and frowned up by fellow fucktwats with snobbish attitudes who think their shit smells like a garden of earthly delights due to the fact of the monetary class system which they belong to...i mean a prefect example dates back to the stone ages when Betty and Wilma would taunt their fellow neighborhood cave dwellers...cook'n bronto burgers fer their signifigant others...in the latest frocks straight off the runways of the MuuKee MuuKee collection durin' Bedrock's fashion week
hundreds of years would pass and you would think that society would'a
changed their attitude...like they changed their bran intake...towards those less fortunate than themselves and help out their fellow man...but proof came durin' the sink'n of the titanic when those choke'n on their nausiate'n nepotism while bein' served champagne and saltines smothered in cavier...boarded the limited life rafts while their fellow food stampers floated like fish'n bobbers...hopelessy wait'n fer a rescue boat that would never come...much like the last emotionally crippled cock i met
by the 1980's...the financial gap couldn't have been any further apart
thanx in part to the phony "trickle down effect" that was nothin short of a financial trick fer most that were affected by the posh "policies" put in place by Mr. AIDS Deny'n-Jelly Bean Junk'n-Dementia Dickwad 1981...til the end of the decade
now don't get me wrong...i was ALL about desperately yearn'n to live the opulent lifestyles of the rich and bloated ego riddled affluent folk that were
famously featured every week by that lecherously drunk manatee Mr. Leach...but i knew my paper route wasn't gonna cut it...even though i thought i had started a minature empire by hire'n 3 of my sibs to help deliver the 360 winona shopper papers once a week at $1 per every section that consisted roughly of 90 customers...then built a mini market in my closet and resold them stuff i would find around the house fer exactly a dollar (with a fully enforced no return policy)
that would be like General Veers demand'n Vader to remove his helmet when speak'n to him...it just ain't happen'n!
fast forward to the year 2000...when i was out enjoy'n a bevy of adult
beverages with a bunch of my not so close but pleasantly appall’n anally inclined stalkers at some local non heterosexual water'n hole...when they all collectively decided to upgrade our surround'ns and venture to a more prestigious atmosphere so we ended up at one of the oldest colostomitic locations in town
as we waited patiently outside...under the very hot steamy minnesota sun
this particular day...completely parched...anxiously crave'n a river of mind erase'n liquid replenishments...a friend happened to mention to me that i would most likely not be allowed into the premises without first remove'n my follically challenged scalp accessory and trust me...i was not about to have any part of this sharade
now listen...i'm all fer follow'n rules and regulations to establishments of a
certain "grandeur" (if you will) when occupy'n their premises fer a period of time...BUTT (and you know there always is one) i will not be subjected to the "fashion police" at the front door...who might as well have been in berkinstocks...a barfy floral peek-a-boob blouse and a pair of hysterectomy tight jeans...
but sure as shit...a minute later Miss poly blend would return to inform me that baseball caps were unfortunately not part of their "dress code" with no other explanation
well...i was NOT about to remove my cap without some form of sun
protection even if i would be seated inside the restaurant...i am thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe after all...and unfortunately my burka was at the cleaners...plus there would've been a ring of indentation around my noggin since i wrap it around my scalp so tight it cuts off any feel'ns of sympathetical emotions towards anyone...
so i simply asked the simple poly blender "i get it...but do you tell ALL yer cancer patients to remove their wigs?" with a perplexed look on her face...she replied..."i'm sorry...let me ask the manager and i'll be right back"
suddenly...my friend burst out in his best center square cackle...
completely blown away that i would have the audacity to say that i had cancer to the front door fraulein...to which i simply replied..."i merely suggested...i never implied that i personally had cancer!" it's not as if my baseball cap was the size of a water buffalo and was gonna obstruct anyone's view in this over priced snobbish eatery
minutes later...the fashion popo grabbed a couple menus and said that i
was give'n the all clear by management to dine in their establishment with my large party of AA drop-outs so she seated us in the back near the kitchen as to not cause any sorta tension with the rest of the patrons no doubt...FINE...no prob!
after take'n our order...i happened to notice that the colostomy bag that
was marinate'n in ben-gay and formaldehyde dressed in her fake pearls and false teeth sitt'n across from our booth that was within ear distance of myself...was act'n like some pissed off potty trainer and stopped our waitress as she was head'n to the kitchen...inform'n her that there was a young gentleman in a cap that shant belong here...to which the waitress simply replied "he has cancer!"
my money is just as green as the next...and i will not be judged by anyone
as long as i practice proper hygiene and regularly wash my dungarees...i know all to well how to play these lil reindeer games cuz trust me...this ain't my first time at the rodeo kittens...
now GET OFF MY DRESS!
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