ME & MRS. JONES pt. 3

picture it kittens...the year was 1998 and MISS CICCONE had ushered in 

a whole new hair color...a whole new religious cult of red string limp wristed gluten free kabbalah zombie's (that would only last until she dropped her next album before they would cut the string) and a whole new electronical beat with her hauntingly chilly somber hit "FROZEN" that was the 1st of many masterpieces off her 7th studio album "RAY OF LIGHT" which had swept the musical world away like some sensational synthesized tsunami at sea

Jack and Rose froze their collective asses off on a piece of plywood float'n on the ocean in the chilliest blockbuster of the year "TITANIC"

and i chilled out at Peetrinella's palace once a week with a couple of cocktails and a not so frozen pizza watch'n 4 ballsy...non woke...sexually infused women on the sexist sensational series "SEX AND THE CITY"

25 years later after 6 beyond brilliantly written seasons...2 very over the 

top movies and one reboot season (that was annoyingly "too woke" at times) already in the bag...the cosmo queens are back at it once again with their silver anniversary of the season 2 reboot of "AND JUST LIKE THAT" this week with a few sensational surprises added with the 1st bein the return of my fav-o-rit of Carrie's 60 some boyfriend's thru-out the series...Aidan Shaw

BUTT...look away 

if you don't wanna hear about the triumphant return of the holy grail of

the series...everyone's fav-o-rit unapologetic succulent damsel of the dicklickers...the fuck machine with the fancy Fendi bag...SAMANTHA JONES...though my Krystal balls tell me she only agreed to appear on the actual cliffhanger...off set...with none of the ladies who lunch around her (i'm sure fer bookoo bucks) however i say good fer her...she totally deserves it...i'll take SAMANTHA's saucy sass anyway i can

so now that that's outta the way...get yerself a ticket to the catch-up train

and lets go back a year to 1997 by click'n here fer pt. 1 and here fer pt. 2 and now back to my program

with literally only milliseconds to rearrange my entire thought process

or just walk off the fuck'n set all together...i was given the go ahead to burst thru the stage doors with a big smile on my face and some sass in my ass so that's exactly what i did and worked that stage like a hungry hooker on a 2 fer one special downtown on a late friday nite

after make'n my entrance and sashay'n my A double snakes clear across 

to the center of the stage...i noticed on the upper portion behind my seat were 2 judges on cheap look'n Ashley furniture bar stools..one bein some local radio host i guess who looked like RANDY JACKSON's illegitimate cousin from Ipanema and MONROE from 80's brain aneurysm humored sitcom "TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT" played by that tulip sniff'n JIM J BULLOCK

once JENNY had introduced me to the audience and proceeded to pay

me her paltry pleasantries after i sat down...me and DAVE would "exchange" our words that we were fed earlier with Dave absolutely stunn'n me by say'n that my co-workers were sick of me "come'n to work every day in drag" which literally i had only done once in my life when i won a $200 gift certificate at BUCA restaurant fer the hweenie costume contest with all the corporate big wig pigs as CHER fer the very 1st time in the "BELIEVE" look which include the headdress she wore in the video that i had handmade completely from scratch outta fiber optic tubagge...half a softball sized styrofoam ball...a bag of glitter and a glue gun (all fer under $3) which i might add wasn't even until a year after film'n my trainwreck of an episode and i might also add i had used my entire winn'ns on 7 of my co-workers fer a nite on the town...

well...i decided to opt outta the "staged" response the producers wanted poured outta my over drawn lips...instead i simply replied with a line from "ELVIRA MISTRESS OF THE DARK" movie "nice jacket...who shot the couch?" (which was completely lost on the lobotomized acid wash jeaned audience i might add)

i figered since i was fed the "talk to the hand...blah blah blah" bullshit

by the producer...i'm sure Dave was probably given the same feed'n as well so i just played along with it the best i could without come'n off as some deranged breakdown (the wanna PRODIGY kid was mercilessly crucified by the judges and the audience so of course the camera man hadda zoom in when he was gonged to hell and i could see him well'n up with the water works try'n his damndest not to break the dam on camera)

after the 1st break i was told to do a runway walk-off with the lame model

they had hired from shag-a-skank stripper emporium once we were back from break (since i was now apparently vy'n desperately to be the new CINDY CRAWFORD after all) so i played along with their shady charade and figered it'd be good tv since i knew my throat plunger was securely stapled to my back and once i made it to the center of the stage...i pulled a 360 and gave the audience an eyeful!

