Dear God,

Yesterday, I had bad cramps, so I decided to go to the hospital to get some Vicodin. On my way there, my clutch went out. I was only about half mile away so I walked to the hospital. It was one of the only sunny days in Portland, thank god! Of course I was wearing jeans because I expected the doctor's office to be cold. I had no idea that I would be trucking through the ghetto in the heat to get to the hospital. Anyways, I finally got to the hospital. I went in to see the doctor and told her I needed Vicodin. She felt my stomach and told me that I needed an ultra-sound because my pelvis was hard. I was like, look bitch, i don't give a fuck, just give me some pills! She then said that I might need surgery and might not be able to have kids. I was like, who cares- pills!! pills!! Then she informed me that Vicodin was a narcotic. Then I informed her that she is a narc. So she gave me 5 Vicodin and I was on my way. I rolled back in the heat, through the ghetto, to my broken down truck. My truck was parked right next door to one of those motels where crackheads & hookers live and chill. It was quit the spectacle. It gave me a lot to think about while I sat in the sun waiting for 2 hours for AAA to come and pick my ass up. Finally, AAA dude, DJ came and saved me from a newly formed crack addiction. He brought me back to my house where I proceeded to cry and asked God, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS??!!