For three days, I have been bunged up like an overly stuffed red pepper. I think I have to attribute this to my hummus addiction, which I have now stopped OCDeating for fear that I’ll find my human ass in the hands of a veterinarian begging him to express my anal glands.
I can see it now, Schwartz on all fours atop a silver table while a cheek spreading tool is inserted, as a vet digs his made-for-canine claws into my rectum. Lovely.
My ass feels like a sausage casing ready to spontaneously combust. Similarly, my stomach is distended, out to the moon, really, only exacerbating my shituation.
I’m officially in ASS HELL.
Sure, I can blow a harmonious tune from the twin cheeks that would make Beethoven jealous, but I can’t seem to go the distance. I need an asstastic movement that will do my porcelain goddess proud and severely piss my cunting neighbors off.
What the fuck? I thought being vegan meant I’d be as regular as Sands through the Hour Glass. I thought garbanzo beans; beans being the operative word, would yield a rectalrific experience. Fuckin ell was I wrong.
If there is a rectal God, I have news:
Dear Rectal God:
Thank you for your time, I appreciate it. Real quick, I promise.
I know you’re busy with other asses, but I am begging you to move heaven and earth for my Jewass.
In reciprocity, because I’m an ardent fan of give and take relationships, I will give you a shout out on my blog, so everyone knows how assalicious you can be and that all it takes is a friendly request.
What do you think? Are you in?
Love,
Katie Schwartz
PS: To be clear, I’m the Jewish Katie Schwartz from New York living in Los Angeles, the writer. I knit, speaking of; I can knit you a hat. Would you like a hat? I’m also the vintage tchoch collector. You can’t miss me in a crowd. I temporarily skew Jew x 4, and have dark brown hair. I’m always in glasses. Am I ringing a bell?
