Contest!!!!

Here we go, Fans of Me! Another funrageous contestico gigantico. I have been sipping Kahlua and creams for the past 2 and 1/2 hours pondering tonight's riddle. Winner of the contest earns my eternal gratitude and, of course, a ...Diet Soap butter knife and plastic novelty hook poorly autographed by yours truly. Here's the question: Why does God hate me?

I look forward to the responses, that is, if you don't hate me too.

Nobody cares about me

It's true. And according to "Rog" I crave attention. He said I have a "personality disorder."

And I'm also pissed that no one reads this thing.

Ask Rog!

So, here is an actual excerpt from my psych evaluation from Dr. Rog.

"...defensive posture during the interview, coupled with her unwillingness or, perhaps inability, to discuss the circumstances surrounding the original injury suggests the possibility that Ms. Duster may incur a re-traumatization should she be deemed fit to proceed with the procedure."

"Ms. Duster was questioned about the death of her father and her escape from the warehouse fire that ultimately resulted in the amputation of her [I'm not telling you which - O.D.] hand. Repeatedly, Ms. Duster responded in a sarcastic manner or attempted to derail the discussion by making tangential statements with the overt purpose of avoiding this subject."

"...making the results of projective testing highly suspect..."

"...will likely resist recommended outpatient psychotherapy to facilitate her post-operative adjustment..."

"...strongly encourage Ms. Duster's family to monitor her emotional functioning as patients with this type of presentation are considered to be at risk for becoming disintegrated as previous traumas that have not been dealt with are re-awakended...."

Do you think he has a big book of phrases that he flips to at random to write this bullshit?

Olive mingles with the people

I just got back from this art exhibit (flea market) held every Wednesday at DeWitt Square. Holy shit! I guess shitty home made jewelry is in!

Just look at this broach I almost considered buying! Simply awesome, in the truest sense of the word.

Drinking and Flying

Mother called from the heliport tonight.

"One more chance for you to come with me."

[No response]

"Olive, hon?"

["Hon" is one of the many signs that she has been drinking tonight. The others include 1) her humming to herself waiting for me to pick up after I've already said, "Hello?; 2) her insisting that the chauffer call her Babs (not her name and, to my knowledge, has never been a nickname of hers); and 3) she asked me about those fucking leather pants again before she hung up.]

"Yeah, Mom, I said no already. Besides, Ass-ram said I can't fly yet, otherwise I'd be in my own home by now."

"Sweedie, this is your home."

[A private car parked on the tarmac of a heliport? Or the 8000 sq. ft. apartment that feels like a studio apartment when Mommy is home (it's worse when her gentleman-friend "Bernard" is visiting).]

"Have a good flight."

"You too."

[Yet another sign.]

Dear Mr. Jesus...

...Diet Soap offers another wildly popular contest!

Uh-member that girl who sang that horrible horrible song, "Dear Mr. Jesus" that many of us have struggled unsuccessfully to excise from our hippocampus? Whoever answers the most questions correctly wins the goods:

1) What was her name?
2) How old is she now?
3) How many felonies has she committed?
4) How many bullet wounds does she have?
5) Does she shave her underarms?
6) What was her major and minor at Yale, if she attended that school?
7) What is her favourite colour (of human skin)?
8) Who is her fav Saved by the Bell thespian?
9) How much does her tumour weigh (if she has one - bonus for location of tumour)?

and

10) What does her prison tattoo say (not the Jesus one)?

Good luck!

Mmmm....tasty!

I am sure I could make millions if I could convince Pez Candy, Inc. to manufacture a new kind of Pez - Mario Lo-Pez.

I have this friend named Jorges whom I met in Antigua like 5 or 6 years ago during the most recent deposition. I told him this idea and he said, "So, would you want it designed so the Pez came out of his mouth so you could fantasize that the candy was his tongue?"

I said, "So I could fantasize about ripping his re-generating tongue out with my teeth?"

"Well you could have his whole head tip back and the candy would come out of his neck."

