First off, I’m sorrier than Michael Vick as a dog sitter. I have been recovering from having my wisdom teeth extracted and I’ve had zero time to write in between the vicodin comas and onslaught of constipation thanks to said vicodin comas. Last night, I actually swallowed my nasty ass gum gauze that was stuffed in to my wisdom tooth hole, and woke up to feel it tickling the hatch on its way down. That was disgusting. Also, I turned 30 this weekend. Nothing like wallowing in a little crisis amplified by narcotics. Regardless, I’m going to toss a little something out there while I write a new true story.

• My dad was never retrieved from the funeral home. He’s still cremated in a cardboard box until we pay $700 to get him out. When he died, he left us no funds whatsoever to bury him with. However, my sister told the funeral home to embalm him when he first died, so that’s where a lot of the charges came from. Little did she know, we couldn’t even get financing for a funeral cause our credit was so bad. We ended up having to go to Goodwill and get my dad’s cremation attire. We often refer to him as “man in the box.”  That is some sad shit.

• When I was 14 years old, I had moved in with my brother and his then girlfriend because my mother was obsessed with an evangelical gay man who hated me. Things went south between those two, and so my brother and I had to move. We packed up our things into a dump truck that he had available at work. They saw us rollin’, they hatin’.

• The year that my brother and I moved out on our own, I was outside of the school district, and my dad had to take me to school a lot. Often, he would charge my brother $2 or $3 for gas (I mean it was 1997 ya’ll) and so we figured out that if I got dropped off at my dad’s house, he wouldn’t charge gas. But this opened up a whole new black crevice of worries. For instance, I would have to make sure I took my earphones. I would sleep on my back every night on the couch, making sure my earphones completely covered my ear holes. Why? Because my dad’s trailer had so many roaches, it was RIDICULOUS. And I had heard stories about those things going into people’s ears and causing some serious problems, so I was obsessive about covering ears. I didn’t even play music, just build a roach dam between me and them.

• My first car was a Station Wagon. It eventually had an antifreeze leak so bad in the floor boards, we often used maxi pads to keep the floor dry. It was protection I could count on when I was driving not-so-fresh.

• My  brother has a polaroid picture of him with porn star Christy Canyon which he shows to everyone he meets. He is holding her breasts from behind her with this massive shit eating grin. It’s really humiliating actually, to witness his excitement of this photo. Nothing says classy like hanging out with a porn star who compares her vagina to a natural wonder!

That’s all I have for now. Those are random thoughts that I figured were entertaining to those outside my head. I’ll be back soon with a new piece of artwork and some lengthy ridiculous tale!