Join me for Tuesday Junk-Punch

Tuesday is not only so very fired, but I’m emasculating that bastard with one swift steel-toed shit-kicker swat to the balls. Die in a fire, Tuesday.

I found a rhinestone in my belly button midday. Turns out that someone had her gutchies on inside-out. Joy.

Actually finished working at a reasonable hour. (Ask me how I define reasonable. Wait, don’t. It’s all relative, anyway.) Went back to the old apartment one last time because Mom wanted to go to the pool. I thought I’d be nice. But all she did was talk. And talk. And talk. I was so very over it.

Took my last load of crap to the dumpster. Also took my brand-new vacuum cleaner and was banging the filter off the sides of the dumpster. Had my laptop and all kinds of other shit on my shoulder so I was barely balanced.

I was just contemplating the $80 curtain rod I was throwing away — never used — when the filter broke free from the lid and went inside.

The dumpster was empty save for the metric ass-load of dust I’d just deposited in there. (Old cat hair. The last remnants of Maddie, save for her faded shit streaks on the carpet. *sniff*)

And guess who went in after it? Just guess. I have dirt and dust in every crevice of my being, and I smell like someone else’s unwashed ass. *squick*

I stopped at a fast-food place to get dinner for Mom and me. (Between her rent, bills, allowance and meals, I have so precious little left over for myself. Why oh WHY did I think that was a good idea?) I did have antibacterial wipes in the armrest, so I gave myself a good ‘ho bath before shoveling in my very naughty, tasty dinner on the highway.

I was just lighting up a post-heart-attack smoke when I saw a cop with flashing lights at an intersection. I realized that the power was out in that part of town and he was at a non-functioning light. Genius went from 60 (in a 40) to a dead stop in the intersection.

I started up again and that cop tailed my ass for two miles. Whoops.

The way I figured, I just hauled my pudgy pork roast ass out of a dumpster. A moving violation seemed so trivial in comparison.

He ended up doing a fast U-turn and went back under the rock from whence he came. And I lit up another cigarette. Because, really. Wouldn’t you?

I do have one more story, but it’s kind of TMI. But then again, this IS me we’re talking about here.

So, OK, after my half-assed, hurried swim, I got dressed. In a hurry. So I just got home and put on mah jammies and noticed that I must have turned my gutchies around to be on the proper way. Problem is, since I take Midol 30 days out of the month because I’m a raving bitch, I don’t know when the fuck my cycle should be. So I usually do the pre-emptive pantyliner thing.

Which, fine, I probably need to go to Narcotics Anonymous to wean myself off the anti-bitch drugs. But genius thus had her pantiliner on the wrong side of the gutchies during the dumpster-diving excursion.

(To my peeps in Rockville, you’re welcome. I can hear you laughing from here!)

Oh wait, there’s more!

So I’ve had a leaky roof because I live in Amityville. The ceiling is damaged in two rooms. So instead of replacing the rotting ceiling, the apartment monkeys came in while I was gone and PAINTED THE FUCKING CEILING. You know, so it’s not water-damaged-looking anymore. FUN! Guess who gets to fall asleep to the smell of paint tonight?!?!

I just WISH all my stories weren’t true, you know? I can’t make this shit up. …

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