after our interview with JENNY was over...she had turned to the planet 

of the ostentatious audience members sitt'n beneath my presence (exactly where they belonged) and asked them who should get the make-over to which they cheered of course fer the siliconed "Ginger" wannabe and then fer me since we had the highest audience reaction and judge's scores 

so we were escorted off immediately and basically give'n a 15 minute make-over back stage while they fed ritalin filled bananas to the audience so they wouldn't attack us i'm guess'n when we returned

lemme just say how utterly traumatical this make-over experience was fer

lil ol' me...while the jovial spiced maxi pad sat in her make-up chair as they rearranged her DNA to look like some 80's mall rat...3 ostentatious ugnaughts stripped me down to my barely there dignity...1 pinned me into an oversized suit jacket and slacks combo with a complimentary blouse and neck tie from men's warehouse's 75% off rack to fit my then 29 inch waist...another ripped off my wig and colored my locks from elephant piss yellow that it was at the time to a mickey mousey brown...while the last one literally sand blasted my unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe make-up off and reshalacked my mug in all man make-up (i hadda fight with the fuck'n hot as hell make-up artist to include my beauty mark cuz it's been my security blanket since i was 16...though he said it made me look too...get this...feminine!)

AS IF!

15 minutes later i was back on stage in my rented pinned up penguin suit

once again bein' judged by the judges and the audience...with JENNY curiously ask'n me "you look good in that look MATTRESS...do you even own a suit?" to which i so impishly replied "only if i go to a funeral!" and JIM J BULLOCK blurted out "you should wear suits more often!" as the camera man called it a wrap and we all walked off stage left

Jim tried his best copacabana moves on me backstage and though i'm 

sure he still had some connections he could connect me to in hollywierd (were his moves successful) be that as it may i was no one's showgirl with yellow feathers in my hair even if my dress was cut way down to there

we were told we would get a phone message when our episode would air 

as we collected our belong'ns and headed back to O'hare wait'n patiently fer our flight to take off

that halloweenie i couldn't decide what to wear to the bars so at the last

minute i decided to breathe life back into my “iconic” look and threw back on my naughty nurse outfit once again and as i wait patiently outside the Slutoon to get inside someone's mind...a guy dressed as a deranged easter bunny who was on a party bus that was stuck in downtown hweenie traffic...leaned out the window and yelled "hey ain't you the hot nurse from THE JENNY JONES SHOW? you were fuck'n awesome on it!" 

2 weeks later i got a call from the producers inform'n me that my sassy

appearance on the show got good feedback and was asked to return fer another episode...however...i decided that my dignity was worth way more than just a $50 bar tab...greet'ns from the park'n lot welcome wagon and a free limo ride to and from the studio...so that would be the last time my perforated panties would ever prance on another tacky talk show stage ever again...

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

ME & MRS. JONES pt. 2

"you know i had to sit my big fat tired lazy ass down...oooh what a relief

i'm exhausted...we've been all over the country...me and my jewish piano player...you know how we people get along so well" ~ SANDRA BERNHARD...of course those lucky enough who got to see this fabulous rendition of "ME AND MRS. JONES" by the vivacious vixen MISS BERNHARD be performed in my nightly repertoire when i was start'n out on stage in the 90's at the 90's is also the perfect segway into this week's very blog...don'tcha think?

now that PRIDE is in full swing...just remember you can't bounce on 

all those outta town throat plunger parties without a vat of gun oil lubricant and a gallon of poppers kittens so cash in yer bitcoins and be safe...however...fer those of you that are look'n fer somethin' a lil more substantial amd a lot less suicidal & spermicidal...perhaps consider grabb'n yerself (in the privacy of yer own room sicko) and get tickets to the hottest tour in yer town this summer...

i also wanna add a happy 62nd to the man called BOY this week...therefore...if yer hooked on him as much as i have been since 1982...grab yerself a seat to see CULTURE CLUB this summer as they hit the road in selected cities across the globe and since i got ya on a promotional ticket frenzy...ya might as well get yerself a free ticket to the catch-up train so yer not lost as to what the H-E-double hockey stix is goin on by click'n here fer pt. 1

so once we had landed at O'hare...both me and my new best friend fer the

next 24 hours scurried off to baggage claim to claim our baggage and then hunted down our driver we were promised by the producer who would whisk us away to the studio to meet the rest of the "cast" (i put "cast" in quotes fer a reason kittens...you'll find out soon enough...now on with the program)

this was the 1st time i had ever been inside a stretch limo...and lemme tell

you right now i just felt like i was bein' driven around in a gigantic sperm wagon on wheels...although i've enjoyed the occasional throat plunger thru-out my unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe lifestyle...i much prefer my cars compact like my compact and had no desire to google the area code in order to contact my driver!

and though the guests of THE OPRAH SHOW at the time got to stay 

over  nite at the gorgeously designed and spaciously opulent OMNI hotel in beautiful downtown Chicago...

