Wednesday, March 21, 2018


so after all these years...i FINALLY made MY WAY to see the infamous...
st patty's river beautifully toxic green sludge flow like the the windy city...and ya know what?...a google search would'a sufficed my curiosity...and a cattle prod would'a got me thru the damn crowd alot quicker 
to meet my stalkers (that's the unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of her own universe in disgust...i mean disguise...on the far left limeade shirt)
fer some st patty's i had no access to someone's electronical world to write a full fledged newsworthy i decided to pull from the GET OF MY DRESS archives...and relive one of my many past excursions in OPRAHVILLE re-enjoy or enjoy fer the very first time :

who's yer DADDY?
well…i’ll tell ya one thing…it sure as shit ain’t ME!

i accimentally gave myself a home lobotomy this weekend...TWICE...
so i couldn't think str8 (and seriously... why the H-E-double hockey stix would i anyways?)...and like any television series that's comes to an end until the new season's episode is a i give you a piece of my relish in fer the 1st time or relive it all over again...enjoy!

i’ve come to accept this is now the category i fall under to 20 somethin’s out there in desperadoville…i was there myself at their age…the only difference was…i never expected my 40 somethin’ stalkers to foot the bill…or take them for granted...i’m not the type who expects nor likes the pamper’n process without reciprocate’n the pamper’n process at the
same time but...pamper’n really belongs on small whiny puke buckets...

and prune poachers...period!

so anywho’zll ding…i got a wild hair up my naturally smooth anal entrance a few weekends back and decided to text my library of contacts to see if anyone else was in the mood for a random road trip to Oprahville...
5 minutes later i got the only spontaneously intelligent response from my 20 somethin’ road tripper
 who text me “when shud i b redy?’

2 hours later we were off to the windy city…and my only purpose...
for said spontaneous trip was fer clown shoes...why not!

it was a joyful ride on the way down…since i hadn’t initiated a road trip on my own out of state since (hmmm…lemme think fer a minute)…ok *DING* times up…it was needed

i learned a new road trip game that totally beats the alphabet game…
whatever city was up ahead was the name of the reign’n queen of that town and there was a back story we made up of said queen within seconds of spott’n the sign…try it…you’ll love it!

fer example...Baraboo : mulatto queen who wears lots of feathers...
and thinks Beyonce should be president

Mauston : a queen in her advanced years with a limp leg and a glass eye
 who lives fer Shirley Bassey's's discovered a lump!

Waunakee: middle eastern indian queen with tourettes...
obsessed with old school Cher songs and enters any pageant she can to help pay fer her "trans"formation

after a lil hydroplane right outside of Illinoyed…
we arrived at my friend’s around 10ish…and no time was wasted with small talk…we said the proverbial “hey…how’s it been?…got anything to eat?…we’re goin out”…cuz i was in need of many cocktails from the hydroplane shakes i was still recover’n from

so off to HYDRATE

a very 90’s look’n danceteria…but with free cocktails thrown at us
why complain?

after meet’n up with my co-pilot's X…and soak’n up the eye candy…we popped in next door to Elixir fer more alcoholic freebies and chitter chatter with the locals…by midnite…i was pumkin pie…so i left the 20 somethin’s to themselves and went back to my friend’s to count sheep

by morn’n…mr. friend had gone to work and left me house keys…my mission was clear…but i didn't wanna go on this adventure alone…so i chatted on line to the locals and snagged me a headless horseman
within minutes...but let’s get real here…when non heterosexuals see yer an outta towner…fer me at least…it's like shoot’n fish in a horny barrel!

he could only send a face shot thru text…which ended up bein’ a picture of a cell phone block’n his face…cuz he had to be “discreet”….(which 99% of the time means they’re f*ck’n around on someone) but i didn’t wanna spend all day hunt’n fer company…so i said why not to a free lunch…since i wasn’t expect’n a marriage proposal or my co-pilot anytime soon...

so he told me what he was wear’n and all that jazz…and we decided to meet half way

as i’m gett’n to the half way mark…i’m look’n all over fer a guy with a stripped shirt…khaki shorts (i know…UGH right?) and a cell phone hot glued to his face…i notice across the street someone match’n this description (minus the cell phone in the face)…so instead of make’n an A double snake of myself…i decided to call…and sure enough with the cell phone in his face…it was a match

first impressions…like’n the “look”…obvious that he works out…
(stunt hottie in picture)

but i was more into his outfit…and what i need to do to get him outta it…HA…only kidd’n (maybe not!)

