I’m Insane
by WHO on Mar-17-2004
“Here’s a hint gentlemen: If she’s hot and she’s constantly describing her life as ‘vibrant,’ then she’s probably burning. ”

A lot of people emailed me this year wishing me a happy birthday. Rather than write everyone back individually, I decided to send this update as a public ‘thank you’ to everyone. If that is not satisfactory, consider this: If I answered every single email I got, I wouldn’t have time to update my site or run Club Hell. So if you want to talk to me directly, you’d better join. Otherwise, just accept that I’m going to read your emails and then promptly delete them. I appreciate them all…but not enough to chain myself to my keyboard.

Alright, now that I’ve gotten that over with, I’ve got another public statement to make: I’m losing my mind. Lately, I’m feeling like I’m wound just a bit too tight. Perhaps being overworked and overtired is not a healthy way to live my life. You would think that I’ve just got done stating the obvious there, but trust me, in my fragile mental state what I’m writing right now looks about as genius as fucking Socrates. In fact, I’m surprised that no one is following me around writing down my every thought and recording the color and texture of my shit. Where’s my modern day Plato?

Enough of that.

Do you want to know what has been bothering me lately? Herpes commercials. I strongly suspect that herpes commercials are contributing strongly to my recent insanity. Think about it…..the commercial always features some suspiciously hot looking chick describing about how excellent her life is now that she has starting taking these pills. In between her narrative, you see shots of her enjoying life with some guy who is probably going to wake up with one scaly dick. They go scuba diving together, they horseback ride, they greet friends to their backyard barbecue parties…..and during all of this, the man has his arm casually slung over her shoulder and he’s grinning like he just got the prize fish of the pond.

Does anyone else have the mad urge to throw aside their remote control, get up and scream at the television, “GET AWAY FROM HER, MAN! SHE HAS HERPES!”

What a sneaky ass disease ridden whore. Here’s a hint gentlemen: If she’s hot and she’s constantly describing her life as ‘vibrant,’ then she’s probably burning.

Moving on….

Currently, I am living with my husband and my cat (Simon) in a two bedroom apartment. To make ends meet, we decided to rent out the second bedroom to a little college girl named Jane. Jane is a good roommate. She always pays the rent on time, uses the apartment mainly to sleep, and disappears every weekend.

Well, one particular weekend evening, I heard a bunch of clatters coming from the kitchen. Now my cat has a tendency to get up on the kitchen counters at night and knock things on the floor just for the fuck of it, so I immediately dismissed the noises. I was just too damned tired to get out of bed and chase him out of the room, so I decided to put a pillow over my head and tough it out until he got bored.

Ten minutes later, he was not yet bored and my temper was flaring. Finally enraged, I threw my blanket aside, got out of bed, and stomped into the kitchen, screaming, “GODDAMMIT, WILL YOU QUIT IT ALREADY SIIIIII–”

As I rounded the corner, I came face to face with my startled roommate, Jane. Not Simon. The poor girl spun around and stared at me with big, scared eyes.

Very calmly, I said, “I’m sorry. I thought you were the cat.”

Then I turned and slunk back to my bedroom.

I think she’s scared of me now and I haven’t seen her in the kitchen since. I don’t blame her. If some crazy woman came stomping into the kitchen at 3am with wild hair, bloodshot eyes, wearing nothing but a Hard Rock Caf´┐Ż T-shirt and screaming, I’d feel a little weird about making midnight snacks, too.

I hope she doesn’t move out now. Things have been tight around here money-wise and you never know when my husband is going to have to invest in a nice straight jacket for his poor, tired wife who keeps screaming, “CATS! EVERWHERE! CATS!”

Of course, at that point, I’ll also be insisting that I’m perfectly sane.



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