When I was a baby, my dreams were simple: be cute, eat food, and get my BM taken care of.
|I was such a little stinker.|
|Auditioning for the part of the constipated girl.|
Then I went off to college, and my life revolved around boys, classes, and sucking at John Barleycorn's sweet teat.
|Me with my beloved.|
|They call it "Heroin Chic". More like "Heroin Shit".|
Then at thirty-five, I finally grew up, got practical, and decided that the most logical career path was "famous writer".
|Me hard at work writing poop jokes.|
My neighbors blast pirated Christian music at all hours. In order to communicate, they have to yell over it. I've complained too many times, so now I just relocated my office.
This is me sitting in my (dry) bathtub. When I'm no longer able to "rock with the flock", I grab a pillow, and banish myself to my porcelain think tank and close the curtain. It's so quiet and dark in there that I can focus for hours.
|That's the purple bathrobe I wore the night before detox. I wear it when I need to believe that my dreams aren't stupid and impossible.|