anytime i have to get outta bed between the hours of 8am to 5pm monday thru friday...it's always gonna be looong and hard...(hey...keep it clean kittens...or i'll wash yer mouth out with cheap bottom shelf swill)...i popped in to see the professor whom i visit on occasion...fer the easiest exit off of 401K avenue...and to this day...he has only rewarded me with the correct numbers fer a $4 payout once...but with all the shenanigans happen'n from Missouri to the Minne-Apple recently...i figered it was time in invest in a kevlar vest and pay a visit to the wizard fer answers...
turns out though...huh...same person...you don't know who to believe these days
as sad as it is how all these scenarios unfortunately happened randomly...
and very senselessly...in a time like this...fuck the wizards and the professors...someone best contact CTU pronto...ask fer Bauer...he'll know what to do within 24 hrs or his name ain't Jack
the week had just barely begun fer me...but unfortunately...
i was too weak fer it to begin in the 1st place due to sunday funday spill'n into my manic monday...so after a very taxi'n day in my cubicle...and calgon clearly was no where in sight...i received a desperate phone call late monday even'n from my very inebriated vice president to the CEO of my fan club...ask'n fer a colostomy or a quarter...i couldn't quite understand what the hell she he was say'n...
as his unequilibrium finally made sense...he was summon'n me to help out in the beat my liver to a bloody pulp game one more time...with the ever intoxicatingly and breath takingly beautiful assistant of tv's BEAT THE CLOCK...ROXANNE...who i had the pleasure of meet'n last christmas...completely turn'n my world upside with her stories from the yester years of hollyweird...but unfortunately...
there was only 1 position on my mind that even'n (and NO it DID NOT include bein' on all 4's...well...not by me anyways)...missionary position with cool cucumbers slices blanket'n my eyes and marinate'n in dijon dressing...my weekly beauty regiment and dinner salad all rolled into one
he then had given me the option behind door number 2...
which i was hope'n it was a brand new Amana radar range with beautiful bamboo stools...a kitchen counter top table made of brushed imitation formica and a full set of gourmet cookware from the makers of Cuisinart...but no such luck...it was just kick ass box seats to...
the unfulfilled fantasy Hot Duo's and the Half Breeds
(fer those unable to purchase a ticket to the catch up train...i'm talk'n about the MN Twins and the Cleveland Indians...but this is my story...so deal with my interpretation...and sit down and shut up)
now where was i?...oh yea...thing is though kittens...
this was virgin territory fer me...i am not used to watch'n a bunch of guys in tights...swing'n their bats...with balls fly'n all over the place (ummm...quit roll'n yer eyes) well...not unless it involves an assortment of lubricational jellies and jams of course...though i had apparently met the very lickable likeable Joe Mauer years earlier at a drink'n establishment in the uptown area and he had purchased me and my non fuckable friend a beer (hey i had already met my required charitable contributions fer the year at that point)...i was gonna need a lil more convince'n reason to waste 3 hrs of my life...
which my vice president of my fan club assured me that CHER would be perform'n at the halftime show...so i figered i might as well open my mind like a love starved lotus flower and pollinate my mind to new experiences
i was lost...what does one wear to a barbaric sport'n event like this?
the latest runway look by Jean Paul Gaultier?
or a more colorfully yet casual and completely comfy muumuu?
my vice president had chosen a much more suitable look...since he was devirginize'n me on his dime after all
we popped into the local non heterosexual water'n hole...
fer a pre-game gynecological exam in the restroom non nonalcoholic refreshments and then it was off to the game
though the baseball stadium was only a mere 2 blocks away...
we were waaaay too tired to be bothered to walk it...so we summoned a local street cabbie to take us to our desired destination...but the damn ass might as well have been doin' the sugar shuffle at the rate we were move'n...we should'a just gotten out and walked it...but then we remembered we'd look alot more important to the pheasants if we are bein' waited on
once we reached the gate...much to our surprise...the CEO had take'n our box seats inside with him instead of leave'n them at the gate...so the vice president hissed and stomped...so of course i hadda pull out the really big guns and let her know that i was indeed the unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe to get any sorta service...
she looked at me with her beady lil eyes and was like "listen...i don't know who you are...or where you came from...but you most certainly don't fit in this arena...why...yer not even properly dressed"
i was like..."listen sister...if i wanted yer opinion...i'll beat it outta ya!"
after security gave us our complimentary pat down...we texted the CEO fer his location and then frantically searched fer our kick ass seats in the nose bleed section the closest water'n hole cuz my vice president was goin thru
thee most dramatic withdraw symptoms from what i was to understand...it was the bottom of the 2nd in'n...but i could see no one worthy enough in sight fer me to fulfill that position...so luckily we found the CEO...with his secretary son...it felt just like i had stepped onto an episode of the courtship of Eddie's father...though i was confused as to which one was actually play'n Eddie...my vice president or his secretary (ummm i hope my CEO is insert'n a huge laugh here...he's been upgraded from celebrity stalker to CEO after all)
once we found our actual kick ass seats on the front line...we realized one thing...that there was a bar stool that must be freeze'n to death right about now somewhere...and my vice president was about to go into cardiac arrest...so after the most gruel'n 60 seconds of our entire existence were wasted...sitt'n in places where we knew we absolutely did not belong...
we downloaded the latest non nonalcoholic's divine'n rod app and set our GPS to stun anyone that got in our way...and by the time we had located our desired destination...the ass holders had welcomed us with open arms as the bartender lined up the medication fer our consumption...give'n us all a non heterosexual nonsexual time on a school nite...and despite it bein' attached to some barbaric sport'n event...i was comforted in the fact that CHER would soon be perform'n once they reached the half point in the game
i couldn't help but notice though that our bartender couldn't help but notice that i was thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe my glass was empty...and he filled it back to the brim...(though i was ready to fill mine with him)
i asked him politely intoxicated...when was CHER's halftime performance goin to begin...and don't you hate when this happens to MEEEE?...he looked at me like i was the crazy one...then he tells me that she was here last nite...UGH!...damn why does this always happen to me?
absolutely intoxicatingly inconsolable...we packed our regret at the bottom of the 8th...or 9th...seriously though...who really cares at this point...since we were now at the bottom of our barrel...and headed over fer a nite of classically trained chalk board scratch'n singers ruin'n all the top 40 hits you can think of...commonly known karaoke
though we never got to see Miss Sarkisian turn back time...
we tore it up...and i mean that litterally...we hacked into "just like jesse james" like Lizzy Borden at a birthday party...luckily this momentous moment will NOT be televised anytime soon...and though we never did find out how many touch-downs...baskets...goals or whatever the Twins needed to beat the Indians to a bloody pulp in the 4th round...it was an experience id' rather not experience again without bein' properly informed of the halftime show entertainment
i wanna give a huge gift of heartfelt gratitude...
to my vice president...secretary to the CEO and my CEO of my fan club
fer finally popp'n my baseball cherry...and force'n me to participated in that damn selfie ritual of look'n like hostages held at gun point bein forced to fake a smile to assure yer loved ones yer bein' treated fairly...i wish i could give you more in return...but i'll be make'n monthly payments on that as it is...but you'll be receive'n yer complimentary colostomies as a token of my slowly die'n appreciation this christmas...
and a jug of everyone's fav-o-rit window cleaner
thanx fer join'n in on our little adventure this week...but i must bid ado
cuz it's time fer me to pay it forward...and pop someone else's cherry...so i gotta make a quick run fer supplies
so kindly get off my dress!
No comments:
Post a Comment