The Dildo Theory

Living in Los Angeles is a real dick up the ass. I say this as a woman who does not enjoy a dick up her ass. At least I don't think I do. I've never had one up there but it sounds wretched. So wretched in fact that I've built an entire survival approach around this potential happening. I like to call it The Dildo Theory.

As I wake up each day in sunny California, I feel rejuvenated and refreshed. This is likely because, like a goldfish, I have a pea sized brain and short term memory loss. If only I could remember the pain from the day before. Whether it be a 9 month pregnant woman bashing into my car (that happened), my agent sending me a breakdown looking for fat people and concluding that I'm perfect for it (happened) or some new man who’s refusing to sleep with me (this one’s a constant) I always find myself in some horrid altercation that is painful, uncomfortable, and embarrassing.

I'm a solution oriented person so I began to conjure up ways to feel slightly better as each day passes. There's nothing worse than brimming over with positivity only to be jacked around by the human race. I started to believe that there had to be a way to ease the horrifying pain which is my life.

Much like a man who beats his brow against a wall to alleviate a headache, I’ve concluded that if I start each day by ramming a dildo up my ass, things won't be so unbearably painful later on. Just hear me out. Each day in Los Angeles, I am attacked by people, places and things who are seemingly trying to kill me. Los Angeles is a torture chamber and positive thinking has gotten me nowhere. As a matter of fact, I believe its positive thinking that is making it worse. I firmly believe that if I start each day by jamming a dildo up my asshole I won’t be so angry, hurt or surprised later, since I had already begun my day in a manner that insisted things could only get better. So tomorrow morning, when I go to the dentist and find out I have 8 cavities (happened), or I’m diagnosed with a bacterial infection (gross but yes) or I find out my apartment is swarming with bed bugs (I don’t want to talk about it) I’ll find solace in the fact that nothing could be as excruciating as the giant dildo that I drove into my anal cavity that morning, right before I got a burn hole in my skirt on the way to work.