Monday, January 27, 2014

CAGED HEAT pt 2

last week on CAGED HEAT...well click here to find out <---i ain't gett'n paid to reread it to ya!

and now the excite'n conclusion to CAGED HEAT

once i reached the book'n station...the disbelief that i was feel'n...
had now turned into fear...fear that i would never taste fresh air again...fear that i would be stuck in an orange jumper...know'n full well that orange gives me that unflatter'n jaundice complexion...fear that i would never get to play in the Tabernacle Choir...even though i never played the electric guitar in my life...
the hot bulge'n bucket in blue was no longer of any interest to me in the slightest (well almost of no interest)...i mean come on...i was gett'n thrown in the klink...not gett'n a home lobotomy perm...besides...i needed somethin' to think about to get me thru the nite

as i stood against the cold clammy brick wall wait'n to get me picture take'n as part of the book'n parade..i knew i should've checked myself  in the mirror...plus the over head fluorescent light'n wasn't calm'n my native nerves one bit...though somehow...i managed to take a breather when the photographer arrived

i'm ready fer my close up Mr Demille...
only problem was...i wasn't on sunset boulevard...and Billy Wilder was nowhere to be seen

i was told to look forward and stand still fer roughly 5 seconds...and the only thing that ran thru my head was...what is the look i wanna convey in my snapshot?...sad?...scared?...hysterical?...eh! i'm an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe and i'm gonna kick yer ass!

next thing ya know i heard "ok thankyou"
what?...it's over?...i didn't even get a countdown to get myself together in my glamour shot pose...she was though...kind enough to let me see what she had taken....
i was absolutely horrified!

i mean after all...this picture will represent my humiliate'n downfall with some low baritone underscore during my E true hollywierd story someday and who doesn't want a non embarass'n embarass'n photograph splattered all over the gossip rags?

i have never groveled fer anything in my entire life...
well...besides tickets to see the QUEEN's tour in St Paul,MN at the tender and supple age of 16
but i was NOT about to let this picture ever see the light of day...so i seriously asked her if i could get a do over...and whether she was completely bored or felt my fear in the photograph...she totally agreed and saw no harm in it...thank CHER!!

after my session with Annie Leibovitz had ended...
i was escorted to the drunk tank...and lemme tell you...there was no turned down queen size bed with a wrapped truffle sleep'n on the pillow...there was no privacy door around the toilet...well cuz there was no wall to attach it to...there was no remote fer the cable tv...well cuz there was no tv...and most of all...there was no CHRISTOPHER MELONI in my cell...
  the other inmates where not at all as hot like they were portrayed on "OZ"...I WAS ROBBED!!
instead i was stuck with a drunk Tonto and some DYNOMITE dude

i opted outta the shower scene since Christopher wasn't in my cage...
and i was in no mood to be anybody's soap bitch...so i just sat quietly on the cemented couch and just starred at the clock

tick tock tick tock tick tock!

watch'n and listen'n to the hands on the clock slowly sync up with the beat of my heart was the only consolation that kept me somewhat sane that nite...cuz  while Tonto was kick'n back count'n sheep...JJ kept up the entertainment by bang'n on the tank's window and tell'n me "they let'chu out whitey before me...cuz they always be try'na bring my people's down"

charmed i'm sure!

though i somewhat agreed with his complaint in general...i'm pretty sure it's cuz he kept bang'n on the cell window...yell'n like some drunk baboon...
with a bad attitude...and trust me when i say...i was ready to start digg'n my way to the outside

4 1/2 hrs would go by before i would finally hear the click of the cell door open'n...and i was asked to step out the cage...Tonto still rest'n peacefully...i bid J.J au revior and told him i'd do my very best to bake him
a Betty Crocker with a prize inside if i got a free minute...but he knew it would be our last time we'd see each other...

as i was shuffled to the front to collect my belong'ns...look'n around and soak'n up my surround'ns hopefully fer the last time...i realized one thing...the overall interior design was atrocious and obviously NOT done by any legitimate non hetero...but i guess that is defeat'n the purpose in the first place one might say!

as the lady Gamorrean guard behind the glass partition...
pulled my belong'ns that had confiscated on my way in in before my glamour shots session...she read off one by one what they had entered...which was now only my lonely set of car keys...my flip phone...14 benjamins with some loose pocket change and my dignity wrapped in a wrist band...to which i said...just keep it!

