TY A TRAGIC TORNADO pt. 1

picture it kittens...it was 1992 and a young REBECCA JANE PEARCH

would go bat shit crazy at the box office with "THE HAND THAT ROCKS THE CRADLE" try'n to get her employer's newly born offspring to suckle from her pendulous breasts in order to replace the mother and move in on the D.I.L.F...i mean father (not to be confused with of course the obscure act of HONEY SUCKLEING...which quite frankly i could'a lived a 1000 lives over without ever know'n the actual true definition of such an act)

one third of the british female trio BANANARAMA...SIOBHAN FAHEY

joined her new band SHAKESPEARS SISTER and had a massive #1 hit with the hauntingly beautiful dramatic pop sensation "STAY" 

off their sophomore album "HORMONALLY YOURS" which is celebrate'n it's 30th anniversary this very year so if yer itch'n to get yer hands up their sleeves...click here to order the new vinyl (this was an unpaid endorsement)

the future 42nd prez of the US would impress the Arsenio audience with 

his massive pipe play'n presence and go on to win the nomination 5 months later

and i was finally finish'n up my position as a governmental guinea pig

when i met up with my new found fools friends Lemar and Lyle thru a roommate ad that i was rent'n from while i was doin a near year long lock up every other month while bein poked and prodded by the CDC or the FDA to fill up my FDIC account that made me a lil AC/DC if ya ask me which in turn fucked with my ZZZ's

though i was one of the original viagra bunnies (yes all you chemically enhanced hard-on's owe me a bit of gratitude) the last medical experimentation i had to endure fer a boat load of tax free benjamins involved some radioactive pellets in a 20 oz big gulp that i had to consume fer liver cancer i was told while bein locked inside the hospital fer 30 days and nites and though it's never been proven...my sleep patterns have been greatly affected ever since so i made the unconscious decision to never involve my body as the government's voodoo doll any longer...

regardless of how much of the lifestyles of the moderately well off and suedo famous i'd get to experience

BUTT wait...there's more

Lyle and Lemar were just the hoot n a half that i needed to break me outta 

the sheltered life i was live'n in durin' this period and did they ever...both of them were complete aficionado's in the art of "absolute pleasure" via the massage biz they were in based on "swedish techniques" though seriously kittens between you and me...their swedish techniques were neither swedish nor technical they were tawdry and sexual...however...i'm not gonna be some judgmental judy tell'n anyone how to bring home their bacon kapeesh!

with their jovial dispositions and their pied piper antics that i so desired

we were almost inseparable from club nites to the casino lites where some middle aged diabetic loaf of wonder bread in his blown out bvd's who was their atm on legs...pay'n them plenty to cling to his side as eye candy fer the crowds...though i was no fool...on the many occasions i was a tag-a-long tart i would pocket the $100 i was given and say i lost it in the slots as they rolled the dice til dawn 

i can recall one nite when i was hired by Lyle and was told i would be paid

handsomely with top shelf cocktails of my choice and $25 if i could get this cling wrapp'n cock sucker off his back that he had dated or hooked up with a few times  though the details of their "liaison's" were a bit fuzzy to me exactly...either case...he wanted me to go all ape shit mary mary on the contrary with prada purses fall'n outta every corner of my mouth when i was forced to sit in between them in the back of one of Lemar's "clients" cars in hopes the whipper snapper would break it off with him cuz he didn't wanna be the bad guy so of course i pulled the whole damn prada boutique outta my A-double snakes on one even'n (hey $25 is $25) and by the time we reached our final destination the cling wrapper was on his maryless way

time would move on and eventually Lyle began to date an up and come'n 

smarty britches fer some medical device company (fer all purposes of this story we'll just refer to him as Telly) who conveniently and confidentially told me one even'n when i was to meet Telly that i WAS NOT to mutter a single word about the "profession" he was in...i mean why would i care anyways what this new guy thought...however...i zipped my lip and never muttered a single word to anyone only to find out later on how Telly never cared much fer me bein around them cuz he thought I WAS a massage therapist dole'n out happy end'ns so one would only surmise that Lyle threw me under the bus just to snatch himself a golden ticket

after a few years together eventually i would loose contact with my former

tag-along tarts only to meet back up with Lyle years later in 2009 once i heard thru the soured grapevine that Lyle and Telly had turned a mundane mechanical garage into a mega homo hideaway dance destination on the N.E side of town that was all a buzz fer those not want'n to deal with the hustle and bustle of the downtown crowds...co-dependents in the bedroom and on the bar stools

