I never thought I'd spend a Halloween like this.
So I thought we'd have to go to Vermont to knock E.F. off the list, but it turns out he lived in a little town called Vermount, North Carolina, only about 2 hours away from Camden County. He works at a glue factory (I honestly didn't know they still had those, don't machines have most of the factory jobs these days?). It wasn't just E.F. who did me wrong a couple years ago, the list spans from #3-#9 with everyone who was a part of it. But as I speak R.T. is driving us to Vermount, to check GlueBoy off the list. But the mission isn't really what I want to talk about in this post.
M.D. has been acting strange. Well, stranger than I normally find her acting. She's...chatty. And that's the first time in my entire life I've been able to say that. She only really talks to me, and when she does it's about research she's done on spiders, which creeps me the hell out because she knows I've been araconophobic since that Daddy Long Leg fell on me in the shower when I was ten. But when we're in the car on our way to missions, she's like a regular chatterbox. I can't shut her up. She loves D.T. for some reason, maybe because she always gives her free donuts. I tell her it's not good for her to be eating all those donuts, but she says it's nice to get out of the house. She's even talking to R.T. now, more so than me as we speak!
Am I crazy for being jealous that my sister is more comfortable than the ragtag crew I associate myself with? I don't know. I wish I made this available for people to see rather than just when I get drunk and look back and read these and mine them for spelling errors. R.T. and D.T. seem to enjoy her. She's wonderful. I guess I just wish I could've had more of this version of my sister when we were growing up.
I don't know. We're almost at Vermount now. Things are gonna get sticky (buh dun tss).
-P
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
Tuesday, October 24, 2017
10/24
Well that was...sweet (buh dun tss).
D.T. said she had to sit this one out because she wanted to have "positive connections" with all of the local Camden County bakers. I get it from a business standpoint, but from a "I-can't-stand-her" standpoint it was very easy to dismiss her and have her carve holes out of diabetes-distributing treating treats for the rest of the night. R.T. said this was at least a little better than last time at the junk yard. I'd have to agree. This was much more fun.
In the 9th grade T.M. and I were...kinda going steady. He told me I had a nice ass so I was in love with him, in love with the fact that any guy was giving me attention. I was walking M.D. to Governor's School when he stopped me. I had to go to my 5th period class, but I would've waited forever for him. He asked me, very sheepishly, if I would go to the prom with him. Keep in mind I was a freshman and he was a junior...asking me to go to junior prom with him. I kinda screamed (a rule I never violate since it takes M.D. a while to recover afterwards) and hugged him and he said great I'll pick you up next weekend.
I should've realized that it was too good to be true...for ME at the time. He's a piece of shit. But I got all ready, went to Macy's, picked out what I thought to be the prettiest pink dress. I was still a Molly Ringwald loving loser, and it wasn't until later that I realized nothing happened as cute as blowing out candles with Michael Schoeffling when you're that age. I got to his house and we took pictures and his grandparents were there, and then...he showed me this cake he made me. Pink frosting, red cake, looked absolutely divine. I was careful to only eat a little, didn't want to get anything on my dress. And then....10 minutes later, right before I climb into his truck (Camden County boys always have trucks) I have to poop. But, not in a I can hold this way....I had to poop then and there. So I run into his parents' bathroom and unload probably the last three days worth of meals. T.M. waited for a few minutes, said he didn't want to miss his friends, and sped away to CCHS.
There, wouldn't you know it, M.D. (who was a wallflower, naturally) told me he immediately started dancing with a girl in a yellow dress. I scavenged through Facebook (having Instagram back then would've been so much easier). Until I found her: Monica Sellers, and I'm not afraid to use her full name. Let the pigs find out what a see you next Thursday she was. She was T.M.'s ex, fresh ex, who wanted him back because she couldn't return the dress. So he laced the cake he made me with a laxative. I was in the M.'s bathroom all night. They were really sweet about it.
Almost perfectly, T.M. works at a bakery now. And let's just say he won't be getting off the toilet anytime soon. R.T. had a little too much fine with that one, and I actually had a good time with him. M.D. even conjured up a smirk. Next on the list...I think we're actually going to Vermont for Halloween. Jesus.