"Like I'm licking his tracheotomy site?"

"What is wrong with you?"

"Can we have him drop his pants and have the candy come out of his jeans?"

"You're gonna eat his candy shite?"

I swear to God.

Trick or Teak

Listen to what this douche bag has to say about teak wood:

Teak wood is the mellow heavy duty wood without which every home should not be made, at least in part. Home is where the heart is, and risking that home by building it with anything less than teak lumber is the same as threatening the heart with inevitable destruction.

I guess you can smoke this shit too.

Dum-Dum is still dumb

So lots of people have been trying to be supportive of my new hand, making jokes, cutting off and then re-sewing hands on teddy bears, etc. etc. But leave it to Dum-Dum to say the fucking dummest thing - "So, two questions: how many gigabytes does that thing have and can it play video?" Clever.

Paging Dr. Ass-Ram

"Hey, Olive. Who the fuck is this? Dr. Ashram calling. I swear I had to consciously remind myself not to call him Ass-ram. How's my favorite patient? Who is this guy?"

"Fine."

"How's PT going? I understand there was a problem with Dr. Sanabel? Creepy PT who wanted me to change into a gown. I refused."

"He wanted me to change into a gown. I refused. I thought it was unnecessary. You did the procedure by asking me to roll up my sleeve. I thought the guy was creepy. Dr. Chang non-creepy female PT is working out fine. Only 4 more to go, she says."

"Any swelling, discomfort, discolouration, or seepage? Have you been looking at my vagina?"

"No, it's fine."

"Great. I'll want to see you once more after PT is finished, but call beforehand if you have any problems. 'Kay?"

Great. Another normal conversation with a former adversary. Do I need to re-think his secret nickname too? Nah.

Oh, also, I got to see my psychological evaluation report... I'll hit the high points next post.

Mmmm....coffee!

Cunty stopped by with a fresh brew for me this morning. Also, she gave me a teddy bear with it's arm in a sling (I didn't break my fucking arm, you dumb ass). I was like, what the fuck. Then, I burst into tears (I know, I've been doing that a lot lately, what do you want from me?!) when I realized she had cut off the hand and re-attached it in a painfully obvious way (with green thread) to celebrate (or "sale-a-brate", her fav joke) my iLimb. Way to go, Cunty. Now I have to rethink your secret nickname.

psst...

sorry i haven't posted in a while, everyone. it's just that, uh, i kinda just got the iLimb attached... it's fucked up... let me catch my breath and i'll get back to blogging. i need a little time to adjust to this thing. it's fucked up and i've been alternating between laughing and crying for the past week... don't tell anyone.

Lessons from Freud

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. But sometimes a cigar is a dolphin mocking you. At least that's what you should tell the cops when you get accused of slapping a cigar out of the mayor's mouth at the opening of a new community center. (Dolphins look kinda phallic, right?)

Ask Olive!

Former dancing great, Gail Horning, writes:

Dear Olive,

There's this guy I like who's really cute and I think he likes me. There's one thing though - he hates amputees. What should I do?

Love,

Gail Horning, Former Dancing Great
_______________

Dear Gail,

We all hate amputees. I say go for it.

Yours,

Olive

Ask Olive!

Diane Scheggler of Wichita, NY writes:

Dear Olive,

Can you settle a bet between myself and former dancing great, Gail Horning? She thinks it's impossible, but can one be racist against one's own race?

Love and Carrots,

Diane Scheggler of Wichita, NY

Dear Diane,

It depends. Are you White?

Love and Diapers,

Olive

Knock out!

Evander Holyfield is pictured here with his two children, George and George.

Hooray!

After a furious weekend of blogging for ...Diet Soap and my other freelance writing gigs, I am proud to announce that my increase in writing has resulted, for the first time in my one-handed life, in a decrease in readers! As Mother often says, "Why buy the cow when you can be lactose indifferent for free." Okay, she said that once and she had been drinking White Russians for the better part of the afternoon.