that is until i looked closely at the photo?...hmmm...this actually could be used to my advantage...everyone fantasizes about have'n an outlaw!
i seriously had asked the guard if i could get an 8x10...but apparently....not only did she not have a sense of humor...but she also had a bad olgilvie home perm with capped highlights...i had done my hard time long enough...i was starve'n fer affection...along with baby spinach salad with a raspberry vinaigrette and some chunky monkey ice cream...i knew this would be my ticket outta loverlessville...and i'd be beat'n em off with a stick once i uploaded this pic onto my profile page on bendoverrover.com

everything was there...one flip phone...one wallet...keys...but now the 14 benjamins that were inside the wallet...had now been replaced by a diluted pink check in the amount of $14...it's 4:30 in the am...excuse-em-wah!!
but how does one expect me to get a cab with a check?

i was not a happy camper...wait'n fer large Marge to pat me on the back and tell me everything was gonna be ok...instead i was told to find my own way home...and don't come back...ummm yea...DON'T WORRY!...i had almost washed away my life prior to check'n into San Quinton...but was quickly reminded when i listened to my voicemails from my siblings...OH SHIT!
of course each one was more aggresive than the last from one of my siblings...not ask'n what had happened to me at all...like if i had been mugged...maimed...mutilated and dumped on the side of the road gasp'n fer my last breath...no it was more like "where the fuck are you goddammit...we're wait'n at the fuck'n airport...you better pick up the phone..." ect

charmed i'm sure!

as i walked forlornly home that early morn'n...i thought to myself...how surreal the past 4 hrs had been...and how it feels like to be a caged animal...and how i gotta stop watch'n all those prison shows think'n how glamorous life is like on the inside...cuz it ain't! and as i made it round the bend to the corner of hooker junction and crackville avenue...i was finally home...or at least not sleep'n on a cold hard slab...but enough about my boyfriend

now get off my dress!

Monday, January 20, 2014

CAGED HEAT pt.1

we've ALL suffered thru many odd or reprehensible occurrences in life

like fer instance...the Anglo-Zanzibar war...

the "i can get away with what i want" years...
between 2001-2009...also found under the subtitle: Boozo Bush: the Clown years

these lame and flame whore'n floor mops...
PARIS and PEREZ
SPAM

and then there was that one time 10 years back...
when i ventured out to some local homo shithole fer showtunes nite...

i've been in my fair share of shithole's from town to town...lemme tell you...though most of them have been usually on all 4's...and nothing says homo heaven more than bein' in a seedy leather bar belt'n out broadway hits with a bunch of beer guzzle'n ritual bath'n man tits in tank tops that could barely keep a tit mouse dry in a drizzle...but oddly enough though...
there i was...pretty much kill'n time with my friend Sally May  a box of Franzia...try'na get into the spirit...by soak'n up the spirits...til i hadda pick up 2 of my siblings and Joan Crawford up at the airport when they crossed the border from margaritaville at midnite

it's funny though how the same group of non hetero's that cruised me on-line an hour earlier...now all of a sudden wanted nothin' to do with me after they found out i was thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...cuz they're look'n fer someone more "str8 act'n and appear'n"...

yet the 2nd Madonna's "don't cry for me Argentina" appeared on screen...
these "macho str8 act'n n appear'n" burly bears...cubs...and their counterparts...would raise their fists (after they pulled them outta their dates ass of course) clutch'n tightly to their napkins and waive'n them in unison as the QUEEN would erupt into song on the casa rosada above the crowd 

well...once you've seen that...it's all down hill from there...but anywho...

as we tic-tac-toed our way thru the sea of toads that nite...we made our way to the outdoor patio fer some not so fresh smoke filled air...consist'n of bacon breath and bad b.o. with a subtle hint of someone who'd soaked way too long in their after bath body splash...this hag that lost her fag made some comment on my eyes as she passed by...so of course she would become my new best friend...for at least the next 45 minutes...why not!
she had this sorta flirty innocence that the box of Franzia i was with that nite loathed...well...cuz she hadn't offered any compliments up to his drunk ass...so of course this meant that his mouth would pop open any minute like a pez dispenser and out would pour a flood of cuntage...tear'n her to shreds until she was a mere puddle of regret on the floor fer make'n eye contact with us in the 1st place...which is exactly what had happened
so i quilted my best comforter as fast as i could and pulled her outta the cage match...she was no match for!

by now the clock was tick'n and i only had 45 minutes before i hadda fly out the airport to pick up my blood line...but puddle girl was still a puddle while try'n to decipher the reason'n fer the box of Franzia season'n her ass...but i was in zero mood to explain it to her...(seriously...i don't know how you non homo guys put up with all their blubbery mess...call a doctor pronto!)

