Diapers, Ambien, and Other Entertainments

I been working straight through for about 14 days now and so doze off at the least provocation, but snap awake because I'm always thinking of something else that needs to be done. This is a perfectly pure-T shitty way to get any rest.

I've discovered a good way to get my shit knocked into the dirt for about 8 hours is to fire down an Ambien, then wait for it to come on while I'm doing someting useless. Like sitting here working on this blog.

I'm pretty sensitive to it, the Ambien, which means that when I take the stuff, I hit the wall harder than Princess Diana; so if this suddenly cuts off, I've either staggered off to bed or I'm sitting here sleeping and slow-cooking my genitalia with my Panasonic battery while "Amazon Women On The Moon" plays on the TV in the background. There is also a high likelihood that I'm in the process of writing emails to a variety of people I know suggesting they join me in some astoundingly odd sexual weirdness.

That's your Ambien for you, and no surprise, since it apparently switches off the part of your head that filters stuff and puts the part that remembers anything into a deep freezer somewhere where it's not released till the next day after which it spends all day roaming around surveying the damage saying things like "Oh, fuck me, I did NOT do that."

No surprise there.

No, the surprise is how many of you perverts fail to be offended and/or disgusted, and in fact write back and are ready to go for it. C'mon guys, it was the drugs. Do I LOOK like a freakin' jungle gym? Do you actually think I could hold that position without tearing something or dropping you or both? And, on a personal note to you-know-who, no, I don't know HOW you're going to get that coke bottle back. I'm thinking E.R. here, but you call it...yer mom's gonna be pissed.

Anyhoo:

I was gonna rag on the bint caught wearing the diaper from Houston to Orlando, said diaper the better to hurry along her plan to snuff another bint who was chasing the diaper-bint's boyfriend. During the course of the trip, she unsurprisingly got the attention of EVERYONE. Of course, one must understand that by hour 30 or so, the bimbo would've smelled like a mix of a ruptured kidney, stale sweat, and a corncob shitstain smeared under your nose. At this point, she wouldn't have been able to sneak up on a tree stump, never mind a regular human with a semi-functioning nose, so the plan had a less than satifactory outcome, at least as far a the guy at the Orlando Jail who had to do the body-cavity search when she was booked in is concerned.

Can you say "fire hose?"

Even if you got past the reek, the giant cotton-wrapped ball of soggy shit she was dragging behind her would have been rather a giveaway. I'm guessing that the sneaking up thing wasn't going to work out since even in Florida this rank wad of weirdness would stand out.

On the upside, she's now got her 15 minutes. And isn't she lovely. Totally worth it.
TA DA!

There she is in all her glory. Turns out she had one of her kids with her. They recognized him right away -- he was dressed just like her:



And, now of course it seems it wasn't nearly as weird as first thought. She was just trying to compete with the new girlfriend, which makes more sense when you see a shot of HER:



Damn, all of a sudden my Ambien weirdness is looking pretty good -- the word "diaper" didn't come up in ANY of my emails. Or at least the one's I've been able to find. (Hint For The Day: Do Not Email When You Have More Than One Email Account And Are Wired To The Tits On Ambien.)

In Our Next Episode: I get on my high horse (hahahahaha, "high" horse -- I just got that) about maggot dopers.