Daily Archives: May 4, 2012

Ted Bundy, Fetal Pigs, and a Long Work Day

“Then I remove all of the organs from the neck to the anus in one fell swoop so I can hold all of the guts in one hand.”

Something my mother just said.

It’s not as Ted Bundy as it sounds since she is a high school biology teacher. But the fact that this is the type of conversation she chooses to have with me after I return from a 15 hour work day tells me she spends too much time with teenagers. And dead fetal pigs.

Today I accompanied a few people from my place of employment to and from Washington D.C. for a work-related conference of sorts. How and why I end up in situations that require me to wear blazers and corporate nametags is beyond my comprehension since I can barely remember which hand I write with most of the time. Nevertheless, at 4:30am I reluctantly awoke to the sound of my alarm calling me its bitch.

“Molly has the tiniest, hardest pieces of rabbit poop.”

Something else my mother just said.

Anyway.

“Screw this shit, I have to update my blog!”

I proceeded to spend 10 hours in the car, where I accomplished little to nothing outside of managing not to drool on the car seat when my head involuntarily dropped forward every 42 seconds over the course of the first 3 hours, followed by determined reading of “Little Children” and conversations with my travel companions about the deficit of water in third world countries. Had we some down pillows and blackhead nose strips it would have been much a kin to the slumber parties of yesteryear.

I won’t tell you what I actually did today or the main purpose of my travels. Mostly because I am only half conscious and have only 6 minutes to publish this before destroying my “Once a Day for the Month of May” goal, which incidentally, is not as dirty as it sounds.

So Ima wrap this motha’ up. I hope to eventually regale you with more interesting (?) experiences I had today as well as the reason why I think of tailgating while driving as my answer to the patriarchal American society we live in. But for now my mind is occupied with pig innards and the texture of Molly’s shit.

Good night, ya’ll

Love,

The girl who “is NOT the father.”

 

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