Monday, September 30, 2019

AS THE STOMACH CHURNS...

before we begin today's lil adventure thru H-E-double hockey stick...
it's finally begun kittens...the MADAME X TOUR
i will have to sit this ground break'n tour out as i can no longer afford to pay fer the braces fer her litter box of children...so it'll be DVD city fer me once it's been released...(this is an unpaid never the less a much deserved endorsement)...so let's begin...shall we?
like find'n a needle in a hay stack...
a diamond in the rough...
or gett'n all the correct damn lotto numbers in order fer a change...

it's an absolute rarity that i ever come close to blow'n my top at anyone ..
well...unless of course he's used proper hygiene first!

sundays are usually saved fer my leisurely sunday drives thru out town...
to do my groceries...mylanta and sometimes my charity case from the week before...WHY NOT!

recently though...i've been expand'n my sunday boundaries...by cross'n
the MN boundaries...to the boundary waters in Hudson WI...thanx to my newly acquired boat friends Jim & Emily...and thrust me...anyone that knows me...knows this was never an option fer me thanx to a lil film i watched at the tender age of 6
especially after the untimely death of my fav-o-rit sun block'n center piece...which is now rest'n in the watery graves at the bottom of the St Croix River...

i desperately tried contact'n the coast guards to do a 3 mile perimeter...
scan of the area and scramble together a SEAL 6 team cuz i was in no mood to take any chances...but get this!...my request?...completely D-E-N-I-E-D!

then it had occurred to me that i had neglected to do all my groceries...
mylanta and my charity case from last week before bask'n in my full length burka and ball cap aboard the SS Long Dong Silver...and the nite was slowly slipp'n away...so once i landed ashore...i made my way to the nearest big box location

aimlessly goin from aisle to aisle...think'n about nutt'n nothin'...cuz i can...
comtemplate'n whether or not if i needed certain items in my basket...like
new head clippers...
a new pair of dungarees...
shower jams and jellies...
and perhaps my signature coal black eyeliner

i decided to just leave with some simple appetize'n stomach fillers...
(ps...i'm not preggers) just items i knew i needed to satisfy my crave'ns at some point

as i made my way to the only open check-out...i knew i needed somethin'
 to help calm the restless natives in the pit of my stomach of what had transpired earlier in the day

as i placed all of my items on the conveyor belt...one by one...watch'n them make their way to the scanner...the young cashier swiped my items
1st...the mustard
2nd...the chocolate milk
as my last item came down the conveyor belt...the cashier says to me...
"sir...can you please scan this item?"
ESQUEEZE ME?

"sir...i cannot scan this item...it is against my religion"
i swore i had too much to drink aboard the boat...cuz i thought i was hear'n double
HUH?

"sir...there is pork in this item...it is against my religion to touch it"
"AGAINST YER RELIGION?"...i said...as i fumbled around my pockets...
look'n fer the keys to my bat shit crazy verbiage that was about to explode like diarrhea any minute

listen here...you unfortunately under paid...last call fer alcohol...sacker
 KISS MY GRITS!

well...in case you haven't heard you CASPER crusade'n cherry pick'n
mother fucker...it's AGAINST my religion to work on sundays...or do someone else's job that i'm not gett'n paid for...or to give 2 shits about...
what voodoo you do on yer own time...i'm fuck'n hungry...and after what i had to experience with the lose of my fav-o-rit piece of attire that i've owned like it was my own flesh and blood...i'm in NO MOOD to hear about what yer fairytales say you can and cannot do at yer place of employment!

apparently cuz it said there was pork product in my pizza...he could not
touch the item...BUT the questionable pork was not exposed where his fingertips would touch it...IN FACT...it was conveniently sealed in plastic...funny how company's do that to there food items huh?!

look here kittens...i'm ALL fer the E.O.E and United Colors of Benetton...
and i have zero problems with whatever people choose to do with their OWN life that means nothing to ME...since THEY mean nothing to me after i leave their register...except that when i'm a pay'n customer...and yer the paid employee...YOU are gett'n paid to DO YER JOB...FOR ME...PERIOD!

you don't like it...then work in another area where you are not exposed to yer fairytale filth!...cuz i can bet you...like most religious voodoo'ers...
they're all conveniently fitt'n their "fairytales" laziness...instead of actually THINK'N...before they have to chow down on their own feet!

so i scanned the item...and BAGGED it myself...and i expect to get paid...
fer my services rendered!

i get enough religious puke from the news...the fairytale thumpers on the streets corners near my work...or the CASPER crusaders that lurk all alone try'n to save yet another soul from burn'n in their delusional pits of 
H-E-double hockey stix...but keep yer voodoo stories to yerself...or you'll be goin' on a wild ride with my spiked tongue!

there it is kittens...a weekend in the life of an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...now if you don't mind...
it's time fer me to hum my hims!
so kindly get off my dress!

Monday, September 23, 2019

indoctrination nation

we've all had those momentous moments in life where we so wanted to
just belong...feelin' like some pathetic outsider...desperately want'n to be some plausible insider...to be initiated into some top secret exclusive club that makes you feel that yer just a wee bit more superior...
than the rest of the losers that just couldn't make the final cut...only to realize later on in life...that it was all just a completely wasted sham