5 years on and going strong the bar was all the rage fer a large portion 

of the population both gay...straight and the not so straights of course especially on the weekends...i was even lucky enough to get asked to perform one halloween nite due to a previous production back'n out at the last minute apparently so i slapped together my best 80's BOY GEORGE look and brought an appropriately themed costume fer a 2nd number which i believe was "I'D RATHER BE BURNED AS A WITCH" by EARTHA KITT (not that it matters though i'm tell'n the story so it technically does) anywho'zll'ding...since this was a last minute request to my already planned hweenie plans...i demanded free bar tab all nite along with $200 cash which Lyle happily obliged and the nite went off without a hitch in my britches

ever since the very first time i had met Lyle after leave'n my position as a 

governmental pin cushion...i was immediately captured by his crystal blue eyes...his effervescent laughter and his charm'n teenaged antics...he was annoyingly hot though easy to bs with even if it was as fake as some of my orgasms at times...i never knew Lyle to be anything short of an absolute charmer...that is until 2014...

well there you have it kittens...tune in next week fer the excrutiate'n pt.2 of 

TY A TRAGIC TORNADO...now GET OFF MY DRESS!

DESIRES OF THE DEVILISH

it don't matter if yer some sorta sequestered patron saintly sinner or just

Lucifer's lust starved love muffin that wants to be eaten like a danish on the daily...we all have that unscrupulous urge to purge a portion of the universe fer our animalistic pleasures whether we're act'n on it or not!

i can recall the very first time me and handful of my school chums in 1987

sat around my friends house one lazy afternoon after we buried their parents in the backyard i mean the parents left on some tambourine jamboree revival at the local water’n hole…with jiffy pop toss'n an attitude in the Armana Radar Range and a perspire’n TAB chill'n our finger tips as we quietly concentrated on the plot while enjoy’n the very first interracially facially challenged adult entertainment we had ever seen in our teenrager existence via "DESIRES OF THE DEVIL" from 1971 (fer all you ADHD'ers...fast forward to the 15:09 mark to get to the biz at hand with yer hand)

starr'n hot to trot pineapple poacher JIM CASSIDY (nothing more to see here...just was tell'n you what had happened in 1987 at a friend's house that's all!)

so after doin my annual fall clean'n of unwanted emails recently...i dove  

head first into the deep end of my email abyss to the depths of depravity i've never dare explored before and came across all my unsalted adulted emails (since no one's come across me lately) from craigslist admirers practically 13 years ago that i never knew responded to me 

(an actual P.O.P)

thus i never got to experience any titillate'n unmitigated exuberance that may or may not have happened upon meet'n the many that became unfortunate P.O.P's (prisoners of passion) in my junk files and since craigslist is no longer a viable meet and greet option thanx to congressional cuntasourus's and sex trafficker's everywhere...i will never get to seriously know...

if anal_assisine7.5 ever got to explore the outer reaches of his intergalactic desires...

if uncutcosmonautover8 ever learned to speak english fluently...

if hemorrhoidal hitman#9 was a hit after all...

or if hornyspermburglar was the devious cousin to the hamburglar who emphatically stated he wanted me to baste his buns in his email to me since all of them had been encrypted emails thru craigslist

BUTT wait...

i did notice that 2 of my very kinky correspondents...throat plunger8plus

and penis-fly-trap tried to grab my immediate attention by post'n their own personal phone numbers in their email response

hmmm...what are the chances after 13 years that they still need service?

or that they still even own that number they so blatantly threw out at me...i guess YOU'LL never know kittens...

enjoy my beautifully bloody mess mix as yer trick-or-treat from me and GET OFF MY DRESS!!

