NOT SO PLASTIK?...FANTASTIK!

the very moment we take that slip and slide ride down the birth canal to be

greeted by all those annoyingly thunderous goo's and gushes in every nook and cranny from every granny Aiken's to the uncle Orlean's around the planet...we are told we're gett'n old and we as a society will go to whatever extremes to cling onto the past at any and all costs...regardless of the ramifications...unfortunately there is no magic wand nor fountains of youthful elixirs...

that will help turn back time...

to stop yer unfortunate age'n process rott'n corpse from become'n just a mere moment in someone's memory...

BUTT...there are options!

ever since i was a traumatized teenaged terror in a town full of total uptight

tit slinge'n fly trappers and pabst blue ribbon beer guzzle'n balance'n acts that frequented Roy's Little Nashville Bar kitty corner from the block i used to live on in some simple and small minded MN town...i made it my pre-unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe's life's mission not to tumble outta bed and stumble to the kitchen just to pour myself a cup of some damn ambition

though there have been many a queens thru-out the distance of time...

years before MADONNA would become the queen of the dance floor...

BOY was the queen of london...

and FREDDY was the QUEEN of  rock-n-roll...

however...the only queen i truly got to personally know on a one to one

weekly basis...the queen of all clays who was my go-to to give a backhand sammich to father time while clean'n out my pores in that under stated porcelain white tube topped off with her emerald green crown was QUEEN HELENE (however fuck that 33% more market'n scheme cuz it NEVER existed...it was just full of air)

of course this was mainly due to the barrage of magazine market'n and tv

jingles that traumatized our teenage insecurities since we were already the leader of our own personally destructive pity parade of our own personally awkward looks and then there was that one episode of Phil Donahue on skin cancer that didn't help matters

i can remember some years later when i was forced out on my very own 

and started out my career as a beauty school drop-out...my all time fav-o-rit teacher Anna Overland tell'n the class when it came to skin care to always moisturize...moisturize...moisturize then to switch up yer moisturizer every 3 months so yer skin would not get used to a routine much like a gym trainer would tell their client to switch up their work-outs every 3 months so their muscles won't plateau and i've pretty much stuck to that routine weekly fer the past 35+ years...though QUEEN HELENE and me have parted ways years ago thanx to technology

though i would be the worlds worst crack addict...just fer the simple fact  

that i hate needles...if i happen to notice parts of me crack'n as i climbed the ladder of life...i'd search out fer the latest and greatest affordable lotions to help keep father time from tap dance'n around me fer yet another year and fer the most part since i wasn't bake'n like bacon every summer since the 80's...eat'n a pretty clean lifestyle (outside of the occasional dirty throat plunger now and then) and work'n out off and on routinely...i've managed to fool the fools who thought i was a fool fer practice'n this lifestyle and now foolishly they wish they'd had practiced my foolery

however...don't confuse that with me degrade'n yer groom'n habits or choices in life...we ALL make them and we ALL must life by them...i'm not impressed if you think i'm not 50 or if you think i look 150 nor do i care if you think i've had any work done...i own it if i did..I AM in my 50+ check mark box of life now and still more fuck'n fabuless-than-the-goin-rate!

if yer insecurely comfortable use'n yer body as some experimental pin 

 cushion fer the latest botulistic jab putt'n yerself in debt just to make that perfect selfie that'll be ferever lost amongst the garbage piles of social media by next week...i say go fer it...we live in an alternate universe these days and anyways with the millions of downloadable beauty apps available at our finger prints we can all look like a fetus in a wig if we really want to...but don't wig out if you get called out in person...society has conditioned us to think that after the age of 20...florescent light'n IS NOT yer friend...after 30 back light'n IS NOT yer friend...after 40 overhead light'n IS NOT yer friend and once yer in yer golden age you outta just turn off the damn lights all together!