so i opted the best way i knew how to shut her up...by putt'n a Miller to her mouth...which i did at the next water'n hole...but had let her know the clock was tick'n and this would be the last stop...or she'd be thumb'n it home...
by the time we left the bar...she had completely fergotten the cage match from earlier and was give'n me directions to her house...which of course ended up being on the other end of town

as we walked to my car...i noticed a pocket knife had fallen from her purse...and though she seemed completely harmless enough at the time...
i was in no mood to find out if i was cart'n Lezzy Borden's ass all over the metro area...just to drive to some deserted alley and end up as a side dish with some fava beans and nice kiante...so i pocketed the pocket knife and would give it back to her once i kicked her to the curb

as i was cross'n the river and not over to grama's house...
i decided to coast down the other side of the bridge...when i noticed christmas lights flash'n in my rear view reflection from a distance...and i suddenly got all in a panic cuz i realized i hadn't even put my x-mess list together...
then i realized...wait!...it's only july!

though i personally felt i was more than ok to drive...i knew i was suppose be the sober cab that nite...but i did have 4 watered down bottles of piss diet beer all nite (hey no one else is gonna watch my waistline but me)...and it was a good hr since i had a drop to drink before i had put the keys into my ignition...so i figered i had a tail light out or perhaps it was against the law to carry some half baked bitch in my front seat...i don't know!

so i pulled over to the side and noticed in my side mirror...
a beam of light and  from the distance...an incredibly hulky cop walk'n towards my car...and i swear on a stack of CHER cd's...
Madonna's "erotica" was play'n in my cd player at the exact same time...so of course i'm think'n...FINALLY...i get to play out my wildest fantasy...only prob was i had this drunk mess in my front seat...total mood killer!

by the time the officer made it to my window...i had already rolled down my window...anticipate'n as to what position i was gonna be ordered in next...
but much to my surprise...he just asked me "do you know why i stopped you? in a not so very bend over and take it like a bitch kinda way

ummm..."is it cuz i'm pretty and yer in the mood fer an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of their own universe?"
though i heard my mind say it...i hadda dash down stairs to my mouth as fast as i could to make sure i didn't actually say it to mister officer...(though secretly i had wished i had)...who knows how this whole nite would'a turned out...but turns out as i was come'n down the bridge...i had inadvertently ignored my speedometer and was goin approximately 9 miles over the speed limit...it'll happen!

he'd asked me what i had to drink...instead of ask'n me out on a date...like i assumed he would've asked me ...i mean HELLO? look at me...i'ma catch!
i decided not to turn this into some twisted fantasy any longer cuz i noticed the time on my dash board and i was now NOT at the destination i was suppose to be in at this time...so i told him the story about my night as i checked myself in the mirror...and then he asked me to step outta the car...about time!

as i placed my hands on the hood of my car wait'n in anticipation fer that slow hand pat down that i had read about in all those erotic novels as a teenager...again i was misinterpret'n everything and he had asked me if i had anything in my pocket...to which i said said just my cell and wallet

as he had me lift my hands out he slipped slowly down my front pocket..i knew i wanted him inside me...but i thought i'd be in another position...
 instead...he pulled out a pocket knife!

it had completely slipped my mind that i had grabbed it off the sidewalk...
and had put it in my pocket but fergot to give it back to the blubbery mess once we got in my car...so i explained it to the officer...and next thing i know...i'm lean'n over the trunk of my car gett'n hand-cuffed by Roscoe...
though...when i played this scenario out in my head...i'd assumed they'd be wrapped in some sorta fun fur...and i'd be strapped to his bed posts like some caged animal

so next thing i know...i'm being escorted ...without a corsage i might add...to the back seat of his car...without him join'n me...i might also wanna add...
 and not 5 seconds would go by before i noticed some Sanford and Son look'n tow truck arrive'n on the scene with no DJ equipment or disco ball...and the gal bein' told to get outta my car as it was lifted up on it's hind legs and they disappeared off into the distance in a matter of seconds

WTF?

it was as if the world had stopped and i wasn't gett'n off...with ANYONE!

join us next week fer part 2 of the excite'n conclusion to CAGED HEAT!

now get off my dress!

