we've all had those days when nothin' and every thing and everyone
include'n those cock suck'n mutha fuck'n pig slutt'n demon whores are totally test'n every last nerve course'n thru yer milky white flesh...well in moments like these...i'll try and press the pause button...take in a couple deep breaths and rearrange my chakra (once i figered out where the fuck i put it) and image i'm the
Nutbush City goddess Miss Turner recite'n in my brains over and over "
big wheels keep on turn'n...proud mary keeps on burn'n"
after of course i throw on my gold lame fringe nitey (cuz i'd look pretty fuck'n stupid without it on now wouldn't i kittens?) spinn'n around like Wonder Woman circa the 1970's just like i used to on the playgrounds in 2nd grade at Jefferson Elementary in my babyshit brown hopalong cassidy shit kickers hope'n that i can resolve any and all issues eat'n away at my supplely plump A double snakes at the time…however...suffice it to say...this proud Mary's wheels' were no longer turn'n and i was just burn'n up...lemme explain!
well sure as shit as
MEATLOAF was overcooked recently so was my last
nerve when i hopped into my car on a cold and blistery nite with winds outta the west from 5 to 10 miles per hour...
after leave'n the BETTY WHITE tribute movie about her tremendous career to the entertainment world at my local AMC theater (which to go off on a mini rant fer a moment) watch the tribute on Netflix...it's the same damn thing outside of the
11 second kudo's BETTY sends to her fans that she prerecorded 10 days before her pass'n that i basically paid a $1 a second to hear on a big screen (which even on another side note) her make-up artist should'a been shot!
what in the fiddler's fuck was up with those "
MOMMIE DEAREST" via FAYE DUN-IT-HER-WAY eyebrows?
why oh why did her make-up artist/photographer draw em on with a damn crayola marker she found under the couch cuz she ran outta pencil and make it look like BETTY was make'n a hostage video? any'who'z'll'ding...
as a special added bonus the fuck'n pampered shitter (who i'm sure wasn't masked) whine'n 3 rows behind fer roughly 30 minutes cuz their hormonally selfish Karen/Ken owner didn't wanna pay the damn babysitter
so where was i? oh yea...so i slip my key into the ignition and give it a turn
when all of a sudden my shit mobile decided to cop an attitude with me and started give'n some shade...well i'm an internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe kittens...i don't speak automotive and frankly at 10 o'clock at nite i really shouldn't have to take smart attic back talk
when it already felt like the planet HOTH outside…
turn'n my jingle bells into klick klackers though luckily i managed to make it home without any highway incidents
and crawled under my Tracy Turnblad prom dress comforter to search the informational highway in order to find out the cure fer my car’s current sickness before drift'n off
by morn'n i had resumed my research and matched my current situation
with a small $14 part plus tax that i hadda purchase and contacted a friend on the outer reaches of my universe in a foreign country called Hudson WI and he booked himself on the earliest flight and flew to my place to replace the part that i knew if i took it into a shop...some mechanic would'a bent me over the hood of my car and have to loose my dignity before i'd ever get my keys back and if it were a perfect world...so would be my mechanic and i would have zero issues lick'n bird shit off my hood...as he went under mine
BUTT...and you knew it was come'n eventually didn't you?
though my foreign friend from across the galaxy eventually replaced
the much needed part in the bitter cold that i had so rigorously researched and was assured by youtubers that this in fact was the only issue to cure the canker sore in my car...however...by morn'n as i jumped into my winter gear and spritzed myself down with some essence from 2007 created by our
dearly departed purple paisley MN native bucket of pubic hair...
my shitmobile started give'n me more smart attic backtalk and decided to toss a fit by refuse'n to budge from my park'n lot so i could refuel my body and unfortunately hadda call fer back up which in turn turned out that my mechanical fantasy would have to be put on hold as some ritually bathed Cooter came to my rescue
it would take a whole 6 days later before i would finally become
reunited with my vehicle and trust me when i say...this was no
PEACHES AND HERB production cuz IT DID NOT FEEL SO GOOD!
not only did i not have a chance in H-E-double hockey stix of try'na
work out some sorta "deal" in the break room with my diesel engine doctor...i would be forced to either take out a small bank loan after only bein months away from the one i was forced to take out 3 years prior or work a double downtown on those cold and lonely after bar sidewalk sale nites...unfortunately at my advanced age (though my "stock's" are still up without any help from ANY fornicational pharmaceutical companies)
i'm lucky if i can get any canned goods fer my "goods" so i opted fer door #1 which was another damn 3 year loan and of course wouldn't you know they stopped give'n out complimentary boxes of CALGON to take me awaaaaay!
though i completely understand all to well the painful world of own'n yer
very own shitmobile to tool around town at yer own leisure ever since i was 26...here's my question? if we can put a man on the moon...circle the stars and beyond to other galaxies far far away...
be subjected to countless...beyond expensive international war games of who's dick is bigger...
then why the fuck can't we go back to friendlier greener ways of transportation...whether it be via broom stick...
toe tapp'n glittery blood clot slippers together...
or beam'n us up? past generations wrote out the damn road maps...HELLOOOOOOO E-L-O-N it's time to fill in the fuck'n dots mister
and GET OFF MY DRESS!