-P
D.T. said she had to sit this one out because she wanted to have "positive connections" with all of the local Camden County bakers. I get it from a business standpoint, but from a "I-can't-stand-her" standpoint it was very easy to dismiss her and have her carve holes out of diabetes-distributing treating treats for the rest of the night. R.T. said this was at least a little better than last time at the junk yard. I'd have to agree. This was much more fun.
In the 9th grade T.M. and I were...kinda going steady. He told me I had a nice ass so I was in love with him, in love with the fact that any guy was giving me attention. I was walking M.D. to Governor's School when he stopped me. I had to go to my 5th period class, but I would've waited forever for him. He asked me, very sheepishly, if I would go to the prom with him. Keep in mind I was a freshman and he was a junior...asking me to go to junior prom with him. I kinda screamed (a rule I never violate since it takes M.D. a while to recover afterwards) and hugged him and he said great I'll pick you up next weekend.
I should've realized that it was too good to be true...for ME at the time. He's a piece of shit. But I got all ready, went to Macy's, picked out what I thought to be the prettiest pink dress. I was still a Molly Ringwald loving loser, and it wasn't until later that I realized nothing happened as cute as blowing out candles with Michael Schoeffling when you're that age. I got to his house and we took pictures and his grandparents were there, and then...he showed me this cake he made me. Pink frosting, red cake, looked absolutely divine. I was careful to only eat a little, didn't want to get anything on my dress. And then....10 minutes later, right before I climb into his truck (Camden County boys always have trucks) I have to poop. But, not in a I can hold this way....I had to poop then and there. So I run into his parents' bathroom and unload probably the last three days worth of meals. T.M. waited for a few minutes, said he didn't want to miss his friends, and sped away to CCHS.
There, wouldn't you know it, M.D. (who was a wallflower, naturally) told me he immediately started dancing with a girl in a yellow dress. I scavenged through Facebook (having Instagram back then would've been so much easier). Until I found her: Monica Sellers, and I'm not afraid to use her full name. Let the pigs find out what a see you next Thursday she was. She was T.M.'s ex, fresh ex, who wanted him back because she couldn't return the dress. So he laced the cake he made me with a laxative. I was in the M.'s bathroom all night. They were really sweet about it.
Almost perfectly, T.M. works at a bakery now. And let's just say he won't be getting off the toilet anytime soon. R.T. had a little too much fine with that one, and I actually had a good time with him. M.D. even conjured up a smirk. Next on the list...I think we're actually going to Vermont for Halloween. Jesus.
-P
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
10/17
Well that's one off the list.
R.T. finally manned up and talked to his dad about getting us some actual artillery. M.D. gave me a butter knife, which was actually a little helpful in ticking off the first assignment. We looked up H.Z. on Facebook...to no one's surprise, he was still here in Camden County. He ran an auto shop called Hot Monkey Repairs. I don't think anything called "Hot Monkey" has ever been successful, but that's H.Z. for you. Always wanting things his way. When he would come to collect debts from my father, he made sure every last penny was paid. So I wanted to apply that same accuracy and strive for perfection to knock him off the list.
Just as we suspected, there was the Dodge Neon, sitting on the lot, the license plate torn off. We figured he'd keep them in the backlot, and we were right. As we're driving incognito GODDAMN D.Ts phone goes off, shining a huge light all over her bubbly face. When I told her to turn it off Roy yelled at me, and later she insinuated that I had a problem with black people. I told her I didn't care what color she was, because H.Z. certainly wasn't going to discriminate when he MURDERED US. She backed down a little but...and I know this is stupid, I can't let emotions get in the way of the List, yada yada...but a tiny, sliver-sized, insignificant part of me is a little upset. I checked D.T.'s donut instagram and it had a picture that R.T. had taken on her phone. It was...cute for what it was. He needs to shave off that shitty mustache...but it was cute. And I know it was 15 year old me who got her feelings hurt...but he could've been nicer to me. Maybe I resent D.T. for that reason. I dunno. Maybe she's just a bitch.
