SAIL AWAAAY...TO SENILITY!

picture it kittens...the year is 1971 and a charismatically sinister leader 

Alex DeLarge films his promo ad fer some potential hook-up video date'n service great expectations who's interest included classical music...anti socialism and pillage'n pussy at his discretion fer the sensationally sadistic film "A CLOCKWORK ORANGE"

a batshit crazy CHARLES MANSON does some demented hokey pokey tap dance after receive'n a life sentence fer the murder of SHARON TATE and her friends without fire'n a single shot or slash'n a single throat

2 quaffed feather heads and 1 follicley challenged brother known simply as the BEE GEES were burn'n up the charts with their smash syrupy break-up ballad "HOW CAN YOU MEND A BROKEN HEART"

and my 2nd brother not only steals my pampers…he also steals my spotlight 

oh "THOSE WERE THE DAYS"

i can remember my steroided other half who was 18 and a half years 

older than me that i dated fer 4 and a half years when i was 30 and a half (and yes that extra half always helps in the end especially when it comes to the end) HEMAN (or cock-suck'n mother-fuck'n pig-slutt'n whore as i used to affectionately call him on those bitter nites) would periodically tell me when he would be have'n a particularly roided rage day 

"wait til you get to be my age lil boy" to which i always replied "who fuck'n cares about yer age except YOU you cranky cocksucker cuz when i'm yer age yer STILL gonna be 18 and a half years older than me so shut the fuck up!" 

i've never had an issue with the thought of gett'n old...grow'n old or bein'

around those older than myself especially since no matter what i will always be the younger one anyways...it's just life...i myself like many others try to look the best at any age we've been give'n the chance to experience however i have absolutely zero desire to restart or reverse the age'n process since we're all just a carton of eggs with an expiration date

though some by a mate... 

and some by fate!

so recently as i was rearrange'n my dignity in my dilapidated dungaree's 

i received an urgent email in my in box that needed a skimm'n thru so i opened the message up to see what all the fuss was about and apparently i was bein' summoned to sail away to senile serenity and now was the time to book

listen here feline friends i'm finally at the age my X warned me all about

nonetheless i have ZERO fucks with that AT ALL nor do i have an issue with bein referred to as a senile senior especially by certain botoxed basturds who are roughly half my age that obviously can't deal with their own age since i'm over half a fuck'n century old with out a single prick to my puss but still apparently make'n the masses wonder how do i do it?

ummm my secret you may wonder? facials kittens and always spit...never swallow!  

BUTT however...

in case you needed a reminder to know you are regrettably forgettable

by advertisers who don't even bother to fact check their expiration dates on their own advertisements they send out…this was mine...however...don't worry kittens fer i've already set my egg timer

and am well prepared fer endless hours of "MURDER SHE WROTE" marathons without any irony…

while bein' served lime jell-o squares 3 times a day before bein hauled off to the glue factory…however

if you plan on dangle'n an expired promo in front of my face ever again future advertisers…it had better be at least about 9 1/2 throat plunge'n inches thick at the very least!

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

a WRINKLE...in time!

the very moment we take that slip and slide ride down the birth canal to be

greeted by all those annoyingly thunderous goo's and gushes in every nook and cranny from every granny Aiken's to the uncle Orlean's around the planet...we are told we're gett'n old and we as a society will go to whatever extremes to cling onto the past at any and all costs...regardless of the ramifications...unfortunately there is no magic wand nor fountains of youthful elixirs...

that will help turn back time...

to stop yer unfortunate age'n process rott'n corpse from become'n just a mere moment in someone's memory...

BUTT...there are options!

ever since i was a traumatized teenaged terror in a town full of total uptight

tit slinge'n fly trappers and pabst blue ribbon beer guzzle'n balance'n acts that frequented Roy's Little Nashville Bar kitty corner from the block i used to live on in some simple and small minded MN town...i made it my pre-unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe's life's mission not to tumble outta bed and stumble to the kitchen just to pour myself a cup of some damn ambition

though there have been many a queens thru-out the distance of time...

years before Madonna would become the queen of the dance floor...

