And Then Touch Yourself

Cheese rice will fill you up.

It really will. You will get plugged up like an ass-plug was shoved up your poop chute. What a weird day I had. You know me, things can get ill quickly, because I'm always into something. Well, when I'm out of this damn room that's exactly when things start to happen to me. I get up this morning and you know me, I have to use the bathroom like a broken beer bottle.

I slip into my dress shirt, step out, and my next-door neighbor, one I don't know, is coming out of his room. He's a bigger bear than I am, taller than me too. I'd hate to meet him in a dark alley without a .357. I turn, heading for the bathroom and two of Paula's crows are standing before their room doors putting up Christmas ornaments. So, I head to the bathroom, right?

"Oh!! Good morning Hobobob!!" They cheer.
What the fuck! I'll tell you now, that shit caught me completely off guard. Mother fucker. Did Paula tell them my name and shit already? Wow, I guess she's a bigger mouth than I thought. I wave back to them, grumble 'happy holidays' like a real Scrooge, and slip into the bathroom to take a leak. I'm not upset, no, just surprised. Why would they even care to acknowledge me or know my name? It's the New York Mentality...What the fuck do they want? I slink back out and into my room, to get behind my computer. Then I remember, I have nothing to eat. I get up and look in my cupboard. Saltine crackers, olive oil, sugar, salt and pepper, rice and pasta. In the refrigerator, watered down kool-aid. That's about it. Not even hot sauce. And you know how I am about hot sauce. Well, maybe I haven't said it before, but I like hot sauce on my food. A lot of hot sauce on my food. So hot that it cooks the asshole when you take a shit. You hear your puckered hole sizzling. Now you're probably wondering, what the fuck? Why in the fuck would you use that much hot sauce?

I honestly don't know. I think my taste buds are dying and need something to kick up the flavor of food. Something like that. I heard that as you get older, your finer senses of taste wither away along with your more discerning sense of smell. With this happening, your ability to taste other flavors other than sugar and salt dies. Well, whatever. I have to go out of the space pod and do some shopping. I'm not liking this. Of course this you know.

I get dressed and slip outside and down the block to the Gristedes, where I buy my cheese for my SPAM sandwiches. That's right, I'm out here to get SPAM and cheese and bagels, because frankly I'm on a financial diet too, and these things stretch like monkeys on a limb. So I get my cheese and then go to Duane Reade for my SPAM singles, and when I get to the shelf, there aren't any. NONE. What the Fuck? This was the first time that they have ever ran out on spam. On a day that I really need them, they run out. Son of a bitch. How undependable fucking Duane Reade is. Left my ass high and dry this fucking week. Son's of bitches.

I go to the bagel place anyway and get three bagels, because I'm an idiot, I know. What the fuck am I going to do with three bagels. I'm pissed. I head into the building and I'm about to walk up the stairs for the exercise, and there is a shitty smell in the air. Now what the fuck would make a shitty smell in the air? Somebody shit? In the hallway? I look around cautiously as I move on, careful not to make the error of stepping in it. I find nothing on the floor. On the walls? Fuck it, I head to the stairs and the maintenance men are all up there, painting the walls, with shitty smelling paint. Damn, there goes my exercise.

Okay, no big deal. Two apartment juggheads come down the hall, skipping and dancing followed by two more. They gather around the elevator with me, jabbering. "Goddamn, she was fine!" "That's the first time that I've ever seen a hot woman in this pig sty." "I know, the bitches here are foul." "Yeah, I wouldn't fuck the bitches here with YOUR dick!" They go on and on, until a woman comes walking down the long hall to the elevator. The group of men shut the fuck up as if socks were suddenly stuffed into their mouths. True to their comments, this hot motherfucker walks up. A goddamn Dyme (a 10 from 1 to 10) with baby brown eyes, long hair, and a bitchen, wicked body. These fucking guys weren't nuts. She was the most outrageous thing that I've seen in this building ever.

When the elevator arrived, of course we acted like New York Males. We went for the walls of the elevator, leaving her to stand in the middle, instantly surrounding her. I bet you didn't know that that was a smooth ghetto move did you? So smooth women don't even know it until it's too late. She was going to the top floor, every other person getting off before, including me. I looked at her eyes. They were incredible. Downright dreamy. That's what I like in a woman, good eyes. My stop came and I stepped out and down the hall to the space pod. I was still upset that I didn't have that SPAM sandwich for dinner so, I made Cheese rice instead, thinking that that shit with hot sauce would hit the ball out of the park.

It was like stuffing hot concrete into my mouth. Yeah, cheese and rice and hot sauce. One bowl was enough for me. I had to take a pause with that. Catch my fucking breath. A big assed brick settled into the pit of my stomach. I went behind my computer and got online. But in a matter of a few hours I was hungry again. That big ass-plug moved on in my bloody system. I thought to get another plate...I had more cheese rice in the pot. I nixed that idea, and when putting the pot into the refrigerator I brushed my hand against the most unlikeliest pair for me. Cheese and bagels. Hey, why not. It appears that cheese will be a staple for me this week, so why the Hell not? I take out the packages, drop everything in a plate, sprinkle hot sauce on everything liberally and then stick it in the microwave for a minute.

What came out was soft, hot, sticky, spicy bagel, that tasted pretty nifty. I couldn't complain about this one. I crawl into bed and snuggle with myself. It's bedtime again with a full stomach.

Hobobob