Aside from the fact that I have an eye infucktion burning my lady ball, and I’m busier than a tunnel rat foraging for a fuck, and more eggzhausted than a street walker pulling an all nighter wearing this ensemble, I’d say I’m doing mighty fine.

Let’s play the “will you please stop emailing the wrong katiegirl game”, shall we? Great!

Hey katie wua?

What is a wua? Enlighten me. I asked, but didn’t get a response. I’m thinking it’s an acronym for Wear Underwear Always. This begs the question, how do you know I don’t and why is my undergarment status of concern to you.

I was invited to a (not my words) chic champagne brunch by Queen of the Lake, in Reno. If someone can please explain what’s chic about Reno, I’d appreciate it. Having been there many times, I can’t say that it’s synonymous with chic. But, what do I know?!

Kyra screamed this into my inbox:

I invited you to chat !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I explained that I wasn’t the Katie she was looking for, to which she responded by calling me a snot. Really? I was so disillusioned by her response given her zeal to chat. She couldn’t muster a ‘cuntzilla” as Grainy calls me.

My good pal Rye-Rye sent me this. Ha. Loved it.

Rylee is one of our favorites here; she sends me emails all the time and this month was no different. I received 5:

Why don’t you ever email me?!=:(:(:(“.

Three frowns. I hope she didn’t throw herself over a bridge.

Kyra stomped her feet and threw a tantrum later in the month.

I INVITED YOU TO CHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I think reasoning with her at this stage in our e-stalking relationship isn’t in the cards.

I received another FooPets e-card, this time from Madelyn. Dog. Dead. Deal.

Rylee emailed me with even more frowns, if you can believe it.

I had such a board time at curch:(((((

Love “board”. I sent her a link to postal service of the saved, so she’d feel that her endeavor wasn’t for naught. I also wanted to ask her why she bothered going, but it seemed inappropriate. Speaking of the postal service, did you know there’s a website called Postal Reporter, big postal fun: A postal news blog, postal photos, books, videos and postal attendance. Everybody clap.

Good ol’ Rylee came back for more. Apparently, I forgot a few things…

Hey whats up? Hope you can play. I want to pik to chat with u. Oh and Katie you forgot your pillo again!!!!!!! Well see u soon love, me:)! Rylee if u wer wondering:))!

I appreciated the ‘Rylee if u wer wondering” at the end, concerned that I’d forgotten her. As if?!

How apropos, I just received an email from, I kid you not, 1-800-suicide.

I broke up with J Crew, but we got back together.

I’ve noticed that a lot of Born Agains are starting to follow me on Twitter. To be clear, I don’t mean Christians or Catholics, I mean Zealarellas (zealots). I’m wondering… What part of me screams save me?

One broad told me that she loved everyone. Shocked, I asked everyone, I mean, every single person?! Yes, everyone, and with conviction. In 140 characters, I couldn’t go into detail, so I will here. While I think it’s a lovely, altruistic notion to love everyone, in my mind, it’s literally impossible.

I don’t love George Bush or what he did to this country and I think he should be tried for war crimes, along with his sick fuck side kick, Dick Cheney and Donald bottoming-for-Bush-and-loving-it Rumsfeld, et al. I don’t love the people cock blocking Universal Health Care from passing. They’re willing to spend our tax dollars on weapons, but not our health?! Can you spell fucktardsquared?! I don’t love hard core republicans. In fact, I hate what they stand for. I don’t love doctors who mistreat their patients and lie to them. I don’t love insurance companies — I hate them. I don’t love murderers, pedophiles, or rapists. I don’t love assholics. I don’t love people who embrace censorship and who want the government to determine what’s appropriate for me to view, listen to, and read. I don’t love people who want to infringe on my choice to have an abortion. My list is endless and I won’t bore you with it, but you get the gist of what I’m saying. I think love is a gift. I couldn’t love everyone, not because I’m a hate junky. It’s simply unrealistic.

Another person told me that if I didn’t follow him back, I wouldn’t be saved from Armageddon. If I don’t believe in Armageddon, how will his 140 character tweets save me? What am I missing? Oh, did I mention that I’m a Jew? Aren’t we the chosen ones at the minute, the gateway or something? I can’t remember. I’ll have to email The Postal Service of the Saved for clarification.

