G.I. Josephine

close yer eyes and picture it...september 17th 1972

well if ya do...just make sure there's someone next to you read'n you this weeks late break'n ramblin's kitten...otherwise yer not gonna get anywhere...so anywho'zll'ding...

most of us born before the Cabbage patch crazy...totally remember fall'n in love with the out spoken antics of one cross dress'n Corporal Klinger...

who originally planned on hopp'n a plane in Toledo Ohio...head'n to Oshkosh Wisconsin...to compete in the MISS CHEDDAR HEAD competition that year...but somehow boarded the wrong plane after he asphyxiated on his Aqua Net while back comb'n his wig to the heavens and ended up in the middle of the Korean War fer 11 seasons...though he did his damnedest try'n to come up with as many many fabooshka outfits he could to convince the general he wasn't fit to fight...and though it never worked...he made the most of a bad situation and still served along his fellow troops like everyone else

fast forward to 40 years later...and a middle of the nite tweet 

from our TWITTER BITCH in command & outta control...state'n that the transgendered soldiers were a burden on the country's military expenses by about 8 million a year roughly for medical costs

but has ZERO prob with the military spend'n in upwards to over $42 million on dysfucktional dicks

the transgendered community has been fight'n fer their rights and their country fer years and DO NOT deserve to be treated any less than anyone else...regardless what yer fuck'n VOODOO religions preach to you...BOY GEORGE even dedicated a song to their struggles 20 years ago

and we certainly don't need some bloated pussy grabb'n cheezey ball'd basturd slug try'na tell us he consulted with the top military brass...when we...the unlobotomized  unbelievers...who never drank his "juice"...know full well he's lie'n thru his perfectly polished dentures

don't even get me started on his boy scout bullshit rant the other week...i mean what in the H-E-double hockey sticks were the scout masters think he was gonna talk about?...how to build the most beautiful bunt cake outta bark shave'ns and berries in 3 easy steps?

and like he would act any different when invited to speak fer the popo convention?

and since were on the topic of pricks with no purpose...what about the bullshit that crypt keep'n McCain try'd pull'n the other week after gett'n the of cadillac of chemo treatments with his sushy healthcare just to turn around and try'na blow'n up the healthcare system that saved his pathetic pancake ass...luckily redeem'n himself a week later by give'n the final FUCK YOU to our TWITTER BITCH's plans to destroy healthcare fer million without

but lets give credit where credit is due and not ferget the 2 republican sista's that we're already doin it fer themselves

but don't take my word fer it...why not listen to this brassy loud mouthed babe...Miss Bernhard...tell it a bit more eloquently than me...& how most of americans are feel'n currently in this fucked up reality show of an administration

luckily there's some sanity in the world...so if yer in the BIG APPLE...

 and wanna see reason this broadway season to thee hottest and most important show in town by the ever entertain'n political satirist...Mr. Moore...get yer tickets here

so call yer senators demand'n them to step the fuck up with this...

ass wipe administration...that is all!...now get off my dress!

BUSTED! pt 2

last week on busted!...ummm...get a ticket to the catch-up train and click here kitten cuz i ain't gett'n paid diddleyshit to reread it back to yooz!

this weeks ramblin's is sponsored by "DAMN TIGHT JEANS"

"DAMN TIGHT JEANS" are so tight...they'll feel just like yer own personal home hysterectomy kit

and by the maker's of  the all new and improved "HAMMOND 2000"

recommended by 2 out of 1000 carpal tunnel suffers...and 100 out of 100 post masters would agree...you'll never have to worry about loose'n yer train of thought...like you thought

and now the excite'n conclusion to BUSTED!

once i reached the book'n station...the disbelief that i was feel'n...

had now turned into fear...fear that i would never taste fresh air again...fear that i would never get to play in the Tabernacle Choir...even though i had never played the electric guitar in my life...but most importantly...fear that i would be stuck in an orange jumper...know'n full well that orange would give me that unflatter'n jaundice complexion...that even the best of photographers would never be able to make me look presentable...let alone...fuckble in

the hot bulge'n bucket in blue was no longer of any interest to me in the slightest (well almost of no interest)...i mean come on...i was gett'n thrown in the clink without a thorough provocation fer a much warranted and equally deserved pat down...besides...i needed somethin' to think about to get me thru the nite

as i stood against the cold clammy brick wall wait'n to get me picture take'n as part of the book'n parade...i knew i should've checked myself  in the mirror cuz the over head fluorescent light'n was murder on my complexion and surely wasn't calm'n my tits down one fuck'n bit...though somehow...i managed to take a breather when the photographer arrived

i'm ready fer my close up Mr Demille...

