SLAYED & SLASHED

it's not much of a big surprise...and quiet frankly...i'm sure everyone at

this years WH correspondents dinner were more than happy that our complete loser (by more than 3 million votes...lest we not ferget)...mentally deranged...lie'n sack of pig shit...decided to back outta the dinner yet once again...due his lack of humor...(well unless you include that bail of hay he's been cart'n around atop his melon fer the past 50 some years and molest'n his mug with Ben Nyes bronzer in baby's excremented pumpkin spice)...though i personally think most wished they'd attended the NON WH correspondence dinner instead...where the even'n was commanded by that feisty whipper snapp'n non feckless cunt...SAMANTHA BEE...who slayed the crowd at this years festivities once again...but this made me reminisce about my not so sense of humorous past that i unfortunately had back stage passes to

lemme tell you about an insanity story that began one morn'n a while back

wake'n up from a debaucherous nite one weekend ...after flush'n my dignity down the drain...to a slashed tire...and though i was a bit pissed...eh!...what'dya do but get it take'n care of...right?

i called my on again...off again...back on again...but soooo gonna be off again by the time this story would come to an end i'm sure...pain in the A

double snake hole drunktard friend…lett'n him know that i'd be unable to pick him up cart his drunk A double snakes around all day...well...cuz my tire got in a scuffle with Freddy Kruger apparently in the middle of the nite...so he'd have find another mode of transportation idiot to put up with him fer the day

as i'm waste'n my breath on the phone try'n to decipher his gibberish while gett'n dressed...i smell the fresh scent of highly toxic molten plastic come'n

from my air condition'n unit even though it wasn't on...hmmm?...i pulled my Angela Lansbury cap off the shelf and decided to do a lil investigate'n and ran outside my garden apartment shitbox...only to notice a sleep'n bag on fire on the car next to mine...

i'm think'n...HEY!...is it already that time of  the year fer the annual sacrificial sleep'n bag to the park'n lot gods?...i didn't think that was fer a few more months

i went back inside to call my friend back to keep him abreast of the

situation...well...not more than roughly 3 minutes goes by and there'd be a loud knock on my window by the air conditioner...i'm think’n...DAMMIT!!...were the park'n lot gods not pleased with the sacrificial offer'n that they'd just received?

 

so i threw back on my Angela Lansbury cap and decided to have a lil one on one exclusive sit down with the park'n lot gods about interrupt'n my damn day...but couldn't at this point cuz now my back door (and i ain't talk'n about my plump A double snakes kittens) was smothered in a cloud of black smoke

WOW!!...did that sleep'n bag give the gods indigestion?...or did i just wake up from a bad dream…and land somewhere over the far right side of the rainbow…and actually live in war torn Iraq which was now under attack by insurgents?

i heard people shuffle'n around on the 3rd floor...so i threw on my burka...

 by that...i mean...my over sized "FRANKIE SAYS RELAX" 100% cotton tee...(why not!) cinched it with an under stated gold lame belt and slipped into some beige brooks brothers flip flops…and raced up the steps to find the crowd gather'n around the window...look'n in awe at the stone'n below…i mean…smoke'n below...

from a car now engulfed in flames...roughly 10 feet from my shitbox on wheels barely hold'n together by duct tape and a prayer and directly in front of my shitbox palace window

a lone fire truck enters the park'n lot within seconds...

and i'm reminded...wait...it's almost time fer the annual firemen's ball…must remember to go shopp'n fer somethin sassy and sheer
 (but back to the insanity)

at this point...i'm a lil nerved out (cuz most of the gathered residents are apparently not friends with mr. under arm deodorizer...like me)…and race back into my place fer fresher air and try to figer out what i had to do?

save my priceless cd/dvd collection?...my 80's musical performers doll collection consist'n of Boy George...Cyndi Lauper...3 Cher's...Dolly Parton and Madonna? (that i'm just die'n to have a tea party with some lucky geek from grindr one of these days)...my incredibly insane platform collection?...or my oddly bizarre metal lunchbox collection?

hmmm…decisions…decisions...by now the fresh air in my shitbox was now consumed by the smoke pour'n it's way threw my air condition'n

 system...i had went thru this once before in my lifetime...and was in no mood to skip down memory lane...so i quickly ran outside as fast as i could...only to be greeted by 5 hulky fireman...

