Have you ever gotten really drunk when your man is out of town and you get on Amazon and order every book that Patricia Cornwell ever wrote, some of them twice, one of them
three times, and then you go to sleep and completely forget the frenzied, slack-jawed, ice-cube rattling Amazon fiesta until weeks later when the books start arriving? And just when you think you've gotten over how ridiculous you are you get
another yellow media mail envelope containing yet
another copy of "Cruel and Unusual"? And you wince? Again? And then wonder just how many fucking books that woman has written anyway?
And then you open the mailbox and there's a
Jenga in there? And now you know your Amazon situation is way,
way worse than you could have imagined, and you tell yourself that next time you're left alone you'll just pay-per-view some porn like usual and save yourself the fucking cash?
