Gas is High! Bring your Bottle to the Bar!

Okay so I read some story which stated that nationwide, the average cost of gas has now topped $4 dollars a gallon. I wish I could find some gas for $4! In my area, gas is $4.50. So, being broke and having tremendously poor work ethic, I have had to substantially alter my lifestyle to deal with the rising gas prices. Here are the 10 ways my life has changed since gas prices have risen:

1.Instead of traveling, I must drink at the dive bars down the street from my house. Sometimes, I just bring a bottle into the dive bar and start guzzling it at a table, to save money.
2.I can no longer afford to use air conditioning in my car, which means I show up to work and other places hot, sweaty and sticky.
3.I only drive to work and back. And, since my car loan is like 9 times my salary, I should just stay home and suck up air.
4.I seriously contemplated driving my bike from LA to Las Vegas.
5.I can no longer afford to get my plastic surgery, so I must continue to resort to socks.
6.I have decided to take the “how to be a gold digger” seminar at the local junior college.
7.I can only afford to eat top ramen. Occasionally I treat myself to bean burritos from Taco Hell.
8.Twice this month, I’ve had to push my car home.
9.I just bought gas off the black market the other day. Apparently it fell off the back of someone’s truck.
10.I have started to beg for loose change.

The night is still young...

Try a pickle juice margarita...

If you are a country hick, this is the shot for you...

For all you alcoholics out there, here's a recipe that you would enjoy! I know, it sounds a bit vile, but trust me, it tastes just like chicken.

Shot of tequila with a pickle juice chaser!

1 oz Tequila
1 oz pickle juice

*Note*
1. Don't be a fool. Use dill pickle juice, not sweet pickle juice.
2. This is an AT HOME shot. Don't go to some super trendy Hollywood night club, asking for tequila with a pickle juice chaser. They will tell you to take your ass back to Louisiana.

It's the weekend, you are a drunk, get your drink on!

I'd rather sleep with Flavor Flav than be forced to watch Living Lohan again

Okay, so since I was unable to post bail because I am broke and unemployed, I remain in jail. As part of my punishment, I was thrown into solitary confinement, because for obvious reasons pickles are harassed in general population. My magnificent living quarters contain a lumpy bed bugged ridden bed and an old black and white TV. Roaches, rats and blood covered the floor. As part of my punishment, the guard informed me that at 10:00pm my TV would automatically turn on and I would be forced to watch whatever show was on the channel. At first, this didn’t seem like any sort of punishment. Boy was I wrong.

So that night I heard the alarm, and like everyone in solitary confinement, I did as I was told. I walked over and turned on the TV. And what appeared? Living Lohan, the reality TV show which follows Lindsay Lohan’s mother and siblings around. At first I thought I was on the wrong channel or that the guards were joking when they said I was required to watch this show. But, as I listened I noticed that everyone else in solitary was tuned into the same channel. Unfortunately, I was on the right station.
I’ve had a few ulcers in my life and have slammed a few fingers into doors. I’ve even walked into a few mailboxes and a few people have tried to make me into relish a few times. But never have I ever been in as much pain as I was in while watching Living Lohan. And I wasn’t alone. The guy next to me, started to violently weep and the guy across from me started to bang his head into the door. And, the guy two doors down from me. Well, he must have been in jail long enough to see the beginning of the season and the terribleness of the show must have really worn him down because during a commercial break, he demanded the electric chair.

So what did the pickle do? Well, I requested that the TV be removed and after the officers laughed at me, they informed me that they could not do that. In fact, I would be forced to watch the show every day until I was released from jail. So I immediately called my lawyer and told him I would plead guilty to all charges, whether it be disorderly conduct or prostitution. I didn’t care. I wanted out. So, today I have a hearing to confess to a crime I didn’t commit, just to not be forced to watch another episode of this awful show.

Walking into a mail box can get you arrested!

