario
Jan 18,1999
The 6:00am alarm clock always came around too damn early for me. It was about as lovely as a fog horn sounding in the middle of an exquisite concert that otherwise would have brought tears to your eyes. I drug my tired ass out of bed, opened the bottom drawer, and reached for the mirror, razor blade, and glass straw. After selecting a Beatles cd, I put it in my portable cd player, and turned the volume on full blast as I prepared my morning cup of coffee, a special blend called "TJ's coffee." Unlike most coffees, you didn't have to brew or heat up TJ's. Putting the glass to my nose, OUCH! The burn and the bite I loved to hate. Getting my juices going, doing another line, ah what the hell let's do 3, here we go, ready to start the day!
The day was Wednesday, the last day of my work week. After I put on a tie dye dress, I walked outside my bedroom door, and I was ready to start my work day. Tie dye dress uniform and a commute that consisted of walking outside my bedroom door were 2 giant advantages of this job. Sun night thru Wednesday morning I worked as a live in care giver for mentally disabled adults in a house in a regular residential neighborhood. Setting my cd player in the client's bathroom, I set about the morning task of showering, dressing, and changing my clients while Randy, the other morning employee prepared breakfast, fed, and gave them meds then sent them out the door when the bus arrived to take them to school.
Every morning he and I would alternate on this arrangement.
After the clients were gone, by 10:00am Randy and I finished with the mopping, laundry, washing and putting away the dishes, and then watch out, TJ was on her weekend and home free! Wednesday morning thru Sunday night were my fun and play time. I was paid $1200/mo for this job including room and board. However, due to a lesson I learned a year prior, I vowed never to live with the people that I worked for. Back in March of 1998, out of a desperate attempt to move out of Dave's garage, I had moved in with a couple old lady cunt slave drivers and got kicked out 4 days later after telling them in no uncertain terms would I allow them to verbally abuse me and treat me worse then a house ******. I learned the hard way NEVER to give an employer the power of taking away the roof over your head. It was bad enough they could cut off your paycheck.
Therefore, a year and a half later, when I agreed to be a "live in" I at least was granted 4 days off in a row and on those days I did not hang around. I did not move out of the place I was renting. On my days off, I went back to my own place. Therefore, it was great cause on my days off, my boss could not call me at "her" house and demand I work on my days off.
Needless to say, when I was called to the phone later that morning and told that my job description had been eliminated, I was very glad I had made the wise move of keeping the place I was renting. There were 2 of us "live in" employees. The other lady Vicky, poor sod, was totally taken advantage of because unlike me, she didn't have any other place to go on her "days off." However, I will say that the boss and I were on good terms at the time and she agreed to let me keep my room there for a couple weeks, even though I didn't need to.
The boss gave me the rest of the day off along with a paycheck that covered the next month's rent of my "real" home. Also, I was entitled to unemployment, so I didn't panic about trying to find another job. Last but not least, because I was tweaking, I was extremely optimistic about the whole thing, whereas if I would have been stone cold sober, I'd have brooded about and gotten caught up in worry.
Going about life in tweakerville that day, I got on this phone dating service free to women. I tweaked and listened, talked to different men and agreed to a date with this one guy at a dance club later that night. Because I didn't want to drive under the influence, the bosses son drove me down to the club. I figured I could get a ride back from my date whose name was Martin. I decided to go with a conservative look in terms of dressing. I wore a pretty blouse and a skirt that went past my knees. Underneath the skirt was a different story. I wore a pair of black spandex shorts and under those a pair of purple thong panties and a purple see thru bra.
I met Martin at the club and almost from the get go it was a total diaster. He didn't like the way I was dressed. I guess it was too conservative. He had said on the phone he liked leather, but my leather was all the way at my other home, not the home I had at work. I am quite a dancer and I love to dance. Martin sucked on the dance floor. It was obvious that we weren't compatable on the dance floor so he suggested a game of pool. The problem was I suck at pool. Hell I barely know how to play and I thought, "Why continue with this agony?" I wanted to just tell Martin, let's call it a night, but I thought that would be rude. So, in my brilliant tweaker logic, I came up with another plan.
Instead of telling him the truth and telling him to get lost, I went into the ladies room where there was a pay phone and stayed on the phone for 45 minutes.
For what it's worth, I guess I should mention that Martin kept making rude comments about how he liked submissive women and that he should be the one to be in control. The woman should do what he wanted and do what he said. His wife had recently left him and he just couldn't understand why. He also explained that in bed he should do what he wanted and how she should be tied up and restrained at his will and that's it. If he felt like inflicting pain, well that's his choice. I told the homeboy if I were his wife the only pain experienced would be the boot he felt going deep up his ass while I explained and taught him some manners. He laughed and said that perhaps he and I wouldn't be compatable sex partners. Well gee no shit sherlock. The man ought to be a rocket fucking scientist.
Martin was pissed off after I came out of the bathroom 45 minutes later and said we ought to part company. I didn't argue. The great thing about being an optimist in a situation like that night was feeling like being rid of him was the highlight of the date! "I'm free," I began singing under my breath, the song by The Who. "And I'm going inside the stall to snort another line....."
At 11:00 at night, TJ was going on another one of her infamous walks home. "Ah well what the fuck, life is GOOD!," I thought as I started on my walk back home. I was however, a bit thankful for the fact I had a long skirt and blouse on the walk home. Being a gringo walking along in barrioville at night might tend to implant impure thoughts in the minds of some otherwise innocent gentlemen. LMFAO.
