Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Bring On The Crap

Have you ever been walking down the sidewalk, whistling a lovely tune, marveling at the beauty of the day, happy as a clam and suddenly hear beep...beep...beep, like the sound of large vehicle backing up? You turn and in fact there is a large vehicle - a dump truck - backing up right towards you.  Beep...beep...beep.  It keeps coming until it stops right before running you over.  And you watch as the massive receptacle thingy rises over you, higher and higher until it blocks out the sun.  It finally stops and empties its contents, which happens to be 4,000 tons of dog crap, all over you.  And then everyone within a fifty mile radius runs up to you, pointing and laughing and calling you a loser.   And rightly so.  You are covered head to toe in poo.  Winners do not walk around with giant turds clinging to their bodies, FYI.

This is the most disgusting picture I have ever drawn.  Why do you guys make me do these things?  Seriously, sometimes I wonder about you.

 And then you're all "why is this happening to me?!  what did I do to deserve this?"

And then you realize it's probably because of the whole "happy as a clam" thing, because honestly, are clams really that happy?  I mean has anyone ever really asked them?  If you think about it, a clam's existence is actually pretty craptacular.  They have these gross squishy slimy bodies which, in theory, should make them safe from all predators, but is actually the reason they die.  Because those squishy slimy bodies are actually quite delicious, especially when steamed, dunked in butter and drizzled with lemon.  Mmmm.

And before they die they spend their days trying to spit out all the sand that manages to weasel its way into its tight-lipped shell; but no matter what they do the sand gets in and is all itchy and irritating and causes a tiny little clam rash, which probably only enhances their deliciousness, and then the sand gathers together and forms a beautiful pearl which the clam doesn't even get to keep

Or is it oysters that produce pearls?  I don't know.  And you know what?  I don't care.

Because someone dumped a giant pile of dog crap on me today.

And no, it wasn't as awesome as it sounds.  In fact, it down-right sucked.  Apparently having a pile of dog crap dumped on me also gets me one free ride on the train to This is Just Beginning, You Haven't Had a Bad Day Until You've Had This Bad Day Town, because for the rest of the day the crap just continued to fall all over me.  And not only is that not as awesome as it sounds, it also gives one a complex that one, well...smells. Ya know?  Cuz you're covered in feces.

Are you guys loving this metaphor as much as I am?


You want to see more pictures of people covered in poo?

Me. Neither.

Don't worry, this is where the metaphor ends.  Because in the middle of wading through all the crap, something wonderful happened.  Something seriously amazing.  I ran into a friend during lunch who wanted to introduce me to the friend she was with.  And you know how she introduced me?  As a writer.  A WRITER.  She didn't introduce me as my "day job" profession, the one that I actually get paid for (Number 1 beeper salesman, WOOT!  Beepers?  Yeah beepers.  Like from the nineties?  Yes.  They're totally making a comeback).  She introduced me as a writer.  I don't even introduce myself as a writer.  Why?  Because I'm not paid?  Because I'm not published?

Who cares?  WHO CARES?  I write so therefore I am a writer.  Do ya hear me?   I.  AM.  A.  WRITER!  In your face!  I'm not exactly sure who I'm yelling at.  No one is contesting me on this.  Except for the voices in my head that are all, "really?  really?  you're not a writer.  you've never been paid for a single word.  you've never been published.  your blog?  ha, that doesn't count."  Well you know what voices, it does.  It totally does.  I say so and my friend said so.  SO THERE.

I am writer.  A good writer, a bad writer.  It doesn't matter. 

I AM A WRITER!!!  Who apparently?  Needs therapy.

Or at least a hose.
To my friend who called me a writer, you know who you are, you gave me one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given.  Thank you.


  1. I want to see more pictures of people covered in poo! I do! I loved that picture...I'm sorry you were the pooped covered one though.
    As for the clams, it made me realize that it's been awhile since I've had some deep friend clam strips....see, that would make your day so much better, right! Deep friend clam strips?
    And yes, you are a writer! Own it! But keep drawing people covered in poo!

  2. I'm pretty sure I've told you before but I love your drawings!

    And hell yeah, you're a writer. Damn good one too.

  3. Love it. You are a writer. And you are awesome. Even when people cover you in poo.

  4. You are an excellent fabulous writer! :-)

  5. You are too much! You made tears come to my eyes.
    You are such a good writer and a great illustrator too. Thanks for you talent. Keep it up!


I had to change my comment settings because I was getting too much spam. You can no longer comment anonymously. (I don't think anyone besides the spammers were doing this.) But I don't want to block the rest of you from commenting! If you're having trouble, tweet me at @sarcasmgoddess or email sarcasmgoddess at ymail dot com and I'll see what I can do to fix it.