Someone else assured me that it wasn’t too late to be Born Again. Thanks. But, I’m willing to take my chances, I said.

Why can’t I be a Jew? Perhaps that’s the issue I have with this lot of followers, intolerance and a lack of regard for my beliefs. Everything is cloaked in a threat, if you don’t, than you won’t. I digress… I intolerance.

Now, let’s discuss the rectal warfare that took place in my intestines last Friday morning. My intestines weren’t arguing, they were waging “Shock and Awe”, careening towards my pucker pellet at the speed of light. I still can’t figure out why or what I ate that made my intestines have a, yes I’m going to go 80′s on your ass, COW. Everything came out just dandy, thanks for asking. Though, for a moment I thought that my intestines were going to fly out of my tuchas. Fortunately, we’re still together.

Friday, I was at Cedars for blood work and there was no fucking parking. One of the lots closed due to construction. I have never seen so many cars trying to get into parking lots in my life. LA drivers don’t give a shit about who is behind them. They stop in the middle of the road, la-de-da’ng on the phone or talking to someone on the sidewalk, even though you’re behind them with ten other shmucks. Please, in NY, in less than a minute, baseball bats would be smashing these cars.

After 30 minutes, I was ready to shoot myself (that would’ve cost a bundle, so I passed). Mind you, it only took me 10 minutes to get there. I finally found a lot that I was able to squeeze into, though it was a valet lot, I was Despy Desperalla and her twin sister Tranta Gavant.

This super homeless guy, like scale of 1-10, definitely a 10 on the homelessesque scale, approaches me and says, “I’ll take your car.”

Right. Cause I’m stupid.

Meanwhile, there’s a guy in the booth at the valet stand, wearing a white shirt with the name of the p-lot co. on it and I was trying to get his attention. Homeless guy says, “What? You don’t trust me? Give me your car!”

I kindly asked him to unzip his jacket and show me his shirt. If it was the same as the guy’s standing in the booth, great, I would’ve given him my car. Most valets don’t sit on the ground with their dressers duffel bags.

He says, “Why I gotta unzip my jacket? I wouldn’t ask you to take your shirt off.”

Um. Okay, let’s review. I’m now late for my blood draw. I need to get it done. I’ve been driving in circles for 30 minutes with shitty drivers who want to be FIRST, FIRST, FIRST. I’m profoundly irritated.

“In this situation, I believe I’m entitled to ask to see your shirt before I hand you the keys to my car.” I said.

He responds by saying “You don’t trust me because I’m black. You’re a racist.”

I was so fucking angry at this point, I got out of my car and screamed, “HEY, I HAVE SYSTEMIC TRUST ISSUES. IF YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME, CALL MY PSYCHIATRIST AND ASK HIM. YOU THINK YOUR FUCKING RACE OR GENDER MATTERS TO ME? YOU COULD BE A PURPLE, HERMAPHRODITE GNOME AND I STILL WOULDN’T TRUST YOU.”

Cedars security came out, and instead of asking what the problem was, he exacerbated the issue by telling us to take it elsewhere. Seriously, hospital-mall-cop?!

I ended up at another lot because I bribed the gatekeeper with a $20 to get me in.

You’d think I was trying to get into some hot restaurant, not that a $20 would cut it, but you get where this is going, right? Right.

Caitlin will not stop emailing me. All week, I’ve been receiving emails from her:

Hi!

and

Hey, I analyzed the name ‘caitlin’ using the iPhone Name Analyzer.

It means:

Cute

Awesome

Inspirational

Tipsy

Lovely

Imperfect

Naughty

Seriously?! This improves the quality of my life?

Someone signed me up for Millsberry.com as Justice4Ever. I can create my own buddy and join the city. The site is for tweeners at best, so of course I’m a perfect fit. I’m sure they’d welcome Justice4Ever calling CutsieTeenyTot snatch for moving into my crib and boosting my gluten free pretzels.

This concludes my rant fest.

If you haven’t read @SoyGoy‘s interview, check it out. Coming up next, Elissa Stein and her new book FLOW, followed by, In The Belly Of The Fail Whale. I’m plotzarella.