Gail, God, and Oprah Please Forgive Me

My mom and my Aunt Suzy (right and left, respectively). This is one of my all-time favorite photos. It so captures their relationship and the one I hope to have with my sister when I reach that age.

Aunt Suzy gives her dog cough drops, makes this crazy pink stuff every Thanksgiving



and once told me that wearing Blistex brand lip balm enhances blow jobs.

My sister and I are going dancing tonight. Also Jenny and Olivia. Earlier today we went to the bathhouse on 10th street where a young Russian named Alexi poured hot soapy water all over my shit and beat my ass with a bunch of leaves. It's called "platza" and it is amazing. Here's a video. After they're done they rub your hair dry with a towel and you feel like you're 5 years old. Mom has just made you get out of the pool and now you have to go drink Faygo and eat bologna sandwiches.

New Essay, Esays

I wrote an essay called Accidental Bad Boy Boyfriend for gURL.com. My sister Heather did the illustration. She loco.

This is Drew. She's pretty but not very bright. Just submitted her to ICanHasCheezburger.com. I am going to get my cats on this site, even if I have to murder one like JonBenet

Here's What I'm Worst At

Invoicing my clients. I have several gigs where I'm supposed to be asking for money weekly and the most I can manage is once a month. Clients have actually said to me, "Erin, we really need to pay you now." I'm listening to rap songs about money to keep my motivation going. Rap songs about money are hard to find. So are ones about shooting folks.

Boing Boing Get the Fuck Fuck Over Yourself

Someone took apart a Magic 8 Ball and BoingBoing is running the story as: Magic 8-Ball vivisection. VIVISECTION? Come on. This is almost as obnoxious as how freely and liberally they apply the word "hack" to everything. So-and-so in Florida has a new hack for making peanut butter and jelly, she uses a KNIFE to cut the bread. Destroyer of worlds Johnny Buttfuck has a hack for fixing the velcro on his messenger bag. A hack is something that takes considerable skill and effort. It is not an expression of quirkiness ("That hobo has a hack for dry skin - not bathing!) or the application of plain old common sense ("My hack for waits at the post office is buying stamps online!). I would write them a letter but since it has nothing to do with knitting cute reproductions of Nintendo items or baking cakes shaped like Atari characters I doubt it'll get published.

please keep this private.

researching my column for tomorrow. there's a question re: the Pill and vaginal problems. CASE OF THE DRY ROT. this product came up in my studies. i love very private. i use it in my private area, for my husband and i's private moments.

new roommate

I'm sitting at home, waiting for Saturday Night Live to come on (SHUT UP, I WAS OUT EARLIER BEING VERY COOL AND SOCIAL) and this hugeass cockroach scurries in the apartment through the crack between the floor and the door.

I leap up and go to kill it. I'm too slow. Fucking asshole is under the stove. I grab my cat, who's asleep on the couch, and dump her down in front of the stove. HELP ME. She looks at me like I'm nuts and goes back to where she was before. I get my dustvac and shove the skinny part of it under the stove. Fuck. I don't hear any crunching. I move the stove back and KABLOW. There's the roach. I lunge and miss. AGAIN.

Time to get serious. Light. Roaches hate light. I will smoke you out of your hole. I put on slippers (no way I'm doing this in bare feet) and find the flashlight. It's under the sink and has kitty litter crusted on it. I turn it on. It's dead. Fuck. Batteries, where do I have batteries? MY VIBRATOR. She made the ULTIMATE SACRIFICE for her country. I swap 'em out and spend the next 20 minutes shining the flashlight and moving the stove back and forth, stretching the gas connection to breaking point and tearing my piece-of-shit linoleum. That's gonna come off the security deposit.

So I didn't get him and I am FRUITING OUT. I am fine with all bugs except roaches. Spiders, even. FUCK. I am going to go buy some roach shit right now, even though that means putting my clothes back on and going down to the bodega, which at this time of evening I normally avoid because it's thronged by obnoxious drunk people.

What if the roach goes on my face? My mouth? What if it crawls on me? The worst was seeing it crawl under the door. If it just randomly appeared it would be so much less disturbing. There are many apartments in this building and roaches like this one. I think I am going to buy aluminum foil and use it to create a barrier. Is that psycho? I am trying to calm myself with thoughts of how bad other people have it in the Third World and how poor people have to put up with much worse in low income housing and I should thank God it's only one roach and stop being such a pussy but it's NOT WORKING.

Bjork is on SNL. I wonder if she likes roaches. I bet she does. I bet she has one in her band. It plays trumpet.