CHILLY DECEPTION

everyone of us could use a lil help during these try'n times don'tcha think?

what...with old mister snow miser doin his best fuck'n fancy Fred Astaire tap dance'n bullshit thru-out the entire country this past week…from the north to the south…west coast to the east coast…it was more than enough to make anyone feel like a frozen bag of birds eye peas

i myself felt the brunt of old man winter wake'n up to icicles hang'n off my 

barely there eyebrows in my humble lil garden level shitbox at the begin'n of the week that i practically felt like Solo encased in carbonite til my landlord finally dropped off materials so i could saran wrap the hell outta my windows and cut the chill in half then i just scraped off the loose asbestos cling'n to life on the boiler and jammed it between my toes and slipped into my recycled kleenex boxes fer slippers

BUTT…that ain't the worst

the south took an awful beat'n like they were pop sensation Rhianna and

forced to date Chris Brown again...unfortunately the worst end of the fist ended up give'n a good left then right hook to Yosemite Sam's back yard...have'n a root'n toot'n time of it all thru out the entire state... 

leave'n millions of Jack's and jack-off's without power or a peaceful nights sleep

however...no one had suffered the worst of this very surprise blizzard than 

state senator and Star Search's very own anal suppository spokesmodel...Rafael Edward Cruz...who had had enough of live'n in his walk-in freezer so thank CHER fer his quick think'n pooch Snowflake who noticed the pierce'n sub-zero predicament he was in and booked Teddy and his pedigree an all inclusive vaca to bask and bake under the sizzle’n sun and sand…suck'n sangria's on the beautiful beaches of Cancun Mexico for the week while Snowflake decided to stay behind and tend to the natural disaster destroy'n the state's infrastructure and defend their castle from all terrorists foreign and domestic...

seriously though...we all know that Snowflake had an ulterrier motive to have the family removed from the premisses fer the week!

unfortunately...that bloated bunny was busted while try'n to escape the chill

at the airport…then tenaciously tried tap dance'n his way outta the web he weaved by tell'n the press that he was just a father who had to travel 1300 miles to find run's water…heat and electricity like any heroic father who cared for his daughters would...after of course throw'n his offsprings under the bus claim'n they asked Snowflake to book them the vacation getaway first and that he was plann'n on take'n the next plane back to the states to get down to the biz as to how this disastrous disaster was able to happen on his watch once they made it to the hotel safely

ummm...if #TedFled was the captain of the titanic...the unsinkable Molly Brown would most likely have been fed to the fish...guaranteed!

and don’t miss his directorial debut in the blockbuster hit of the next election cycle loosely based on actual events...Ted stars as the bloated slither’n anal wart who does his damnedest to flee the frigid temps of texas in the dead of nite to cross the border by use’n his own daughters at political shields to save his sorry ass!

and if that wasn't enough fer Fleddy Teddy to contend with…on top of all

that…one of his fav-o-rit support ho's and Francis Buxton's dopplegagger/slobber'n mouthpiece for misogyny towards women that has infected the GOP party slowly but effectively since the late 80's who made his bread and butter as thee most sadistic smarmy salamander to strike the airwaves with his blatant vile vulgarities towards xenophobia and racism…a drug addled slug who rejoiced by doin the boot skoot and boogie live on the air to the latest disco hits every time a non heterosexual would succumb to AIDS or AIDS adjacent illnesses

took his final last dance with the devil days before all the shit hit his fan page!

now there might be those kittens out there that would say that regardless of

Limburger's atrocious antics…viral viciousness and schlocky rhetoric that has caused callousness thru-out the country for 30 plus years…he still had 4 wives and a family that loved him dearly (insert sacrificial meatloaf to the porcelain gods here) and that i outta be a wee bit more sensitive in his pass'n…i reflected on that thought for a moment and thought if his brothel of wives & his own family never spoke against him all these years...they are just as fuck’n vile...twisted and guilty as him...

then it hit me…late great screen goodness BETTE DAVIS had once spoke the most poignant yet comfort'n words of her dear friend JOAN CRAWFORD upon her death

"you should never say bad things about the dead…only good…Rush Limbaugh is DEAD…GOOD!"