But anyway, H.Z. is off the list. The plan went perfectly, and let's just say we collected our dues: $7,235 worth to be exact. R.T. was a little freaked out, especially when I hit H.Z. with a frying pan. I think under all that macho, redneck BS, he's just a little terrified. H.Z. is in the hospital from what I know, D.T. made us do that. I think we scared him enough to where he won't be collecting "taxes" anymore. Now...I wanna find dad. I wanna tell him that H.Z. is gone and that he needs to come back in the picture. Otherwise, he's gonna find himself on the list. But I have bigger fish to fry: I've come up with 36 people so far. And #2 might just be one of my favorites: we're going to the bakery.
-P
R.T. finally manned up and talked to his dad about getting us some actual artillery. M.D. gave me a butter knife, which was actually a little helpful in ticking off the first assignment. We looked up H.Z. on Facebook...to no one's surprise, he was still here in Camden County. He ran an auto shop called Hot Monkey Repairs. I don't think anything called "Hot Monkey" has ever been successful, but that's H.Z. for you. Always wanting things his way. When he would come to collect debts from my father, he made sure every last penny was paid. So I wanted to apply that same accuracy and strive for perfection to knock him off the list.
Just as we suspected, there was the Dodge Neon, sitting on the lot, the license plate torn off. We figured he'd keep them in the backlot, and we were right. As we're driving incognito GODDAMN D.Ts phone goes off, shining a huge light all over her bubbly face. When I told her to turn it off Roy yelled at me, and later she insinuated that I had a problem with black people. I told her I didn't care what color she was, because H.Z. certainly wasn't going to discriminate when he MURDERED US. She backed down a little but...and I know this is stupid, I can't let emotions get in the way of the List, yada yada...but a tiny, sliver-sized, insignificant part of me is a little upset. I checked D.T.'s donut instagram and it had a picture that R.T. had taken on her phone. It was...cute for what it was. He needs to shave off that shitty mustache...but it was cute. And I know it was 15 year old me who got her feelings hurt...but he could've been nicer to me. Maybe I resent D.T. for that reason. I dunno. Maybe she's just a bitch.
But anyway, H.Z. is off the list. The plan went perfectly, and let's just say we collected our dues: $7,235 worth to be exact. R.T. was a little freaked out, especially when I hit H.Z. with a frying pan. I think under all that macho, redneck BS, he's just a little terrified. H.Z. is in the hospital from what I know, D.T. made us do that. I think we scared him enough to where he won't be collecting "taxes" anymore. Now...I wanna find dad. I wanna tell him that H.Z. is gone and that he needs to come back in the picture. Otherwise, he's gonna find himself on the list. But I have bigger fish to fry: I've come up with 36 people so far. And #2 might just be one of my favorites: we're going to the bakery.
-P
Tuesday, October 10, 2017
10/10
I can't believe I forgot about this.
Have you ever had a simultaneously best/worst day of your life? Look at me: asking a question to an answer that only I can answer, because it's only me that's going to be reading this damn thing.
When I started writing the List earlier tonight, I was going through documents and documents of old high school boyfriends, collages that I made, similar to the disgusting post below this one. I found that I'd taken a screenshot of it and looked up the blog URL. They didn't have "My Name is Pearl," but they had "My Name is Pearl Dickey," which didn't have the same ring to it, but I was 15 and I was in "love" and I didn't care. I actually called up R.T., and I actually mentioned this blog to him. He got a big kick out of it. The reason it only has one post is because I showed it to him the next day. He got furious and told me that if anyone ever found "that girly shit" all his friends on the soccer team would never let him live that down. I remember telling him that if he wanted to keep his "grass fairy friends" over me then he could go right ahead. And...he did. Though he thought the story was funny, he didn't really understand the concept of the List. So I explained it to him. And if this thing gets me killed I'll go ahead and have the cops dig this up so it all makes sense.
R.T. wasn't the first boy to be a dick to me. I've had a long, very painful list of exes who have ridiculed, abused, and...even assaulted me. R.T. is probably at the bottom of the list of bad exes, but I remembered his dad was this ex-military conspiracy nut. R.T. would tell me all about these wild things his dad believed, his massive ammunition shack he kept by their trailer. Crazier things have happened in Stafford, Virginia. Since I want to start this List, I figured having someone like R.T. on my side would be crucial.
