Martha's out again. For how long, who knows, but for now she's back in Westchester, or where ever the fuck her house is, chillin' with her chickens and eating lemons and trying not to be annoyed with her ankle-tracer thingy. After months of negotiation (ok, ten minutes) she has agreed to come back to SS@S for another interview. Let's face it, she's desperate for the press.
Editor's note: The only stipulation is we've agreed not to bring up the lawsuit. I'm sure we'll lose anyway-
Sex- yeah, it's Martha F. Stewart, for crissake! She's got lawyers out the yin-yang
Editor- Can I continue?
Sex- Sure. Go ahead, Ed.
Editor- But the last laugh is on her. We are a non-profit with no money and no reputation to speak of.
Sex - Yeah, what's she gonna do? Shut down our blog?
Sex: Good to have you back on Sex Scenes, Ms Stewart.
Martha: I'm sorry I'm out of breath, but I must keep scrubbing my cabinets and baseboards as we speak.
Sex: Wasn't the house kept clean while you were, uh... gone?
Martha: In prison, you mean? You can say it. I was in prison. I can admit it. I'm not ashamed.
Sex: Um, Ok. So wasn't it kept clean while you were in the big house getting ass-raped by a burly she-bitch named Charqueil?
Martha: I don't know anybody named Charqueil...
Sex: Well, it's all semantics anyway, right?
Martha: er... and I don't think women get "ass-raped" in prison. That doesn't even make sense...
Sex: Well, you would be in a position to know, huh? So anyway, wasn't the house kept clean?
Martha: My staff is the best, but my standards are quite high.
Sex: I guess I thought you might let some of that go since you had alternative living arrangements recently.
Martha: Prison. Say it. Prison.
Sex: I'm sorry, but after all the prison porn I've seen, it's just hard to imagine you in there.
Martha: Prison isn't anything like those movies.
Sex: Aha, so you're admitting to watching porn? Can I have a quote to sell to USA Today?
Martha: No, that's not what I'm saying...
Sex: I understand that you can leave the house.
Martha: Up to forty-eight hours a week. I'm using the time to film my new show, the Apprentice.
Sex: That seems like a funny way to blow through that time. I'd be at the freakin' bars showin' off my new ankle-wear and svelte figure.
Martha: Well, I did lose weight in prison.
Sex: Good for you. Anyway, I guess I figured you'd just put a boardroom in the basement or something, and think up a better way to spend your two days.
Martha: We've had to be pretty clever with the filming... but of course I can't let out too many secrets about it. You'll see.
Sex: Uh, actually, no I won't. I can't stand that reality-tv shit. So what else will you do, besides work?
Martha: The gardens need cleaning and planting, and the chickens have quit laying. I've got my work cut out around here. And I really want to see my friends and family. I plan on lots of dinner parties.
Sex: Oh great. I'll be waiting for my invitation.
Martha: I don't even know you.
Sex: We know each other. We chatted that time I was trying to make swedish pancakes.
Martha: You were using a box mix. Just add water. I never could figure out why you were calling me, or why you were using a box mix. Really, Sex. You could do better for yourself.
Sex: Well, I like to keep my life simple.
Martha: I plan on enjoying a more simple life as well.
Sex: Oh reeeeally? You enjoying your lemons?
Martha: What did you say?
Sex: Oh nothing.
Martha: No. What did you say to me?
Sex: I just wondered how you were enjoying your lemons? You know, the ones that were picked an hour before your release and flown from Florida by private jet to a stretch Hummer and then driven to your house? The lemons which were timed to arrive ten minutes before you did, so that you could have lemon in your freakin' tea? Is that what you meant by the simple life?
Martha: How did you know about that?
Sex: Hey, my sources are anonymous. I'm obligated to protect them. I have my journalistic integrity to think of.
Martha: Journalistic integrity? You write a blog for pete's sake.
Sex: Hey, don't bring Peter into this.
Martha: It's an expression, not a real person.
Sex: Yeah, riiiight, like Pete isn't real. Everybody knows who he is. It isn't every guy who looks like Jim Morrison. If you hadn't decided to swing "that way" you'd be all over him too. But prison will do that to you, I guess. The porn isn't so far off, after all. Lots of girl-on-girl and girl-on-girl-guard, eh?
Martha: This interview is over. Don't call me again.
Sex: But we're still on for lunch before court, right?
Martha: You aren't supposed to bring that up.
Sex: Bring what up?
Martha: How I'm suing your pretty little ass for libel and slander.
Sex: Oh, yeah, that.
Martha: You aren't supposed to talk about it.
Sex: I'm not. You are. I didn't say slander and libel.
Martha: I think we're through here.
Sex: But you like my ass though, right? Right? Martha?
Oh well. But you heard it here first. Martha likes my ass. Now where did I leave that number to the Enquirer editor?