Monday, February 24, 2020

LISTEN UP!

in the 1800's...it was all the rage to be enraged at any youthful
jezebel who would dare show off her ankles in a public forum to all the horned up halitosed chimney sweepers on the block...these titillate'n tawdry teenaged tramps were simply given the sanctimonious title of bein' a modern day madonna whore...at the time
not to be confused with Madonna or any given respectable whore 180 years later

by the mid to late 1900's all H-E-double hockey stix broke loose
on those troublesome teenaged trollops with the rise of the speed demon juvenile delinquents of the 1950's
the hallucinogenic ritual bath'n free love'n STD riddled nympho's of the 1960's...that barely made it thru the 1970's
and the ozone kill'n fly trapp'n shoulder padder'n multi task'n friendship pinners of the 80's 
my gloriously self indulgence included...of course

now...before move'n forward with yer judgmental judy eyes...keep in mind
i AM NOT blame'n or shame'n an ENTIRE generational pair of gap genes that i am only personally associated with thru the plethora of off-springs created by my sibs and friendly stalkers (like those before me) i simply am regurgitate'n my insurmountable frustration with those pro-noun parade'n prickers...and the #METOO'ers who want ALL the glory of bein' the latest "trendy" victim of the month...while completely ignore'n simple social courtesies that should'a been taught to them when they were grow'n up (even though they continue to live in the parents basement after the legal age limit into adultville) that i myself have personally come in contact with!
BUTT...let me explain

after i was bein' graciously stalked by some steroidal homicidal knuckle 
dragg'n water buffalo in the park'n lot of a local grocery store in my neck of the woods roughly 10 years ago this week...who i just assumed wanted an autographed selfie of thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionists of their own universe to place above the mantle in his charm'n lil abode...
turns out he was just try'na turn me on by pimp'n me out into a carbon copy of himself...so i signed up the follow'n day after take'n his 3 hr tour (of the steam room...ummm insert laugh here kittens...i'm a proper gurl) and bibbity bobbity boo...10 years later...he turned me from an over grown twink to a grown-up gladiator

years later...i've noticed how the front desk staff went from jubilant jesters
every time i would come to bob fer blue balls in the steam room rigorously run thru my 45 minute work out routine at my neighborhood uptown LA FITNESS...
to the pissed off piranha's "work'n" (and i use that term as loose as my last failure) the counter at any given TCBY's in any given mall...just cuz they can't be bothered to DO THEIR PAID FUCK'N JOB...all while have'n a totally tough time decide'n whether to slide right or left on their latest tinder matches while COMPLETELY ignore'n actual pay'n customers like myself that they should be check'n it and out!

but it ain't just the self imposed comatosed scoliosis'd counter help 
that's turned me into some nail bitten...metamucil martini'd...murder she wrote marathon'n...earl grey tea bagg'n...soon-to-be AARP cunt mobile...it's also ALL those insubordinate brain dead shopp'n ferrets...of ALL ages...from cow-town'n tweekers to trader joe'n geekers...trendy tantrum'd trannies to coupon clipp'n grannies...who absolutely REFUSE to return their shopp'n cart to the correct storage facility after their purchase...in the correct position...
instead...toss'n them off  in the center entrance to the store like a pimp toss'n a hooker outta a move'n vehicle all cuz they didn't make bank one nite...or let'em run loose in the park'n lot like a small child who just came home from a ritalin'd party

and since i'm fly'n high on my bicker'n brookstick...there's one more thing
fer all you 2 wheel'n huff-n-puffers out there who think that they're actually save'n the planet by take'n up a full driver's lane or sometimes 2...move'n at the speed of a petrified snail in a french bistro...cause'n a complete traffic jam when there ain't even any planned marathon or fuck'n rush hour...instead of just ride'n single file with yer band of mary jane puff'n...bernie bro'n ho's...CUNT PUHLEEZ!
my 4 wheel medication has a damn scratch in it and keeps skipp'n dur'n my fav-o-rit pill...plus i gotta heavy foot...
so DO THE MATH!
and GET OFF MY DRESS!

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