God, I'm easily distracted. M.D. keeps me focused with our conversations, but my ADHD is a relentless beast. I should explain the best/worst day paradigm. M.D. had started coughing earlier last week because of the smell of my Marlboros, though she never complained about it. I'd just bought a fresh pack on the 8th, but I hadn't opened it, and I wanted to quit for good this time, so I went to return them. Starting over, I felt like splurging a little, and with the refund I got for the cigs, I bought a lottery ticket, ThreeFruitz, the one Momma used to get when she had a bad day at work. As I'm heading back to my apartment, cutting through the hospital parking lot, I see an '05 red Dodge Neon and right before it hit me I knew exactly who it was. I know for a fact it belonged to H.Z., an old friend of dad's.
I didn't want any medical or cop help (God knows they didn't help me when I was raped outside P.J.'s barn) so I trudged home, and M.D. helped me inside. I threw the ticket down and, damn it all, there's a winning ticket, "three grapes" as M.D. put it. We just won ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS, and after taxes that's still gonna be about $80,000. I started writing down the make of the car and H.Z. and everyone else associated with him, until M.D. brought up some really good points. What about the others? J.Y. threw a BRICK through my window, and N.N. who slashed my tires after I told him I couldn't come up with my half of the rent...half of his brother's rent. H.Z. is naturally who I'm gonna go after first. But why stop there? All these scumbags still live in the Stafford area, and the rest I'm sure haven't gone that far. I want to use this blog as a sort of journal, every week tracking my progress.
I'm exhausted now. Happy but exhausted. I ordered my sister a pizza, with her favorite, no cheese no sauce. So it's basically bread. But it's bread I can afford. And I'm happy with that.
-P
Have you ever had a simultaneously best/worst day of your life? Look at me: asking a question to an answer that only I can answer, because it's only me that's going to be reading this damn thing.
When I started writing the List earlier tonight, I was going through documents and documents of old high school boyfriends, collages that I made, similar to the disgusting post below this one. I found that I'd taken a screenshot of it and looked up the blog URL. They didn't have "My Name is Pearl," but they had "My Name is Pearl Dickey," which didn't have the same ring to it, but I was 15 and I was in "love" and I didn't care. I actually called up R.T., and I actually mentioned this blog to him. He got a big kick out of it. The reason it only has one post is because I showed it to him the next day. He got furious and told me that if anyone ever found "that girly shit" all his friends on the soccer team would never let him live that down. I remember telling him that if he wanted to keep his "grass fairy friends" over me then he could go right ahead. And...he did. Though he thought the story was funny, he didn't really understand the concept of the List. So I explained it to him. And if this thing gets me killed I'll go ahead and have the cops dig this up so it all makes sense.
R.T. wasn't the first boy to be a dick to me. I've had a long, very painful list of exes who have ridiculed, abused, and...even assaulted me. R.T. is probably at the bottom of the list of bad exes, but I remembered his dad was this ex-military conspiracy nut. R.T. would tell me all about these wild things his dad believed, his massive ammunition shack he kept by their trailer. Crazier things have happened in Stafford, Virginia. Since I want to start this List, I figured having someone like R.T. on my side would be crucial.
God, I'm easily distracted. M.D. keeps me focused with our conversations, but my ADHD is a relentless beast. I should explain the best/worst day paradigm. M.D. had started coughing earlier last week because of the smell of my Marlboros, though she never complained about it. I'd just bought a fresh pack on the 8th, but I hadn't opened it, and I wanted to quit for good this time, so I went to return them. Starting over, I felt like splurging a little, and with the refund I got for the cigs, I bought a lottery ticket, ThreeFruitz, the one Momma used to get when she had a bad day at work. As I'm heading back to my apartment, cutting through the hospital parking lot, I see an '05 red Dodge Neon and right before it hit me I knew exactly who it was. I know for a fact it belonged to H.Z., an old friend of dad's.