Needless to say, after walking and being about half way home, I became aware of this noise I associate with my beautiful brown skinned brothers of the Mexican persuasion. Don't tell anyone, but I happen to find many tan gentlemen south of the border very enjoyable for my viewing pleasure, especially when they are tall. Something about them I like. Always did enjoy hot and spicy. "Psssssssst," I hear from across the street. That all time favorite line I have heard time and again out here in good old Southern California, normally would have been rewarded by a deaf ear. It so happens, it fell instead on an amused tweaker's ear. After all, it isn't everyday one gets fired, goes on a disaterous date with an asshole that claims he likes to dominate women in bed and is a lousy dancer, tweaks and walks home in the middle of the night and gets serenaded by a "psssst," from a south of the border brother.
So, like any reasonable tweaker, I remembered to behave with bizarre tweaker etiquette with manners and said, "Pssssst," back to him. Do you know what he said? He said "Psssssst," to which I said "Psssssst," right back. At that point he came up with a real clever line and said, "Psssssst," so I came back with the same clever line, sly devil that I am. Finally, he waves and me. I smiled and waved back at him and smiled as if I were smiling and waving at Mrs Jones my 2nd grade school teacher on my way home from school. Only in this case he looked kind of young. I was the teacher out for a stroll in the middle of the night and he was the nice young neighborhood gangster boy. He had on these oversized pants and shirt, attire that is famous for Mexican gang bangers here. At this point, he motions for me to cross the street and go over to him.
I made a show of looking around as if there was a crowd of 100 people and made this exaggerated "who me?" hand gesture. Out of all the foxy women walking down the street in the middle of the night, he had to choose me. What was I to do? Why what any reasonable, respectable, unpredictable tweaker would do! I walked across the street right over to the small enclosed fence that served as his condominiums backyard.
When I got there I was surprised that my young Mexican prince was even younger then I thought. Why he couldn't have been a day over 18! Damn that's young. Here I was 34 years old. Lord 18 looked sooo young, especially on a guy. "What's up?," I said as if it were just another day under the most routine circumstances in the world. "Not much," he said. "So how may I help you?," I ask in this jolly tone of voice. "I was wondering if you'd like to smoke a bong load with me," he said. I hadn't smoked any weed in 4 years. I had sort of given it up at age 30. "Sure, sounds like a plan," I said. "Give me a second. I need to climb over the fence," I said. "Hold on while I take off my skirt."
Needless to say, it was very convenient having a pair of shorts under my skirt. Taking off my skirt, I then proceeded to throw it over the fence. Next came my sandals, then my purse. I then climbed the fence, and in 10 seconds I was in his back yard. Once over, I apologized profusely for the fact he had to see me in my shorts and proceeded to put my skirt back on. "May I please have a glass of ice water and a chair?," I asked. "Would you like some coolaid instead?," he asked. "Sure that would be great!," I said.
He returned with another chair (there was one out there) and a glass of coolaid. "Hey thanks alot," I said. "This is really good." Sitting down next to me, he loads up his bong. "Damn I haven't smoked in a few years," I said. "Is this any good?," I asked. "Ah yeah," he said and handed me the lighter. Taking the bong from him, I lit up. Damn bong hits are powerful, especially when you haven't done them in a while. I took 2 more hits and finished it. Coughing, I took a few sips of my delicious coolaid. "Thanks alot," I began. "Hey don't mind me saying this, but you look a bit young," I said as I chuckled. "How old are you?," I asked. "I'm going to be 18 pretty soon," he said. Laughing out loud I said, "And when are you going to turn 18?," I asked. "In a couple months," he said trying to be evasive. "What month and day?," I asked. "Uh September 10th," he said. It was Jan 18. "Damn you just turned 17," I said laughing. "You are young! Do you know how old I am? I am 34, twice your age!," I said laughing. "Christ you're young enough to be my son," I said laughing even harder. "No way," he said. "You don't look that old." "Well sweety, I am that old." "What do you say we go inside?," he said. "Who else is in there?," I asked. "My younger brother," he said.
"Anyone else?," I asked. "No, just him," he said. "And how old is your younger brother?," I asked. "Twelve,"he said. "Where are your parents?," I asked. "My Mom's working." "And when does your Mom get back? I don't think she would like a total stranger in your house," I said laughing. "How are you going to explain an old gringo lady in your house at this hour,?" I asked laughing so hard the tears were running down my cheeks. "Oh she's working and doesn't get home until 7:30am," he said. "Are you sure?," I asked. "Yes," he said. "Cause I really don't feel like explaining what the hell I'm doing in your house. I'm sure that would go over REAL well," I said laughing. "No it's cool," he kept insisting.
"Naaa," I began. "Why don't we just kick it out here. Besides that way it won't appear that I have dishonorable intentions," I said. "No come on," he kept pleading. "Well I don't know. I mean what exactly did you have in mind?," I asked as if I didn't know. "Just to kick back and chill," he said. "We can chill out here," I said. "Oh come on. Look I'm sorry, I don't have any more pot so there's no reason to have to be out here. Let's kick it inside. Do you want some more coolaide?," he asked. "Well alright. Can we listen to some tunes in there?," I asked. "Oh yes," he said. "Come on, let's go inside," he said.
"Oh by the way," I said in a non cholent tone, "Not that it would ever enter your mind, but I think I should mention that no hanky panky can take place, but I know you're a nice catholic boy," I feigned in a serious tone of voice. I think he took me seriously. And what the fuck was I doing? I was at the point in my tweaking career where although I enjoyed people, places, things, and meeting nice young Mexican strangers and smoking pot with them in the middle of the night, I rarely had any interest in sex. But what respectable tweaker would refuse his invitation? After all I had a reputation to protect. Dare I risk defying all tweaker logic and not accept a total stranger's offer of being sociable in the middle of the night in his house and forever give tweakers a bad name? I think not.
"By the way, what is your name?," I asked extending my hand and shaking it before stepping inside his house. "Mario," he said and we shook hands.
End Part 1
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