Monday, February 19, 2018

LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE: the stupid bowl chronicles pt. 3

if yer lost where this saturday nite special presentation is headed kittens...
 perhaps you might wanna start yer journey here...

and now the excruciate'n sensationalized concussional finale to the:
edition of...
LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE: the stupid bowl chronicles
day 4 i received a text bright and early that morn'n that i would basically be
 whored out fer the entire day to ONE client only (which i was also told in train'n this is what i wanted cuz that meant B-I-G B-U-C-K-S by the end of the nite)
just like the day before...i arrived 15 minutes early but this time by 11:30 in the am hours...and said pimp showed up (with 2 kids...that i never gave any candy to...to get them inside the vehicle...just FYI) roughly 7 minutes past the scheduled pick-up...i could work much better with this tardiness of course since it was a bright and sunny morn'n...and i no longer felt like i would be traipse'n thru the tundra on HOTH
google wasn't much help to me as i couldn't find much on my new client...but what i surmised from the lil bit of Angela Lansbury snoop'n that i stumbled across...was that this walk'n AARP recipient...known as Stuart Posnock...must'a been some sorta hoity toity CEO hotshot or some shit like that out west...cuz he didn't reek of any sorta NFL stuffy stiffer status quo at all (whew!)
1st stop would be ice fish'n on beautiful Lake Minnetonka...fer roughly 4 hrs...though i packed a lunch...i should'a never washed it down with a red bull so quickly...cuz that runs thru me like delicious diuretic
(if ya catch my drift...and not my draft)
stop 2 was off to the Mall of Hysteria fer a quickie...but trust me outta towners...it ain't ALL that!...you take ANY mall and multiply it by 4...and all yer gonna end up with is a gigantic petri dish of pink eye and Sodom and Gomorrah runway models
by nite fall...it was time to pick up the wifey and 3 more passengers fer dinner at Bar La Grassa...who i could'a swore was the equivalent to an over priced Anna Nicole knock-off...she had more plastic in her than a tupperware party at Our Sodomystic Sisters of Perpetual Petulance church bizarre...that kept referr'n to my client as "daddy"...which...of course we all know what that means...don't' we kittens?...if she lifts her heels to the heavens by nitefall...she'll gett'n a new mink in the morn'n
catch my drift?

afterwards it was a mad dash back to the LuMinn hotel fer a quickie...
ummmm...i mean costume change...then fly like the wings of a maxi pad...with his eldest daughter off to the Rolling Stone party at international market square...where the crème de la crème's collided with the crème de la femme's fer a nite of dance'n and prance'n...and if they had the remembered their roofie...perhaps a lil romance'n in the boys room...
luckily my phone was charged up enough...
so i could hunt fer some bottom of the barrel Larry Darryl and/or Darryl within walk'n distance while i waited...why not! 
my pleasantly delightful and courtesy guests were ready to call it quits
 30 minutes to midnite...so i scurried them off before their stage couch turned back into a problematic pumpkin...and from the looks of things...they were very ready to scamper back to their beds...while visions of stock markets and security investments danced in their heads...but not before ask'n me if i would honor their request to be their driver AGAIN the follow'n day...SOOOO...not that i was look'n fer a hand out or anything
BUTT...i was...
i figered since i had clocked in and was cater'n to their colons fer 12 full hours...that i should be rewarded a tiny queen's ransom...handsomely
BUTT...
all i got was another fuck'n chance at catch'n the flu...via the ol' hand system once again
hmmm...i hadda think...what're my chances that maybe...just  M-A-Y-B-E...that they were gonna tip me out after the follow'n day?
 well...after careful consideration...i of course had to graciously and respectfully decline their request
and hoped that his wife's walk'n charge card's botoxed mug and her injected beyond belief pole hole flapper would explode like the death star at 30,000 feet...while he would inherit a prolapsed anal entrance that would require a bungee chord to keep it from scrape'n on the damn sidewalk

even though i like pina colada's...i didn't feel like gett'n caught in the rain...
so i visited my midnite at the oasis and called it a day...and realized that the next day was day #3 of actual drive'n (even though it was already day 4)...and 3 is my lucky number...so here's hope'n huh