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

PRESENT the PAST

well...leave it to the QUEEN OF THE DANCE FLOOR to work the system

to her advantage once again after 40 years strong in the biz fer brilliant free promotion of her up-come'n sold out MADAME X TOUR (pre-covid) that will be air'n on NETFLIX in the come'n months...

thanx to Colorado reTRUMPlicunt and spokesman fer fierce cinnamon flavored anal suppositories Ken Buck who had the unmitigated balls to deflect guilt from his mentally deranged orange anal wart client and former SOCIOPATHETIK SACK of EVIL SHIT of the WH by blame'n the likes of MADONNA (though secretly...i was...as i'm sure M herself was bein' gloriously giddy that she got a mention at his 2nd impeachment trial)

thing is...though MADONNA may have mentioned a while back that she thought about "blow'n up" the white house...EVERYONE with a work'n brain cell knew that it was absofuckinglutely hyberbolic jive talk...just like when fire-crack’n comic genius KATHY GRIFFIN's infamous "bloody handbag" of said former SOCIOPATHETIK SACK of EVIL SHIT of the WH marinated in Heinz A1 sauce pic was released...she NEVER ACTUALLY planned on chopp'n off his head 

though i can freely admit...WE ALL FUCK'N THOUGHT of chew'n off his gelatinous filled head like a political prey'n mantis just to shut him the fuck up over the past 4 years...don't lie kittens!

on the other hand...jan 6th was FUCK'N REAL! so can we puhleez get over all these damn fake comparisons already?

and remember these 43 complicit treacherous insurrectionist asswipes in 2022...MAKE THEM PAY dearly at the ballot box! 

i desperately needed to distract from the fact that i'm completely over hear'n and or report'n about that mentally deranged sack of shit any longer so let's hop on our hotwheels and go back in time to a much better time

it was the winter of ‘95...actually wait...let's go back a lil further...to the summer i did my 1st 69 in ‘91...when i met my very first Minne-Apple

"friend" off the 1-800-eat-me-i'm-a-danish phone line...

 before all the .com's and grindr's came into production...named Curtis...he was this statuesque blonde...which...unless you were some peroxided pariah like my high school hard on BILLY IDOL or MADONNA...

i normally had zero interest sexually in fathom'n sinful fornicational thoughts with you in the room but Curtis had a presence though it only amounted into an occasional slap and tickle from time to time...i was completely hooked on him as recreational entertainment...unfortunately he was also hooked but on other sorta "recreational entertainment" 

that i just couldn't participate in...due to that republican toothpick Nancy in the 80's...gett'n under my skin with her campaign 

it took roughly 2 months to finally find out what he did fer a live'n (or at least part-time anyways) as he was worried about what my reaction would be apparently and he told me i was never to grace the stage though years later...there i was and i would carry that same torch when i met any potential interest...luckily for me though...i don't give two fucks about

other closet cases reactions to it anymore...nonetheless Curtis took me to work one even'n...which at the time felt like being in line at Studio 54 to me (unlike the dilapidated shit hole it's unfortunately become these days) cuz i was 3 months shy of my legal age to enter any bar...

and goin from flats to fuck-me-pumps was a HUGE deal (much like me) i had always seen the enormous sign when i would pass by it on the bus head'n to work and so desperately wanted inside...it was a far cry from flick'n burs off my granimals or pick'n weeds in the strawberry fields on the farm...i was totally over the moon when he told me he was an actual perform'n illusionist and he could get me in to meet the rest of the performers

my 1st taste and fascination with the world of illusion...was thanx in part to bein’ sick one day in 7th grade and watch'n the original Oprah Winfrey

my fav-o-rit open-minded surrogate uncle...the Phil Donahue show...his guest that day absolutely stunned me...and i was hooked like a junkie on heroin

Jimmy James was his name (and still is kittens...he's not gone to that glittered stage in the sky just yet) but anywho...i swore it was Marilyn Monroe's reincarnation back from the dead cuz he sang "diamonds are a girls best friend" to perfection! and of course who can forget Divine's brilliant performance in the original HAIRSPRAY

i knew become'n a perform'n illusionist was to be my destination!

early one morn'n...at roughly around 2 am...i received a call from Curtis tell'n me to get my ass dressed and meet him downstairs cuz he had a stretch limo with his bevy of beauties inside and wanted me to join them...

