SPANK IT ON A BING BONG!

oh the 80's...what a decadent decade it was...fer many it was all about...

very high hair...

very high shoulders...

and a very high life!

BUTT...nonetheless

though MICHEAL JACKSON's 1982 hit "BEAT IT" may have been a very

titallate'n subliminal message catered towards all those active testosteroned teenrage'n hormone's...it was lost in translation to me (i just seriously wanted that fuck'n killer jacket)

fer me however...it was about my very high intolerance of catholic school confessionals and an equally...very high libido and try'n to find the best

 visual stimulation's fer my personal fornicational fantasies...the tintinnabulational bells rang out in my head like a sexually frustrated tabernacle choir durin' my tenderly supple teenrager years...cause'n much needed relief in my briefs when my parachute pants would get so "tight" they were ready to burst at the seams many many times durin' the day (thank you trapper keeper fer keep’n me covered) which without the proper train'n and use of spermicidal jams and jellies...gave a whole new mean'n to the word "carpet burns" (that is until i learned of the many mysteries of mayonnaise)

so let's take a look back at who was hot that made me trot...

in tonite's episode of masturbatory theater: 80's edition

the easiest go-to to get-off and get to count'n those sheep...was of course

the impeccably delectably original throat plunger of them all JEFF STRYKER with his cushion pillow lips and perfectly sculpted hips...Jeff earned himself a massive follow'n...follow'n his equally massive kickstand cock...Mr. Stryker made me hitchhike to heaven many a nite and worked much better on me than any ambien ever could on those cold lonely nites

though the king of rock and roll got everyone all shook up in the 50's...

he couldn't compare to the shake and baked bad ass of rock n roll in the 80's...with the flick of wrist and that insatiable sexy snarl...Mr. WILLIAM ALBERT MICHAEL BROAD had me "DANCING WITH MYSELF" "IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR" enough times to make a blind man see again

GREASE may have been the word in the late 1970's...

but all eyes were on the hottest "COOL RIDER" of them all at Rydell High in the 1980's...later starr'n in hit shows like "DYNASTY" and "THE COLBY'S" MAXWELL CAUFIELD is best remembered as putt'n the purrr back into perfection with those dreamy eyes and those meaty thighs as MICHAEL CARRINGTON in "GREASE 2" play'n the love starved aussie vy'n fer MICHELLE PHIEFFER's affection and added much needed relief to my dicktion affliction

apparently...it's a luxury down south to own all yer own teeth...

not an actual specific requirement...thankfully though...these 2 "GOOD OL' BOY'S" owned all their teeth and alot more...BO and LUKE DUKE were the hottest assets to come outta Hazzard County (though they weren't kiss'n cuz's) they definitely were double trouble and definitely doubled my fun on many occasions durin' bath time dream time...just make sure to check the hamper next to the tub fer any peep shows popp'n up

though Miss Ringwald might'a been sport'n the best bob on the planet...

everyone...and i mean E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E...with any mouth water'n pent up teenage angst...hopped aboard the exploration frustration train when MICHAEL SCHOEFFLING played sweet fresh faced cool cucumber...JAKE RYAN...desperately yearn'n to bob on his candle...in the back seat of his parents rolls royce...while tickle'n the dragon's tail...in this cumm'n of age classic "16 CANDLES"

of course...no fantasy island would be fulfilled with out a mustache ride...

from this private dick...not only did MAGNUM P.I. sport the coolest car while fight'n crime at the time...he also sported the perfectly groomed carpet that matched his broomed lip...however...the cherry on top of his career (that i secretly wanted to be on the bottom of) would have to be when he had condoms named after him (that i do own stock in!)

as the under cover lover and drummer to one of the biggest bands in the...

80's...CULTURE CLUB's JON MOSS had a tender but tumultuous relationship with lead singer BOY GEORGE durin' their time at the top...but Jon had that certain je ne sais quoi about him and with those incredible come fuck with me eyes...how could you not fall under his spell...when yer pants started to swell...JON was the grrrrrravey that mashed my potatoes when it came time to spank'n the monkey with the BIG BEN!

my saturday morn'ns were never quite the same again...

once the animated cult classic "HE-MAN" appeared on our cartoon line-up...with his perfectly chiseled chest and golden blonde page boy tresses...i waited in baited breath as he held aloft his "magic sword" and said "by the power of grey skull...i have the p-o-w-e-r"...HE made you feel like he would take care of anything and everything in yer prepubescent pity parade...include'n that pup tent you were sprout'n in yer pj's

before he was a reality tragedy on the defunked series "ARE YOU HOT?"

and his dreadful good cop gone bad cop by enforce'n the law on the law enforcement series "RENEGADE" that unfortunately ran fer 5 seasons...LORENZO LAMAS played lazy playboy grandson Lance Cumson (and trust me...i did!) on the CBS series "FALCON CREST" with his exhaustingly handsome Argentinian looks and perfectly lacquered locks...Lorenzo was the perfect nite time soap stud...to soap up to and shoot cupids arrow

he had more gold chains caress'n his neckline than king tut...