before i shut my cornea's i heard a ding on my cell inform'n me of not 1
BUTT 2 clients 
my first was Peter somethin' who was president of the Seattle Seahawks i speculated from skimm'n quickly thru his google bio...but since i wanted nothin' to do with our current #45...he was unfortunately just guilty by
association...though client number 2 on the other hand made me feel like i was move'n on up...to the top...to that delux apartment in the skyyyyy!
cuz it was none other than hot chocolate himself...DEION SANDERS...and even though i had heard
of him thru the grapevine from time to time...
i was totally Alicia Silverstone about him... but he was beyond my sexpectations when he greeted me at the door and gave me a firm handshake & asked to sit in the front seat (i said "please...let me get that for you")
i turned the radio on...SADE "smooth operator" i think it was...and lemme tell you...there was no need to ask...as i turned up the heat on his seat...that turned the conversation into a 360 as he rested his massive palm on my delicately chilled patella...and as our front seats slowly faded downward to the back seats...
the natives inside my head were beat'n their drums to the "rhythm is gonna get you" by GLORIA ESTEFAN and the MIAMI SOUND MACHINE...then all of a sudden i felt the essence of a young SANDRA BERNHARD encapsulate'n my aura...
"i knew then and there i wanted him...i wanted him inside me like i've never wanted anyone before...but all of a sudden i said STOP!...do you have any rubbers? would you mind putt'n one on? while you're at it...make it 2!...and i would feel just a little bit better if you would apply some spermicidal jams and jellies to the area!"
(insert record scratch here)

wait'a cotton pick'n minute here kittens...did i just just get whacked...
in the head by a fly'n window pane try'na runaway from the twisted farm help cuz they tried to poke me in my pinafore?...uh huh...i don't think so....I FUCK'N QUIT!...
cuz i was not about to spend one more wasted minute in suspended animation...try'na to figer out if i MAY or MAY NOT get more than a handshake...or even get one AT ALL fer that matter!!! i don't care how much of a hot chocolatey...finely dressed brutha he was...
i'm thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...i don't have to put up with this shit!...i will name you and shame you...just to save some other mobile monkey from have'n to waste their time...when they can make more work'n the streets in the sheets

i dropped of my keys and picked up my dignity 3 days before the end of...
my scheduled contract...and in the end...i never did get it in mine...or the 1000's of promised benjamins neither...all i really got outta this whole damn experience were the bragg'n rights of say'n i was the one who rejected the right to service DEION SANDERS and this lil bitty memento of how much i will ALWAYS loathe sporting events from this day forward...so let me start the bidd'n at $1000...do i hear 2?

someday just maybe it'll make it's way into a lifetime movie of the week...
starr'n MARKIE POST as the down & almost out of her mind unintentionally internationally perform'n illusionist of her own universe...just try'na claw her way to a top...even though she was never really a bottom!

now get off my dress!

ps...since we're on the subject of stupid bowl...can we talk about that half time show fer a minute?...though i luved me some JT...(back in the day)...i needed a morphine drip to get even halfway thru his "performance"
(hi...it's N'SYNC on the line...lemme patch em thru to you...pronto!)

ppss...i seriously wanted someone to throw...
PRINCE's rott'n corpse up on stage 3 minutes into JT's mylanta moment
(the only redeemable moment was to see PRINCE's symbol blanket the downtown of the Minne-Apple

PPPSSS...it still DOES NOT BEAT...
thee all time greatest halftime performances of ALL TIME by THE QUEEN
that still gives me the chills today when i watch it!

Monday, February 12, 2018

LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE: the stupid bowl chronicles pt. 2

last week on BLOSSUM...Joey learned all about the "tough love" of pegg'n
but get a ticket to the catch up train kittens...cuz this blog ain't about that twisted television series about the morally deprived sexual explorations of these curiously callous pimple paraders

in case ya missed last week's episode...check it out here....and NOW
on with the dramatics of...
 LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE: the stupid bowl chronicles

by the time dawn had come a knock'n on my window...i had gotten up...
alot earlier than normal...well only cuz the mayor of desperadoville was bang'n on my bedroom blinds look'n fer a free hand out...but i was in no mood fer a charity case this particular morn'n...i needed to keep my A double snakes from scrape'n on the sidewalk now that i am a few mere years away from knock'n on AARP's doors myself...so i bundle'd up in my best subtle work-out frock and headed off to jazzercise class

60 minutes would pass and i was finally planted back on my over stuffed
"battle scarred" cherry red couch...anxiously await'n fer my NFL cell to start blow'n up with pick-ups any minute...i was starve'n fer a Marvin...but i knew he was outta town til next week...and my hunger pains were stabb'n at my like a serial killer on a chopp'n spree so i opened up my frigid box to find a half eaten pan of cherry cheesecake give'n me the look of death and thought...eh...why not!...
of course the only proper thing that could pass the time with a half eaten pan of dried out cherry cheese cake give'n you those guilty feel'ns is a "GOLDEN GIRLS" marathon...so i hooked myself up to my metamucil drip and started to OD
tick tock tick tock tick tock...the morn'n went by
tick tock tick tock tick tock...the afternoon went by
TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK...
my trick of the nite said G-O-O-D B-Y-E!
the chauffeur company was lucky i owned all 8 seasons of "GOLDEN GIRLS" cuz i couldn't take it any more...
and blew my fuse by midnite and called it a nite!

