When I was a baby, my dreams were simple: be cute, eat food, and get my BM taken care of.
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| I was such a little stinker. |
Then I read some platitude about reaching for the stars, so in my early teens, I decided that I wanted to be an actress when I grew up.
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| 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.
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| Me with my beloved. |
Then life got simple again. All I wanted was food, some delicious heroin, and the occasional baby laxative in my cocaine so that I could have a BM.
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| 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".
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| 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.
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| 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. |