like the first time when you came across that infamous offer'n in the back 
of yer uncle's beaver hunt magazine...hidden in a locked tackle box...behind an enormous stack of hotel bibles that he had collected from his many "business trips" around the country...in the corner of the attic...that you jimmied open with that bobby pin that you just happened to have in the pocket of yer purple corduroy granimals culottes fer circumstances like this (why not!)
where you could purchase 13 tapes of yer fav-o-rit musical artists that you went ape shit over...that you would play fer endless hours into the nite...set to the highest distorted volume possible...on yer newly acquired mono casio cassette player you got from yer rich bitch of a friend that you used to live down the road from on the farm one xmas...to the complete disdain and utter annoyance and quite frankly...absolute pure jealousy from yer other sibs...then use'n yer sisters strawberry shortcake hairbrush as yer stand in microphone...
in front of yer full length jack off mirror i mean...ummm...stage mirror that you used to look out at the sea of attendees in yer delusional audience...that you used to perfect yer war paint presence along with endless hours perfect'n yer fiercest choreographed routines
in hopes that soon someday...you would be chosen to aimlessly shake yer A double snakes as a solo dancer in the next Culture Club video cuz you were picked as a top fan from a small article that you wrote and got published in an issue of Star Hits magazine at the age of 14
or as one of Madonna's back up dancers...in case one of them happened to mangle their legs beyond recognition after drive'n home late one rainy nite from rehearsals and their brakes gave out and knew you could take over after spend'n endless hours memorize'n every calculated step to her mind boggle'n "Blonde Ambition Tour"
but knew eventually you'd have to settle as the next small but important future unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of yer own universe
only to realize that if you didn't purchase 10 more cassettes as stated in the very very fine minuscule unreadable pixelated print at the bottom of the ad...at the recommended price which was comparable to a side of beef in 1985...within the next 3 years...that they would end up send'n out financial thugs to come break yer spirit...break yer bank account...and practically break yer bones!

school of course is where everyone desperately wanted to be in one of the
many numerous clubs...from the anal retentive bitchfest known as the debate club...to the jack-off jamboree of sexually depraved suppressors known as ANY testosterone enraged sports club...but of course the one and only club everyone was completely envious of...was to be part of the HEATHERS of the high school...
only to find out years later...that they all would end up stuck in a burnt out sexless marriage...with equally burnt out over processed hair...in debt up to their cankles and a waistline that only belongs on a water buffalo...that they attributed to "glandular problems" at the 20 year class reunion

the performing illusionist world will never ever be the same again...
thanx to shows like RU's popular "reality" show...in it's 11th season...that stars a bevy of unclever regurgitated bitchy and whiny RUtards...pitted against one another...each week after the weak...
to the truely excrutiate'n talentless performers from all walks of life...like it's the world wrestle'n federation of feathers and fiercelessness...that just end up lay'n down vommitous generic "dance" tracks to their auto-toned spoken words...or some tired old stomach churn'n "read" of others on yet another "RUview" episode...or a plethora of youtube tutorials...show'n off their stale mug in yet another paint by numbers make-up snoreisode...once they're eliminated from the series and exhausted all their tour money after shove'n it up their nose

even at an early age...we are put under pressure to become indoctrinated
into some sadistic syphilitic religion...completely make'n you feel like you are worthless and weak without it...fer instance like my great niece's recent baptism...where she had to submit to some apocalyptic preacher in a neatly pressed Calvin Klein knock off from the Saks 5th Avenue outlet...who stated that yer body is a temple and you are what you eat...basically shunn'n and fat shame'n a large portion of the noticeably much larger blasphemous congregation on the trials and tribulations of become'n part of the gluttonous diabetic parade...
all of a sudden it felt as if as i was attend'n some damn Jenny Craig jamboree!

don't even get me started on how he tried to equate his sermon to the
 CASPER crusaders hang'n onto his every word...on how CASPER and Mary's kid Jesus...who hung out with all the other apparent salacious sinners...were much like the audience in attendance this particular day (well accept i'm pretty sure "glandular" issues weren't an issue back then)...cuz even if you...as the baptismal inductee...could personally give 2 shits and comprehend what the true supposed mean'n is all about anyways at the age of 5...
these days (and let's be real here kittens) it's just a reason to hopefully siphon a handful of cash and other fabulous prizes from relatives and friends
then proceed to get plastered celebrate the lord at the local VFW afterwards

and of course the ceremony wouldn't be complete without the shake down
from the alter boys pass'n of the gold leaf plated collection plate from some half-off TJ Maxx end-cap...to pretty much guilt the CASPER crusader's into pay'n the church's mount'n bills...though the alter boys of today are no longer the fresh faces of nubile innocence like they once were when i was a servant of CASPER's...cuz trust me...if i knew now...what i didn't know then...i'da worn that communal robe with the butt cut out...WHAT THE H-E-double hockey stix? i guess the priest decided by the time i had arrived fer duty...he could be picky! 
I WAS ROBBED OF A LIFE ON EASY STREET I TELL YA!
no...the church wised up since my last tour of duty and now basically the "alter boys" were grown up glorified saintly strippers stare'n you down fer anything thing from pocket change to recipes that bake beautifully at 375 degrees

as a lil side note...the whole "break'n of the bread" charade parade...where those who have already been baptized bastardized into this cult...line up
fer an offer'n of the "body and blood" of CASPER's kid (hey...i thought cannibalism was frowned upon within the walls of worship?) how about instead of just give'n the congregation the option of dipp'n their vanilla wafer into the communal wine...ever since the share'n of the chalice caused that embarrass'n outbreak of herpes back in the late 80's
and ps...ummm...i'm still wait'n fer a callback from hollyweird power house attorney Gloria Allred to return my damn calls

may i suggest offer'n up a few more options...like perhaps dipp'n the body
of Christ in some tasty olive tapenade from Trader Joe's fer christ sakes... 
and maybe wash'n it down with a nice shot of chiante...it's merely a simple pimple suggestion i put in the offer'n plate as my contribution to this dogma and phony show!

and ya don't have'ta worry about me cuz i already got my front row seats 
but i won't be sitt'n there alone i'm sure...NOW GET OFF MY DRESS!