Frosty Flakers

i was a big fan of that chemically enhanced mouthful of confectionery fun

as were most of us Gen X'ers that grew up with that fuck'n hypnotize'n tiger in the ascot with a daddy's roar durin' the 80's...turns out though that they weren't all that fuck'n grrrrreat after all since i would end up gett'n 8 damn cavities from o.d'n on em before fall'n into some confectionery coma once a week durin' my tenderly traumatic teen years...you'd think i'da learn my lesson

when it comes to date'n a potential failure...that could very well turn into yer future failure...cuz let's be real here...you only really got 'em on loan...since well death is inevitable...so there's not really an effective how to handbook on how to keep them in yer clutches ferever...doesn't matter

whether yer some back comb'n...booze guzzle'n breeder in daisy dukes too sizes too small...puff'n a 2 pack of Marlboro golds on a daily basis...shoot'n out bastard children in the trailer park like a lawn sprinkler...

or some highly pitched bitch that squeals like some blow monkey on meth...think'n they're the creme' de'la'fem of the crop tops but look more like a bloated blood sausage burst'n in their BVD's...constantly consume'n the spotlight on themselves...either case...we all have our rules when hunt'n fer that special fucktard to call our very own

i used to find that when i was search'n fer a potentially interested failure...

i preferred someone closer to the top of the food chain...that would to jump off a cliff...while chant'n my name when they would see me...

though in all actuality...i find that just simply wait'n fer 3 simple dates with some simpleton before we're both make monkey love like greased up yorkshire pigs at the county fair is much more fair in the end as long as they don't ask me fer cab fare...keep in mind though...this doesn't mean i wanna move in or get married by date #4 or anything like that...

i mean seriously kittens...i don't have a lifetime membership discount card to any local hardware store nor do i own any stock options at any move'n company...

i'll just leave that to the professionals

of course fer the purpose of this melodrama...most of my love life has been played out like any one of Avril Lavigne's big hits and eventually

unfortunately just like the albums...when it's over...it's completely over...you just have'ta pick yerself back up and eventually move on to the next one without any regrets to start the ol' engine again

i have never felt the need to rent a room in desperadoville nor did i ever

practice my baton twirl'n in some pathetic pity parade charade just cuz society deems that yer used up and worn out at a certain age...nor do i subscribe to that tired "oh you'll find someone out there someday"

BUTT…hear me out

yes i agree when it's good...it's good...but let's get real here kittens...

it's way more fun to spend yer hard earned benjamins on the one person you know that'll really appreciate you fer you...and that is YOU! without have'n to get permission from yer annoy'n pathetick half...half the time...especially when you add other expensive shit buckets into the equation that have ruined yer waistline beyond belief and milk'd yer piggy bank dry just about every other week

i've done my fair share of charitable acts thru-out my love life...date'n from

 and fall'n into those head over heels hallmark moments with thee emotionally unstable in my late 20's...

thee socially retarded in my middle 30's...

and thee chemically independence in my early late 40's

after 3 decades of this...i didn't need to date any more judgmental judy's

and decided it was time to rethink about me fer a change and dip back into the insane single lane...oh don't take that the wrong way...each and everyone of those frosted flakes of failure from my past...did mean somethin' to me at some point obviously since they were with me and i'll admit...i do hold a very small portion to be polite to the demise of it all

but just like a carton of eggs...they all had their expiration date once i was fried on them

so i figer'd it was time to save money on therapy and decided to pack up

those things that many refer to as "feelings" to the back of my limbic system of my cranium...hit the road and just pump and dump fer a while...safely...when needed of course

it would take me 2 years later before i decided it was time to clean my...