As I was walking to the mental clinic yesterday, past a drunk guy puking on the sidewalk, I looked forward and noticed LAPD, slamming some guy into the dirty pavement. The cop was slapping handcuffs on the poor guy's wrists and digging his boot into the guy's dumbo ear. He was being arrested for jaywalking.

So, as I was observing the situation and not paying attention to where I was going, I walked right into a metal mailbox. I hit the pavement with a big giant thud. A bunch of people passing by started violently pointing and laughing at me and one threw a beer bottle at my fat head.

Then the same LA cop walked away from the guy and started to venture toward me. I thought he was going to see if I was okay. But, he ended up arresting me...for disturbing the peace and disorderly conduct.

And since there are no jails for fickle pickles, I am being held in a small jar, awaiting trial.

Life is hard

Diamond Vixen, Ivy League Porn Star, has entered the building

When I go out at night, I like to lie. It’s fun and it provides me with some amusement! So when I was out with my friend this weekend, I decided to be Diamond Vixen, an up and coming porn star from Van Nuys. I don’t have big boobs or bleach blonde hair. I’m short and look like a Superficklepickle. So in other words, I’m a bit funny looking. So, naturally I thought, that no one would believe my porn star act. Boy was I super duper wrong.

So, I decided to try my luck on these two military men. I thought since they were in the army, they could read through my bullshit. Obviously I was wrong. They wondered what channel I had been on. They asked where they could buy my videos. When I told them, my footage was on you tube, they got especially excited. Afterall, on you tube, they could see me for free.

They even asked if my friend was also a porn star. I told them that she was my apprentice and I was teaching her the ropes to be fickle pickle super duper porn star (but between me and you, she doesn’t have the talent to be a top notch porn star).

Then I tried my luck with this goofy bartender. I told him I wanted him to be one of the contestants in this new porn game show I was going to be starring in. He asked me how much the gig paid. I told him it paid minimum wage plus a keg of stale beer. He agreed! I guess, everyone is trying to find their way into Hollywood.

But the end of the night surpised me greatly. At my hotel, I asked the manager where I could get a tub of wipped cream, eight gross of cherries, some hot fudge and cookie crumbs, for a “video shoot” to be done in his hotel. He perked up a bit. He said he could drop off the items for free, if he could watch the filming and provide constructive feedback. I told him, it was a closed set, until he slipped me a fifty dollar bill. Then it became a closed set, with a budget of 50 dollars.
So, my question is, do I look like a porn star or is it enough that I just said I was a porn star. Are men that incredibly gullible? After all, I am just a Superficklepickle. Fickle pickles are usually not porn star. Fickle pickles don’t have jobs.

Sure Obama is sexy but my eyes are on Dick

Sure Obama is hot...in a classic pretty boy way but the Super Fickle Pickle has always liked the rugged unpredictable type. This is the reason why the Super Fickle Pickle has been setting her sights on Dick Cheney. He is like so hard core, kind of like a neighborhood gangster. Maybe I would call him OG Dick. I think its really hot how he can profit off other peoples misery. Maybe he could use some of that misery money and buy me a diamond necklace. From Africa of course.

If we were to get together, I'd move him into my swanky Hollywood apartment which has a breathtaking view of an overflowing dumpster, dead skunk and random piles of urine. We could take walks hand in hand together past the many homeless that live on the streets of Hollywood. On Saturdays we could even taunt them by walking by them while chopping on big juicy hamburgers. It would be a match made in heaven.

We could open up a business with our exploitation money and pay more people minimum wage so that they can't afford to live anywhere and thus live below the poverty line. We could even pay a select chosen few below the minimum wage just for shits and giggles and never offer them benefits or raises. We can offer creative incentives to entice high school students to drop out of school, such as a free hamburger, or free weed for a month. I have such plans for us. Let's leave all children behind.

The Super Fickle Pickle thinks that Dick Cheney is the man for her. She thinks he has some qualities that would make him the perfect companion. OG Dick, if you are out there, give the Pickle a call. For 5000 a night, we can have some fun.