Monday, July 24, 2017

BUSTED! pt 2

last week on busted!...ummm...get a ticket to the catch-up train and click here kitten cuz i ain't gett'n paid diddleyshit to reread it back to yooz!

this weeks ramblin's is sponsored by "DAMN TIGHT JEANS"
"DAMN TIGHT JEANS" are so tight...they'll feel just like yer own personal home hysterectomy kit

and by the maker's of  the all new and improved "HAMMOND 2000"
recommended by 2 out of 1000 carpal tunnel suffers...and 100 out of 100 post masters would'll never have to worry about loose'n yer train of you thought

and now the excite'n conclusion to BUSTED!

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 never get to play in the Tabernacle Choir...even though i had never played the electric guitar in my life...but most importantly...fear that i would be stuck in an orange jumper...know'n full well that orange would give me that unflatter'n jaundice complexion...that even the best of photographers would never be able to make me look presentable...let alone...fuckble in
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 clink without a thorough provocation fer a much warranted and equally deserved pat down...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 cuz the over head fluorescent light'n was murder on my complexion and surely wasn't calm'n my tits down one fuck'n 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?! i'm an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe so i'm goin with "WTF was i think'n!"

next thing ya know...i heard "ok thankyou"
what?'s over?...i didn't even get a countdown to get myself together in my best glamour shot pose...cuz i always shoot best from the right side...thankfully though...the photographer was kind enough to let me see what she had taken....
i was absolutely mortified!

i mean after all...this picture was goin to represent my humiliate'n downfall with some low baritone underscore during my E true hollyweird story someday and who doesn't want a non embarrass'n embarrass'n drama riddled photograph splattered all over the gossip rags fer the world to see?

i have never groveled fer anything in my entire life...
well...besides that time i pleaded with Joan Crawford fer tickets to see the QUEEN's 2nd 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 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 understood whom was in her presence at that point...saw no harm in it...and completely agreed to do a full do over fer me...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 400 thread count Egyptian sheets...body pillow with a lonely wrapped truffle await'n fer my arrival...
nor was there was a 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 worst of all...there was no CHRISTOPHER MELONI IN MY CELL...

the other inmates in my cell of course where not at all as hot like they
were portrayed on that hit series "OZ"...instead i was stuck with just a drunk Tonto and some DYNOMITE dude

i opted outta the complimentary shower since Christopher wasn't in my
 cage and to be quiet honest...i was in no mood to be anybody's soap bitch that particular even' i just sat quietly on the cemented couch...starr'n 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 window and tell'n me "they le'chu out whitey before me...cuz they always be try'na bring my people'z down"
 (and that is a direct quote) 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 skunk...
with a bad attitude...and trust me when i say...i was ready to turn my outfit into a flotation device and begin digg'n my way to the outside...until i realized...i was not a resident of the famous Rikers Island
and we weren't surrounded by shark invested waters

4 1/2 hrs would pass before i would finally hear the click of the cell door 
open'n...and was asked to step out the i shimmied my way down the dank...desolate corridor...i realized i now had somethin' else in common with the BOY...besides being part of a large irish/catholic clan

Tonto still rest'n peacefully in his Jim Beam coma...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 had a free minute...but we both knew it would be our last time our paths would cross...

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 designer...but i guess that is defeat'n the purpose in the first place one might say!...though personally...i think a turquoise blue/dusty meringue combo in some sorta alternate'n psychedelic pattern would be much more calm'n to one's psyche when reflect'n on their own personal demons that they created fer themselves

as the lady Gamorrean guard behind the glass partition pulled my 
 belong'ns that they 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 flip phone...14 benjamins with some loose pocket change...and pocket knife that didn't belong to me and my dignity wrapped in a wrist which i said...just keep it!

that is until i looked closely at my photo...hmmm...this actually could be used to my advantage cuz everyone fantasizes about have'n an outlaw 
in 'em!...i knew this pictorial would be my meal ticket outta loverlessville...and i'd be beat'n 'em off with a stick once i uploaded this pic onto my profile page at seriously hadda ask the guard if i could get the profs...or at the very least...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...
and to top it all off...this wrong guard...was not friends with the right one (i'm just say'n)

i had done my hard time long enough and was starve'n fer some much
 needed medicinal affection...along with a baby spinach salad molested in a raspberry vinaigrette topped with cool cucumber slices fer my swollen eyes and a side of chunky monkey ice cream to calm me down after i had collected myself and my belong'ns

everything was flip 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 $'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 what i was miss'n when i listened to my voicemails from my sibling who i completed blanked out on...OH SHIT!
of course each one was more aggresive than the last from her...not ask'n what had happened to me at if i had been mugged...maimed...mutilated and dumped on the side of the road gasp'n fer my last it was more like "where the fuck are you goddammit...we're wait'n at the fuck'n better pick up yer fuck'n phone"
charmed i'm sure!

as i walked forlornly home that early morn'n...i thought to surreal the past 4 1/2 hrs had been...and how it felt 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 i'm here to tell ain't! 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 exboyfriend

now get off my dress!

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