Monday, March 28, 2016


sounds so "je ne sais quoi" when said in french...even though the title is in german...but once you figer out the just means: asshole

there's always that one lil kitten that'll pounce on those who are weak
just to prove that they are a total A double snake hole to their's an annoy'n but all to often an acceptable passage into teenage just being kids!

BUT there are those that NEVER grow up...and what is a butt...
but an asshole full of shit!

i had fergotten about most of my teenage angst and ridicule that i suffered at the hands of certain peers thru-out high most do once they
leave the shell of their former self...that is until one particular incident reminded me some people never grow up...
and it made me hop on my huffy bike and remember how cruel a certain portion of the prepubescent pimple charade parade can really be to their generational flock

after a much deserved nervous breakdown durin' my religious education in 10th grade...i got my pink slip to finally attend public education...after being forced to attended J-man high school fer the past 3 years of my life
(FYI...the prepubescent pimple population AIN'T any better in the J-man schools)

by my 3rd month at public education...most of my friends that i had acquired pre-high school...were no longer interested nor remembered who i was...
and i couldn't blame them...I WAS NO LONGER the "Kermie"..."mohican" or
any of the other countless nicknames i was christened durin' grade school (i will have to say to their far as nicknames went...i pretty much went unscathed...unlike alot of the easier targets)

but 3 years and puberty later...we ALL changed...physically...mentally...
and socially...why not!...i no longer sported the Richie Cunningham cut...sitt'n at the lunch table across from my 2 friends from my previous life

it's was the 80's after all...and i'd built a shield of ownership and absolute
 independence...thanx in part to the wondrous worlds of my 2 hero's...Mr. O'Dowd & Miss Ciccone...whenever i was down i would lock myself in my room for hours...turn'n my boombox to ear pierce'n high (or maybe that was my voice) torture'n brainwash'n my household as i auditioned on my own stage 
with the help of sister's strawberry shortcake mirror and hairbrush that i repossessed fer her make'n a mess of our sleep'n quarters

i had tossed away my depression pants and suppression blouse i had worn for 3 years in J-man school...and was now a tick'n time bomb that finally
exploded all over everyone around me since i was no longer shackled to the bible stories comic book of casually convenient oppressiveness's or under any religious fashion police regime...and became the singer of the very sound of my hometown along with my psychotically artistic genius and friend Dr. Bob...fer one memorable nite the ASTRO PUSSYCATS

a force field of aqua net held up my crown of spikes atop of my head...
and i thought nothing or no one could huff or puff or blow my balance down

that is...until 7:45 am one morn'n

Wendy and Shelly (not to be confused with Wendy and Lisa from Prince)
but incidentally...i met a Lisa who was my 1st newly acquired friend that day...(now where was i)...oh their eyes popped outta their heads
like some Ren & Stimpy cartoon...after what they had just witnessed in front of them

feel'n a slight breeze pass the top of me...i noticed someone runn'n away like some alter boy from a confessional...confused...i had asked them both
"what just happened?"...runn'n my hand across the back of my head...i felt one of the spikes in my crown...was no longer around...and there was no dr. suess rhyme that could possibly calm me down

the blood rushed to my head like i was about to rip outta my clothes...
so i immediately had to make a decision...since i spent a good hour prior to school perfect'n my image to be seen (as those in the pimple parade do)

do i go ape shit and Columbine the entire pimple parade in my sight?
or do i have a nuclear meltdown and spontaneously combust?

since i didn't pack my sawed off shot-gun (well Bambie cured me of that)
and i knew physcially...i could be snapped like a pea i darted fer the nearest exit before the 1st tear would ever hit the lunch room floor

by the time i made it home...i didn't care what anyone thought anymore and the flood gates opened...i could barely form a sentence relive'n the horror to Miss Crawford...who wondered why i was home from school so early...
but i wasn't expect'n the response that i was given by my parental adviser
"if ya wanna look like an ass...ya get what you deserve!"
(and unfortunately...that is a direct quote)

so i hopped on my huffy bike to my best friend's palatial palace...
in the house'n projects and luckily his ma her daisy dukes...puff'n away on her marlboro...gave me a completely different slice of advice cake to eat...
"you sue that mother fucker and tell the judge you were grow'n yer hair to be in a rock band!"
(and YES even though it's been over 30 years...i still remember that quote)