B.A. BARAKUS...better known to most as Mr. T from tv's dramedy "THE A-TEAM" was one of the all time hottest bad-ass crime fight'n pimps to ever grace the prime time hour...with his manicured mohawk and his perfectly perky pecs...he pitied the fool...who never played with his tool

well...that's it fer this trip down masturbation lane kittens...i'll leave you 

alone so you can start "TURN'N JAPANESE" on yer own

now if you wood...would you excuse me while i huff and puff and blow 

someone else's house down fer some pocket change...so puhleez kindly GET OFF MY DRESS!

STICKY FINGERS pt. 1

picture it kittens...the year was 1984 and minnesnowda's very own purple 

paisley bucket of pubic hair had dominated the airwaves with his #1 jam "WHEN DOVERS CRY" all while bath'n in a bathtub full of erotic filth and dominate'n the theaters with his biographical master piece "PURPLE RAIN" which was accompanied by a masterpiece soundtrack of the same name

that my absofuckinglutely fantabulous cuz Shelly got to be apart of musical history durin' the open'n scene...so take that!

a widowed english teacher would become a geriatric novelistic sleuth with a killer roller set who was set on solve'n mysteries and murders all over Cabot Cove fer 10 successful seasons

MOLLY becomes a box office bank account while gett'n molested by her nana with lezbitronic tendencies in the teenrager hit "16 CANDLES" among many others that followed...oh and ps you finger-lick'n-on-the-trigger crotchety phalange point'n ameba's march'n in every damn woke online parade...

JOHN HUGHES is dead so don't start some pissy pathetic petition to ban this come'n of age movie fer us gen X'ers or send'n MOLLY rape counselor brochures

and i had decided to meander to the downtown of my hometown on a brisk afternoon to the local corner drug store to rummage thru the latest issue of my fav-o-rit musical rag fer all the latest musical gossip and printed lyrics to my fav-o-rit songs...

cuz you know you never were sing'n the correct lyrics no matter how long you had any given tune play'n on repeat in yer walkman

fer the longest time until i researched BERLIN's "THE METRO" lyrics that i began perform'n fer the 1st time on stage at the GAY 90's in the 90's months after i stopped doin the song...the open'n lyrics went as follows:

"i'm alone...sitting with my empty glass...my four walls follow me thru my past...i was on a Paris train...i emerged in London rain...and you were waiting there...swimming thru apologies"

however in my thought process i totally thought Terri's last line in the song went "and you were there...swimm'n thru a pile of cheese!" (hey i was 13 at the time...it totally was absolutely plausible so don't act you didn't think the same thing) anywho'zll'ding

after purchase'n my mag...i realized i only had some pocket change left

in my pocket so i decided to walk down to another drug store a few blocks away where a few of my siblings were at walk'n homelessly up and down the aisles dream'n of everything they couldn't afford more than likely then up back and forth thru the toy aisle stare'n at toys we had hoped that the fat ass in the red suit would deliver under our tree in a few short months and fer some reason i remember my sister fixate'n on this bendable witch doll that was about $1.50

BUTT let's back it up a it...

me and my sis had shared a room separated by the BERLIN wall of our

sleep'n quarters which was just 2 large rusted out school style locker room closets that COULD NOT be crossed or there would be an all out war...she was on the west side while i occupied the east...my side was always absolutely spotless and mathematically plastered with posters of  BOY MADONNA and CYNDI cover'n up every inch of paint when possible thanx to my keen sense of unapologetic law and order

while my sister's side of the room always looked like the trash compactor inside the death star and i swore at any give'n moment you never knew when a random fuck'n cyclops snake eye was gonna pop up from the heap of clothes that she had unceremoniously adorned her floor with