VISIBLY INVISIBLE

with 35 years in the service industry...whether it was on the very front lines

at Hardee's...on the stage of the Jenny Jones show or on my knees in some busted down bronco on a late friday nite...i've always tried to give 110% of my full unsalted attention to the audience that was stand'n before me regardless of their age or their unwarranted "karenomics" or their demand'n demands whether i liked 'em or not...unfortunately those days are long over when i apparently turned into some invisible entity recently to this brain dead barbie doll who i assumed was doin her tinder aerobics swipe'n left and right like a tawdry tazmanian trollup when i popped in at the latest local non hetero water'n hole destined to be a sure fire failure most likely due to my advanced age...

like find'n a needle in a hay stack...

a diamond in the rough...

or gett'n all the correct lotto numbers in the correct order

it's a rarity that you will ever see me blow my top...

well...unless of course he's used proper hygiene first...though this latest incident made me remember the very first time i ever encountered the invisible entity syndrome after i had turned 40

so there i was a while back at my gym try'na squeeze in my routine...

doin my nightly laps in the whirlpool  work-out routine on the locker room benches  work-out floor...doin' my damnedest...rush'n to get in...to get out...and to get off...

to get my car tire fixed at the mechanics

i stuffed all my valuables (that ARE NOT attached to me by way of my inception) into a small hole in the wall locker...and after an exhaust'n 30 minute rushed work-out...i had simply fergotten my locker and combo...

as one does when they got a million things goin on in their head...think'n of head...wait...i'm gett'n A HEAD of myself there

let's just back it up...just a wee bit...there ya go...just like that!

oops...where was i?...ummm...oh yea

(sorry i had a bit of dickslexia happen'n...why not! it's my story)

so anywho's...as i was try'n to say...i was rush'n outta the gym...and couldn't remember my combo...so i asked the counter help fer help...

but they were more interested in find'n some pokemon shit apparently than help'n me so after the raise'n of my evil eyebrow...i gave them the exact details of all of my contents and could they please entertain the thought of bein an actual paid worker fer once and open up the 20 or so lockers with the master key so i can get on with my irritable nite (though i narrowed the area down to about 10 lockers to save them precious time)

well after 15 or so lockers...and no luck gett'n the correct one...he says he can no longer open another locker without a general mangers approval...

HUH?

instead of goin' bat shit on this guy cuz that never solves A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G

(and you A double snake holes know who you are that give customer service kittens no reason to be polite to you at all!)

so anyways he went back to the counter to email the GM who apparently

was MAX HEADROOM as it appeared he was just fumble'n and converse'n with the key board 

tick tock TICK TOCK 1 minute...2 minutes...5 minutes and still NOTHING!

as he kept aimlessly type'n away while check'n in the nightly chorus line of cruisers...my patience was slowly start'n to check out

i could feel my engine spinn'n inside...ready to go all tourettes on his ass...

but i put it in park and simply asked if he would like to be served with some fava beans and a nice ciante i could speak with the M.O.D

i now had 10 minutes to get to the other end of town which was about 15 

 minutes away and without move'n from his front counter he asked some guy...less than 20 feet away...if he could open the lockers and who was this guy you ask? the fuck'n GM/M.O.D

are you kidd'n me?...the fuck'n GM clown was less than 20 feet away...

and you had to email him to get his approval?...i wanted to punch this gen Z fucktwat in the neck!

of course the GM was no better as he says to me with callous cunt face

that they were "super busy all nite give'n out FREE day passes" and that was a direct quote

S-E-R-I-O-U-S-L-Y...ARE YOU FUCK'N KIDD'N ME WITH THIS?

i saw him sit at his desk across from the front counter watch'n...instead of bein' concerned about a current pay'n customer's obvious urgent issue...of course i had no choice but to tame the beast within me so i wouldn't end up bein' fitted fer some straight jacket or shot down with some tranquilizer dart...but i just couldn't let it go that easy...via this blog of course!