WOW!...that was the straw the broke this non heterosexual's timid shell
i had my Judge Judy moment 3 months later...
and acquired a new crop of cool friends along the way

it was THEE event of the decade that year...the punk versus the prep
or at the very my pre unintentionally internationally unknown universe's had never been done before...but i was not gonna back down...i had my fair share of threats thrown my way from the treacherous ticks try'na talk me outta it...i had heard years later...a portion of the school had placed 2 to 10 odds that i was even gonna win
BUT...(hey...i thought i was loose'n you)
fuck me gently with a chainsaw...i had zero desire to let anyone pull off my scrunchy again...i was gonna let all know who i was!

and even though i had only won $37 outta the $2500 i was ask'n for...
(hey i was 16...i was goin for the big bucks anyway i could) i wanted outta dodge A.S.A.P. and start my own destination...written by my own rules...far away from the backwater mentality of some small cow-town crap

i've since become the unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n
illusionist of my own you very well know...and no one's rays can harm me don't waste yer breath...and just get off my dress!
ps...this is fer repossess'n my lil sis's strawberry shortcake beauty set many moons ago

Monday, March 21, 2016


i'm sure the universe knows the importance of the MAC...
in our current cultural history...take fer instance...that sappy nursery rhyme sing-a-long song about Old Mac Donald who had a farm...loved by millions of little kittens around the globe...til they find out why he "had a farm"'s cuz the damn bank repossessed the land fer default'n on his loan after Old Miss Donald burnt the damn barn to the ground one nite after catch'n him fornicate'n with the farm animals

then there's MAC-n-cheese...a simple yet a very much deserved delicacy
fer all those burned out biology majors and majorettes cramp'n til the wee hours of the morn'n...only to realize after 4 years of hard studies...their useless degree ends up just as some pretty useless plaque on their studio apartment wall cuz they'll end up doin hard labor at the damn factory itself

of course no conscious queen would be complete in the burn'n spotlight...
without the schlack of MAC cosmetics molest'n their mugshot...dime store queens in train'n heels take can save yer hard earned tips spend'n hours layer'n on yer maybelline but you still end up look'n like some washed out water colored crack wreck on stage

so thanx to my magically delicious friend and mayor of desperadoville...
Timbellina...fer generously give'n me tickets that both he & i could afford (well cuz they were free) not to one but both nites and introduce'n me to thee biggest MAC surprise of them all...(well since that MAC i met last weekend...but no worries kittens...i failed my EPT save that 3 layered diaper cake...fer now)...the self described Elizabethan fool and collagist known as TAYLOR MAC at the Guthrie theater this past weekend in Minneapolis
my crazy kween of the kitty litter...Poonanie...came with the 2nd nite...and we were over the moon with Timbellina's "over the moon" martini's...we both ended up turn'n into a puddle before the clock struck 12...and not only did me and the Poon loose her glass slipper...she lost her mind...along with her liver on the dance floor...but today isn't about her...
now...where was i?...oh yes...
described as a cross between Tiny Tim and Ziggy Stardust by wikipedia
i would best describe TAYLOR MAC as the bastard child party monster performance anti establishmentally brilliant arteest of Leigh Bowery and Nina Hagen
either case...TAYLOR MAC hypothetically blew me away with his incestuously operatic voice...his look and of course his heels...that i'da killed for in a fuchsia or obersheen...but he was soo soo much more than that...his show "A 24 DECADE HISTORY OF POPULAR MUSIC: THE 20TH CENTURY ABRIDGED" consisted of songs thru-out history and the story behind them
as a playwright/singer/songwriter/actor/performance artist/director/producer and all around downtown legend in the BIG APPLE...TAYLOR MAC has toured the globe from the Lincoln Center to the Sydney Opera House and everywhere in between 
though he apparently pissed off Mr. & Mrs. Colostomy bag sitt'n in front of me on the 1st nite...cuz after his open'n speech about how the pay'n audience (or non pay'n audience member in my case...well only cuz i'm thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe) could dispense with the grandular applause fer the 1% who made this theater production possible...they decided it wasn't worth leave'n their limed jell-o heaven on the communal table tray after all and decided to enjoy their metamucil martini and Matlock marathon back at their palatial raisin ranch of piss stains and parade of swarovski tchotchkee's