so one afternoon as i was hop scotch'n between all the diabetic paraders 

and fantastic sam hair disasters at some random eye sore mall while wait'n to get financially raped by yet another dipshitt'n dip stick’n mechanic...this adorably confused middle easternish Ariana fanniccino Grande thing stalk'n walkers outside some over priced skin care treatment enclosure try'n desperately to corral them inside had reluctantly put me under his spell by batt'n his butterfly lashes and give'n me a free sample of jack-off hand cream to get me inside to purchase some over priced delusional concoction to turn back time so of course i couldn't resist his ming ring and got all Dale Arden on his bubblicious A double snakes

now flattery at any age is always an ego booster fer anyone regardless

if you know they're lie'n thru their yellow stained meth teeth or not and trust me...he was spread'n it like a hooker would their legs fer a mink and a mansion and once inside his web of deception he pulled out a "new innovative cream" that says will help cure me of my crows feet...

ummmmm excuse...why Blanche...have you gone blind?

now even though my ego needs no booster seat....my ego also needs no 

crows feet kill'n cream since...well...i fortunately have no crow's feet to kill at the present time 

however when the times comes…i will deal with it how i see fit!

seriously...i mean i get the script is yer bread and butter at the moment

till you go home to yer parents basement to smoke a bowl and o.d. on a bag of stale jalapeño dorito's you found stuffed between yer couch cushions then check how many followers you got on yer latest tacky tiktok post and if Charli D'Amelio commented on it at all...but gurrrrrrrl PUHLEEZ...you think i'm SHOOK by suggest'n i need yer shitty over priced syrup sludge to smooth out my face?

i have not and DO NOT marinate in Ernest Borgnine beauty crème once a week fer the past 35 years to look this acceptable

when i finally find a crow leave'n their foot prints in my face i'll deal with it

not cuz society beats me down to put myself in financial ruin...think about it kittens...not everyone can age gracefully...some never get to age at all while some age with absolute grace while others are just full of demented DNA disgrace 

however...that's their choice to live with it so who am i to judge judy them

so with that in mind...GET OFF MY DRESS!

MISTAKE NUMBER 3

picture it kittens...it was 2013 the year of the snake if yer into that kinda 

voodoo ...hot as fuckitty fuck HENRY CAVILL was portray'n the new man who made my pants tight...i mean of steel and had everyone and their neurotic nana cream'n in their culottes at the theaters...

hot as political fuck...BARACK OBAMA becomes the 1st non white american to win rent free in the non black house fer the 2nd time in history...

corn whack'n homo hottie from iowa ELI LIEB released his acoustic rendition of MILEY CYRUS's "WRECKING BALL" and trust me...he could wreck my balls anytime (meeeouch)

and we hadda say good bye to that pierce'n blue eyed hotness PAUL WALKER who unfortunately sizzled like a pork chop slamm'n into a tree thanx to his friend who was drive'n like a bat outta hell

BUTT that ain't all that's hot...

so there i was one hot lazy summer afternoon after come'n home from a 

difficult day at the park try'na sell my personality to a reflection in the fountain before almost drown'n and suddenly i received a "viewer discretion advised" phone call outta the blue from someone i had chatted to on the phone lines earlier in the week (this was years before my smartphone purchase when i still relied on my imagination) who was want'n to do some sorta Jane Fonda work-out with me so i thought to myself hey...i hadn't met my charitable quota this particular year at that point yet so WHY NOT!

trust me...you'da said the same thing if you were me and thank CHER ya

ain't...anywho'zll'ding ding...my mysterious caller hadda remind me who he was since this was pre-smart phone days fer me so i opened up my roloxdicks of imagination when he described himself

once he had arrived to my shitbox (and ps...that is a pretext just FYI)

there was no time fer small talk...my biological clock was tick'n while he was lick'n his chops this particular afternoon and cuz...well...there was nothin' small about him

built like a shit brick house we started  huff'n and a puff'n like 2 pigs in a

pie bake-off at the county fair...not a care in the world and trust me...he was more than ready to blow my house down as was i (insert evil wink here)

as he assumed his fav-o-rit position...i put on my fav BURT BACHARACH 

record that had been collect'n dust since the last dance to get me in the mood then the sweat started pour'n like a monsoon in may in minutes

seriously kittens...you'da swore it was a full moon this particular day

cuz i could not shut this howl'n prowler up!