ummm...ya right! "i work at 6 am and there ain't no limo in crackville at 2am...g'bye" i recall mutter'n from my narcoleptic nap

well...curiosity killed my meow meow and sure enough...i skampered to the window downstairs and seen this huge ass black stretch monstrosity on wheels wait'n fer me to get in...so i threw on my over-sized studded jacket (to give me an impossibly smaller waist than i already had...at the time) and my imitation doc martens and out the door i flew like a humming bird on crack

as the back door opened...inside i met the best Cher illusionist of the Minne-Apple...EVER! along with Annie Lennox...Marion...Miles...Curtis and some other gurl (who's name i can't remember at the moment cuz my metamucil martini kicked in) who took me on a tour of the Minne-Apple i'll never ferget

over to that gal's house who was gonna make it after all...then down

 around a quick jaunt thru the million dollar homes on lake of the aisles...where the limo driver was ordered to stop and all 6 beauties got out...ran up to this open porched mansion...lifted up their even'n gowns and proceeded to paint the porch in their alcoholic binge from the previous hours prior...as me and the limo driver busted our A double snakes off  in the limo laugh'n like mad...a postcard that could'a totally read "welcome to minneapolis...aint' it a drag!"

2 years later Curtis would surprise me with tickets to see my high school hero perform'n at the GAY 90's during his solo tour and could get me back stage to meet him and even though it never did transpire i was on cloud 9

BOY's look had dramatically changed since his rise with Culture Club but he still sounded exceptional...though he walked off stage after half way thru the 2nd nite cuz some pain in the A double snakes non heterosexual's that couldn't shut their traps

2 years after that...i entered and won a look-a-like contest at the 90's...for the release of Boy George's most fab cd "CHEAPNESS AND BEAUTY"

and his 1st brilliant autobiography called "TAKE IT LIKE A MAN" (why not!)

contest rules stated i was to recieve an autographed autobiography...and to my surprise...it was not christened with the BOY's john handcock

that's cuz (as the mgr told me) i would get exclusive backstage passes to meet and have the BOY personally sign my book...KITTENS...i nearly died!

the nite of the show...i went balls to the walls full on disco devil look and

with the A-OK from my dear dear Peetrinella...i could barely contain my urinary track from goin off track...for i was but a few short hours away from meet'n my eye opener since the tender and supple age of 13 when he sang so eloquently "DO YOU REALLY WANNA HURT ME"

i had purchased 4 tickets total and gave the other 3 away to relatives...all i asked fer in exchange was a bevvy of beverages

i ran into the 90's mgr in the lil wrangler's room of First Avenue...where

BOY was perform'n that nite...and to my surprise...i was told i hadda "do somethin" fer him first...as he wiped the corners of his mouth with his molesterary fingers...yea right pervie!

so i proceeded to get drunk off my ass and tried to figer out my own way backstage (though i didn't connect the dots til a year later when i was informed by a co-worker who was next to me that nite) that as the BOY started in on his band's anthem & 80's smash "KARMA CHAMELEON"

i proceeded to blow chunks at his feet...

fer all that i don't remember that nite (which was about everything after the bathroom incident) i was completely mortified that my teenage dream received my undie'n appreciation...paid in puke!

it took 3 times...but i would FINALLY meet BOY during his incredible west end production of "TABOO" in London before it opened on Broadway

and it was a total fluke that we would meet (and no...this DID NOT include a restroom romp. you pervie...but trust me...i'da gone there myself if i was read'n this know'n me)

i was leave'n some clothing shop in Leicester Square after spend'n more than i ever wanted to spend on some Ziggy Stardust tee...but so worth it

and i literally bumped chests with the BOY on the cobble stone streets of London’s West End...though i could barely say a word...not cuz i was starstruck and hyperventilate'n like some whiney pimple freak...it's cuz i was struck with laryngitis at the time...but i digress!

it was like a huge domino effect happen'n...if i never watched Phil...i never 

would'a been hooked on Jimmy James...if i never watched Jimmy James...i never would've been hooked on Curtis...if i never watched Curtis on stage...i...well i probably would've gone to the GAY 90's at some point after i turned 21...but i would've never been hooked to perform there and if Curtis never gave me tickets to see Boy George at the 90's...i would've never entered some look-a-like contest (well...again i probably still would'a...but i'm tell'n the story here so sit down and read on) and if i never entered that look-a-like contest and got played by the pimp in the rest rooms at First Avenue...i most undoubtedly would've never up-chucked on the BOY!

