My Life As A Toilet

I guess I'm the bargain basement barely female that they managed to scrape out of the gutter to share details of my – some would say – depraved life with all you fat, lowly slugs sitting at the computer with your hand down your pants searching for a gem. You'll find it. I know. I’ve always believed if people keep scratching their genitalia, eventually a gem will pop out. It just has to. Otherwise, it would be way too much work for it to not happen.

I guess I can consider myself a low level writer now. For a long time I considered myself a "comfort woman". I was far from what they actually were, but I did feel a certain camaraderie with them as I feel many females do. "Comfort women" are all either dead or Korean grandmothers now. During the Japanese occupation of Korea in WWII, these women were kept in rooms the size of mats and used solely for the pleasure of the Japanese male soldiers. They were raped by as many as 30 men a day and 7500 in their lifetime. Now I can't boast numbers that high, but I have been a hole for my share of sloppy pigs, as well as well groomed gentlemen. But I have found that most are the same. They all have this appendage they need to satisfy. It fills up with blood. And un-filling it becomes their main drive. I’ve been told this is not always the case, but in my experience, I always seem to run into the same damn person in a different suit of skin.

I can compare my life to a garbage can, which is constantly littered with crap being thrown in it without me ever asking for it. Take, for instance, the people in my life. We can call them pieces of trash. Everyone else does. I will talk about a lot of them here.

Or I can compare my life to my toilet. It recently stopped working. And I couldn’t shit in it. It was horrible. When I had to shit I either had to hold it in or run across the street. Eventually I just said fuck it and started shitting in the broken toilet. And then it started piling up. Really high. And then it started smelling. Really bad. And then one day it got so bad that I had to go downstairs to the dollar store and purchase those yellow rubber gloves and a ladle and scoop it out. And then instead of trying to find a plumber to fix it again, I just started shitting in it. And emptying it out by hand. I did this for six months. I would let the shit pile up so high until the entire house smelled like there was a shit sandwich right in front of my face, and then I'd scoop it up. That's the best metaphor for my life I can come up with.

When I took this post, I wanted to write an introduction for myself, and a general explanation for who I am. But that's the best I could come up with. A toilet full of shit. Sure it's empty sometimes, but it will eventually stink again. And will continue to do so until someone calls a plumber and fixes the whole thing. Of course, no one will ever call a plumber. Or no one has... yet. Maybe someday someone will. Or maybe I will. But I am satisfied with everything now. It's adequate.

In order to compensate, I used to just hump everyone I could see, but recently I decided to settle down and select one particular Prince to settle down with. I thought maybe my life would improve a little bit if I did not wake up next to strange old men with pictures of their mother all over their bedrooms and not know how or why I was there. After a month or so things with this new fellow settled down. It was strange the way I felt about him after such a short amount of time. This is demonstrative of the way my life usually goes. For awhile it's heavenly, but after a short time it becomes a toilet overflowing with shit.

Right now, I think I really love him to death! It's hard for me to talk about anything but him because I'm soooo obsessed with him. KEVIN, KEVIN, KEVIN... that's all I think about... I don't think I have ever had a better time going out with someone in my entire life!

I really love my new boyfriend. He's so great! First of all, this morning, he promised to wake up super early with me to go to the doctor... so sweet. When I tried to wake him up he grumbled something about me being a stupid bitch, and then pushed me off of him... it was divine. The poor thing has had no money for the past six months, so I have been supplying him with alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, money, food, you name it. Sometimes I wonder if he will pay me back so a couple of times I have asked him, and he called me a Jew and laughed in my face. He has such a good sense of humor!!

Once, I brought up money in front of him and his friends, and he called me Whoopi Goldberg (a famous Jew), laughed in my face again, pushed me, and looked around to get his friends approval. I don't think I laughed so hard since my neighbor accidentally shot his gun through my wall and almost killed me!! That was a riot, but it has nothing to do with HIM so I'll leave that story for another time.

Back to the love of my life. His friends all sorta had this weird look on their face after he pushed me – like they didn't know what to do – but I knew he was just being creative and funny again and I know he loves me so the whole pushing thing doesn’t bother me. I laughed and laughed!!! I just can't explain how much I love this guy.