(talk about a MO mentos moment...so glad i had a hidden altoid in my pocket)

 well...actually only 4 of them were hulky...one was with a hi-lighted mullet...sorta mannish...with a hint of patchouli oils...that’s all i'm gonna say...you do the math kittens!

my landlord asked me if i had seen anything strange this morn'n...hmmm?

besides a slashed tire...have'n my fresh air consumed by toxic non breathable air...well cuz of the ritual bathers on the 3rd floor…and a pillow of smoke now pillage'n my palace of eBay auctions and fine collectibles...no...everything seems just peachy

what i figered was just a total random fight between Freddy and my tire...

now my landlord decides to put on his Perry Mason blouse and grill me on the witness stand in the park'n lot...ask'n if i had pissed anyone off…(by not gett'n them off) cuz…apparently to him…i should know how homo's can be haters when ya don't call them back...(i was gonna suggest he redirect his anger towards his mother) but i wasn't in the mood fer a piece of paranoia cake that early in the morn'n…my shitbox was bein' accosted by chemically enhanced toxic smoke...so i let it go

shortly there after…as the smoke and firefighters faded into the mist…

a hot red headed 20 somethin' emerged from the back door look'n a bit frazzled…and speak'n in a strong "a dingo ate me baby" accent…helped solve the mystery of the insanity that i witnessed that morn'n

so i guess crocodile dunce-dee was cook'n a pizza that caught on fire…

and instead of throw'n water on the flame'n pizza...apparently in the land down unda...they try and smother it out with a sleep'n bag that they use as their bed...not realize'n that the situation may become combustible...so he did what any tweeked out twat would do and ran the sleep'n bag to the other end of the build'n to throw it out the 3rd floor window...and sparks from the sleep’n bag ignite his car on fire

oh PUHLEEEEEEEEEZ!

after chomp'n into yer hot pocket too quickly from take'n a toke off yer smurf bong...the pizza sauce had infused itself onto the roof of yer mouth...you unscrewed yer pipe and started swish'n yer mouth out with bong water to cool the burn...then accidentally knocked over said bong and a lonely ember rolled onto yer sleep'n bag cause'n the flames to start...and you were too fried outta yer fuck'n mind to think rationally...so you ran it thru the hallways to hide the evidence just in case the deportation police were called in cuz you fergot to renew yer green card...then you tossed it out the window...and that's how the damn chaos started!

though...i still never did figer out how my tired got slashed...eh!...oh well

get off my dress!

X...marks the spot?

we've all had those uncontrollable urges at some point in a relationship

 to make bunny soup...just to get yer utter dismay across...without the other person mince'n yer words into some sorta deciphered dilemma'd ambrosia salad

and trust me when i say...i thought i would neva eva say this...however...

as much as Bunny didn't enjoy mandarin food...nor a mandarin grand baby when she found out Charlotte was goin all intro vitro on her dilapidated ass...i got her point!

as much as i don't enjoy listen'n to raygay music on a caribbean cruise (cuz this is what happens when ya order a deeply discounted cruise vacation on one of those judgmentally judied non heterosexual hook up sites) i also don’t enjoy bein’ abandoned on a deserted caribbean island with a bunch of cock hungry gays try’na catch some rays...due to my abandonment issues

F-I-N-A-L-L-Y after 4 looong ass years...M will be release'n her much

 anticipated 14th studio album "MADAME X" appropriately on june 14th...

though really...it’s her 16th studio album...i don't know why they never include "DICK TRACY" & "EVITA" soundtracks...it’s all M...she recorded em in a studio...& not in some cardboard refrigerator box in some back alley on skid row in LA fer fucks sake

which is incidentally my other god's bday...BOY G

(yes...apparently that's the hip thing to do these days...drop every letter after the 1st in yer name)

return'n back to her roots...literally...i was ecstatic...at least...about 

the cover art with the obviously possible influences of mexicano artiste Frida Kahlo...Dee Sniders "STRANGERLAND" and civil rights american muslin mover and shaker Malcolm X...i was ALL on board...i get it...M's a majestic artiste...M's a freedom fighter...M will not be silenced!

then...yer single dropped!

sadly...after patiently wait'n fer 4 years fer somethin' fresh & ear popp'n

that'd make the neighbors call the cops cuz you played it on repeat fer 8 straight fuck'n hours...while they were try'na enjoy their day off explore'n their "cushioned caves" with the mail man...this was to be thee song fer open'n season of the QUEEN M...that will most likely kick off the summer season of anthems by her (like years past) with press junkets and the occasional tacky talk show performance to keep the fans die'n...til her tour starts later this year...