he apologizes fer being “discreet” in his picture…but he’s an attorney fer the state of Illinoyed…which i didn’t really care about his ferry tales…since i was in town on a reconnaissance mission as an undercover KGB agent...
with my co-hort in crime...i just wanted someone to have lunch and hang out with while i was in town (since i fergot my chloroform spray at home…i hadda do it the hard way)

lunch was good…then he asked if he could hang out fer a while…
i was game since his blue bug eyes were no longer bugg’n me…(hey i’m just give’n ya a visual…not judge’n)

he asked what i was in town fer…and like a small child with tourettes i said
(like i would be there fer anything else...Oprah no longer lives there)

he oddly laughed but took me to Beatnik’s…wear i found em…but decided to wait on gett'n em and meandered to the holy grail that any non heterosexual male with taste…“Borderline’s”…jammed packed with any...
 and all you could possibly ever want to own by Madonna musically whether it be on dvd or cd format...and many other hard to find artists

after he induced the Madge coma…he no longer existed in my world (even though i had been here a few times in the past) each time was like goin…
on a roller coaster ride until you puked...but after 20 minutes…i pulled the plug and left without purchase…but secretly knew i would be back before return’n home

still no word from my co-pilot…me and attorney man (thing is…though i found him attractive and easy to talk to…i had my premonitions as to why i didn’t need to remember his name...which you'll find out soon enough) walked around a bit more…small chitter chatter and he convinced me to go on a date with him later in the even’n…and i agreed…so it was set….he was gonna take a nap…after all it was 5 o’clock and he was 45

i declined the offer to “nap” since we all know what that means…
besides i was wide awake…and didn’t want to do the walk of shame so early in the even’n…any respectable person knows…that is best saved fer the break of dawn hours only

so after a simple peck he said he’d call me in a couple hours and take me to
this guy is either psychic or knows how to just have a good time…either way…i would rather be no where else…and as i walked away…he told me to stop at “Buck’s” to see the “tootsie roll”
whatever that meant…an hour later i met up with my co-pilot and his X fer cocktail hour...we stopped at Roscoe’s fer a pre cocktail cocktail hour but the lines were too long already…and i wait NO where fer a drink unless it’s Madonna or Boy George serve’n me a tacky margarita
and fer some reason...i don't see that happen'n anytime i suggested Buck’s across the street…and off we went

it dawned on me as i seen the 6’4 non caucasian bartender make’n candy shots fer the 40 somethin’ gaggle of soccer moms with bad Molly Ringwald
haircuts (we included ourselves in the cheer since it was my bday weekend getaway as well) to ask him to see the “tootsie roll” as my date suggested

he laughed...hmmm…was it somethin’ i said?

minutes later…and keep in mind it’s only 5:30ish in a fairly packed bar on a sunday even’n…without any warn’n…i found out what all the “tootsie roll” fuss was all about…mr. bartender had let his pet anaconda “tootsie roll" outta his “cage”…BUT…it was no tootsie roll…OH NO! was more
like mr. snuffaluffagus’s trunk! 
(just close yer eyes and visualize since there is not enough space on here to advertise...and i am not joke'n when i say that)

though in shock (and i rarely get shocked)…i felt like i was aboard the...
millennium falcon and gett’n pulled into the death star’s tractor beam

the co-pilot fumbled fer his camera like madam butterfly have'n a corinary
but this was not to be a repeat performance

after the flirtation and free cocktails ended…my date finally showed up and off we went to pit stop #2…the Lucky Horseshoe

i wanted to see if the “professional dancer” that i met the last time i was
in town was there (doin' a research project of course)...and of course he hadda educate me on the difference between a "stripper" and a "professional dancer" righhht!...that's like say'n some people say the glass is half empty...some say it's half full...i say "where's the fuck'n bartender?"

plus...he was the only reason to visit this shit hole of a bar…
i mean…this quaint lil shit hole of a bar

he was on his “professional dancer” break…(which i’m pretty sure meant he was “make’n rent” with some guy from meals-on-wheels in the back room)…but i’m not hear to judge…i know the economy ain’t the best in these try’n times

so me…my date…and the co-pilot (the X left due to being a downer to this outta-towner) did a quick shot in the back of the bar…and had the bartender take the proverbially cheesy “here we are gett’n shit faced at a strip joint fer our next facebook post”

and i no longer was high on my buzz as i noticed outta the corner of my eyes in the mirror behind us…my co-pilot and my date thumb wrestle’n
behind my back!