 

me and Dave were give'n a $50 bar tab at some tacky Howard Johnson 

equivalent sleezy no-tell motel next to the studios...where you were greeted by the lovely afternoon shift in the park'n lot who so generously offered you a sip of their minty fresh swill to take the edge off any stage fright...but hey...$50 is $50 right? H-O-W-E-V-E-R...

i can bet you dimes to donuts though...MARTIKA never had to put up with this kinda shit start'n out!

after we had finished our park'n lot chaser and max'n out our biggest bang

with our newly acquired JENNY bucks at the bar...we met the rest of the "cast" that was gonna be on my episode and keep in mind...i was under the distinct impression that i was come'n on THE JENNY JONES SHOW to display my unique unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe skills since i was that shy and quiet as a kid and now that i was grown up i was a drag queen (well...i was never nor AM NOT old and ugly as that tired title suggests...but that's neither here nor there kapeesh!)

after we had all said our proverbial hello's and doled out our fake hugs

to one another...we were split into 2 groups...the 1st group of the people that were part of my "cast" who were their to hopefully sell their creative accomplishments and parlay them into somethin' bigger...was sent off with this drill sergeant producer to keep us in line and tell us all the do's and don'ts once we were in front of the camera...while Dave and the other plus 1's went off with another show handler to a "secretive" location in the back of the studio i guess

i had always assumed the term "green room" was some highly sensitive 

secretive technical industry term...however...once i got to the desired dress'n room...wouldn't you know it...the room was literally fuck'n green...apple green to be specific!

once i had sectioned off my section on the large wooden picnic tables

set up in front of the brightly lit mirrors...it was time fer me to transform into my stage presentation of the deliciously naughty nurse (which would normally take a 3 hour tour) though i knew i was under time constraints with the show so i worked as fast and as diligently as possible without degrade'n my artistic integrity by block'n out the chatter clatter...sipp'n on my ovaltine and feverishly work'n it out

as some of the other floor mops milled about the room discuss'n how 

they just wanted to go out on stage and basically CHEECH & CHONG their way thru the tape'n (i was the oldest at 26 of the pre-selected "wanna-bee's" after all so i wasn't really work'n with the brightest bulbs on the christmas tree) 3 of the chicklets in the group were in absolute awe of my transformation apparently and wanted me to teach them a few make-up tricks...only a few of them though had stuck out in my mind after all these years...

one of the chicklets wanted to fill out an application to be a new SPICE GIRLS (i christened her SALTY SPICE since she knew how to dish it out)

one of the floor mops wanted to be the new MARILYN MANSON (but looked more like ERNEST BOURGNINE in bad clown make-up and a dusty unbrushed black wig he 5 finger discounted from the 70% off bin at the dollar store...hey these are only obscure memories my dementia riddled mind can recall)

while the youngest of the floor mops wanted to be the lead singer in THE PRODIGY tribute band you could rent fer yer goth wedd'n or briss (though he looked more like a rejected applicant from a HOT TOPIC interview fer huff'n on the manic panic durin' it)

BUTT wait...there's more

once we had all completed our looks fer the stage...one of the producers

came in and gave us a quick run down of who was goin out first and what to expect from the audience and things we could and could not say to them or we would be kicked off/edited from the show (ie: fuck you! kiss my ass! suck my dick! which should'a been a no brainer since this wasn't cable tv however this wasn't their first time at the rodeo) instead they told us to be spirited...animated...laugh...have fun and most of all...try and throw in a "TALK TO THE HAND" or "YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS YOU DON'T HAVE A FACE AND BODY LIKE MINE!"  when possible

i had heard these quotes numerous times on hypnotically tacky daytime 

talk shows from RICKI to JERRY to MONTEL to GERALDO to SALLY JESSE fuck'n RAPHAEL and then i thought to myself (i said self) how is it that many of these train wrecks appear'n on all these shows are practically repeat'n each other on different stages practically verbatim time and time again? NOW I KNOW! they were fed this annoy'n BS before tape'n...it was all so pathetically disappoint'n fer me and i fer one WAS NOT goin to be pigeon holed into ANYONE's lame self centered tag lines... 

