THE WAY WE WERE

picture it kittens...the year was 1973 and K-K-K-K-ATIE MOROSKY who

was played by that semi operatic anti war protestor BARBARA STREISAND fall'n in love with this uppity waspy classmate of hers that had his sites set on hollyweird named HUBBEL played by the righteous ROBERT REDFORD who could barely remember "THE WAY WE WERE" by film's end

CARLY SIMON topped the charts by bottom'n out all those egotistical narcissist's everywhere with her backhand sammich hit "YOU'RE SO VAIN"

and WALTER CRONKITE delivered the devastate'n news to all right wing maniacal anti abortionists everywhere

BUTT let's move on if you can...

fast forward to 42 years later (8 years back) and i found myself relive'n 

key elements of that time in space from 1973 (thanx to a FB memories reminder) see...i've been in the biz of show off and on fer the better part of 25+ years now and lemme tell you...things can get petty ugly at the drop of a dildo

with PRIDE month finally cumm'n to a close...i found myself reminisce'n 

of the last time when i participated in PRIDE...it felt as if i was right in the middle of a bad episode about some petty and bilious reality show once the claws came out durin' one pitiful PRIDE event after some piteous pigeon toed piranha tried pour'n a glass of pinot misery on my parade

so puff on yer virgina slims while slurp'n on a delicate glass of 2 buck chuck and enjoy this trip down memory lame

many many moons ago my sensationally savvy CEO and simply sublime

VP of my fan club had inquired about throw'n a new bash atop a certain downtown rooftop eatery fer PRIDE weekend in the Minne-Apple to try and wake up plus shake up this tired city...

with a taste of glorification and grandeur that this town had been so desperately lack'n fer (let's be honest) years sadly

we were toss'n up idea's as to who could pack the punchline in the lunch 

 line dur'in the annual non heterosexual parade...someone who was in yer face like date rape mace...someone quick with the whip that's still pretty hip...someone clever and funny so we opted fer LADY BUNNY

of course what roof top party would be completely complete without a lil

sprinkle'n of just a few savory eyesores eye candy butt models from Andrew Christian give'n away free underwear (and maybe even a few std's if yer lucky enough to get their number)

and then suddenly it was as if a tantrum tornado started to whip up from the west!

well...deposits were paid fer BUNNY and the boys at this unnamed eatery

nonetheless leave it to some self-centered bloated pig in wig to toss a pissy hissy!

trust me...she ain't worth mention'n (though i've worked with her before) even if she may be artistically inclined with floral arrangements by drown'n 'em in glitter and glow lites dur'in the holidays...

 she's nothin' but a maniacal merlot bore...nothing more and then i started hear'n rumors around town that she professed how she was the "MADONNA" of the Minne-Apple and that she made boat loads of benjamins every year at her brunch salad bar while she would have one of her many epic merlot meltdowns though she was extremely elated when she heard that some "huge corporation" wanted to sponsor her sad soiree...

here's the deal-o unfortunately (i hate to be the bearer of bad news) the "HUGE CORPORATION" she was referr'n to was the CEO and VP of MY fan club...and truth be told...this annual event had been loose'n money year after year which was in dire need of a defibrillator with a new name and a new cast that could bring it back to life and bring in the big bucks...however...the owner did not see eye to eye with my fan club members...

 cuz even though he lost money year after year...he felt some loyalty to this self-involved eye sore...nonetheless said we could still do the party as planned as long as they forked over a bundle to cover his loses from the past 3 years before we would see a profit

 so my VP pulled the plug on the whole damn show and skedaddled outta dodge...though CUNT WEEDS was goin around town tell'n those who wished they could rearrange their DNA in the form of Helen Keller...that she had stolen the party out from under us...

 Alex...i'd like to take "delightfully delusional" fer $1000 pleez?

 though i was a bit disappointed...i was in no way expect'n the board of my fan club to cover someone else's mistakes...so i tucked in my tail and moved on as well

that is...until i recently read an article written by some snoreville ink slinger

who worked at some local mag rag mention'n how said CUNT had done floral arrangements fer the QUEEN's birthday bash

 and helped in the redecoration of Prince's throw pillows at Paisley Park in the 90's

 Miss "my name's on the marquee" drops as many names as fast as she drops her glass of wine and in the 15 some years that i've known this self diluted drunk...not ONCE was the QUEEN ever mentioned...

so i put on my Angela Lansbury cap and did a lil investigate'n...
only to find out that she was fired from the Paisley Park staff after a day fer bad mouth'n her boss and steal'n material from the purple paisley man himself...

 so there was no need to delve into this rubbish any further though my ghost writer (IVANA P) decided to write a retort to said fabricational story in some shitty monthly rag said "reporter" worked at to set the record straight once and fer all:

"seriously?...there's more holes in that story than a slice of swiss cheese 

and Bonnie & Clyde put together...this is just a poorly written episode of PR FLUF~N~STUFF!

if you REALLY want an exclusive...lemme tell you about the time me and 

Madonna decided to get away fer the weekend by hopp'n aboard the Starship Enterprise to the planet Uranus...

and had tiki cocktails and kiki dances with the likes of Cher and Ruth Bader Ginsburg"

now i won't give away this "reporter's" identity...cuz really...her legacy

and "integrity" is at stake apparently...H-O-W-E-V-E-R...fer visual purposes to this hard hitt'n story thru journalistic fantasy land...lets just call her "PELICAN"

this is the actual transcript between me and said "reporter"...

 via FB due to my simple freedom of speech

08/06/2015 15:26 

"just so you know, I'm deleting your rude comment."

