Category Archives: Fartsy

How To Prevent Asexual Assault

1. If someone is invading your space with a complete lack of sexuality, remember your elbow is the strongest point on your body. Use it!

 

2. Trust your gut. If you cannot imagine someone doing unspeakable things to you, NEVER let them into your car.

 

3. If someone who is happiest alone comes along and makes you feel uncomfortable, hold your hand in a stop position, scream “NO!” and back away.

 

4. When someone asks to borrow your pen, and you cannot place them on the sexual continuum, DO NOT hand them your pen. Instead, throw it on the ground and ask them to pick it up.

 

5. AVOID HANGING OUT IN BUSHES where individuals who reproduce by cell division, spore formation, fission and budding are likely to hide.

 

6. If you think you are being followed by someone who has no desire to have sex with you,WALK BRISKLY TO A THRIFT STORE, buy a sheer crop top, then step out and confront your assailant head on by turning your cheek and biting your lower lip.

 

7. Before leaving a party with someone you just met or don’t know well, make certain they are not an amoeba.

 

8. Never drink from an open container or punch bowl held by someone wearing an “Asexuals Party Hardest” T-shirt.

 

9. Understand that agreeing to go back to someone’s place can indicate a willingness to play Bananagrams so have the forethought to DRINK HEAVILY AND DRESS PROVOCATIVELY.

 

10. When a person attempts to tell you they are living happily and sexlessly ever after, force yourself to vomit on them. Remember you are the victim. You have nothing to feel guilty or ashamed about.

Stuff I Overheard and Jotted Down With a Giant Pencil

Tranny At Lucy’s Laundry Mart, Sunset Blvd.:

“I’m going to stop by West Hollywood for a little while, maybe make some money, then stop by a bar and have a drink, then maybe go home and make some dinner.”
Sales Woman at a Chevron Station, Redding, CA:
 
” ‘K, I’m gonna go smoke, an after that, I’m gonna cut meat, an after that, I’m gonna go home.”

If somebody would please let ME write the elevator warning sign.

If elevator doors fail to open, do not become alarmed. It’s pretty unlikely that you will run out of air or are stuck in here with a someone who’s never had the opportunity to act out their bloodlust. Chances are also slim that this elevator will start dropping uncontrollably. Simply keep ignoring the other person (or persons) in here with you and frantically press the button. Then say “Shit! Fuck!” when you realize you’ve been pressing the 4 button, not the Alarm button. Calmly begin repeatedly pressing the Alarm button. Now, look over your shoulder and exchange frantic expressions with the others–your shared trauma now makes it socially acceptable to acknowledge their existence. Next, step away from the Alarm button and allow someone else to violently stab at it since they can probably do it better. If you are pregnant, now would be a good time for your water to break. If you’re a complete asshole with anger issues, and your monster only stays bound by societal constraints if your excursions into the world are brief and unruffled, then start coming undone in an alarming way that no one else can relate to (even though they are also trapped in an elevator). See that woman in the corner crying and hugging herself? Tell her she’s making everything a thousand times worse. When she starts to cry even harder, shriek that no man could ever love her. Next, notice that everyone is now staring at you in various states of petrification and raise your arms above your head and begin thrashing them around as if you are grabbing invisible things and really trashing the place. Once you tire, retreat to a corner, slowly slide down it until you hit the floor of the elevator you are trapped in with a limited amount of oxygen, splay your legs straight out in front of you, and stare at everyone with an eery tranquility. If you are everyone else, pack yourselves like sardines in the opposite corner and direct your gaze at your shoes. Help is on the way.
 

A Man Who Is Not Old Or Young Watches TV

After his wife has gone to bed, the man who is not old or young pours himself a shot of the good stuff and tracks a little bit of mud into the living room, but he’ll hear about that tomorrow morning. Before then, he decides to see if there’s anything about dinosaurs on TV. Of course there’s something about dinosaurs on TV! And when some long-haired paleontologist is talking about how a giant asteroid crashed into the Yucatan 65 million years ago creating a globe-spanning debris cloud that killed off the dinosaurs but started life as we know it, the man who is not old or young can’t help but think about how all the cataclysmic events in his own life never really changed anything too much. Getting a degree, getting an advanced degree, getting married, having children, having children leave home, having an RV and being mostly retired; none of this ever started his “life” as he knew it.

