Katie Schwartz

What's going to happen when I have my face-to-face with God? Is he going to ask me if I was a liar, a thief and a cheat? If lying tops his, “What not to do list”, I’m fucked! I’m queen of the yarn. What I hear and what you say will never find common ground, regardless of how many times you ask me to repeat it. A story just isn’t a story without a dash of embellishment and a pinch of Katie. As for cheating, I ask, “What really constitutes cheating?” Semantics. Nicely done, Schwartz. Like God never saw that one coming. I would never take credit for something I didn’t do. Though, I did cheat on a few tests in high school, but just the ones I couldn’t be asked to study for. I’ve never done anything spiteful, or hurtful. Oops, there I go lying again. There was that pesky divorce in 99’. But, hey, that doesn’t count. The relationship was so dead it was petrified and he couldn’t leave well enough alone. I think stealing is a gray area. Does one cappuccino and 20 packets of sugar in the ra...

He has had four heart attacks, quadruple bypass surgery, two artery-clearing angioplasties and an operation to implant a special pacemaker in his chest. at least we now know the boy has one. how refreshing!

katie worries when she pees that a snake will swim through the pipes, plunge inside her pussy, pierce her womb and kill her. katie is petrified of dying naked without shoes on. there's more.... when katie stops sneezing her fucking head off, she'll be back.

I was walking across the street this afternoon not paying attention because what’s the fun in that; when someone tripped me with a cane. Yeah. A cane. So I says, “HEY!” Turns out he was blind. Severely. To appease his guilt he asked me if I would have coffee with him. To appease my guilt, I agreed. There we sat at buckeys. Me and blind boy. Me challenging his blindness by unbuttoning my blouse a little more. Ducking and weaving; knowing I was soooo close to calling his blind bluff. Him complimenting my voice and intellect. Like that’s enough. Hmm... I thought. No mention of my mini-skirt, my 3 inch heels, my fabulous legs or long black tresses, and what about my ravenous brown eyes? What are they? Chopped liver! I’m sorry but I just can’t date someone who is incapable of appreciating when I take time out of my day to give a jhush and make myself fuckable.

"Discover the rich history of menstruation" Does it make me an ungrateful bitch if I fail to appreciate that in 85 years we have progressed from sanitary aprons to menstrual pads ? I keep telling myself with the advent of plugs, oh-baby-we’ve-come-a-long-way; but I don’t think so. If men retained enough water to cure a drought one week out of every month and had diabolic salt, NO sweet, NO salt, NO sweet, cravings. Followed by a week of vice gripping cramps, a cock dripping in blood and all other menstrual trimmings; our mud-fuckeree-moon cycles would last a whopping 5 minutes. (ps) MUM (Museum of Menstruation) was created by a MAN.