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!

i ain't clown'n around

so we all remember that code red fiasco the lovely part'n gift i received...

from my extremely laughable and loveable and bestest best you'd ever wanna know in my world...PEETRINELLA...last year fer my barfday right?

click here fer a recap

well...can you believe it's almost been a full year kittens...BUUUUT...

here i go again on my own

 (well...cuz my period happens once every 365 days)

goin down the only road i've ever known

 (gee..i wish i could get my hair to flap in the wind like Tawny's...but that's just too much commitment fer me)

like a drifter i was born to walk alone 

(cuz my piece of shit on wheels is barely hold'n together by duct tape and a prayer these days)

an' i made up my mind

 

(Lena Dunham looked like my grama's toilet paper cozy at the Emmy's last week...seriously...you apparently pissed off the wrong homo kitten...that's all i'm say'n) 

i ain't waste'n no more time

but here i go again!

what originally was suppose to be me hamm'n it up in the HAMPTON's...

fer the very 1st time at some beachfront resort along the coastal line...

sipp'n champagne...and choke'n down caviar nibbley's...

while wither'n about in my beachy birthday suit along the sandy beaches...

and doin' tequila shots while play'n next to nothin' twister with my suedo friends like Cher and Madonna...
(hey i spent bookoo bucks fer the last couple of their shows...so that makes us suedo friends in my book)

ended up with just me...some salt lick and no hope in sight!

that is until i decided i had to make the most of my annual barfday misery...

and throw my own damn barfday party once again...well of course you know...this means i needed a fab-u-less theme...

i've done from the 80's...to jail birds...to duets...to religious...to cowpokes

and of course this year...i ain't clown'n around!

my parties...as precious as they are to see the people that rarely return texts in a timely manner but show up to ease their guilt fer the year...

and to check if i'm still kick'n...just aren't the same without PEETRINELLA in attendance...and like every year (minus the cowpoke party)...she's always attempted some valid excuse via voice mail...that usually doesn't fly with me...but i let it slide cuz she ALWAYS melts her guilty conscious away...by bestow'n unto me...the P-E-R-F-E-C-T consolation prizes from the preselected registery at amazon.com...

hey don't point yer fingers and roll yer eyes act'n like i'm sooo self centered and materialistic...well i am at times...we ALL are kitten...but with all the pamper'n i've showered onto brides...baby births...bar mitzvah's...birthdays and burials...i'm about due my simple royalties

so this year i expect nothing different as far as PEETRINELLA is concerned though i thought i'd help ease her unconsciousness...by give'n her a pre-selected menu of acceptable options that i would possibly believe fer not attend'n my heavy flo day special day...just one day out of the year:

option#1 

"hey Mattress...happy birthday...but you know how i'm a hypochondriac and all...right?...well...ever since they brought back those doctors without borders back from Africa that had that ebola...i swear i have it now...cuz i feel like my insides are eat'n me up...unless that's what guilt feels like...oh well...have fun...and don't worry...i'm already work'n on yer x-mas gifts as i type...love ya...bye!"

option #2 

"hey Mattress...i'm really super sorry about this but Lucy is have'n her friends that nite fer a sleep over and Todd started work'n at the 4-mile strip club as a bartender saturday nites so i can catch up on all my tivo in peace...don't worry a lil birdie will be dropp'n off a box soon...happy birthday (her voice fades away before hang'n up) hey you damn kids...get back in the cage...or there'll be no salt lick and sugar water til the morn'n!"

option #3 

"hey Mattress...i'm in the Hampton's...where you at?...awww shoot...hey...i gotta go...Cher and Madonna want me to do tequila shots with em then we're gonna play'n twister sister...jealous much?...happy bir..."

(the caller hangs up)

well...it just so happens...some birdie already left some dropp'n outside my door the other day when i was come'n home from a difficult day at the park work...so of course i did what any unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of their own universe would do in times like these...and accimentally gnawed the box apart with my fangs and was pleasantly surprised...in the best way i could...how PEETRINELLA once again figered out EXACTLY what it was i was look'n for this year...so behind door #1

fer give'n my planter fascitis a break from huff'n and puff'n in the parks...a spank'n new pair and exact replica of the shit kickers worn by the QUEEN herself...in her infamous SEX book many moons ago

behind door #2

an 80's visually stimulate'n smorgasbord of thee oh sooo bad it's oh sooo good tv...make'n the instant oatmeal generation wish'n they'd grown up 3 decades ago to experience it 1st hand...but they didn't

behind door#3

the perfect candy fer my think'n cap 

(though i'm think'n it would'a meant so much more had it been actually signed by Mrs Lauper...but apparently PEETRINELLA wasn't in the mood to have that much fun...i'll still cherish it anyways)

of course by the time i had gotten to the bottom of my dropp'ns...i found a simple but oh so so sweet note inside that read : Happy Birthday Mattress you better not open this until it's your birthday...luv PEETRINELLA...awww!

yea right...that's like ask'n the Donald not to be the presimental douchery of the tangerine baboons...or Lady Blah Blah to be go back to bein' relevent...it ain't ever gonna happen

besides...PEETRINELLA knows i have very little patience...

when it comes to open'n packages on time...well...except fer the patients wait'n in my wait'n area

needless to say...PEETRINELLA went waaaay above and beyond her REDEMPTION she felt she needed and she'll get a free pass this year...

provide'n she chooses one of the pre-selected voice mails of course

so there ya have it...fer those kittens that are in town...throw on a gown...

and see this clown turn yer frown upside down this sat september 6th...my OFFICIAL day to do and say what i want without any prosecution or persecution...and even though yer presence is presents enough...

nothin' says happy barfday to me more than a rainbow taste'n FYI

ps... if any of the attendee's happen to have a stripper friend as their +1...

come prepared with yer benjamins ladies and lady-a-likes...if not...

get off my dress!