PISS!

You know what's absolutely hysterical? Farting into the toilet bowl at work and spewing anal blood from your hemorrhoid all over the pristine porcelain.

Good times.

Signs I'm overdosing on Scrubs...

As I was cruising down the highway this morning, I noticed a bald, well-dressed man carrying a thick briefcase battling the wind as he walked along the breakdown lane. Due to the frigid air, I considered picking him up.

My mind wandered off as J.D narrated the following...

I decided to pick up the balding man as an act of goodwill during this holiday season. He was initially quite appreciative and polite-until he pulled out the gun.

"Give me all of your money. Better yet, drive to the nearest ATM and take out all of your money."

I was confused for a moment, because having just recently seen the movie "Reality Shows That Never Made It" , I had an unconventional understanding of the acronym "ATM". Once it hit me that he meant "Automated Teller Machine" I began to laugh.

"Why are you laughing?" he demanded incredulously.
"My ex-boyfriend just stole all of my money. Well, not stole, exactly, gambled/drank it away under false pretenses, I know, it was a little naive to believe that he was supporting a tribe of Inuits in Australia-I'd forgotten they're not "Eskimos" anymore, so he tricked me, and there was the bail bond for the whole Mexican waitress/salsa/knife fiasco, and I consider the ensuing shopping/drinking/strip club visiting spree entirely his fault due to my emotional distress. So we can go to an ATM if you'd like, but you'd get about 33 bucks-wait, looook at these nails, just had them done, great manicure, love the Vietnamese better than the Koreans for nails-do you think they can tell each other apart?, but $33-10, plus tip, ok there's 22.19 left in the bank then."

He stared at me a minute, then yelled, "Drive me to a bank, you cheap bitch, I'll rob it, and you'll drive the getaway car."

My life had been leading up to this moment. I hadn't wanted to go to work anyway, but had already taken three sick days. This day would be excused, I wouldn't even have to call in, and I could fulfill a fantasy of breaking the law, and could probably get away with it under these circumstances.

I reached under the driver's seat and pulled out two black ski masks (one trimmed in black fur...so bad, that poor little mink, but, oh, so soft. I rubbed it against my cheeks as my eyes started to well. Finally, after years of being stored in that exact spot, it would be put to good use.)
"Yippee!" I screamed gleefully. "I'm in!"
Bald robber man was stunned for a minute, but once he recovered, he began rattling off instructions.
"Drive back to West H*******..."
"No, no, no, " I said. "Someone might recognize me, and it's a bad hair day."
"Fine. New B***** then. "
"Nope, my Dad does his banking on Wednesdays, and it would be rather awkward, you know, 'Put you hands up! This is a robbery...Dad.' And then there's his trick shoulder, and he can't really reach that high, and honestly, if you cared about me, you wouldn't ruin my first law-breaking opportunity."
"P******?"
"No go-my mom lives there."
"Goddammit, then, where?"
"Well, I'm kinda hungry."
"Great, we'll rob a Dunkin Donuts, and you can eat, too."
"I'm doing South Beach."
"Really? Me too!"

So bald robber guy and I bonded over medium-rare bacon burgers (hold the bun) and we shared life stories. We had so much in common. He was raised in an orphanage in Romania, I saw a Romanian once on TV (Well, I think. Where is that hot foreign doctor on E.R. from?) and both of our moms' have brown eyes (Well, my mom has one brown, and one green, but I wanted him to feel close to me.) We never got around to robbing the bank, because he blew a red light two feet from a cop, and when they ran his name he was wanted for many robberies, but bald robber man had taught me so much in the time we were together-how to sneak out of a restaraunt without paying, how to get Russian girls to marry me and give me money, how to make swans out of paper napkins...and as he escorted away in slow motion by the cops, he yelled, "P r o m i s e y o u ' l l w r r r i i i t e ! ! !" I knew that my life would never be the same, and that I certainly never would write-I mean, being from Romania, could he even read English?

I'll fly you to the moon

You go right ahead, cranberry BMW with out-of-state plates whizzing by me on New Park Ave. Go ahead, zoom on past. There are two cop cars stationed three blocks apart from 4:45-5:15 for people like you. Oh, you're going to the gym, huh? Please, take that spot. Go ahead. Hmm, a young twenty something with 60 dollar Abercrombie shorts-betcha Daddy bought the car, didn't he. Rush in to get the next place in line for the spinning class. Really. No skin off my ass.

'Cause when you got pulled out of line for owing $17.09 and I sauntered upstairs to get one of the last remaining bikes, it felt, ooooooooooooh, so delicious, you over-tanned anorexic bitch bag.

And, oh, on the relationship front. What I've discovered is that, yes, indeed, I can love again. Trust? Nope.

Five a day

My pussy is like bagged baby spinach-triple washed and trimmed.

My point is...

Possible reasons that I haven't been posting.

1. Drunken, greasy weasels oiled up my keyboard in a frenetic orgy.
2. It's been so long I forgot the password.
3. Despite the fact that I now have DSL, this computer still works as slow as molasses.
4. I'm, uh, ahem, like, happy, and don't have much to bitch about, except for the usual work/sister-in-law stuff.

The real reason, I think, is because I have been watching hours and hours of Scrubs, and much like J.D., have a running commentary on my life in my head (in his voice), so writing anything down seems redundant. (KS's eyes roll to one side, dream sequence with pudding commences.)

A Personalized Offer Just For You

Would anyone like first dibs on the mouse stuck to the sticky paper in the basement?

Kink

Mom calls.
"Hi KS. Your brother from CA called!" (Happy news, CA brother used to have a drug problem.)
"Great. What's new?"
"He's doing well, but he has strep. He's so happy that he has insurance-his copay is only $20!"
"Great, Mom. Hope he's feeling better."
"Well, he missed Monday and Tuesday, but he has sick time, so it was ok. He went in on Wednesday, but they sent him home because he looked terrible."

And I just have to go there.

"Well, they probably didn't want the actresses to get sick."

She ignores that.

"He sounds so happy. He loves this job, and they're happy with his work."
"Great, Mom, that's awesome."
"They have him doing a little of this and a little of that."

I can't help it. I start to laugh. Big, guffaws, belly laughs, drop the phone and pitch over on the bed laugh. I feel my mom's silence and disapproval through it all, but I can't stop laughing.

My brother designs and builds sets for on-line porn sites.