Katie Schwartz

Menses just commenced. It's 1:14 AM. I was asleep. That felt good. At 12:24, I popped up. I think I'm awake, maybe awakeish is more accurate. I'm always surprised when those handy-soapy-foamy-bottles run out of soap. For some lame ass reason, it never occurs to me that they ever will. They feel so lifetime supply , even though the bottles aren't more than 8 inches tall. Similarly, when I flip on a light switch and the light flickers to its death, I think "Now what?" Duh, schmuckette, you change the fucking light bulb . Intellectually, I know this, yet for some odd reason, it never comes to mind. In fact, a few years ago, my mother walked into my house and said, "Why aren't the lights working?" I said "I don't know, I flick the switch and they don't work." After a fit of uproarious laughter, she said, "Would it kill you to change the light bulb?” Hmmm. "No", I shamefully responded. I wonder why... it is that I hav...

Continuing the Am I the fucktard or are they, series, I'd like to tell you about a banking experience from hell today. The bank in question hasn't peeled yet from peer pressure, and so I opened an account with them. Not with any degree of confidence, more out of necessity. Hours into our courtship, they attached someone else's $10,000 platinum credit card debt to my account -- accidentally -- or so they'd like me to think. It all felt so shamefully My Big Redneck Wedding. I called customer service and said, "Hey, I don't have a credit card with youse, much less credit card debt, so can you please remove this from my account." The response from the I-hate-my-fucking-job-because-I'm-underpaid-and-have-zero-benefits employee was "Hmm. Your name is Katie Schwartz, right?" "Yes, it is," I said. "Hmmm... I guess there's another Katie Schwartz, or are you just trying to get out of paying your credit card debt?" Har, har, ha...

This week started out curiously , not bad, not good, more like beige . I can live with beige, it's practical, efficient and sensible. Not all weeks are going to be fabulous , and, hi, I'm not a fucktard, I'll take beige over horrific any day . Right? Right. Sadly, the last few days of my beigey little week morphed, hard . Kind of like being tossed into the film "My Private Idaho" without the, but-the-seizures-feel-so-good , moments, and the exquisite, albeit creepy , " Reqium for a Dream", dream sequences. I was forced into wearing a, hello-clarice-muzzle and porn-ball-gag, so I wouldn't roar, "FUCK-YOU-FUCK-THIS-FUCK-EVERYTHING." " SUCK-MY-MOTHAH'-FUCKIN-DICK." I'm a peenqueen, not a peenbasher, this we can awwwwl agree on, yes? Great. I need five minutes, please, to vent about one very specific peen, please, thank you. Peenestros e-stalked me twice. Three minutes later because I hadn't yet received or responde...

On Friday, I was so fuckin’ angry I wished I had a penis. No, I don’t have penis envy. Friday, though. Friday, I wanted a penis, so I could say “SUCK MY MOTHAH’ FUCKIN’ DICK”, to everyone. I wanted to march myself out into the world in groin clutching, crotch enhancing man jeans, grabbing my dick at the speed of light, screaming at the top of my lungs. That’s how I angry I was. If I could’ve thrown every piece of glass and ceramic I own against the wall so hard that I would’ve felt the reverberating debris inside my womb, I would’ve. I wanted to watch it all crumble into a gazillion little pieces onto the floor. I don’t think I could’ve screamed as loudly as I wanted to, but I sure as shit wanted to try. The health care system in this country isn’t fucked up, it’s a diseaseapalooza. Doctor’s secretary, we’ll call her Spawn of Satan says, “Take this new medication. If you have side-effects and feel sick, call.” Katie asks, “What side-effects should I look for? Can you describe what feel...

hot damn, what a weekend. what-a-weekend. I learned a lot. wrote a lot. cried a lot. shut the fuck up. cunts with moxie have feelings, donchya know. vulnerability is just not my thing. it's become a recent bedfellow. perhaps we'll one day even learn to live side-by-side. I'm not holding my breath either. in the end, I feel good. real good and that's a beautiful thing. my neighbor changed her curtains. this is of great concern to me. does she think I'm peeking into her bedroom? I am, but not intentionally. I can't see in anyway. I just tend to stare out my window when I'm thinking. plus, her curtains are never open, so what's with the nazi panel she's cooked up?!?!?! whatev. she's a freak. she says she only opens her windows during the summer. HI. ONE WINDOW DOES NOT AN OPEN HOUSE OF WINDOWS MAKE, COOKIE. look my way. every window is open. why? because I'm a fresh air whore all year round. I know and appreciate the meaning of fresh air. she...