When that new masturbation tax goes into effect I'm going to be fucked, which in the end will save me some money. Pop quiz: what part of me could be described as "an unpleasant and narrow darkness"? Careful, the answer's not as obvious as it seems. When I was a teenager all I wanted was the ability to fellate myself and now all I want is for someone to praise my supple prose. I've never had the slightest idea what people mean by supple prose but it's apparently complimentary so I'll take it. When my mother used to call me a smartass I'd reply "you must be referring to my wry sensibility," then I'd pucker my lips ever so slightly. No wonder I got slapped so much. I was pretty much asking for it. I'm still asking for it but no one wants to slap me except my therapist. My therapist, who bears an uncomfortable resemblance to Harold Brodkey, once told me I used humor as an emotional prophylactic and I said no an emotional prophylactic is like that time in the parking lot behind Hardee's when I dissolved into tears because I couldn't get the condom wrapper open. I'm currently crushing on the cute little guy who mans the Jack In The Box drive-thru around midnight. How I love to cup my hand to receive change from him. I've eaten more curly fries than you can possibly imagine.