Monday, January 13, 2014

6 feet under

sometimes death becomes her...
and sometimes it does not!
much like most of my feel'ns to give'n a rat's ass about gett'n romantically involved with any sane non heterosexual in particular...we've buried alot of very important things this past decade as a whole...

from the wonderful world of teleovision...
we lost a tough twi-lighter...a tap dance'n teacher...and a tawdry tramp

to the musical geniuses addicted to more than just their career...
from the man in the mirror...a the gal who didn't wanna go to rehab...to the woman who said it's not right...but it's ok

outside of all these familiar famous faces in the entertainment fields...
this new crop of kittens simply known as the instant oatmeal generation...who've never broken a sweat to get what they want...thanx to touch screens and downloadable apps...have lost sooo much more than just mortal stars...many many others things have fall'n off the face of the earth since they took over...

the main one bein' the art of verbal communicado...
our ancestors spent thousands of years design'n and perfect'n the verbage system into many many different flavors of communication...

but thanx to devices like the internet...call wait'n...text'n...

Helen Keller...

George Orwell's prophecy is turn'n the entire world into a huge pile of non verbal communicative paranoid mashed potatoes and take'n the brain work outta bein' human...fuck'n up millions of years of social intertaction

i think Weeza said it best when she said...
"i smiled at the son-of-a-bitch before i could help myself"
there was no misinterpretation to be had then at all...but technology has turned societies up and come'n majority into lobotomized bags of unfeel'n fucktards by turn'n this lost art into a communicational cluster fuck of alphabetically coded messages like LMAO...LOL...TTYL...WTF? that their ancestors are left to decode

but also join'n them in the graveyard is...
the VHS tape along with their plugged in pimp machine that used them til they were busted and broken...murdered by those who were too unkind to rewind...so very very young...i hope yer happy!

1-900-phone sex lines that once helped pave the careers of many...
stay at home mom's and just as many unattractive out-of-shape homo's who built their self esteem up...
 by cut-n-paste'n some tall dark built grecian piece of man flap as their own...under the pseudo name of  Dirk or Dusty...or Mr.Pus...have been replaced by...
but on the flip side...
self esteem sessions and prozac prescriptions have gone thru the roof

hot spots like B. Dalton and Borders bookstores...
that once housed the latest and greatest novels by Jackie Collins or Suzanne Somers...
 which also had their very own built in meat-n-greet conventions thru-out the midwest and beyond...are no longer with us...
thanx to amazon.com...and e-readers...now all those married suburbanites have been forced to find online love that is not to be spoken of at the dinner table and forced to travel half way across town in the middle of a cold rainy nite to some desert highway reststop to get any relief without repercussion

the hypnotize'n sounds of the constant click click click of  the cd cases...
 as you flipped thru row after row to find the latest or yer greatest musical act with KRYSTAL KLEER crystal clear quality...cover art and lyric sheets that taught you the correct pronunciations of the songs...so you didn't look like a total ass on karaoke nite...have been die'n a very slow miserable death...
thanx to these guys

what once gave us gen X'ers and those before us...
headaches after spend'n endless hours flipp'n thru the yellow pages (and i don't mean the ones that some wino wee'd on in an alleyway) try'n to decide which categories like pizza or porn were listed under...is no longer with us...
thanx to these bitches take'n the brain power outta the new kittens on the block

remember when the only way to pay yer mortgage or telephone/cable bills...
 or that babysitter off with hush money...so you could get off...just to swing yer hammer and show yer almighty power if they pissed you off by place'n a stop payment on their ass...or that elderly incontinent parent marinate'n in tea rose perfume who sent in a yearly donation of $2 to whatever charity of choice...think'n she was pay'n fer front row seats into the kingdom of Casper..
 have been all but replaced as a form of payment by these bastards or online bill pay

carpal tunnel was all the rage thru-out the ages...
thanx to all those hand written notes that once showed you cared enough to send yer deepest most inner thoughts by putt'n pen to paper and spend'n yer pocket change to purchase a stamp to prove you really cared whether it was regard'n love...sympathy or a simple "how ya been?"...
have been totally replaced by free phony forwarded messages of hope or regret on FB by people who've post the pass'n of a loved one...only to figer out if the 1000 likes were because they're sad or glad fer yer lose...and wrongcards.com 

so in conclusion kittens...though i may be age'n myself by complain'n...
about "how it used to be in the good ol' days"...by capture'n those kodak moments to last ferever...or til his cheat'n ass breaks yer heart and you rip him outta yers ferever...but there are some advantages to try'n on these generational gap jeans...especially photoshop...
now i now can always look like a fetus in a wig...or no wig at all!

now get off my dress!