I didn't want any medical or cop help (God knows they didn't help me when I was raped outside P.J.'s barn) so I trudged home, and M.D. helped me inside. I threw the ticket down and, damn it all, there's a winning ticket, "three grapes" as M.D. put it. We just won ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS, and after taxes that's still gonna be about $80,000. I started writing down the make of the car and H.Z. and everyone else associated with him, until M.D. brought up some really good points. What about the others? J.Y. threw a BRICK through my window, and N.N. who slashed my tires after I told him I couldn't come up with my half of the rent...half of his brother's rent. H.Z. is naturally who I'm gonna go after first. But why stop there? All these scumbags still live in the Stafford area, and the rest I'm sure haven't gone that far. I want to use this blog as a sort of journal, every week tracking my progress.
I'm exhausted now. Happy but exhausted. I ordered my sister a pizza, with her favorite, no cheese no sauce. So it's basically bread. But it's bread I can afford. And I'm happy with that.
-P
Monday, November 26, 2012
NOVEMBER 26TH
Hey there :)
I'm not sure I'm going to attract a large audience to read this, and you know what that's ok. This is a personal thing, and I would like to go on record saying that I, Pearl Elizabeth Dickey, am hopelessly in love with Roy David Turnbladt. Thats not a very romantic last name, Turnbladt, but I've been rolling it around in my head over and over because ROY JUST TALKED ABOUT MARRIAGE FOR THE FIRST TIME.
Ok so i wasn't sure what to say when he first asked me about "So babe what do you think you wanna wear for yer wedding day" (i'm trying 2 capture his cute little accent, but you gotta hear it in person). and i was like "i dunno, i haven't thought that far into my future,' and he was like WELL I HAVE" AND I Was like OH SHIT ROY are u serious??
And he was serious. So serious that he said he had been thinking about for two months (we've only been dating for one so i kinda freaked out but i tried to keep cool).
I've already told Miranda and Mom and dad (☹). Miranda of course didnt react, but mom told me her Autism has that effect on her so i totally understood. Mom and Dad seemed cool with it, but i dont really thnk they took me seriously. What Roy and I have isn't usual. When he asked me to Prom (SEEN HERe IN OUR CUTEST MOMENT EVER omG) I almost fainted, but i tried to play cool and told him i'd think about it! All i did was think about it...but Jen told me boys don't want you to just give in right away. They like MYSTERY. Well i can be mysterious >;)
Anyway, i have to get back to AP psych. Miranda is actually a really good tutor 4 it. I hope when we're married i get to look back on this and think this is truly when i fell in love with Roy Turnbladt. Here's hoping
*.*
xo--P.E.D.
I'm not sure I'm going to attract a large audience to read this, and you know what that's ok. This is a personal thing, and I would like to go on record saying that I, Pearl Elizabeth Dickey, am hopelessly in love with Roy David Turnbladt. Thats not a very romantic last name, Turnbladt, but I've been rolling it around in my head over and over because ROY JUST TALKED ABOUT MARRIAGE FOR THE FIRST TIME.
Ok so i wasn't sure what to say when he first asked me about "So babe what do you think you wanna wear for yer wedding day" (i'm trying 2 capture his cute little accent, but you gotta hear it in person). and i was like "i dunno, i haven't thought that far into my future,' and he was like WELL I HAVE" AND I Was like OH SHIT ROY are u serious??
And he was serious. So serious that he said he had been thinking about for two months (we've only been dating for one so i kinda freaked out but i tried to keep cool).
I've already told Miranda and Mom and dad (☹). Miranda of course didnt react, but mom told me her Autism has that effect on her so i totally understood. Mom and Dad seemed cool with it, but i dont really thnk they took me seriously. What Roy and I have isn't usual. When he asked me to Prom (SEEN HERe IN OUR CUTEST MOMENT EVER omG) I almost fainted, but i tried to play cool and told him i'd think about it! All i did was think about it...but Jen told me boys don't want you to just give in right away. They like MYSTERY. Well i can be mysterious >;)
Anyway, i have to get back to AP psych. Miranda is actually a really good tutor 4 it. I hope when we're married i get to look back on this and think this is truly when i fell in love with Roy Turnbladt. Here's hoping
*.*
xo--P.E.D.
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