The other day he finally got his first check from his job in New York. Oh that reminds me of a quick story. One night when he was gone to New York I went out with my friend Lindsey and I neglected to call him every thirty minutes as he wished. My stupid ass actually ended up passing out in a bar for about three hours... I woke up and called him, and he was CONVINCED that I cheated on him. Silly bear. When he got home from New York, he threw me through a wall, but I mean I guess I would have done the same thing. After all, I did piss him off. But how could I EVER cheat on such a wonderful human being?

So fast forward to the first day we were supposed to go out because he finally had money. We were going to go to the movies. He is such a sweetheart, and we had so much fun last time we went to the movies eight months ago. I asked if we could stop at the grocery store so I could buy myself the coffee mix I enjoy so much. He complied, and as we were walking into the store, we discovered a bootleg copy of the movie we were going to see being sold outside. I was disappointed because I really wanted to see it on the big screen, not the small screen, but he really wanted to watch the bootleg. Using his great reasoning on me as usual, this time explaining that since I woke up too late (3:00 pm) it was too late to go see a movie and we might as well buy the bootleg. I figured he was right, since he always is, so I bought the movie that he was going to take me to see. Since I wanted to watch it on the big screen, the sweetheart promised me that when we got home, he would hook it up to the projector so it could be projected really big. I guess he was tired from that long walk to the store, because when w got home he said that he probably broke the projector when he kicked it over and didn’t feel like fixing it, and so we watched it on my little television.

We were also going to go out for dinner. He also decided to skip that and agreed to have me drive to the local Little Caesar’s where we got the 5 dollar pizza special. But this time, we didn't only get the pizza, we got to get Crazy Bread too. And he paid for it all! But I could only get one of the 50 cent crazy sauces, because I already had something resembling cheese sauce at home, and why would I want to get another one? Again, him and his GREAT reasoning skills.

We decided that later we would go out for drinks, but I guess that five dollar pizza really left him high and dry because he was barely able to buy me a pint of vodka, after I had bought him enough alcohol to keep an army of men drunk for a week. Then when I asked him if he wanted to go out for drinks, after we had watched the bootleg movie on the television, he told me I had said that I didn’t want to go out for drinks. Even though I couldn’t remember saying that, I figured it was just him trying to watch out for me and my tendency to drive drunk. I swear, he is such a good man and I don’t know what I’d do without his constantly thinking about me and my well being.

Instead I got a little sad that we did not go out at all, and he informed me that if my lazy ass had been up earlier, we could have gone to the museum together. Even though I had to get up at 5:00 am to get my medication and was up until 9:00 am, without sleep, I guess I missed my chance. But he is so sweet! A date at the museum... and here I go ruining everything by sleeping. He is right. I am an intolerable bitch.

I was feeling bad so I started to clean the house. I decided one last time to ask him if he wanted to go out. He told me to fuck off and keep cleaning. I know that's what I'm for and I don't think I have been quite doing my job cleaning enough. I am a bit of a slob. I even made six bags of garbage that I could not take downstairs because they were heavy. He, of course, refused to help me, but in retrospect, that makes perfect sense. It is my role and I should just toughen up.

After being awake about three hours, he told me he just wanted to go to sleep. Poor boy... he had SUCH a hard day. He told me to stay the fuck away from him Finally when he went to sleep I put my head on his chest just to get some human affection, and he put his arms around me and we went to sleep until about midnight. The window was open and I had no blanket because he was sleeping on it, so I closed the window and tried to ask him kindly if I could use the blanket and give him other pillows, and he said to me "Go away. Fuck Off. It's over," and turned around. Then he farted several times and started snoring loudly. God I love my man. This is truly bliss. What else can love be? I am truly on Cloud 9 and all I want to do is profess to the world how much I love this man. I am forbidden to write about him, so I hope he doesn't see this or I might have a new bruise, but since this is a testament to my love, I would hope he wouldn't be too harsh.

Right now I’m typing in the dark because I don’t want to wake him with my "fucking work." My friend just called and informed me that I missed an excellent sold out show with members of a band that I really like, but I'm actually really glad that I stayed home tonight and have this alone time with my boyfriend. Alone time is always important. Hey I still have that bottle of Vodka. I guess I'll drink it and stare at the back of his beautiful head and listen to him snore and fart. The perfect ending to the perfect day.