“Barbara, you’re the next contestant on the Price is Right Birthday edition!” Barbara stumbled down the aisle in her obsequious manner, hung over after her daughter’s herdert nuptials, almost causing her to fall.
“I think it’s my kismet to start a Youtube channel!” Sharon said, as she drove her jalopy through the desert after jujitsu, diaphoretic. “Fun.” Daffodil replied with ambivalent resignation.
Teresa leans over and whispers. “Let’s fack with Susie.” I nod in agreement.
After twenty one years of marriage, my husband is watching football on our anniversary. It was just happenstance that I met the old hippie. It started as friendship, not all Capulet and Montague. He was just a distraction. I was in this self-destructive relationship with an inked guy who spoke in all tautology, always saying …
“Hi Brooklyn. How was school?” “Call me $50. I’m Brooklyn nevermore.” “What?”
“What happened, Jason? I saw the ecnalubma in front of the house!” “Bubba! It’s an ambulance, you asshat!”
I’m not a shopaholic. Not even close. Like a puerile moron, I’d used every penny I’d made since Christmas on beautification and a plane ticket to Rio. I essentially made myself homeless and lived on nothing but a burrito and an endless supply of mushy pineapple for months. I just wanted to get a glimpse …
Today I interviewed the world’s first living Pokemon while “she” sipped Bouillabaisse in a French cafe. “What started you on your plastic surgery addiction? I asked.
“Collin! Time for dinner,” I called from outside his room. “Die, you nefarious freakfuck!” he replied.
“Aloha, my wife! What do ya think about James Emery for President?” James asked after a few too many coronas. He tripped over a lawn gnome and a ceramic turtle in a less than agile manner.