Debbie Blog: Let me introduce myself…

Ever since I appeared in Swederado (if you haven’t seen it, what the hell is wrong with you?!), brodiemash has been on my ass about writing for his damn blog. Well guess what? I had SHIT to do, okay! You think it’s easy getting through the holiday season when you’re a blow-up doll? I need cash money to support my new superstar lifestyle, thanks to the success of the swede, and my talent, of course – parties, cars, clothes ‘n shit – everybody wants a piece of Debbie’s pie!

So what’s my blog supposed to be about?

Plain and simple, my blog’s gonna be about what I want it to be about, suckas. Unless you’re throwin Benjamins my way, you can’t tell me what to do.

If I want to talk about books, I’m gonna talk about books. If I want to talk about why my mouth is open all the time, or why the sky is blue (gases and particles in the air act as prisms, scattering the shorter, choppier blue light waves more than the others … What? Just because I’m a piece of plastic, you think I don’t know that shit?) I’m gonna do it.

Home sweet home … sort of …

My new found popularity has provided me with several opportunities to travel lately, and I’m talking about more than just to the backseat of some drunk bastard’s car on Motel Drive. I’m talking about airports, hotels and movie star Debbie.

And because I’ve spent so much time in airports over the last few months, bumping into morons and getting strip-searched and not paid for it, for your entertainment, I’ve compiled a list of thoughts that continually circle through my head when I’m traveling:

• 1. Why do so many people smell like shit? And more importantly, do they think I smell like shit?
• 2. Why do so many people get dressed up to sit in tiny-ass airplane seats? Who the hell are they trying to impress? If you catch me wearing stiletto boots in an airport, I’ll gladly take one off and let you kick me in the ass with it.
• 3. Why should I have to pay two fucking dollars for a drink of water? That’s like charging people to breathe air! Fuck that … I’ll stick my face in the bathroom faucet! Two dollars … please.
• 4. Why do people talk about personal shit on their cell phones like I’m not gonna perk my plastic little ears up and hang on to every word they’re saying? Of course I want to know if some bitch I don’t know in Memphis is cheating on her husband! And so do you, so don’t judge!
• 5. Why are so many airport employees incompetent? What is so FUCKING difficult about:
  “Can I substitute chips for black beans?”
  “You mean you don’t want black beans?”
  “MOTHER FUCKER! WHAT DID I JUST SAY??”
• 6. Why aren’t people afraid of germs? (When you’re in my line of work you can never take too many precautions.) The last time I flew I sat next to some freak who was resting his face on the seat in front of him. That seat, and any airplane seat for that matter, is probably a cesspool of the most vile germs found on the planet – from flu to fecal to genital (someone once told me the average person comes into contact with 16 penises a day … that’s me on a slow day, but I’m not average) – so don’t blame me when your face catches an STD and rots off, sick bastard.
• 7. Why are people so fucking rude? My space is my space. I paid for it, so I would appreciate it if you kept your arm on your table and your leg in your seat area. Also, if you hit me with your carry-on, the polite thing to say is “Excuse me,” or “I’m sorry.” Two words, very effective. Or, even better, watch what you’re fucking doing! Then maybe my arm wouldn’t hurt!
• 8. And always, home sweet home … sort of (we are talking about the back of brodiemash’s car). It’s good to be in Fresno …