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.