long story shortened...i could say perhaps they had issues with me bein'...

 the unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe that i am or cuz i was 2 generational letters away from him who's to know...it took the GM less than 10 seconds to open the right door...i got my shit...called the mechanic to wait...who was more than happy to oblige...which in turn...made me not go ape shit on his mechanical ass...in my head or in this blog! and just fer the record...if you want GOOD CAR SERVICE done right and reasonable...go to ANY ma & pop operation (it's worth the headache to do yer research) DO NOT call TIRED PLUS RIPOFF ARTISTS

the same EXACT job just to change a flat tire? 30 buckaroo's...OR...

60 to ONE HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS?

ok so it wasn't EXACTLY 100 million quote i was given (it was more like 60-160 benjamins i was told) however it might as well have been a 100 million dolla quote...either case TIRED PLUS RIP-OFFS will NEVER have to worry about me give'n them a piece of my mind...a piece of my ass or a piece of my very humbled misfortune...PERIOD!

BUTT there's more!

the follow'n day i figer'd it was an experience that i would not have to relive fer a long time...if ever again...so i took my long leisurely sunday drive...

to the BULLSEYE in some unknown burb...aimlessly goin from aisle to aisle...think'n about nutt'n nothin'...comtemplate'n whether or not if  i really needed certain items in my basket...like...

new head clippers

a new pair of dungarees

shower jams and jellies

or perhaps the new black eyeliner...in the newest shade of black fer the season

i opted out of it all...and instead...i just left with some stomach fillers...

ps...i ain't preggers...i had my insides scraped out years ago...they were just items i knew i needed to satisfy my crave'ns

as i made my way to the only open check-out...i needed somethin' else...

the thirst quencher check'n out in front of me though he would be just a pass'n phase fer the next 60 seconds!

as i placed the items on the conveyor belt one by one watch'n 'em make their way past the scanner...i watched the young cashier swipe'n my shit

up 1st was the mustard...

2nd was the chocolate milk...

as my last item came down the conveyor belt...the cashier who was marinate'n in old spiced past it's expiration date cologne says to me...

"sir...can you please scan this item?"

ESQUEEZE ME?

"sir...i cannot scan this item...it is against my religion" (yes he said that!)

i swore i had too much to drink from the nite before...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 in my pockets...

look'n fer the keys to turn off my batshit mental mind at this point

well listen 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 to do someone else's job that i'm not gett'n paid for...or to give 2 simple shits 

about what voodoo you do on yer own time...i'm fuck'n hungry and in NO MOOD to hear about what yer fairytales say you can and cannot do at yer place of employment! cuz apparently he said that there cuz 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...i'm almost pretty sure that it was conveniently sealed in some non denominational plastic 

look...i'm ALL fer the United Colors of Benetton workers...i really am...

and have no 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 (unless of course they plan on bring'n me their "goods" wrapped in plastic) 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 what they're say'n...before they have to chow down on their own feet!

i scanned the item and BAGGED it myself and i now expect to get paid...

fer my services rendered!

the only good thing that came outta the whole weekend...(besides me)

was winn'n the lotto...well it was only a buck...but still...ya can't win if ya don't play kittens...kapeesh!

i get enough religious puke from the news...the fairytale thumpers on the streets corners by my old job or the CASPER crusaders that lurk all alone try'n to save yet another soul from burn'n in their delusional pits of fire

however...keep yer voodoo stories to yerself...or  you'll be goin' on the wildest ride with my visibly spiked tongue!

in close'n...fer ANY person place or thing they choose to go by these days 

who is completely unaware of who exactly shot J.R....just remember that yer next in line to turn into the inevitable invisible entity...

and receive'n the same bs yer dole'n out today (if yer lucky enough to advance in yer generational letter that is) so learn to fake yer enthusiasm fer us as we have fer all of you and all yer self imposed pronouns

so that's a weekend in the life of an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...it's time fer me to hum 

my him's...so GET OFF MY DRESS!