so when the time had come fer me to spew this regurgitated vomit...i...ummm..."borrowed" a tag line from my fav-o-rit goth queen "ELVIRA MISTRESS OF THE DARK" movie that i had just watched the previous nite before jet sett'n off to do the show (which i'll get to later)

everyone's nerves were kick'n into high gear and matters didn't help 

when the door attached to our green room opened up and out popped a herd of scantily clad porn stars that apparently had filmed an episode before ours that was about married/date'n couples in the industry of adult entertainment though there was one particular steroided stallion that had strayed from the herd after gett'n a glance of me like a beacon of beauty (since i was almost 7 ft tall in hair and heels) make'n a bee-line straight to my 8 inch shiny red patent luchinni heels...scoop'n me up like a forklift with his massive guns flex'n...rave'n to me how he desperately needed a shot though the massengill magpie i surmised he was attached to was not too pleased with me literally curled up in his gigantic arms caress'n his enormous hard pillow'd pecs

cuz when i got home to develop the film from my instamatic camera (yes all you kittens born after 2000...you had to actually wait 3 to 5 days to see what pix you took and if any actually turned out) which of course the ONLY one that i wanted in full KRYSTAL KLEER view was with this incredible edible HULK (i don't mean that in any Jefferey Dahmer way mind you) though wouldn't you know it...he had asked his maxi pain in the ass to take our pic in the green room...however...all i could see when i picked up my prints was a close up of her fuck'n finger prints with her cheap Lee press on nails hang'n on fer dear life and a bit of my red platform heels (what a complete cuntasaurus!)

it was confirmed that i would be the "show stopper" as in the last guest

to appear out on stage the producer said...then all of a sudden it was as if the seas of porn stars and producers had parted in front of me and there stood this teeny tiny franklin mint of tv talk show figurines MISS JONES herself...check'n out the cast from the island of unfit fortunes...that is until i had caught her eye so she meandered her way thru the crowd and gleefully asked me "wow...from across the room your chest looks so real...who did your make-up?" i simply exclaimed to my newer best friend JENNY "ME!" and she followed it up with "i should hire you to do my make-up" (and that is a direct quote...though i never did get an application)

as we left the green room to cross the hall fer film'n...a line had already 

gathered outside in the hallway fer another show that was bein filmed directly across from ours and though these pleasant pheasants patiently waited to be let into the studio...they also expressed mild shock and awe...glare'n at me in particular like a tractor beam with their death stare aim'n straight fer my Alderaan (well...since i stood above the rest of the flock) 

luckily a handful in line were all too eager to meet me and snap a shitty pic of us together on their motorola flip phone to post on their myspace page...turns out they were in line fer THE JERRY SPRINGER SHOW (which would seriously explain all the worn out acid wash guess-what-these-aren't jeans and bad potato sack V-neck tops from The Limited and The Dress Barn)

soon enough...one by one...each member of my group was lead out to  

their death on stage like a cattle call where they would meet up with their plus 1 from the other side while the producer was egg'n the audience on to respond back with questions and cat calls...and lil ol' waify me wait'n patiently in the wings powder'n my nose and watch'n on the monitors as the stage turned into some sorta all to common WWE match between the audiences and the guests while another producer that was stand'n next to me backstage reiterated that i could say and do whatever i wanted just as long as it didn't involve swear'n like a sailor or stripp'n down to my nibbley parts...

oh and to add to the shock value i noticed on the backstage monitor...the title of the show had now been changed to "YOU'RE TOO FREAKY TO BE FAMOUS" to my shock

i was give'n a 5 minute countdown backstage before i was told to break 

thru the doors as the smoke machine filled the corridor which was practically choke’n me off fer what i had assumed was fer tv dramatics...only this time as i was prepare'n to remember to lyp-sync fer my life (years before that o-t-h-e-r drag show) to PEGGY LEE's "FEVER" i noticed on the monitor back stage JENNY look'n straight into the camera say'n "up next after the break is MATTRESS and he thinks he's going to be a bigger supermodel than CINDY CRAWFORD!"

WHAT IN THE HOLY SASHAY SHANTE' LIVE'N FIDDLER'S FUCK IS SHE TALK'N ABOUT?"

tune in next week fer the excrutiate'n conclusion to ME & MRS. JONES

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

ps...on a side note...a part of my past is now deal'n with alot on her plate

at the present...this lil rapp'n ray of sunshine (i'll just call her Miss Calories Calories Calories) recently lost her job of almost a quarter of a century all cuz of her dangerous do rag...no that's not right...i mean her bitch'n Three's Company tee...no wait that's not it either...oh yea...she was deemed an "inconvenience" to her employers all cuz she's deal'n with that foreigner that decided to move in with her unannounced called stage 4 breast cancer (the nerve right?) and then to add more himalayan sea salt to the already painfully open wound...

Jen had to say goodbye to her beloved family pooch Elena of 15 years who was deal'n with her own body malfunction'n in her twilight years unfortunately...so i ask...NO that's not right...i IMPLORE you (yes Jen i do believe you OWE ME fer that one *wink*wink*) if you don't need that mocha choka frappe latte caramel'd caffe'd macchiato and/or can skip yer friday nite date that costs you $2.99 fer the 1st minute fer the next 4 weeks...why not dig deep down in yer nana's coin purse and buy a feel'n by help'n heal a helluva lady out with yer change fer a change! click here fer more info