December 21st Observations

My dad stepped on the dog’s squeak toy today and said “Oh, jeez-US!”

He is now officially old.
The other day, he waved to me from down the street.
He was wearing a flannel shirt tucked into his jeans, and he was trying to tell me ‘Over here
is where I’m parked. Come get in the car.’
I looked at him standing there under a tree, one hand in the air, and I got sad thinking about how
one day this stupid scenario will be impossible.

A Polite Thank You Letter For Twelve Days Of Christmas And A Pragmatic One

My Darling,

What a lovely and interesting twelve days it has been! I had to take the partridge out of the pear tree because I thought he looked a little silly there, but that was before I had seven swans a’swimming in my bathtub. But, the pear tree is beautiful, and it should grow nicely where all those geese are a’laying and a’pooping! The UPS guy has tried three times to drop off two turtle doves and three french hens. Hopefully, I will be here next time as I don’t think he will be able to just leave them on the porch. And those pipers piping and drummers drumming, I wasn’t sure where to put them, but the drummers refused to share a room with the pipers, who they called “those queer faggots in tights,” and left. Well, first they stole the five gold rings you gave me. I would’ve called the police, but one of the ten lords a’leaping landed on my cell phone and broke it. And did you mean to bring me nine ladies from Lansing? Lansing, Michigan? I’d check your receipt because these are all octogenarians who were on a tour of the Great Lakes when they were given $100 and told to get in a van. Anyway, their invoice says “nine ladies dancing” but they all assure me their fox-trotting days are over, and five of them even said it hurts just to stand. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but please get them out of here. It breaks my heart to see them come downstairs everyday confused and dressed in layers and carrying cameras. I hope you understand. Your gifts were certainly extravagant, and I don’t deserve anything as romantic as all this. Also, I’m not really sure I’m completely set up for eight maids a’milking.

Yours Truly,

SLW

 

Babe,

Thanks for the 23 birds. They flew off when the drummers arrived, but they’ll probably be back because the milking maids brought all these cows, and I know birds like to sit on those. I’ve arranged for the 30 other folks you gave me as gifts to stay at the youth hostel until I can figure something else out. I had to sell the five gold rings to make this happen, but I’m sure you’ll understand. The pear tree won’t grow in this climate, so I tossed it, but kept the plastic potter it came in because it can be used to store tennis balls or turned upside down and made into a stool. Thanks again.

Love,

S

 

Stuff I Wrote On The Back Of Southwest Airlines’ Drink Coupons

Today sucked. I accidentally killed a lizard and I lost my prescription glasses. You don’t know any of this because you have a girlfriend and it’s not me.

*

Nothing makes you feel less vital to the world than flying above it at 33,000 feet and staring down at the intricate geometry of thousands of lives. It’s the kind of thing that makes you order a scotch “neat.” And when the stewardess pauses and says, “So… with or without ice?” it makes you just stare back and say “neat.”

*

Great, if this plane crashes, there is no one here I want to hug while crying hysterically. Since when did trying to fall in love have so much in common with falling out of the sky?

 

Eating Alone, a Funeral

What no one tells you in home ec or anyplace else, is that when you’re an adult, you’re going to have  a lot of trouble making dinner for yourself and eating it. Tonight, I opened the fridge. Could’ve had a salad, could’ve made my own dressing, could’ve put soup in a pot, stirred it up and got it hot. But, I couldn’t find it in me to cut a cucumber, let alone peel it (in stripes, like Mom did). It’s unbelievably hard to eat by yourself. Sure, there’s the trick of turning on the TV, loading CDs in the 5 Disc CD changer, and catching a glimpse of yourself in the microwave and saying “Hey, you…” But nothing ever escapes the feeling of eating alone. It’s the black hole of your kitchen, stretching you until you snap apart at your weakest point. Just getting out one fork is like being at a funeral—but at the beginning, when you still won’t admit you’ll end up crying, but can feel it coming on.