Monday, July 25, 2016

take'n one too many fer the team!

so this happened a while back...after a long hard day in someone's orafice
hey...it's always gonna be looong and hard...it's the Irish in me...(do you need some?...hey...keep it clean kittens...or i'll wash yer mouth out with cheap bottom shelf swill)...anyways...i popped in to see the professor whom i visit on occasion...fer the easiest exit off of  401K avenue...and to this day...he has only rewarded me with the correct numbers fer a $4 payout once...but with all the shenanigans happen'n from Munich to the Minne-Apple recently...i figered it was time in invest in a kevlar vest and pay a visit to the wizard fer some real answers...

as sad as it is how all these scenarios unfortunately happened randomly...
and very senselessly...in a time like this...fuck the wizards and the professors...someone best contact CTU pronto...ask fer Bauer...he'll know what to do within 24 hrs or his name ain't Jack

the week had just barely begun fer me...but unfortunately...
i was too weak fer it to begin in the 1st place due to sunday funday spill'n into my manic monday...so after a very taxi'n day...and calgon clearly was no where to take me awaaay...i received a desperate phone call late one even'n from my very inebriated friend of my follow'n...ask'n me fer a colostomy bag or a quarter...i couldn't quite understand what the hell she he was say'n...
as his unequilibrium finally started to make sense...he was summon'n me to help out in the "beat my liver to a bloody pulp" game one more time...sorta like a twisted episode with that ever intoxicatingly and breath takingly beautiful assistant of tv's BEAT THE CLOCK...ROXANNE...who i had the pleasure of meet'n one christmas...completely turn'n my world upside with her stories from the yester years of hollyweird...but unfortunately...
there was only 1 position on my mind that even'n (and NO it DID NOT include bein' on all 4's...well...not by me anyways)...and that was me in a missionary position with cool cucumbers slices blanket'n my eyes and marinate'n in dijon dressing...my weekly beauty regiment and dinner salad all rolled into one

he then had given me the option behind door number 2...
which i was hope'n it was a brand new Amana radar range with beautiful bamboo stools...a kitchen counter top table made of brushed imitation formica and a full set of gourmet cookware from the makers of Cuisinart...but no such luck...it was just kick ass box seats to...
the unfulfilled fantasy Hot Duo's and the Half Breeds
(fer those unable to purchase a ticket to the catch up train...i'm talk'n about those MN Twins and the Cleveland Indians...but this is my story...so deal with my interpretation...and sit down and shut up)

now where was i?...oh yea...thing is though kittens...
this was virgin territory fer me...i am not used to watch'n a bunch of guys in tights...swing'n their bats...with balls fly'n all over the place (ummm...quit roll'n yer eyes) well...not unless it involves an assortment of lubricational jams and jellies of course...
though i had apparently met the very lickable likeable Joe Mauer years earlier at a drink'n establishment in the uptown area and he had purchased me and my non fuckable friend a beer (hey i had already met my required charitable contributions fer the year at that point)...i was gonna need a lil more convince'n reason to waste 3 hrs of my life...
which said friend assured me that CHER would be perform'n at the halftime show...so i figered i might as well open my mind like a love starved lotus flower and pollinate my cranial recorder to new experiences

i was lost...what does one wear to a barbaric sport'n event like this?
the latest runway look by Jean Paul Gaultier?
or a more colorfully yet casual and completely comfy muumuu?
of course said friend had chosen a much more suitable look...since he was devirginize'n me on his dime after all 

we popped into the local non heterosexual water'n hole...
fer a  gynecological exam in the restroom pre-game non nonalcoholic refreshments and then it was off to the game

though the baseball stadium was only a mere 2 blocks away...
we were waaaay too tired to be bothered to walk it...so we summoned a local street cabbie to take us to our desired destination...but the damn ass might as well have been doin' the sugar shuffle at the rate we were move'n...we should'a just gotten out and walked it...but then we remembered we'd look alot more important to the pheasants if we are bein' waited on
well...what seemed like an eternity to reach the stadium...we both realized how absolutely parched we'd become...i mean...it had been approximately a whole 2 1/2 minutes since our last glass of refreshments...so we threw some benjamins and a breath mint to the pheasant cabbie and we were on our way to see CHER at the halftime show

once we reached the gate...much to our surprise...a friend had take'n our box seats inside with him instead of leave'n them at the gate...so we hissed and stomped...of course i hadda pull out the really big guns and let her know that i was indeed the unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe to get any sorta service...
she looked at me with her beady lil eyes and was like "listen...i don't know who you are...or where you came from...but you most certainly don't fit in this arena...why...yer not even properly dressed"
i was like..."listen sister...if i wanted yer opinion...i'll beat it outta ya!"