only problem was...i wasn't on sunset boulevard...and Billy Wilder was nowhere to be seen

i was told to look forward and stand still fer roughly 5 seconds...and the only thing that ran thru my head was...what is the look i wanna convey in

my snapshot?...sad?...scared?...hysterical?...eh! i'm an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe so i'm goin with "WTF was i think'n!"

next thing ya know...i heard "ok thankyou"

what?...it's over?...i didn't even get a countdown to get myself together in my best glamour shot pose...cuz i always shoot best from the right side...thankfully though...the photographer was kind enough to let me see what she had taken....

i was absolutely mortified!

i mean after all...this picture was goin to represent my humiliate'n downfall with some low baritone underscore during my E true hollyweird story someday and who doesn't want a non embarrass'n embarrass'n drama riddled photograph splattered all over the gossip rags fer the world to see?

i have never groveled fer anything in my entire life...

well...besides that time i pleaded with Joan Crawford fer tickets to see the QUEEN's 2nd tour in St Paul, MN at the tender and supple age of 16

but i was NOT about to let this picture ever see the light of day...so i seriously asked her if i could get a do over...and whether she was completely bored or felt my fear in the photograph...she totally understood whom was in her presence at that point...saw no harm in it...and completely agreed to do a full do over fer me...thank CHER!!

after my session with Annie Leibovitz had ended...

i was escorted to the drunk tank...and lemme tell you...there was no turned down queen size bed with 400 thread count Egyptian sheets...body pillow with a lonely wrapped truffle await'n fer my arrival...

nor was there was a privacy door around the toilet...well cuz there was no wall to attach it to...there was no remote fer the cable tv...well cuz there was no tv...and worst of all...there was no CHRISTOPHER MELONI IN MY CELL...

 I WAS ROBBED!!

the other inmates in my cell of course where not at all as hot like they

were portrayed on that hit series "OZ"...instead i was stuck with just a drunk Tonto and some DYNOMITE dude

i opted outta the complimentary shower since Christopher wasn't in my

 cage and to be quiet honest...i was in no mood to be anybody's soap bitch that particular even'n...so i just sat quietly on the cemented couch...starr'n at the clock

 

tick tock...tick tock...tick tock!

watch'n and listen'n to the hands on the clock slowly sync up with the beat of my heart was the only consolation that kept me somewhat sane that nite...cuz while Tonto was kick'n back count'n sheep...JJ kept up the entertainment by bang'n on the tank window and tell'n me "they le'chu out whitey before me...cuz they always be try'na bring my people'z down"

 (and that is a direct quote) charmed i'm sure!

though i somewhat agreed with his complaint in general...i'm pretty sure it's cuz he kept bang'n on the cell window...yell'n like some drunk skunk...

with a bad attitude...and trust me when i say...i was ready to turn my outfit into a flotation device and begin digg'n my way to the outside...until i realized...i was not a resident of the famous Rikers Island

and we weren't surrounded by shark invested waters

4 1/2 hrs would pass before i would finally hear the click of the cell door 

open'n...and was asked to step out the cage...as i shimmied my way down the dank...desolate corridor...i realized i now had somethin' else in common with the BOY...besides being part of a large irish/catholic clan

Tonto still rest'n peacefully in his Jim Beam coma...i bid J.J au revior and told him i'd do my very best to bake him a Betty Crocker with a prize inside

 if i had a free minute...but we both knew it would be our last time our paths would cross...

as i was shuffled to the front to collect my belong'ns...look'n around and soak'n up my surround'ns hopefully fer the last time...i realized one thing...the overall interior design was atrocious and obviously NOT done by any legitimate non hetero designer...but i guess that is defeat'n the purpose in the first place one might say!...though personally...i think a turquoise blue/dusty meringue combo in some sorta alternate'n psychedelic pattern would be much more calm'n to one's psyche when reflect'n on their own personal demons that they created fer themselves

as the lady Gamorrean guard behind the glass partition pulled my 

 belong'ns that they had confiscated on my way in in before my glamour shots session...she read off one by one what they had entered...which was now only my lonely set of car keys...my flip phone...14 benjamins with some loose pocket change...and pocket knife that didn't belong to me and my dignity wrapped in a wrist band...to which i said...just keep it!

that is until i looked closely at my photo...hmmm...this actually could be used to my advantage cuz everyone fantasizes about have'n an outlaw 

in 'em!...i knew this pictorial would be my meal ticket outta loverlessville...and i'd be beat'n 'em off with a stick once i uploaded this pic onto my profile page at bendover.com...i seriously hadda ask the guard if i could get the proofs...or at the very least...if i could get an 8x10 glossy...but apparently....not only did she not have a sense of humor...but she also had a bad olgilvie home perm with capped highlights...