BUTT instead...

i litterally was like...HMMM...now where in the sam hell did i put that double cd set of  the late great LYNN ANDERSON's greatest hits?

i mean...i know Lynn never promised me a rose garden...but at least she was consistently sing'n about new fresh ways she could fuck you over! (and this was even after perform'n a quick car concert on repeat with my windows rolled down...along the highway at a moderately safe pace of 65 mph)

and i'm sorry to get all Glenn Close on yer supple and awfully mighty high

 alabastered A-double snakes at this point in the game...but i gotta get it out!

bein a life long die hard fan...ever since you told us way back in 1983

"EVERYBODY...get up and do your thing"...i annoyed the live'n fuck outta my sibs...each and every time when you premiered yer latest and greatest beyond brilliant music video at the top of every hour on MTV

when MTV was actually still a music channel that only played ONLY music video's

i've stuck with you and thoroughly enjoyed yer cross controversies

from the beach 

to the belfry

hey...ain't nutt'n wrong with a sinn'n saint...is there?

i can't even count how many times i've worn out yer on screen classics...

even though sometimes i hadda remove my brain and use it as a rubix cube to try and make any sense of it!

BUTT....M...

when i heard yer lead single "MEDELLIN" fer the very 1st time...as i was sweat'n my alabastered A-double snakes off from my work-out...i was hunt'n all over my car fer some dramamine...a pillow...and a paint by number of the cd cover....cuz this did not say to me... 

"EVERYBODY...get up and do your thing"...no it did not!

it was more like a song you would hear once the staff had served you yer lime jell-O portion...after you've finished play'n yer 20th game of canasta with the other colostomy bags at Shady Pines...and you needed to get in a lil cardio

Notre Dame may have been on fire...

but this single was not...FER ME!

wait a minute...that was maybe a wee bit insensitive...was that too soon?

whew...thanx M...glad you TOTALLY agree with me

lemme break down the lyrical sense that just seemed to make no sense

to start...that open'n line "one two...one two...one two cha-cha-cha"...it's like you were play'n hop scotch'n with yer finger tips and yer black platinum Am Ex card...at some random vend'n machine in Lisbon...try'n to decide what Portuguese child you wanted to purchase...while David was at soccer practice

then we ended up hear'n way more of  Maluma's columbian spicy voice...than we did of yers...ya might as well been market'n it as "Maluma (feature'n Madonna)"...i'm mean fer real..i wouldn't be mad at that...

yer always will'n to help out the flailing careers of many from PRINCE to RICKY MARTIN and MR KANKERSOREDASHIAN to name a few

"MEDELLIN" makes "SPANISH LESSONS" sound like a #1 grammy award winner

i get yer taste fer influential latin songs

this song just didn't do it fer me...like every one of yer other leads off of every one of yer albums you've give'n us since the very the beginn'n...

we were all "LIVING FOR LOVE"

we ja-dored that you "HUNG UP"on us

but where's the "MUSIC"?

this...as a lead...frankly lacked that la-da-da that most of us expected 

and by us...I MEAN MEEEEE...though i'm sure it'll grow on me...

like some beautiful fungus...once i hear the 1000 dance remixes by every available dj die'n to remix it fer the dance floor...cuz i have zero plans of ever abandone'n you M...

just let me make this KRYSTAL KLEER right here!

i'm still gonna camp out over nite so i can be the 1st one to purchase yer album...when Circuit City opens up...after all that i've invested into you to...

help feed yer kids over the years...oh look...i found my fav one

in conclusion...i wanna end this review on a completely positive note...

and i'm completely positive...that M picked this patch up at the Sotherby's auction

of the late great Pete Burns left over memorabilia from a couple years back...though i'm sure he's spinn'n around like a record that someone's gett'n some use outta it at least

now get off my dress!

****UPDATE***

the video just premiered...and now it all makes sense to me

though i'm still stick'n to the fact that this is not the strongest album opener...but watch it here and revel in her alabastered self!