BOY was the queen of london...

and FREDDY was the QUEEN of  'murica...

however...the only queen i truly got to personally know on a one to one

weekly basis...the queen of all clays who was my go-to to give a backhand sammich to father time while clean'n out my pores in that under stated off white tube topped off with her emerald green crown was QUEEN HELENE (however fuck that 33% more market'n scheme cuz it NEVER existed...it was just full of air)

of course this was mainly due to the barrage of magazine market'n and 

tv jingles that traumatized our teenage insecurities since we were already the leader of our own personally destructive pity parade of our own personally awkward looks and then there was that one episode of Phil Donahue on skin cancer that didn't help

i can remember some years later when i was forced out on my very own 

and started out my career as a beauty school drop-out...my all time fav-o-rit teacher Anna tell'n the class when it came to skin care to always moisturize...moisturize...moisturize then to switch up yer moisturizer every 3 months so yer skin would not get used to a routine much like a gym trainer would tell their client to switch up their work-outs every 3 months so their muscles won't plateau and i've pretty much stuck to that routine...though QUEEN HELENE and me have parted ways years ago thanx to technology

though i would be the worlds worst crack addict...cuz i hate needles

when i notice parts of me crack'n as i climbed the ladder of life...i'd search out fer the latest and greatest affordable lotions to help keep father time tap dance'n around me fer yet another year and fer the most part cuz i wasn't bake'n like bacon every summer since the 80's...eat'n a pretty clean lifestyle...find'n dirtier things to stick in my mouth besides the ass of a cigarette and work'n out off and on routinely...i've managed to fool the fools who thought i was a fool fer practice'n this lifestyle and now foolishly wish they had practiced my foolery

however...don't confuse that with me degrade'n yer groom'n habits or choices in life...we ALL make them and we ALL must life by them...i'm not impressed if you think i'm not 50 or if you think i look 150 nor do i care if you think i've had any work done...i own it...I AM 50 and still more fuck'n fabuless-than-the-goin-rate!

if yer insecurely comfortable use'n yer body as some experimental pin 

 cushion fer the latest botulistic jab putt'n yerself in debt just to make that perfect selfie that'll be ferever lost amongst the garbage piles of social media by next week...i say go fer it...we live in an alternate universe these days and anyways with the millions of downloadable beauty apps available at our finger prints we can all look like a fetus in a wig if we really want to...but don't wig out if you get called out in person...society has conditioned us to think that after the age of 20...florescent light'n IS NOT yer friend...after 30 back light'n IS NOT yer friend...after 40 overhead light'n IS NOT yer friend and once yer in yer golden age you outta just turn off the damn lights all together!

so one afternoon as i was hop scotch'n between all the diabetic paraders 

and fantastic sam hair disasters at some random eye sore mall while wait'n to get financially raped by yet another dipshitt'n dip stick’n mechanic...this adorably confused middle easternish Ariana fanniccino Grande thing stalk'n walkers outside some over priced skin care treatment enclosure try'n desperately to corral them inside had reluctantly put me under his spell by batt'n his butterfly lashes and give'n me a free sample of jack-off hand cream to get me inside to purchase some over priced delusional concoction to turn back time so of course i couldn't resist his ming ring and got all Dale Arden on his bubblicious A double snakes

now flattery at any age is always an ego booster fer anyone regardless

if you know they're lie'n thru their yellow stained meth teeth or not and trust me...he was spread'n it like a hooker would their legs fer a mink and a mansion and once inside his web of deception he pulls out a "new innovative cream" that says will help cure me of my crows feet...

ummmmm...why Blanche...have you gone blind?

now even though my ego needs no booster seat....my ego also needs no 

crows feet kill'n cream since...well...i fortunately have no crow's feet to kill at the present time!

seriously...i mean i get the script is yer bread and butter at the moment

till you go home to yer parents basement to smoke a bowl...check how many followers you got on yer latest tacky tiktok and if Charli D'Amelio commented on it at all...but gurrrrrrrl PUHLEEZ...you think i'm SHOOK by suggest'n i need yer shitty over priced sludge to smooth out my face?

i DO NOT marinate in Ernest Borgnine beauty crème

when i finally find a crow leave'n their foot prints in my face i'll deal with it

appropriately then the way i see fit not cuz society beats me down to put myself in financial ruin...think about it kittens...not everyone can age gracefully...some never get to age at all while some age with grace while others are just full of demented DNA disgrace...

so with that in mind...GET OFF MY DRESS!