everything was goin exhaustingly well...that is...until a small but definitely a

distinct draft came outta the south at 2 miles per hour...i had just punched into Charlie’s Chocolate factory and believe when i say…i wasn't too damn happy to get this weather report…it was my damn day off!

hey accidents happen...so instead of make'n him feel like crap 

since i was now marinate'n in it...i sent him off to soak in some calgon's cool bouquet fer a minute or so while i took a mini birdy bath in the kitchen sink and then it was back to Maxine Nightingale'n it once again

round 2 was goin to purfucktion...UNTIL...that is...i was back at Charlie's

WTF? i mean as hot as this guy was...i shouldn't have to be punch'n into this kinda work on my days off...just 4 and 1/2 minutes later (hey i was watch'n the clock since my egg timer was broken)

cue another much need birdy bath

i was all set to pay my tab and get goin...but he begged and i figered

fine...yer my charitable act fer the damn decade then plus 3rd time is usually a charm ain't it? HA! does NO go with WAY?

seriously...all i could here buzz'n thru my brain at that particular moment 

was the eloquently soft and soulful sounds of the CULTURE CLUB hit "MISTAKE NUMBER 3" from december of 1984

though he had finally got his sky rockets in flight...there would be no fuzzy

spine tingle'n afternoon delight fer me on this particular shitty afternoon...however...fer once in my life i didn't give 2 shits since he had already bequeathed me 3 of his!

HEY...i'm a damn unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n

illusionist of my own universe...i shouldn't have to put up with any of this shit...L-I-T-T-E-R-A-L-L-Y…so i hope this finally clears up any questions about my fornicational pratices fer all you Gladys Kravitz's of the planet since yer always randomly ask'n me where i stand in the boudoir fer some ungodly reason cuz i ain't save'n myself fer no damn aisle...that ship has sailed and sunk since the 90's

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

FILL'N IN THE DYLAN

picture it kittens...it's the 9th month on the 6th day of 1970 and the clouds 

up above parted thru the chilly autumn skies with south westerly winds outta the north at 15 miles per hour while down below Joan had parted her legs to the east and west after 9 months and 2 weeks as the world would become introduced fer the first very time to a jaundice ladened pre unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of their own universe at 9:06 am that my dad had derivatively named me after his fav-o-rit gun sling'n Roscoe P Coltrane of the wild west...tv's JAMES ARNES as Dodge City's fictional MARSHALL MATT DILLION on the hit western drama series "GUNSMOKE" that ran fer an impressive 20 years from '55 to '75

by 1983...there was a new much more younger though equally as hot non 

 fictional sheriff in town burn'n up the big screen in "THE OUTSIDERS" known to the teenragers of the time as the hot to trot high school hard-on...MATT DILLION 

once the 90's had rolled around...the very popular DILLION name had 

a sorta fictional make-over which was portrayed by the luscious LUKE PERRY portray'n the delicious DYLAN MCKAY as the sizzle to my schinizzle fer 10 fanfuckintastic years til the new millennium on the smash teen drama series "BEVERY HILLS 90210" about high school cliquers deal'n with the hard hitt'n issues of the time like decide'n whether or not to toot around town in their friends cherry red  cabriolet or their parents mulberry wine toyota corolla...which incidentally was played by a bunch of middle aged 20 and 30 somethin's (cuz why not!) 

and ever since she became a tiktok sensation in 2022 document'n her 

amaze'n gender transition...DYLAN MULVANEY has became the new non fictional DYLAN talk of the town with over 1 billion views on her hit video series "DAYS OF GIRLHOOD"

though her career began by portray'n ELDER WHITE in the hysterically 

cheeky musical production of "THE BOOK OF MORMON" written by the brilliantly hysterical creators of SOUTH PARK... 

and the composer of "AVENUE Q" (which is another beyond brilliant ball bust'n production that i've lucked out and seen them both twice...both A MUST SEE when you get the chance...trust me!)

