Petunia Page #3

OK, but I would like to get

something off my chest.

Go ahead.

Hello, everyone.

My name is Tony, and I am a sex addict.

Hi, Tony.

I have a taste for the classics.

1920s flapper porn, '50s housewives

with straight up vacuums.

Anything that's '60s Danish hardcore.

It's the addiction, Tony.

It's OK.

We've all been there.

Anyone else?

I will.

Ah.

Please, share with us.

Hi. I'm Natasha,

and I am a sex addict.

Hi, Natasha.

I love men, women, sex of all kinds.

Back door.

Front door.

Side door.

Anywhere.

Anytime.

Any place.

With anyone.

Oh, yeah.

Oh, my God.

Oh, I love you.

Ah.

...Code six.

125 North Vanderbilt, 52.

- Hey.

- Hi.

Whoa!

Seriously?

I wanted to do that.

I can't.

I don't do sex.

Oh, come on.

It's not that hard.

No.

Oh...

It's the outfit.

I can't resist.

You're drunk, huh?

Obvious?

Sorry.

What's that noise?

Is someone in there with you?

I should probably tell you this...

I listen to police scanners

from various US cities.

Overshare.

Are you on the run?

- No.

- Oh.

It's purely for entertainment purposes.

Plus, when they catch a perp,

I look them up on Facebook.

Do you?

You want some back up?

You don't need

Sex Addicts Anonymous, Adrian.

No, that's the perk of

having me for a mother.

Mom, I don't want to talk to you about

my addiction to sex.

It's odd.

It's only odd if you think it's odd.

Shh!

I need a change.

You're getting older, honey.

I'd rather be dead than old.

- Where's the acetone?

- Shh, stop it!

Someone is being rude here, honey.

I'm very sorry.

All right, Ad... Shh!

What you need to do is to

meet a nice, unattractive girl.

Someone with a killer personality?

Yeah, exactly.

- Acetone.

- Shh. Shut up!

I'm sorry, honey.

OK, listen.

Remember.

Nice.

Not attractive.

You can even go plump.

I can handle it.

You're here early.

Hey, Charlie, you got to do me a favor.

I'd love nothing more.

I can't have them in my apartment anymore.

I got more in the cab downstairs.

No offense, but I don't want a bunch

of random vagina chilling in my apartment.

This is art, Charlie.

I am not a storage facility.

Charlie...

I've got this problem.

We all have problems.

No, really.

I think I'm a sex addict.

And I think that's transferring

to a love addict.

Have you been talking to Mom?

It's just now whenever I, um...

Yes.

I say, I love you.

It's like love Tourettes or something.

Wow.

You got to help me get away

from all this vagina, Charlie.

You have been talking to Mom!

Just a little, OK?

All the masterful Picasso's

in the world are gone.

And I get my brother's

acrylic vagina paintings.

Please.

Oh, all right.

Hey, who's in there?

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