and to top it all off...this wrong guard...was not friends with the right one (i'm just say'n)

i had done my hard time long enough and was starve'n fer some much

 needed medicinal affection...along with a baby spinach salad molested in a raspberry vinaigrette topped with cool cucumber slices fer my swollen eyes and a side of chunky monkey ice cream to calm me down after i had collected myself and my belong'ns

everything was there...one flip phone...one wallet...keys...but now the 14 benjamins that were inside the wallet...had now been replaced by a diluted pink check in the amount of $14...it's 4:30 in the am...excuse-em-wah!!

but how does one expect me to get a cab with a check?

i was not a happy camper wait'n fer large Marge to pat me on the back 

and tell me everything was gonna be ok...instead......i was told to find my own way home...and don't come back...ummm yea...DON'T WORRY!...i had almost washed away my life prior to check'n into San Quinton...but was quickly reminded what i was miss'n when i listened to my voicemails from my sibling who i completed blanked out on...OH SHIT!

of course each one was more aggresive than the last from her...not ask'n what had happened to me at all...like if i had been mugged...maimed...mutilated and dumped on the side of the road gasp'n fer my last breath...no it was more like "where the fuck are you goddammit...we're wait'n at the fuck'n airport...you better pick up yer fuck'n phone"

charmed i'm sure!

as i walked forlornly home that early morn'n...i thought to myself...how surreal the past 4 1/2 hrs had been...and how it felt like to be a caged animal...and how i gotta stop watch'n all those prison shows think'n how

glamorous life is like on the inside...cuz i'm here to tell ya...it ain't!...as i made it round the bend to the corner of hooker junction and crackville avenue...i was finally home...or at least not sleep'n on a cold hard slab...but enough about my exboyfriend

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

BUSTED! pt.1

we've ALL suffered thru many odd or reprehensible occurrences in life

like fer instance...take the the Anglo-Zanzibar war...

bein' the oddest conflict in history...it lasted a mere 8 minutes longer than my last hook-up...clock'n it at only 38 minutes between the United Kingdom and Zanzibar on the 27th of august 1886

for all those who DID NOT make the right choice at the polls last year

and still have'n to deal with this clown fuckery

SPAM

and then there was that one time 13 years back...

when i ventured out to some local homo shithole fer showtunes nite

i've been in my fair share of shithole's from town to town...lemme tell you...most of them have been usually on all 4's begg'n for it...and nothing says homo heaven more than bein' in a seedy leather bar belt'n out broadway hits with a bunch of beer guzzle'n...ritual bath'n man titties in tank tops that could barely keep a tit mouse dry in a drizzle...

let alone hold a tune...but oddly enough though...there i was...pretty much kill'n time with my friend Sally May  a box of Franzia...try'na get into the spirit...by soak'n up the spirits...til i hadda pick up 2 of my siblings and Joan Crawford at the airport when they crossed the border from margaritaville at midnite

it's funny though how the same group of non hetero's that cruised me on-line an hour earlier...now all of a sudden wanted nothin' to do with me after they found out i was in fact thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...cuz they're look'n fer someone 

more "str8 act'n and appear'n"...yet the 2nd Madonna's "don't cry for me Argentina" appeared on screen...these "macho str8 act'n n appear'n" burly bears...cubs...and their counterparts...would raise their fists in unison (after they pulled them outta their dates flap jacked ass of course) caress'n the dried on pearl necklace they fergot to wash off from their neck from the nite before...all while clutch'n tightly onto their napkins and wave'n them in unison as the QUEEN would erupt into song on the casa rosada above the crowd 

well...once you've seen that...it's all down hill from there...but anywho...

as we tic-tac-toed our way thru the sea of toads that nite...we made our way to the outdoor patio fer some not so fresh smoke filled air...consist'n

of bacon breath and bad b.o. with just a subtle hint of someone who'd soaked much too long in their after bath body splash...who turned out to be this stylish hag that had seemed to have lost her fag...who had made some comment about my irresistible almond shaped irish eyes as she passed

by...(hey...i can only report the facts) and the fact was...of course...she would become my new bestest friend...for at least the next 45 minutes anyways...why not! (sorry Peetrinella but you weren't there)

she had this sorta flirty innocence that the box of Franzia i was with that nite loathed...well...cuz she hadn't offered up any compliments to his drunk ass...so of course this meant that his mouth would pop open any minute like a pez dispenser from hell and out would pour a flood of cuntage...tear'n her to shreds until she was a mere puddle of regret on the floor fer dare make'n eye contact with us in the 1st place...which is exactly what had happened

so i quilted my best comforter as fast as i could and pulled her outta the cage match...she was no match for!