BUTT...let's get back on track

so once DYLAN completed her journey into womanhood the world was her

oyster and DYLAN would go on to appear on a podcast fer ULTA Beauty discuss'n her childhood grow'n up in an ultra conservative family...come'n out as trans and her subsequent transition which of course would eventually put a bee under the bonnet of (you guessed it) the ultra far right repuglicunt fuckertards who i understand live off a very rich diet of glue sticks and religious gonorrhea that of course they would be forced to trend a hashtag boycott'n UTLA Beauty cuz apparently they seen their delusional entity in a slice of moldy wonder bread underneath their unmentionables that commanded them to do so...while they paraded around with their feministic tiki torches claim'n that DYLAN's claims of F-I-N-A-L-L-Y bein happy in her own body as a woman is completely misogynistic...

yea...that's like say'n dumpster trumpster's are the beacon of all things beautifully sacred on this planet while read'n inspirational sonnets from...

the book of Ernest Goes to Colostomy Camp!

now that ANHEUSER-BUSCH the alcoholic inventors behind BUD LIGHT

have choose DYLAN as their spokesmodel fer the month of march madness in hopes to get a slice of her 10 MILLION+ followers on tiktok (along with show'n their support fer more diverse communities than just their typical target taint scratch'n...syphilis infested audience) DYLAN would once again be confronted fer her spokesmodelness

dirty dick cheeser's like anal suppository spokesmodels KID MOCKERY 

and TRAVIS TWITT who think they speak fer most 'mericans everywhere with their combined total of barely there 16 THOUSAND followers on tik tok fer this trans travesty by shoot'n up a case of bud light (that i doubt KID ROCK-BOTTOMLESS-PIT-OF-STUPIDITY doesn't even realize to this very day that ANHEUSER-BUSCH already has his money fer that very case of elephant piss he decided to shoot up in protest) and TRAVIS TWATLESS cancel'n his order of their products at his dwindle'n jamboree's...hmmm...may i suggest KID transition into ADULT ROCK fer a change and grow the fuck up and TRAVIS...well...he's just an angiogram away from retire'n so who really gives a fiddler's fuck what he thinks outside of his halitosed...hootenannied...preparation-H cheerleader swarms who attend his shows

the thing is...ANHEUSER-BUSCH and BUD products have been openly

promote'n and support'n non heterosexual good times every year since 1996 fer gay pride when their 1st slogan was "labels belong on beer...not people" 

and then again after the bill passed fer gay marriage in 2013...so basically these 2 anal leak'n...knuckle dragg'n...past-their-prime...brain dead...mediocre has-been...insecure hemorrhoids (and those try'na jump on their pathetic broken down...busted and rusted bus) have been suck'n on that queer beer fer over 25 years...and you know they milked 'em down to the very last drop…so who you kidd’n?

as if that wasn't enough drown'n in the spotlight...DYLAN would court yet

another apparent appall'n controversial decision later by become'n yet another spokesmodel the fer athletic giants NIKE...sport'n their sport bra's fer women

except this time DYLAN would be met in the box'n ring with worn out...tired and retired olympian maxi-padders CAITLYN JENNER and UK swimmer SHARON DAVIES both call'n fer a boycott of NIKE however…let's be real here…the ONLY reason fer the call to boycott is they weren't asked to model fer NIKE (cuz let's see) ummm...THEY AREN'T A HOT TOPIC anymore...the only thing hot about these bosom bitches these days are the flashes and inconvenient flatulence slippage they're suffer'n thru regularly

puhleez...you ALL combined have no tik tok power here...be gone before

somebody drops a house of common sense on y'all and ruin yer internal hatred for civility!

don't all these mundane menaposers and menopauser's realize that their 

blatant disregard fer those marginalized groups is not where this country is headed regardless of the political policies that are try'n to ban them from exist'n...major companies have used misconstrued "controversial figures" to sell their products since the beginn'n of time...trans people have always been here since the beginn'n of time...they finally just have a bigger voice and way more acceptance thanx to social media and their social injustices!

now GET OFF MY DRESS!