27 Reasons...

Yesterday I turned 27. This age has, for a long time, been the age at which I expected to die. Why? Because 27 is that stupid age that all those wonderful rock stars who grace Tijuana bathrooms with their velvet images died. Jimi Hendrix, Janice Joplin, Kurt Cobain, all of them. Actually, I'm not really the one who said I would die at the age of 27. It was mostly my friends. Personally, I never thought I would live this long. But it seems I have. Whoopee.

To commemorate my 27th year of Meg-style debauchery, I have organized this column into 27 reasons I should hit the back of my throat with a shotgun or overdose and go out rock star style like all the other 27 year old tards. Enjoy!

- Your Lil' Princess


1. I thought if I made it to this age, I would be comatose or in prison or famous and not have to worry about things. I guess I am half comatose, however I am awake enough to realize that I turned twenty seven, which means I'm awake enough to want to blow my brains out.

2. My only semi human interactions are with three men and one lady right now. All different. All insane.

3. The person I talk to the most would be my abusive ex boyfriend who I can't seem to shake. He is ass-clown, faggot, douche.

4. I also frequently talk to a forty five year old Polish immigrant who at one time I dated.

5. The night I met the polish man, his cat died.

6. He is now married, and our interactions are extremely odd and they usually involve me coming over to his house, him getting extremely drunk and then trying to have sex with me while his polish wife is in the room. He usually gets violent with her. It scares me and I leave.

7. The other fellow I talk to is Sam.

8. Sam is a hustler. I met him awhile ago. He is a very black fifty year old man.

9. Our interactions started purely as business interactions (assume what you want from that statement).

10. Our wonderful relationship has blossomed into something almost totally terrible. He comes over and also begs for sex, but tries to do it in a very roundabout way.

11. I like listening to his stories about being a pimp in the seventies and being in prison, and I also just like having him around. I just wish he did not want to have sex with me.

12. The only girl I talk to is a class act I met when we wrote for the same publication. At the ripe age of thirty four, she decided that she was going to become a porno star. This has led her to exotic places like Florida and New Jersey, and now she is Ron Jeremy's personal chauffeur whenever his cheap Jewish ass ever comes to Chicago, and she gets first dibs before all the other stripper toilet trash to ride his knob whenever he comes to town.

13. I have been told Ron Jeremy smells bad. I believe it. I have tried to imagine it once or twice. You should too. I think it would help girls become bulimic.

14. If I ever need to force food from my stomach back out my mouth, I try to picture how Ron Jeremy smells, close up. Anyway, those are my only four social relationships. All of them are, without a doubt, fantastic reasons to OD.

15. I have isolated myself in one of the worst parts of the city.

16. I live alone.

17. I have no job and am quickly forgetting what day is what.

18. I have a daily routine involving pills and prescribed drugs, and then getting drunk and watching DVDs and passing out during them.

19. It took me three days to get through Francis Ford Coppola's Dementia 13. I kept passing out, having to rewind the disk, and then watching two more minutes of it and passing out once again. That is how I get through my days.

20. I have thought of ending it all. But this walking corpse is not ready to die yet. I am trying to think what most other people my age are doing. Since everyone I hang out with is either extremely old, or not of this planet, and I don't really know anymore.

21. My birthday consisted of me cutting a lot of paper up, getting drunk, and watching the last two episodes of Oz and passing out repeatedly until 7 am when I decided to go into my bedroom and sleep.

22. Three days before my birthday, I went down to Social Security to get on disability, and they asked me for a contact who can verify I am nuts. I'm sure I could give anyone's name who reads this website, but unfortunately I don't have a list of names and addresses. When I was asked this question I began to shake and could not think of a single person who could attest to my insanity. I decided I had secrets that I didn't want any of them to know, so I settled on my landlord. I hope nobody calls him.

23. I am the horrible person at the grocery store that I hate. I pay for my food with food stamps, and when they run out I sit there and make them take out items and put items back in until the balance is perfect and piss everyone off in line and cause traffic and problems.

24. I blew a stoplight today and saw an old lady grab her heart because she was nearly killed by my driving.

25. At a recent family gathering, someone in the family inquired if I was pregnant because I was bloated that day. My father then told the entire party that he was sure that the last time I was in Tijuana, I had an abortion, and then laughed. He's one generation closer to the inbreeding than me, plus he's a fucking dinosaur so I have to let comments like that slide off my back.

26. Someone is currently locked in my house.

27. Whenever people read any significant amount of my writing, they decide that I am a man. What the Hell?



Why did I have to put all that information in a list? Because I like lists. They're easier to read and use to make decisions. So I will go over this list and decide if this year is the right time to shove a shotgun barrel into an orifice (I'm sure any orifice will do). But off the top of my head, I don't think it is the right time just yet. I still look forward to certain things, like I was really happy when I saw Jan Michael Vincent talking about how he had cirrhosis of the liver on Extra. He is still sooooo hot. I also still have not gotten through my six season box set of Oz. I mean I have watched the last ones, but I am not done with the middle ones. Those are a couple of things to live for, right?

Plus, to top it all off, I have the ultra-friendly fans of this website. If reading your super-sweet constructive criticism every night isn't reason enough to live, I sure as hell don't know what is.