08/06/2015 15:58

"just so you know...it's all PR fluff"

08/06/2015 15:58

 "Well, I wrote the article so I take offense to you publicly questioning my integrity. Please don't. If you have and issue with Richard (CUNT WEEDS), please send him a private message."

08/06/2015 16:01

"delete'n my comment is as humorous as that fairy tale yer try'n to sell to yer readers"

 

08/06/2015 16:36

"You can keep your rudeness to yourself."

08/06/2015 16:41

"you call it rudeness...i call it a comment to yer delusionally fabricated story"

"but i'm not the one try'n to win the Brian Williams reporter of the year award!"

and scene!

so there you have it kittens...the real story how it ALL really went down

all them years ago!

i look back and know that i have grown from this experience...however...

you fuck with a virgo bull...yer just ask'n fer my glittered horns!

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

RESOLUTION RESTITUTION

with every new years eve there comes a new list of everyone's annoyingly

 

unattainable ridiculous (or redickuless...depend'n on how you butter yer bread) resolutions that they don't ever have the slightest intention or interest of ever beginn'n let alone complete'n once dawn breaks and their champagne hangover ends up bein' more embarass'n at their age once they've realized the bedsheets are made outta newspaper print only to turn over fer a good look at the halitosed mud flaps with rheumatism they apparently met just hours earlier on their walk home thru some seedy downtown alley after their balls dropped

once you've crossed over into AARP country

those 20 pounds you planned on shedd'n once you've recouped from yer 

walk of shame to the uber after yer recognitive senses have regained their full functions...have multiplied and now become a maximum security prison of fat cells molest'n yer body ever since you made that resolution to shed them 3 new years prior and now realize that you need to borrow the jaws of life from yer local fire station just to get outta the 5 pairs of spanx that you've encased yerself into like a drunken egyptian pharaoh just to get that perfect selfie at the stroke of midnite to post all over yer social media...kittens...life is no easy bake oven!

"ANTICIPATION" lyrics from Miss CARLY SIMON mock'n you in yer head

as you desperately wait to read the comments from supposed fam and friends who have zero intention of ever contact'n you to catch up just cuz they posted "miss you let's get together soon" which was only posted as some simple misguided penance cuz they were suddenly stung by the holidazed hornet

there are no fancy creams to wash away yer misinterpreted existence

nor are there even enough benjamins in yer bank account to make a difference anyways since you maxed out yer EBT card and yer sciatica nerve has become yer own personal spring board of backaches

may i suggest you reach fer things much more attainable at this stage

of yer life like hope'n you don't mistake that over stuffed bean burrito from Chipotle you inhaled on the highway that's been sitt'n in yer fridge fer 5 weeks as just gas when yer goin grocery shopp'n

or remember'n to put yer bifocals on after dry'n yerself off from the shower so you can distinguish between yer tubes of tooth paste and yer preparation H

and remember'n to keep yer gorilla glue in yer junk drawer after fix'n the faucet in yer bathroom and not next to yer contact lense case on the medicine cabinet

quit with the damn daily affirmations and throw away yer hopeless candles

labeled hope of ever try'n to snag yerself a sympathetic soul mate after 35...cuz trust me at this point in the game of life consider yerself lucky if you have at least one friend who even bothers to listen to yer regrets any longer if you don't spring fer dinner and drinks on a notarized contract first

BUTT here me out...

fer generations society has been taught that the youthful are the only way

to live...to survive...to thrive and flourish without any regret or reason to bow down to those generational letters before them...however...what 20 somethin's don't realize is that since life expectancy is roughly 70+ years of age (assume'n yer not a total space cadet hopped up on goofballs or some Betty Ford beauty queen) which basically means they've peaked anyone’s interest by the time they've hit 35 at best...

and will begin their slow decent spiral'n down that middle age curly slide way before they've reached 50 so choke on that food fer thought!

just fuck all those in their 20's who think that the universe revolves around

them...seriously...just literally fuck 'em if that's yer cup of tea! well...without the use of chloroform and their consent of course (insert uncomfortable laugh here) in the 90's insecure people waited til they were established financially in their 40's to pathetically pass as 20 somethin' with injectables to get someone in their 40's to want them...20 somethin's today are look'n fer those financially stable 40+ crowds as an excuse to get outta their comfort zone and their parents basement fer the nite know'n that their gaggle of judgemental gestapo seethin' sidekicks can't afford to go out with them cuz they're save'n up fer their yearly botox retreat in Beijing to paralyze any part of their existence that might live beyond the age of 29 so it's a simple trade-off transaction really...they get out from under their parents wonder'n eye fer a lil rendezvous adventure that includes a two drink maximum 

and you get to recapture yer misspent youth to when you were too wasted to pull up yer culottes after slamm'n down a 6 pack of Zima's while try'n to grab onto yer ankles in some busted out brown bronco behind Little Caesar's after his shift...just make sure to get there 5 minutes before happy hour ends and slam'em then exit stage left pronto so you don't end up with overdrafts

as much as it's borderline pathetic to think that people of a certain age

like MARTIN LUTHER KING JR...RODNEY KING or even STEPHEN KING fer that matter can be remembered fer their profound and poetically prolific words to the wise...though you can no longer remember to put the damn seat down when you get up in the middle of the nite to make yer sacrificial meatloaf to the porcelain god!

when it's all said and done choose yer resolutions wisely and easily met

and GET OFF MY DRESS!