my uncle from Virginia or was it West? i'm grasp'n at straws at this point 

kittens cuz i can't remember which it was...move'n on...so my unk out east had visited us one spring or summer with his "friend" i was told by Joan...the season isn't really relevant to this story it's only give'n you a visual backdrop...anyways...i was lucky enough to be bequeathed a book from my long distance uncle that only expanded my celebrity fascination and musical repertoire from his era and let me tell you i became completely O-B-S-E-S-S-E-D from the very minute i opened the cover and flipped thru the pages...i wanted to be the one to solve the most talked about celebrity death in the world at that time

however a few months later after relentlessly bark'n at the occupant live'n

on the western side of the wall to keep their side clean cuz of my overbear'n OCD could barely handle it any longer...someone had take'n it upon themselves one day when there was no guards at the gate to apparently pull off some sorta secret mission impossible bullshit and somehow was able to make it to the east side of the room without tripp'n off any of the alarms or landmines that i had personally installed myself 

and decided to pull some Freddy Krueger fuckery on my newly acquired possession by slash'n a few pages from my cherished Marilyn bible to possess fer their very own 

well…i knew right then and there that this would be a total retaliation on

my behalf and trust me...THERE WOULD BE NO NEGOTIATE'N…NO STONE LEFT UNTURNED! believe you me i wasted no time in beginn'n my search and destroy mission to track down the callous culprit responsible fer the abhorrent atrocity of my property so i threw on my Angela Lansbury cap and started slither'n around like a sleuthy snake follow'n the shreddery which would lead me over the wall!

there ya have it...tune in next week fer the excrutiate'n concussion of pt.2

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

a MID CENTURY of MADNESS

picture it kittens...it's 1983...and you reluctantly get back together with 

yer high school possee after 15 years just to have 'em help you fumigate yer cabin...only cuz one of yer very dear charm'n fucktarded friends decided to haunt yer rental property fer the rest of eternity

art had irritated life with my group of stalkers friends roughly 8 years ago

under completely different circumstances thankfully (though outta their complete control unfortunately) however...it still carried the same plot lines...under a considerably much smaller budget of course...that i could completely turn into some sorta high profiled low budgeted indie flik under the same sorta concept someday i hope

i've lived a completely creative and colorfully cocktailed existence since 

the very beginn'n...from my incredibly natural arched eyebrowed sweetly saccharinated split pea souped up lapelled smiles of the 70's... 

to the Miss Clairol #33 elephant pissed hair hopp'n aqua netted follicles of the shoulder padded 80's...

followed by my 1st taste as everyones fav-o-rit unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe in the 90's (that incidentally began at the 90's)

that was indiscretely accompanied by the hedonistic "hey aren’t you" days of the 2000's... 

only to be frustrated by my independently broke days of the 2010's

that i U-L-T-I-M-A-T-E-L-Y made it to in one piece (at peace) in the 2020's at the tenderly unpasteurized and golden gurl age of the BIG FUCK'N 5-0 at last!

this is all such a bittersweet luxury that i never imagined i'd ever see...

seen as how i thought i'd never make it past 16 at 15 and unfortunately since my dad and 2 of my brothers were unable to relish in this experience on their very own themselves

there are those birthday moments in life that we celebrate as a conclusion

to a cornerstone of our existence...fer instance...yer last chance of gett'n away with murder while gett'n visually molested by the grandparents on yer sweet 16th

and yer last chance of gett'n a free "get outta jail card" from yer parents on yer 21st

with the current state of affairs we're currently live'n in...there will be no 

gigantor fanfare with me marinate'n in an ocean of cocktails among my friends and certain fam members...followed by a slice of chilled coconut cake served to me after my final performance by some beef caked up clown stripper from Schenectady that i had always envisioned i would get delivered to me to commemorate with...on such a momentous milestone in ones existence

i do not subscribe to that attention whore'n  "it’s my birthday week"

like many that march in their own prozac popp'n pity parade...so unless yer the spawn of satan (which i am absofuckinglutely convinced the current mentally deranged IMPEACHED FOR LIFE sociopathetik sack of pig shit disgrace’n the WH is #BIDENHARRIS2020)

 it DOES NOT take a week to be exhumed from yer landlord's womb nor are you rebirthed 6 consecutive days in a row...it just so happens that this self deprecate’n babble was posted exactly 6 days before i was to be expelled from my hosts gelatinous sack...

therefore you will just have to suffice with a lil ALTER IMAGES homage to myself fer the week

and if i’m lucky enough...i’ll be bath'n in a vat of tasty fava beans...hosed down with a nice chianti by my bff Peetrinella in her backyard come sunday...who knows?

 

now GET OFF MY DRESS!