I had an exhausting weekend in the Antelope Valley aka Satan's Vagina and sweat out every ounce of moisture my body previously had accumulated. We went to the fair to see the Rural Olympics -- really, I can't make that up, even I'm not that good -- and the Demolition Derby. I had enough alcohol to dehydrate the plushest rainforests of the world. Seriously, I was so dried out, I was actually sweating sand. I skipped out on the macaroni and cheese sandwiches for fear of... like, dying.

I gotta say I am worn the fuck out. I've been driving to and from Ventura County almost everyday to babysit some toddlers, waking up early to babysit school-aged kids, helping with homework, going on job interviews all over LA, and sleeping in an 85 degree bedroom. I'm feeling really, really awful.

I stopped myself in the middle of shaving my legs today. "Why are you shaving in your shower right now? Does it make you feel better to be smooth and hairless? Are you going to a party and aim on getting laid? Do you simply hate the scratchy feeling of bare, prickly leg against bare, prickly leg while trying to sleep at night?"

Oh, me? I’m just worried about getting in a car accident that requires the ER to cut off my pants to tend to my many ghastly wounds and then in the middle of stitching up what is left of my right leg, they see stubble so stubbly it shocks them to their core. They immediately rip out my stitches and throw me outside, denying any and all emergency services.

“Come back when you’ve shaved," they’ll say.

“I’m bleeding internally," I’ll cough and die.

They rejoice and throw me away in the abortion pile.