My Personal Hell

In my personal hell, I have Gwyneth Paltrow in my vagina instead of teeth.

In my personal hell, I can only find gynecologists that are elderly and male, or Gwyneth Paltrow armed with nothing but a jade egg and gluten-induced mania. All of her treatments involve her ramming the jade egg into me while screaming, "WELLNESS!"

In my personal hell, I would be liquified and shot directly into a Jenner's or a Kardashian's ass, forced to spend all of eternity living an unnatural, made-for-TV lie. I, the Ass, am deemed perpetually relevant because of the uncanny ability of extremely wealthy people to turn A Lot of Fucking Money into Even More Fucking Money and then parlay that into Ass and Fame.

In my personal hell, I am a midwestern mother who invests her family's entire savings into Multi-Level Marketing schemes, bankrupting us. I later have to forgo Rae Dunn kitchenware and tithes to the megachurch I belong to in order to make ends meet. My kitchen is decorated in a "rustic French country" style. I have a faded cheetah print tattoo on my abdomen that I have been trying to pass off as clouds since my last pregnancy in 2016. I have a son named something like Gunn Rhyts.

In my personal hell, I am a pregnant teen in a square state, unable to get an abortion, being punished for the failures of both systems and adults that made this possible.

In my personal hell Mark Zuckerberg and the other visionary sociopaths at Facebook write an image recognition algorithm that can't discern between pictures of my bare white ass and a blobfish, the palest, clammiest monster of the sea. It doesn't matter because he uses it to blackball Facebook and IG posts by both of us (the blobfish is also staunchly pro-democracy and anti-techno-totalitarian, and my ass is always out in my political posts).

In my personal hell, Noam Chomsky has to read anything I've ever written about dicks or my ass out loud to audiences at his speaking engagements. This is also, incidentally, Noam Chomsky's hell.

In my personal hell, I have to read anything I have ever written about dicks or my own ass out loud to my father. This is also, you guessed it, HIS personal hell. He and Noam Chomsky have a suicide pact to kill each other if they hear the phrase "...dick in my ass…" in any context. But you can't kill yourselves in hell, sillies! It's endless, not unlike my thoughts about dicks and various asses.

In my personal hell, I work as a driver for Amazon and to make extra money, I let Jeff Bezos purchase my piss bottles for legally undisclosed purposes. Is he into piss play? Is he cataloging his employees' urine samples so he can discover the hormone that makes them pro-union? Does he get a high from drinking piss with high levels of the stress hormone cortisol, much like a cat eating the brain of a dying mouse to get high?

Yes!