i had no plans on a marriage proposal mind you…but if yer a 45 year old "discreet" adult and make a date with me…you don’t try and recapture yer youth with some 20 somethin’ tattooed sing’n STD (hey in my story...he may have had one…i cannot deny or confirm)

and if yer a 20 somethin’ tattooed sing’n STD...who just got a ride outta town and a place to stay fer free…you ought think twice before cross’n...
a queen!

i ignored it for now…since it was all about MADONNARAMA nite at BERLIN

we were the first in line…and 20 minutes later we were inside… it was as if the gates of that mythical pillow factory in the sky had opened and invited us in

i didn’t want to waste one moment on chitter chatter any longer…i was like
“hey mister dj…put a record on”...and i was off to the floor

i grabbed both my entourage’s to hit the floor with me…but they resisted…i didn’t have a care in the world…i just floated up to the center platform and stayed there fer the next 60 minutes…sweat’n my A double snakes off…it was surreal to see the sea of Madge madness around me…
envelope'n me into their circle…i felt like Ester Williams in cocktail heels but after one too many tried to show off their best vogue moves on the center platform that i had pretty much occupied the entire 60 minutes…along with this hostess twinkie and his match’n hag…i missed my foot’n and crowd surfed to the floor…not by choice but by the voguers now that have take’n over my territory…no biggy

well except…wait…what ever happened to my 2 entourages i came with?
hmmm…were my premonitions comin’ true?

as i scanned the crowd fer any sign of either of them…
i was gett’n outta my buzzed blouse and into my pissed off pants

seconds later as the crowd somehow split like the dead sea…i noticed them both…walk’n joyfully hand in hand…like a priest on a playground...that is...
until they spotted me and immediately disengaged their hands and pretended as if they had never seen each other before in their life

i got him into a remington party...and he repays me in metaphoric puke!
instead of break’n down and say’n “you know…i have a little prepared speech i tell my suitor when he wants more than i'd like to give him…gee blank i had a really nice don't deserve my fucking speech!”
 i decided to just walk right out the door back to my friend's place as if i just survived the school blow’n up in my face…there’s a new HEATHER in town!

i ignored all 13 texts i received that nite from them both deny’n they had no idea what i was upset about or that “we were look’n for you everywhere” crap line…and i also ignored the co-pilot's desperado phone calls til 3 am plead’n to answer the phone so he could have a warm place to sleep

i could’a cared less if they did or didn’t fornicate that nite…fer reals...
ok maybe just a wee bit...but that's cuz of the cocktails...i swear on a stack of Madonna cd's

see...thing is…you may be a 20 somethin' singer in a band…
but i’m a 40 somethin' queen with a car!

don’t fuck with a queen or you’ll get a heel to yer head...
i am no one’s daddy…i’m a queen at heart!

now...get off my dress!

Monday, March 12, 2018

il adore

tumbling queen
like the most amazing light show
 you've ever seen
never blue
how could you go and die
what a lonely thing to do

~ Boy George

happy st patty's Ellie

Monday, March 5, 2018

calorie free transiency

so there i was one lazy saturday afternoon...dressed in my best pressed...
muumuu...with nothin' better to do but get everything done i couldn't get done durin' the groceries...slap the ol' pickle tickler around fer a hot run fer ass wipe...
OH YEA...and don't ferget to poop!

instead i opted to hitch hike along the informational highway and complain to the electronical world we've created fer ourselves known as FB
 (side the delusionally perverted out there...remember when FB used to mean "fuck buddies"?)
where was i?...oooooh yea...(insert drool here)

so i sign into FB and made thee 1st earth shatter'n post about how miserable life is cuz it's so fuck'n cold out there and i can't find nothin' to do accept check my post every 10 minutes to see how many people "liked" my post and how many had made a sympathetical comment to my
miserable i could feel alot better about my miserable self...3 hrs or so would pass before i would finally scrape my perky ass outta bed and crawl into the kitchen to eat some science project that was grow'n in my frigid box...cuz well...i was too lazy to remember i told myself to get groceries the nite before...1st thing in the morn'n...