though the show came to a close this past weekend in Minneapolis...
you still have a chance to catch TAYLOR MAC by gett'n tickets 
before he embarks on his most ambitious project to date..."A 24 DECADE OF POPULAR MUSIC" a 24 hour long concert spann'n 240 years in music...which is in the works fer later this october in the BIG'd be an absolute fool not to go...seriously

oh...and on top of ALL of that...he's one hot MAC outta his MAC...
that i wouldn't have a prob mac'n on...if he'd ask...and of course if i wasn't busy

now get off my dress!

Monday, March 14, 2016

hit the road jack-off!

marriage has never been a priority fer me...when i can sit at home alone and complain fer peace and quiet...then go out and buy myself a lil happiness

i've put in my time and dated my fair share of the socially retarded...the emotionally unavailable and the chemically dependents of the tri state that i mean...i've tried almost least ONCE...all in the name of research of course

my bedroom had turned into a bored room ever since i ended my 4 years with the old purse i was date'n at the time...8 years ago...and up until 9 1/2 inches ago...i pretty much was a white supremacist when it came to date'n
not that other races weren't incredibly just wasn't sexually a turn on for me

but i was over all the non homo and non hetero caucasians that would just lay there like a dead hooker and expected me to do all the work...
so i smashed down my defenses and jumped over the date'n see what life was like on the other side!

my bedroom has since become a United Colors of Benetton ad...and ya know what...i've come to tell you that things are still pretty much the same...assholes do come in many different colors!

my most recent experiment...7 years ago about...was this taco belle from
Tijuana work'n out at my gym and would totally have a Sheena Easton and Prince moment runn'n through my head when i'd see that i mean
 i am rarely EVER distracted from my work-out...cuz i go to the gym to work out...and not act like i'm walk'n down some proverbial narcissistic runway...but this chimichanga had a look...buzzed head...intense eyes...tattooed in the right places...and pillowed lips you could bounce on fer hours (well if you were into that sorta thing)

anyways...i would watch him from time to time work out... while i was sweat'n it out on the ass master machine...and noticed that he wasn't walk'n down any runway...(except the one in my head...that went straight to my bed) but there to actually work i was hope'n someday our paths would cross

a year would go by before i would get the chance to run into him on a lazy sunday afternoon at some lame downtown beer bust...that always was a bust...but would get me into experi-men-tal mode to see what all the planet of apes would be say'n about me...without have'n to say'n a word!
(my hidden talent?...lip reader)

i forced myself to talk to him...since he was hold'n up the patio wall
pose'n like some egyptian hieroglyphic...and it turned out there was some mutual interest (so i didn't have to bite down on that cyanide pill after all)

so after some fornicational 4 square back at his humble little kitty box...i crossed off the  "cross'n the border" from my list of "things to do"...hey...
we have ALL had those "moments" when you've just wanted pure unadulterated fornicational pleasures...without the use of battery operated assistance or take'n ol' "Rosey Palmer" on another date!...(whether you fulfill up to YOU)  it's human nature to think about it judge prissy!