by next morn'n day 3...8 am...i called the limo orifice once again to inquire
what the H-E-double hockey stix was actually goin on and when i would be gett'n any passenger or passengers to schlep around town...since it had been 2 days of no schlepp'n period...they finally informed me that i would be gett'n a text shortly...and in 15 minutes...it FINALLY showed up...who was it gonna be...PINK? JT?
ERNEST BORGNINE's corpse?
turns out it was some NFL hall of famer AENEAS WILLIAMS...i of course was completely oblivious to this person...so i contacted my good friends at google to find out exactly why i cared so much to pick this passenger up...turns out...just on looks alone...he was grrrrravy on my mashed potatoes!

pick up time wasn't until 16:45...but it was only 8:30 in the fuck'n morn'n...
so with my self diagnosed ADHD issues...i drove all over town search'n feverishly for a damn clock that had numbers above 12...and ya know what?...i couldn't find a damn one anywhere!...then i realized after chatt'n with my friends at google once again...that 16:45 was military time

as much as i needed a V8 with splashes of voli and extra olives by now
i knew it was time to get myself together...so i rinsed off quickly in the shower...splashed on my jean nate' after bath body splash...relooked over my itinerary fer the 100th time to see when and where i was pick'n up and dropp'n off Mr. Williams...which turned out to be at the Hilton hotel (where i used to work pre-unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe days)...so i knew i only had a mile or so to get to my destination...and bein' the girly squat that i am...i wanted to make sure to arrive 15 minutes early
(well cuz it was also written in the manifesto that way)

since i wasn't pick'n Mr. Williams up on the beaches of beautiful Waikiki...
i assumed he would be patiently wait'n for me in the lobby of the Hilton when i arrived exactly as planned...on my tauntaun...but lil to my surprise...he was not!...even though i arrived 15 minutes early...15 more minutes would pass until i decided to contact his contact person on the horn and wonder where the H-E-double hockey stix was Mr. Willaims plump A double snakes?...his PA assured me he would be down shortly...
i said..."ohhh A-L-R-I-G-H-T!"
tick tock tick tock tick tock...15 more minutes...
tick tock tick tock tick tock...15 MORE MINUTES?
TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK...WTF?
this hall of famer was quickly become'n a hall of lamer

F-I-N-A-L-L-Y an hour later...this very hot...but very nobody to me...
at this point...decided to grace my presence as i graciously opened the door for him...and turned up my A double snake holder to volcanic degrees to thaw out my now ice cubed balls...before i was ready to blow myself (and NO i'm not that talented) so off we headed out to SEVEN restaurant that was roughly about 8 blocks away...but unfortunately...NOW...and hour later than scheduled...we were stuck in SUPER BOWL rush hour bullshit...this of course was not MY FAULT!

after spend'n roughly only 10 minutes to go roughly only 2 blocks...we
both had had enough...but once i had finally gotten to turn the corner...i swore i had just pulled up to a check point in some dark Ukraine peninsula with a military humvee block'n traffic fer the throngs of knuckleheads that were mill'n about attend'n the Super Bowl experience on nicollet ave in downtown Minne-Apple...of course Mr. sex-on-a-stick...and slow as molasses in January...was become'n impatient all of a sudden and asked me fer directions cuz he was ready to jump ship and trot his perky antsy pants there on his very own
hmmm? do i just let him out and let him figer it out on his own?...5 more minutes would pass and we were finally allowed to proceed to our destination

after dropp'n off my passenger i was ordered (via my manifesto) to park
2 blocks away in the lot and await fer Mr. fancy pants pick-up text when he was ready to hit the hay...well of course...the bumble fuckery that was happen'n with the traffic cops that nite...i ended up in some park'n lot that cost me the cost of a non happy hour apple-tini...in the BIG APPLE...though i knew i would become compensated fer shell'n out to sit and wait fer 2.5 hrs until my passenger decided he had enough...it would be 3 weeks before i would see said apple-tini cost
(i was not too pleased to get this information)

as i drove the hot party pooper back to his hotel...i thought to myself...
i said self...look on the bright side...even though he made you wait an hr in frigid temperatures (but to be fair...i suppose he could'a been make'n the biggest meatloaf sacrifice known to man)...and another 2.5 in an unpaid for lot...it was an experience that i'll never ever get again probably in my lifetime...i was extremely profresh and completely attentive to his every command...so i figered this hall of famer was well take'n care of during his career and his time with me...and now...he would be more than happy to take care of MEEEEEEEEEE!

as i pulled up to the turnabout...in just mere seconds...i had gone from mild
 manicured vehicular slave...to jump'n into my absolutely stunned blouse...shocked culottes and pissed of pumps...only cuz this cheap ass (but very grrrrranimal) ball sack had just lepped outta the back seat before i even had a chance to open my door to open his...and just said "THANX"...fer a split second i completely understood where Kayne was come'n from that year with BECK...my pissed off pumps became cement blocks as i drudged thru the blister'n cold that even'n back to my shitbox
FUCKITY FUCK FUCKERY!

tune in next week fer the excruciate'n concussion of...
LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE: the stupid bowl chronicles

now get off my dress!