10 years would pass before i would cross paths with Curtis again...a few months later...i had heard Curtis had gone to the glittered stage in the sky

i still think about Curtis from time to time when i slap on my war paint fer the stage (though it's been sometime...but don't fret...i'm still very much alive) and wonder if he wishes he never told me what he did?

then i think he'd just say  "guuuuuuuurl...you look SICK!"

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

GOLDICOX and the 3 care bears

i'm sure everyone out there in get off my dress land has read about the

fantastic adventures involve'n that prehistorical post hystorectomied blonde harlet with the bouffant buffet who broke the law by savagely break'n and enter'n the residence of those 3 hippy hibernators back in 1897 and proceeded to taste test their organic slop they had left cool'n out on the table while the inhabitants left to rob the nearest bee's nest of all it's delicious nectar...then maliciously proceeded to rifle thru their vintage porn collection while try'n out a few of the "accessories" she found in the goodie drawer next the one of the beds before defacate'n on 2 of them due to her lactose intolerance...subsequently hemmorage'n at the seams while past out on the smallest urine soaked bed that she unfortunately used as her own personal colostomy bag

that story made me recall the time in the late 80's when i myself earned 

my degree as a professionally self trained couch surfer...when i returned home one nite with my friend Jer after spend'n the entire day together create'n a parade of creative chaos all over our humble lil shithole of a town...only to find out there was no longer a home to come home to as it was completely vacant with the exception of my Madonna and Culture Club poster collection that was molest'n every inch of my side of the room i shared with my sister...

along with my vast cassette collection that was categorized in alphabetical order and by release date that used to be under my bed...and i say used to be well cuz there was no longer a bed for it to be under with just a few articles of my salvation army wardrobe left behind hang’n forlornly in the closet

beyond perplexed...i immediately thought WTF? "this is just like an eerie 

episode of UNSOLVED MYSTERIES you know!" and i swear to fuck'n CHER that ROBERT STACK was gonna suddenly appear ominously outta the shadows of the bathroom closet and break down the mystery of my miss'n family in his best deep spine-chill'n commentary

needless to say...there would be no ROBERT site'n nor a hidden camera 

ambush so instead of opt'n fer a cozy room at the local Belleville Manor...i decided then and there that i hadda pull up my safety pinned culottes...collect what's left of my belong'ns and carry on with my life and i did just that

the only set of fallopian tubes i had ever dated in my life from high school

was this vision of curiosity named Cricket...she basically loved my make-up astetics and i loved her mohawk...it was a match made in upside down world heaven...beyond that she eventually realized that "ONLY THE LONELY" by THE MOTELS would be our theme song fer the remainder of our relationship 

after i told her one even'n when pick'n her up from her nite shift in her car she borrowed me...that she had the wrong "bread fer my butter" nonetheless...she recognized the pickled predicament i was currently in and wanted to help out in any way she could (which i will always be ferever grateful for) 

so she cleaned out the back of her white paneled hotel on wheels and put her aunt's blow-up mattress in the back fer me which worked well fer the next 2 weeks until one early sunday summer morn'n as her aunt was gett'n ready fer church...heard me cutt'n down the redwood forest in the back of her niece's wagon when she went outside to get the morn'n paper and asked Cricket once inside "why is your boyfriend sleeping in the back of yer car?" to which Cricket replied "he's not my boyfriend anymore...i guess he's gay and doesn't have a bed at home anymore...well cuz he doesn't have a home!" 