BUT...the next day he called me back and it threw me off guard...cuz i figered i was on his list of "things to do" (hey...he did get to sleep with an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe after all...i can't even count how many wish they could have)
of which i was sure to tell him right off the bat so there was no confusion...or before any other non heterosexual bar bitch would try to use that as some sorta wedge between they have in the past unfortunately

after spend'n a 2nd nite with me in my kitty box...he had asked me if i would have any interest to move with him if he got his transfer put in fer work...
*hmmm...i was a bit perplexed at's a thought i suppose...but then realized...i am...after unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...who wouldn't want me to move with them?

or if he wasn't gonna move out to San Diego... would i consider date'n him exclusively in the minne-apple...again...i wondered about it fer a minute...*but then i remembered my token answer from above

speedy gonzales proved me wrong as we both opened up a bit more...
we shared the witty repertoire...we talked about everything from my ABC's to his STD's...he tried to humor me plenty of times with the fact he would have to tell people he got laid by a drag queen...but i corrected him that i am neither a drag nor a queen

i hadda cancel the movie date we had planned to see the follow'n week...
the australian cinematic masterpiece known as "PRISCILLA QUEEN OF THE DESERT"
at my apt...cuz he had never seen it before...and that's really just insane to me

but life happens and i was co-horsed of course to leave town on a mission that needed to be i texted him where i was and why i was there and when i'd return and what day he wanted to reschedule the movie...but i could tell the subtext of his text...that he was not pleased!

the follow'n day after my return...i was home on break fer lunch...and received a text from my taco belle...who now had turned into taco hell...who needed to get somethin' off his chest with a few lovely textable words...
          ( case yer wonder'n...this is word 4 word...his actual text)

my 1st thought was...OH...MY...CHER!...WOW!...what a fuck'n moron...
this mo' is no spell'n bee champion obviously cuz he doesn't even know how to spell Dr. Freud correctly...but i decided to follow his train of thought...and wondered if i were the great Dr. would i assess the situation?

now there's a merried of reasons how i could decipher this as...

reason #1 he was miffed i left town and cancel'n out on the movie date...which would really make him a big ass baby...i mean...we were both past the appropriate age of pull'n each others pigtails

reason #2 his work decided not to transfer him to San he needed to blow off steam...and i was an easy punch'n bag

reason #3 he's just a complete c*ck-suck'n-mutha-f*ck'n-pig-slutt'n-trailer-trash-border-cross'n-mexic*nt...with a hot ass

i'm gonna go with #3....cuz #1 or #2 sounds like i really care!

he's worried about tell'n people a drag queen f*cked him?

OH NO! drag queen f*cked you mr. senorita...
you can tell them an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of her own universe f*cked you...and you won't ever ferget it!

ummm...INS...i have a new file fer you!
THEN...i kinda felt sorry fer him...fer a minute...cuz he's obviously a complete walk'n contradiction 
who couldn't deal with my fabulousness or his narcissistic selfishness...and now everytime when i pass a tequila bar or taco john's...all i hear are the torn and tattered sounds of Miss Mac Gregor
all the Judge Mentals and Wade Tumors of the world need to get a life! (that's not my last failure's name...i do have some decorum left) he was just some insignificant  pile of non heterosexual crap 15 years ago that begged me to pollinate the powder his friends party
that started my experi-men-tality date'n...who took it upon himself to inform my potential future failures fer a while that i am THEE unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe

i have no problem when people want to move onto other pastures...
but don't feed me a slice of cow pie and expect me to wash it down with a glass of WTF? juice!

like the ABBA classic goes..."Can you hear the drums Fernando?"
pound'n yer insignificant memory from my existence?

i am not embarrassed nor will i ever deny that i am THEE...
unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...cuz if that's a deal breaker...then don't let the door hit ya in the A double snakes on the way out...cuz i won't ever be doin it again...and P-U-H-L-E-E-Z...get off my dress!