Day 2

Day 2: Started my Master Cleanse. Nothing but the lemonade for the next forty days, or until the police are called because I yelled at the garbage man for yet again, dropping my cans and scattering my ripped bags of trash for all to see. I do tend to get a little crabby when cleansing…errrr…starving to death. I have about an hour before I am bound to my ceramic throne for at least two hours, to expel and toot out, all of the ickys trapped in my ten mile colon. Off to the gas station for a pack of smokes, before the loosey-goosies start. I don’t look great. My sweats match, and my hair still looks cute, but by no means, am I the knock out I was yesterday. Got the second target in my sights. A tall, good looking guy, who looked to be about ten years my junior. Just as yesterday, I waited for him outside; but this time, with my car hood raised. For him I would dumb it up. “Excuse me, can you show me where to add the window-washer stuff?” With chest puffed out, he eagerly walked over to me, and gave me a run down on my engine, and where to put in all sorts of different fluids. After a few winks, and compliments on knowing his way around an engine, he introduced himself as Richard, an autoworker. “No wonder you’re so smart.” After ten minutes of holding on to his every word, Richard asked me if he could call me. I gave Richard my number, and told him to could call me at 3:00 pm. Once home, and barely making it to the bathroom, I decided to use my temporary captivity to give Peter a jingle. In between the powerhouse of wet farts, I dialed the number. “Hello, this is Elizabeth. Is this Peter?” Terry began by telling me that he waited for me to call last night, and was glad I did not forget about him. As to disguise the trumpeting flatulence storm, I rattled a nearby tampon box, and explained I was in traffic, right in front of a big construction site. I told him I would call later, and bid him a good day. I could tell that he wanted to talk, but I have to move slowly. Give him something to sit and wait for. I let him know he was on my mind, but it was brief, and very sanitary. Thankfully, I ended the call within a minute, because after that it was all bad. Now remember rule #5. Always sexy. Peter heard the voice of a confidant woman on the go, not the bloated blob that I was. So far so good.

I am not going to answer any calls from now until 3 pm. If Richard doesn’t call as instructed, I will not answer any calls after. I will enforce the rules of following mine.

Off to the treadmill…need to burn off my pent up frustration.