after security gave us our complimentary pat down...we hunted fer our seat'n location and then frantically searched fer our kick ass seats in the nose bleed section the closest water'n hole cuz we were goin thru thee most
 dramatic withdraw symptoms...from what i was to understand...it was the bottom of the 2nd in'n...but i could see no one worthy enough in sight fer me to fulfill that position...so luckily we found the the closest bar...and sitt'n next to us was this dad and son duo that looked more like a phone call away from "the Courtship of Eddie's Father" on the spice channel

once we found our actual kick ass seats on the front line...we realized one thing...that there was a bar stool that must be freeze'n to death right about now somewhere...and our chilled hearts were about to go into cardiac arrest...so after the most gruel'n 60 seconds of our entire existence were wasted...sitt'n in places where we knew we absolutely did not belong...
we downloaded the latest non nonalcoholic's divine'n rod app and set our GPS to stun anyone that got in our way...and by the time we had located our desired destination...the ass holders had welcomed us with open arms as the bartender lined up the medication fer our consumption...give'n us all a non heterosexual nonsexual time on a school nite...and despite it bein' attached to some barbaric sport'n event...i was comforted in the fact that CHER would soon be perform'n once they reached the half point in the game

i couldn't help but notice though that our bartender couldn't help but notice
that i was thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe my glass was empty...and he filled it back to the brim...(though i was ready to fill mine with him)

i asked him politely intoxicated...when was CHER's halftime performance goin to begin...and don't you hate when this happens to MEEEE?...he looked at me like i was the crazy one...then he tells me that she was here last nite...UGH!...damn why does this always happen to me?
 
absolutely intoxicatingly inconsolable...we packed our regret at the bottom of the 8th...or 9th...seriously though...who really cares at this point...since we were now at the bottom of our barrel...and headed over fer a nite of classically trained chalk board scratch'n singers ruin'n all the top 40 hits you can think of...commonly known as crapaoke

though we never got to see Miss Sarkisian turn back time...
we tore it up...and i mean that litterally...we hacked into "just like jesse james" like Lizzy Borden at a birthday party...luckily this momentous moment will NOT be televised anytime soon...and though we never did find out how many touch-downs...baskets...goals or whatever the Twins needed to beat the Indians to a bloody pulp in the 4th round...it was an experience id' rather not experience again without bein' properly informed of the halftime show entertainment


though i should thank my stalkers fer finally popp'n my baseball cherry...
i unconsciously cannot since i was force'd to participated in that damn selfie ritual of look'n like some hostage held at gun point...bein forced to fake a smile to assure my loved ones i'm bein' treated fairly...i wish i could give them more in return...but i'll be make'n monthly payments on that as it is...but they'll be receive'n their complimentary colostomies as a token of my slowly die'n appreciation this christmas...
and a jug of everyone's fav-o-rit window cleaner

thanx fer join'n in on my little adventure from my past...but i must bid ado
cuz it's time fer me to pay it forward...and pop someone else's cherry...so i gotta make a quick run fer supplies

so kindly get off my dress!

Monday, July 18, 2016

NUTCASE CITY LIMITS

ever get that not so fresh feel'n...like yer being watched?
and i don't mean that in a Linda Lovelace sorta ways kittens...well not today anyways!

so you know how much i'm into gangsta rap MADONNA right?
well...this has nothing to do with the follow'n events...i just figered...in case ya don't already know...it's been over 9 months since i saw her sold out
"REBEL HEART TOUR" in St Paul...and i am have'n complete withdraws...
I NEED SOME NEW M'ness...STAT!

MADONNA...if yer read'n this...i want you to know...i'm borderline...i feel like i'm goin to loose my mind!
look...now you got me gett'n all flaklempt!
talk amongst yerselves...i'll give you a topic....MADONNA is neither a virgin or from Virginia...discuss!

so there i was a couple months back...chatter'n amongst the lost lonely souls along the informational highway look'n fer fornicational pleasures at the easiest and apparently...most polluted and diluted...i mean the most "popular" informational highway rest stop out there...GRINDR...
strictly as a sexually charged starved observationalist of course

well truth be told...i actually loathe non verbal communication completely...
about as much as i loathe sushi...Belushi...phoney's and flakes...and definitely anything deep fried on a stake...the socially retarded...the chemically dependents...and what is up with all these emotionally delayed defendants?

i think Miss Macgregor's nipples said it best when they said...

bein' the unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe that i am...i seriously don't have time to be bothered with
play'n the proverbial text game of cat and mouse...i mean come'on...i'm a pseudo sorta somewhat star after all...i don't have to put up with that shit!
so unless i'm totally engaged in a deep conversation of yer boredom...i just throw my contact number out there like candy to the depraved non heterosexual kittens with a pulse...

when ya think about it really though...text'n is sooo very very impersonal...
it was much more romantic when our indian mo's used to send smoke signals...granted you never knew back then if it was fer a hook-up...or they just needed a bucket of water cuz their tee-pee was on fire...but just like smoke signals...9.5 times outta 10 (trust me...that .5 helps)...they rarely ever call back anyways...cuz aggressively passiveness is sooo much more attractive...don'tcha think?

