A Bragging Rights Shit
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?
If I’m reading between the lines, you’re constipated.
I may not be a child of a Jewish mother, but I am a child of a mother who believed every illness stemmed from “not going to the bathroom.”
As such, my siblings and I take regular BM’s for granted. We simply do not tolerate a day without one.
Girl, forget the chickpea mush and get thee to a prunery. Eat six of them.
Bye bye, issues.
Love ya, mean it.
I forgot to shoot you an email last night at work, ya made me laugh so hard, that I had a minor asthma attack! I just hit the Advair, no big whoop, but the “—— on wheels” remark still has me going!
P.S. I found the link I was looking for on your old blog BTW, I just had to change the search words and I forgot that you pulled the original ’05 version, for an edited ’06 version.
If there is an Ass God, then you must share your Ass Hell with your neighbor, the Ass from Hell. It’s almost poetic. Go, Ass, Go!
Is that you making an ass of yourself? Good luck
Hi Katya,
Feeling guilty as I laugh about your ass.
Drink coconut juice, yum!
Midge