luckily fer me her aunt felt some sympathy fer my sticky situation as well and since i was now a confessed hetrosexually challenged vagabond...she offered up her couch in the basement fer a few comfortable weeks though as grateful as i was fer the accomodations...it was a bit soft on the lumbar support that my spine needed

i didn't wanna overstay my welcome so i was off to find my next desirable

destination after roughly a month...however...my self diagnosed ADD would kick me in the keester and i found myself crash'n at my grama VIOLA's fer roughly a week which felt great to be with her at the time...unfortunately the couch was a bit hard on my back nite after nite til i somehow either got invited or more than likely invited myself to some college soiree 

and what a party it was kittens...by morn'n of said party i woke up and i

swore i felt like an inebriated princess Leia who spent the nite inside the trash compactor of the Death Star...the floor was buried in cigarette butts and half empty and crushed busch lite beer cans scattered everywhere and with no breath'n apparatus in my sight except fer some unrecognizable cornea that would pop up on occasion to play ping pong with his jinglebells...

so i decided to go full on Joan to whoever's palace i had crashed at fer the next 3 hours and by the time i was finished...i had left a note with my current contact info fer the occupants of said party palace then left without incident

some hours later...back at my grama's...i received a phone call from some 

fierce feline that wanted me to stop back over at their party pad to meet in person so i hopped on my huffy and tore thru town like a the wicked witch of the west end on a quest

turns out the house was run by 3 sassy lassy's in college who wanted to

know my back story and after a brief but poignant presentation that included my obvious OCD clean'n regimen though they were not not wealthy women by any stretch of the imagination...they collectively decided to offer me free of charge a closet off the kitchen that could fit a roll-away bed that they had fer the remainder of their school year as long as i cleaned their palace on the daily to which they would also include what lil table scraps they had to share with me which mainly came outta a hermetically sealed bag or a box...

though i do recall there were those occasions i felt like the dandiest drifter in the world on those special special nites when we had our dinner boiled...but hey...at least the bed finally felt just right!

one of my fav-o-rit pre-unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n

illusionist of my own universe memories from that period in time was when we would all gather together in the media wing of our humble lil abode to watch our nitely program like it was some sorta feel good heroin starr'n our fav-o-rit heroine especially this one particular even'n when we were all transfixed on some infomercial outta the blue that had us hooked!

it ended up bein a mini info ad fer the church of the latter day saints satanists and they were desperately hawk'n their voodoo books to whomever wanted one fer free...so like a junkie to heroin...we dialed the 800 number outta sheer boredom only cuz we wanted to meet some new people without have'n to leave the house and after a brief conversation with an operator...we were promised a visit from 2 elders later on in the week...so i of course had to tidy up our humble lil dwellings fer our guests pronto and find myself thee perfectly proper presentational frock to wear

luckily enough...i hadda friend in the theater department at our local 

university who was able to snag me a much more presentable attire fer our income'n guests and MAGENTA from the ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW seemed to be the perfect reflection since i was their live in maid after all...plus all i had on me at the time was what i had gathered together in a garbage bag when i was unceremoniously rejected from what used to be my place of residence months earlier

2 days later as i prepared myself fer our 2 tin foiled CASPER crusaders

my 3 care bears and i were in a bit of a quandary as we wanted to be thee most hospitable yet inquisitable hosts to their ritualistically warped voodoo views so of course we did what anyone would do in this situation and decided the menu would consist of freshly chilled strawberry kool-aid served with double stuffed oreos that i would generously serve as the HAZEL of the house

with only seconds to spare...we noticed the back ends of 2 schwinn's park'n along the side of the house and suddenly...a knock at the door!

after sage'n the fuck outta all the negative chi in the air along with the

burnt gazpacho we made the nite prior (i know...don't ask!) we invited in our deliriously starved saucy look'n monkey spankers and sat them at the kitchen table...my 3 roomies played em like a feckless fiddle one question at a time and gave them ample time to respond to which they both passed with fly'n colors til one of the baronesses opened up the hiroshima line of question'n by ask'n them (politely i might add) what was the churches stance on man on man fornication?

well...you'da swore it was as if they had just been zapped by some sorta

powerful perplex'n mind boggle'n fucked zombie ray (cuz remember it was the late 80’s after all) well...as they both glared at each other then down at their notes they had conveniently hid in their culottes then back up at us...without skipp'n a beat like 2 synchronized swimmers in a fire...they both simultaneously blurted out "we'll have to get back to you on that!" and they left without incident

suffice it to say...those callous concubines NEVER did get back to us in a

timely manner but i will always be ever so grateful fer my time with those 3 care bears...now GET OFF MY DRESS!