yer high school possee after 15 years just to have 'em help you fumigate yer cabin...only cuz one of yer very dear charm'n fucktarded friends decided to haunt yer rental property fer the rest of eternity
art had irritated life with my group of stalkers friends roughly 8 years ago
under completely different circumstances thankfully (though outta their complete control unfortunately) however...it still carried the same plot lines...under a considerably much smaller budget of course...that i could completely turn into some sorta high profiled low budgeted indie flik under the same sorta concept someday i hope
i've lived a completely creative and colorfully cocktailed existence since
the very beginn'n...from my incredibly natural arched eyebrowed sweetly saccharinated split pea souped up lapelled smiles of the 70's...
to the Miss Clairol #33 elephant pissed hair hopp'n aqua netted follicles of the shoulder padded 80's...
followed by my 1st taste as everyones fav-o-rit unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe in the 90's (that incidentally began at the 90's)
that was indiscretely accompanied by the hedonistic "hey aren’t you" days of the 2000's...
only to be frustrated by my independently broke days of the 2010's
that i U-L-T-I-M-A-T-E-L-Y made it to in one piece (at peace) in the 2020's at the tenderly unpasteurized and golden gurl age of the BIG FUCK'N 5-0 at last!
this is all such a bittersweet luxury that i never imagined i'd ever see...
seen as how i thought i'd never make it past 16 at 15 and unfortunately since my dad and 2 of my brothers were unable to relish in this experience on their very own themselves
there are those birthday moments in life that we celebrate as a conclusion
to a cornerstone of our existence...fer instance...yer last chance of gett'n away with murder while gett'n visually molested by the grandparents on yer sweet 16th
and yer last chance of gett'n a free "get outta jail card" from yer parents on yer 21st
with the current state of affairs we're currently live'n in...there will be no
gigantor fanfare with me marinate'n in an ocean of cocktails among my friends and certain fam members...followed by a slice of chilled coconut cake served to me after my final performance by some beef caked up clown stripper from Schenectady that i had always envisioned i would get delivered to me to commemorate with...on such a momentous milestone in ones existence
i do not subscribe to that attention whore'n "it’s my birthday week"
like many that march in their own prozac popp'n pity parade...so unless yer the spawn of satan (which i am absofuckinglutely convinced the current mentally deranged IMPEACHED FOR LIFE sociopathetik sack of pig shit disgrace’n the WH is #BIDENHARRIS2020)
it DOES NOT take a week to be exhumed from yer landlord's womb nor are you rebirthed 6 consecutive days in a row...it just so happens that this self deprecate’n babble was posted exactly 6 days before i was to be expelled from my hosts gelatinous sack...
therefore you will just have to suffice with a lil ALTER IMAGES homage to myself fer the week
and if i’m lucky enough...i’ll be bath'n in a vat of tasty fava beans...hosed down with a nice chianti by my bff Peetrinella in her backyard come sunday...who knows?
now GET OFF MY DRESS!
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