so to calm my uncontrollable urge to make another utterly and total...
 pathetically sympathetical post...i decided i needed somethin' to wash down the science project i mistakenly swallowed and since i'm pretty sure orange juice should actually be the color of orange...i decided to grab my ice pick...throw on my parka and go on an expedition into my freezer to see if there was any thing that i could rescue...and too my surprise i found buried under a foot of freezer burn...a 1/5th bottle of pomegranate Smirnoff my friend Greta left behind when we had a camp out in my live'n room so many summers ago
i made myself a shitty pomegranate glass of unfiltered happiness with a shot of stale seltzer water...poured in some MN misery...a splash of resentfulness that i didn't win the POWERBALL...a pinch of the terribly intolerable 2's and Dr. Kevorkian's number...and i had made the perfect pick-me-up to go along with my shitty outlook on the day cocktail

after i choked down my swill...i decided to make some very urgent calls...
but unfortunately fer me...the suicide hotline decided to put me on hold!
absofuckinglutely fabulous!

luckily fer me though... there's only a sheet of solid ice between me and the store and the weather was a balmy 5 degree's above frostbite...the buses were runn'n their usual 20 minutes behind their actual posted times...otherwise i would've been a complete bitch about the current
state i was in!...i had 2 choices...either have a complete meltdown...which actually might'a helped clear the fuck'n sidewalks of the lazy fuckers that lived next door so i didn't have to climb over the hills of HOTH...then i remembered...i didn't have the power to breath fire...and since my tauntaun wasn't insured...i could just keep on i did...of course...and hopped aboard the metro transit 45 minutes later

once i reached my destination...everything in the past 4 hours that felt like the weight of the world on my chest...were now no longer aggravate'n me as i stripped off my layers of regret and threw away my bitch blouse to feel comfortable...that is until i was hunted down by some store greeter...
"SIR...i need to see yer I.D!"

s-e-r-i-o-u-s-l-y...after what i just gone thru to get here...
I...thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own bein' asked fer I.D. to shop fer some groceries?

na-uuh...she DID NOT just say that to ME!

and once again i hear her say... "SIR...i need to see yer I.D!" think what you need Bessie is a good dietitian and that trough yer use'n as yer personal buffet table take'n away immediately...(i was merely think'n of her cholesterol intake kittens...i have plenty of pleasantly plumpers i consider my closest friends)...but i didn't wanna i handed her my I.D. without grill'n up a back hand sammich fer her...i assumed she had had her share fer the day

as i walked around fill'n up my cart with anything that would calm all of the
restless natives beat'n the hunger drums in the pit of my stomach...i wondered...waid'a'minute!...why did i give her my I.D.? i marched up to customer service to speak with the mgr on duty

out walks this hefty hideaway gal...who wasn't really hide'n anything to be
 quite i explained to her why was it needed that i had to give my I.D. to the bloated stegosaurus with the bad bi-leveled oglivie home perm greet'n people at the front door...and she calmly said in her best Ernest Borgnine voice that she shouldn't have
i'm think'n ok...this deep fried trough tail gator spotted me as thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe and just wanted proof to post on her FB page...i get it!
(it's so hard to be me sometimes!)

ummm...i don't think so...the gloves of reason'n were off

the manager got on the loud speaker and said politely...
"Martha please come to the customer service desk"

after Mrs. Dumptruck explained in that typical phony corporate response as to why she took my I.D. to her manager...she had pulled it out from her
tent pockets and handed it over to the IHOP mgr...who looked at it once...looked at me...then held the I.D. closer to her face and looked closer at my face...then all of a sudden they both started smirk'n til they both broke out in complete laughter point'n their claws...

well i usually hold back my mouth dam...but i'll be damned at this point...
i was gonna let em have it with both i grabbed the loud speaker and said..."'s blue light special is in customer service...but they ain't so blue...and they most DEFINITELY ain't so light...
but they sure are purdy you'll have to read to 'em r-e-a-l slow...
come gaze at these 2 backward barn yard Miss Piggy mutha fuckers...but please refrain from feed'n them as they hadn't had their feed'n yet today...and you might just become their main course"

i grabbed my I.D. and ran out the door into the freeze'n cold once again...
without any mouth water'n morsels to fill my fuck'n gut...though i wanted to gut anyone that crossed me now cuz my mouth was as dry as the Tatooine desert and my breath was seethe'n like a rage'n bi-polar monkey slut in sunday school 

then i woke up was all just a dream?! was time to make some breakfast...
as i opened the fridge...i noticed nothin' but some strawberries wrapped in last season's faux fur collection
OK!...this ain't happen' you best get off my dress!