Juicy Juice: Drink Of The Sleep Deprived
Or
Did She Just Say Anus?

Maybe I take my dead Presidents’ birthdays seriously, ok?
I cut down a cherry tree Monday. I didn’t even have to use an axe, I just flashed my pearly, bloody, Crest-y whites at the tree and it cut itself down, baby. What? I don’t know.
The latest Deathstrips symptoms include, but are not limited to, itchy toes, an incomprehensible admiration for Aaron Neville’s mole, loss of sense of smell and taste, and random profuse bleeding. Of the mouth. And ANUS. No, I kid. But really I’m not in the position to rule anything out yet, especially since I have not slept in days and today I broke down in tears when I couldn’t find a parking spot outside Starbucks, which had I actually found would have been pointless anyway since I am unable to drink coffee or any fluid other than my own (or David Schwimmer’s) saliva since my stomach swallowed itself after Day 3 of Crest’s 7 Day Plan to Rid Me of My Pesky Internal Organs. Help me.
No, don’t bother. I’m sure this is one of those Character Building Experiences I will look back on later fondly and did I mention the cherry tree cutting?

Anyway. While we’re on the subject of bodily fluids, you should know my family is breeding like rabid bunnies who heard Glenn Close was coming to town, and I feel the need to warn you because this can only mean they will run out of space in HELL soon and some of you might end up doomed to roam the floors of Target with Oprah Winfrey, Daisy Fuentes, and the cast of Saved By The Bell for all eternity. Yes. It is that bad.
Brothers #1 and #3 have both knocked up their wives, and brother #2 probably would have knocked up all of the ladies in his How Not To Drive Drunk class by now if not for the tragic accident involving brother #1 hitting him in the “berries” with his little league bat so many years ago, rendering him sterile (Seriously. You can’t make this stuff up). Hello? We are not a family that should be spreading our crazy seed.
Last weekend was my nephew’s 4th Birthday party and none of his little preschool friends showed up. After countless “Where my friends are?” and my brother and sister-in-law’s pathetic attempts to hide the truth by saying they were all sick (Ha! Like that time your prom date was “sick” and didn’t show up to pick you up and later when you convinced your mom to be your date you saw him slow dancing with that slut Mindy to “Open Arms” by Journey), I knew I had to tell my nephew the truth, that his little friends’ parents feared our family would teach their innocent children about Juicy Juice enemas and have them snorting lines of coke off the Buzz Lightyear paper tablecloth before playing a rousing game of Pin the Tail on Jonbenet Ramsey. Which is exactly what we did at my 4th birthday party! Or no, we didn't. But still. The truth is out there. And it hurts.

Yeah, not sleeping is bad, bad, bad.