well on the occasion that the one half that actually does decide to do voice on voice connection...i do my best to try and weed out their intentions within the first 5 to 15 minutes...and make my call if it's gonna end up bein' a terrific nite on the town...or just a tea bag party after the sun goes down
and if the latter is the case...i do my stretches and make sure to lay out an assortment of spermicidal jams and jellies...i am a safety gurl after all

one even'n while i was pump'n my muscles...plural here...(don't get twisted)...i received a text from an out of my area code unknown number
short story a lil longer than needed...yer name ain't in my cellular device?...you either lost my interest...or didn't bring me any canned goods!...such was the case i guess with said texted man...but i'm all about give'n it up to charity...when a quota is needed...so i said to him...send me a pic to remind me why i didn't wanna be bothered to log you in my phone in the first place...cuz now maybe i do...one never knows right?

minutes later...i received a text look'n like the guy work'n out next to me...
at first i thought..S-C-O-R-E...well he was the conductor of my grrrrravy train after all!

but as i looked closer to the picture...it was my back stand'n next to him?
hmmm?...now this text was turn'n more into like...the call is come'n from inside the house!

i immediately put down the dumbbells and pulled up my leg warmers...and skedaddled the H-E-double hockey stix outta there...as i was head'n out... 
a not so close friend that i only here from when they need grocery runs...called and i was tell'n her about this freak who took a pic of me work'n out...and not that that was so unusual...but it was more the manner that the pic was take'n...it was take'n thru the window of the gym
now i know what it feels like to be MADONNA...well...minus the gazillion dollars in my piggy bank...a hot bilingual conalingul to read bed time stories to...and a posse of A double snake kissers every where i go to do my bidd'n...but at least we now have a common thread to talk about over beluga caviar...carrot strips and a splash of kabbalah on the side...if the situation should ever happen that we meet...again!
fer i have FINALLY made it after all...my 1st OFFICIAL STALKER!...

by the time i had made it home...i started gett'n dinner ready and noticed another text from him...but decided that this cat and mouse game had gone on long enough...so i deleted it without even read'n it...then another text had come thru...this time with a pic that looked awfully familiar to myself...
CUZ IT WAS ME LEAVE'N THE GYM!

seriously kittens...this was now gett'n a lil to "i will not be ignored!"

and i was in no mood fer bunny soup that even'n!

3 hours later...as i was od'n on sex and the city...since i wasn't have'n any...
a call came thru with no name...but i was so strung out like some junkie whore on the show...that i picked it up without think'n...he said we met a while back...and wanted to "hang out"...so i said sure come on over...but only to swap stories...not spit...cuz i was gett'n ready to count sheep

30 mins later...a text popped up say'n he was here...so i threw on my Smurf jammies (why not!) and headed fer the back door...but as i reached the top of the steps...i could see some guy peer'n thru the back door
this was not anyone that i had ever met or tip toed thru the tulips with before...
and though he was sorta Colin Farrellfishy...
 in a Charles Nelson Reilly sorta way...
i had zero clue who he was and was in no mood to play 20 questions...so i opened the back door and asked him who he was...turns out...
 HE WAS MY STALKER!

as he paced back and forth in the park'n lot try'n to get me to let him inside...i wondered....hmmm?....how did he ever find me?...then i thought wait!...i'm thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own damn universe...i don't have to put up with this shit!
then i noticed he had a back pack...so i let him talk...cuz i wasn't wear'n my kevlar protective jammies that nite

he pretty much rambled on...hop scotch'n from random story to random story...how 95% of non heterosexuals lie on line about themselves (can't argue with him there unfortunately)...how i was good look'n (again...good point!) but look like i'm pretentious (hey hold up a minute there!)...then he went off the deep end about if he ever had kids and the stove was on how he would let them touch it and they would learn their lesson and how no one ever wants to hang out with him...and how he has an IQ of 110...
AND...time to go P-S-Y-C-H-O! 

i told him it's been lovely meet'n him and thanked him fer play'n...he went home with some beautiful part'n gifts...like a phone number to a "friend" of mine work'n inside the home of the the koo-koo clucks and some turtle wax i had left over from my price is right winn'ns...and made my way inside
i racked my brain over and over how he found me as i applied my St Ives mint julip mud mask...turns out a friend i had called said that any picture's that i may have take'n in my own lil shit box i call home and sent out to the universe...can easily be tracked by GPS from my phone
DOH!

i knew upgrade'n my dino flip phone to a smart phone was gonna be the death of me...my dumb ass would never figer out all the tricks and triggers and chaos's it could cause...it's a trilogy of terror i could do without!

3 days later...i received a call from yet another unknown number...and like an idiot think'n it could be a call from Ed McMahon tell'n me i had won the publishers clear'n house bullshit...(before i realized he's dead) i picked up!
he wanted to know what my name was...i said "WHY?"...he said...
 "cuz i wanna know who i'm look'n at!"

well it has been 3 weeks since my stalker left me...but i know he's out there...watch'n...wait'n...want'n more...of me...well why the hell not?
but i'm in no mood to have'ta get another number fer fuck's sakes...i can barely remember my ABC's...let alone my STD's...so until we meet again...and i'm sure we will...

GET OFF MY DRESS!