Better Sordid Than Sorry

Okay, kids.....

I've been working on a collection of short stories for a while now. They are disarmingly poignant and peppered with pop culture references, as is my way.

I was starting to feel like I'd finessed a couple of them into something truly good and

****BAM****

the other day, I overheard some goth gal up in the Hot Topic talking about another Augusten Burrough's original. It’s sordidness bears a freakish similarity to my own night of depravity with a mentally retarded midget stripper.

"Fuck him!" I thought - meaning Augusten, not the stripper - which isn't as likely to happen these days, now that I'm not a huge seething mess of substance abuse. And while we’re on the subject matter of junkie-mess authors, I’d just like to say one thing to Mister Burroughs, “Ya, know, Augusten – you have Julianne Moore playing your mother in a movie! Can’t you just enjoy your royalties, your husband and your recovery and give the rest of us a break?”

And don't even think of asking why I was in a Hot Topic in the first place!

"Screw it…fine!" I thought - realizing that pretend-telling-off Augusten would do me no-good. I would simply have to write about and even more sordid evening that I once spent with a very handsome, rugby-playing, Polo-shirt-wearing, jock in a jock-strap computer programmer. Yeah...he sounds all cute and hot (which he was) but he also convinced me it would be fun to hang out with his "friends" in a crack house!

Trust -- all I wanted was a blow job -- I think crack (as in cocaine) is vastly over-rated. But he needed his fix -- and...well...things just seem to happen that way in my world. Some people who want a blow job get a blow job. Some people, like myself, find themselves turning blue and passing out in slings, sleeping with mentally retarded midget strippers or following a super-hot dude into a crack house, just for a little man-on-man action.

Blow jobs! Hah! Who needs 'em? I have another craft to perfect and enjoy....

So - I've been focusing my energies on writing about blow jobs rather than getting them.

And then...today...

****whack****

This lady comes out with an even better fucking book!

In case you don't remember the tale of Ashley Smith -- she's that widow from Atlanta who got kidnapped by a convict named Brian Nichols after he shot all those people in a courthouse.

This CNN transcript details how God's magic infused the Widow Smith's conversation with the escaped fugitive:

I said, "Do you believe in miracles? Because if you don't believe in miracles -- you are here for a reason. You're here in my apartment for some reason. You got out of that courthouse with police everywhere, and you don't think that's a miracle? You don't think you're supposed to be sitting here right in front of me listening to me tell you, you know, your reason here?"

I said, "You know, your miracle could be that you need to -- you need to be caught for this. You need to go to prison and you need to share the word of God with them, with all the prisoners there."

In her new book she explains how "the seven-hour hostage ordeal in March led to the realization that she was a drug addict..."

Ummm...I don't wanna sound cynical...and I'm glad this lady is off drugs and didn't die...but if all it takes is one crazy mixed up night with a messed up ex-con, a bag of meth, and some horror stories about drinking and drugs - then where the FUCK can I sign up for my book deal?

I thought that Augusten Burrough's had the recovering-junkie-mess market covered -- but here comes Miss Hot Mess Hotlanta taking it up another rung.

If stories like this keep popping up, I'm gonna have to do a big-fat line off Karl Rove's semi-flaccid dick while engaging in a phone interview with Charo to ever get anything published!

Jesus Christ!

And just you wait -- once little Francis Bean writes her story -- it's all over for any of us who aspire to shock and inspire. She's what? 12.....the clock is ticking, kids....better get sordid than sorry, I guess.

Oh! And just for fun -- say hello to published author Rob Thurman. I have no idea who he is, where he lives, or anything like that. We just have the same name and he said hello, so I figure I'd give him a virtual plug!

Actually -- I'm really just wondering if he's totally cute, preferably gay, hopefully single and definitely into blow jobs...now THAT might be a story!