by now the clock was tick'n and i only had 45 minutes before i hadda fly out the airport to pick up my blood line...but puddle girl was still a puddle while try'n to decipher the reason'n fer the box of Franzia season'n her ass...but i was in zero mood to explain it to her...(seriously...i don't know how you non homo guys put up with all their blubbery mess...call a doctor pronto!)

so i opted the best way i knew how to shut her up...by putt'n a Miller to her mouth...which i did at the next water'n hole...but had let her know the clock was tick'n and this would be the last stop...or she'd be thumb'n it home...

by the time we left the bar...she had completely fergotten the cage match from earlier and was give'n me directions to her house...which of course ended up being on the other end of the fuck'n universe

as we walked to my car...i noticed a pocket knife had fallen from her purse...and though she seemed completely harmless enough at the time...

i was in no mood to find out if i was cart'n Lezzy Borden's ass all over the metro area...just to drive to some deserted alley and end up as a side dish with some fava beans and nice kiante...so i pocketed the pocket knife and would give it back to her once i kicked her to the curb

as i was cross'n the river and not over to grama's house...

i decided to coast down the other side of the bridge...when i noticed christmas lights flash'n in my rear view reflection from a distance...and i suddenly got all in a panic cuz i realized i hadn't even put  together my latest and greatest my x-mess list together fer Peetrinella...i mean Santa Clawz...

then i realized...wait!...it's only july!

though i personally felt i was more than ok to drive...i knew i was suppose be the sober cab that nite...but i did have 4 watered down bottles of piss diet beer all nite (hey no one else is gonna watch my waistline but me)...and it was a good hour since i had a drop to drink before i had put the keys into my ignition...so i figered i had a tail light out or perhaps it was against the law to carry some half baked blubber'n bitch in my front seat...i don't know!

so i pulled over to the side and noticed in my side mirror...

a beam of light and  from the distance...an incredibly hulky cop walk'n towards my car...and i swear on a stack of CHER cd's...

Madonna's "erotica" was play'n in my cd player at the exact same time...so of course i'm think'n...FINALLY...i get to play out my wildest fantasy...only prob was i had this drunk mess in my front seat...total mood killer!

by the time the officer made it to my window...i had already rolled down my window...anticipate'n as to what position i was gonna be ordered in next...

but much to my surprise...he just asked me "do you know why i stopped you? in a not so very bend over and take it like a bitch kinda way

ummm..."is it cuz i'm pretty and yer in the mood fer an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of their own universe?"

though i heard my mind say it...i hadda dash down stairs to my mouth as fast as i could to make sure i didn't actually say it to mister officer...(though secretly i had wished i had)...who knows how this whole nite would'a turned out...but turns out as i was come'n down the bridge...i had inadvertently ignored my speedometer and was goin approximately 9 miles over the speed limit...it'll happen!

he'd asked me what i had to drink...instead of ask'n me out on a date...like i assumed he would've asked me...i mean HELLO? look at me...i'ma catch

i decided not to turn this into some twisted fantasy any longer cuz i noticed the time on my dash board and i was now NOT at the destination i was suppose to be in at this time...so i told him the story about my night as i checked myself in the mirror...and then he asked me to step outta the car...about time!

as i placed my hands on the hood of my car wait'n in anticipation fer that slow hand pat down that i had read about in all those erotic novels as a teenager...again i was misinterpret'n everything and he had asked me if i had anything in my pocket...to which i said said just my cell and wallet

as he had me lift my hands out he slipped slowly down my front pocket..i knew i wanted him inside me...but i thought i'd be in another position...

 instead...he pulled out a pocket knife!

it had completely slipped my mind that i had grabbed it off the sidewalk...
and had put it in my pocket but fergot to give it back to the blubbery mess once we got in my car...so i explained it to the officer...and next thing i know...i'm lean'n over the trunk of my car gett'n hand-cuffed by Roscoe...

though...when i played this scenario out in my head...i'd assumed they'd be wrapped in some sorta fun fur...and i'd be strapped to his bed posts like some caged animal

so next thing i know...i'm being escorted ...without a corsage i might add...to the back seat of his car...without him join'n me...i might also

wanna add...and not 5 seconds would go by before i noticed some Sanford and Son look'n tow truck arrive'n on the scene with no DJ equipment or disco ball...and the gal bein' told to get outta my car as it was lifted up on it's hind legs and they disappeared off into the distance in a matter of seconds

WTF?

it was as if the world had stopped and i wasn't gett'n off...with ANYONE! 

join us next week fer part 2 of the excite'n conclusion to BUSTED! now GET OFF MY DRESS!