love shack shit shack from all that bad chi that had been hang'n around me fer far too long and decided to go on my 1st actual date that i wanted to actually follow thru with 5 years ago

everyone knows when they think there's a possibility with a person of interest...you pull out yer rule book and just go from there...and this one seemed to fit my profile...he had the looks....charm...that wrinkled twinkle

 in his eyes that made me wanna know more...i am a sucker fer a set of iris's (to keep his anonymity safe...i'll just use what he said what he was compared to before as a visual and i'll say it's pretty close) anyways...where was i? oh yea...the only thing miss'n from him was the back handed sammich compliments or glassy eyes that i seem to mentally get attracted to...he was just way too nice and dare i say "normal" this was all new unfamiliar unchartered waters fer me...so we continued to have non verbal chatter via text fer a week or so til we would have an ACTUAL conversation...somethin' that most millennials can't even comprehend with a google search

date #1 was at my palace...since he said he didn't have a tv yet at home...

so we watched one of my all time fav movies "MURIEL'S WEDDING" since he had never seen it before and i could basically recite it word fer word at this point...but trust me Muriel..."i was not terrible" i pondered whether or not to have this be the 1st movie since some might interpret it as a "sign" of panic or desperation...but 2 tears in the bucket...mutha fuck-it!

 the alternative i'da rather watched was "TEXAS CHAINSAW: THE BEGINNING" then i remembered 1st dates are all about give'n memorable impressions and i didn't want him think'n i was some ax wield'n homocidal maniac wish'n he'd packed his can of mace (well not yet anyways) or wish'n he'd gone with what was behind door number 2 instead

there was alot of saliva swapp'n and heavy pett'n at the conclusion of the

movie i can confirm but no dignity was lost nor were any pearl necklaces made

by date #2...i was summoned to his palace...which luckily...was within my

 drive'n radius...walk'n up to his perfectly sculptured yard...we talked more about this and that and that and this that really was just the typical filler conversation on a 2nd date...oh and he was the perfect hostess too...he served me brown rice and tofu on a bed of lightly sea salted kale an exotic beer and we talked alot more as his modular furniture faded into the nite sky...he started kiss'n me...like i hadn't been kissed in years (it's in my rules book under the chapter "slipp'n down the saliva slide too soon") then all of a sudden...off slid our dignity and i was oddly summoned by the faint sounds of Miss Bernhard...chant'n in the back of my head...while in his bed

"stop! do you have any rubbers? while yer at it...could you make it 2? and i would feel just a little bit better if you would apply some spermicidal  jams and jellies to the area" i will not confirm or deny if any sorta broken rules of fornication that may or may not have happened at this point that nite...you just go ahead and fill in the blanks with yer own dirty lil thoughts kittens

finally date #3 had finally arrived as planned...and he planned fer us to see

some sappy dizzy flick about fish...seriously? "FINDING DORY"? we were in our early late 40's fer fuck sakes how about "find'n a decent cocktail bar" perhaps with some Connie Francis or Shelly Fabre echo'n in the background...i always liked Shelly Fabre though i didn't wanna be some snotty ingrate and i can say with all honesty...i melted at the thought however at the same time i'll be honest...a bit of an odd choice fer us at our tender and almost crusted middle age without an accompanying cocktail but then i remembered he was a full 24 hours older than me and i had to do as he said

his hands were all over me like an octopus outta water the whole time which i guess meant he was sorta into me...unless it was due to some sorta nervous tick disorder...either way...i'll admit it was nice...though this "NICE" thing...just a lil eepy cray and totally outta my comfort zone from what i'm used to from my dates

once the movie was over...it was back to his palace to walk his dogs and as i felt more comfortable with him...i unfolded more parts of my past however i noticed an instant change in his demeanor when i spoke briefly of my unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe disappear'n career...an all to familiar feel'n that flows like a flood of apparent flaws thru me...now mind you...as much as i was try'n on these new flirty slacks that i haven't put on fer some time...i was in NO WAY ready to call it quits with my single life or memorize the lyrics to "i do i do i do" by ABBA (even though i've practiced plenty of times durin' one of my many highway car concerts) but i just knew the storm was about to hit

once the dogs were back home...the nite was ended with that uncomfortable kiss you would give an elderly incontinent relative you haven't seen in ages...who fergot to put their choppers back in their mouth

well...at this point...i figer'd i had no need to spend my benjamins call'n...

 Miss Cleo fer any future advice...the write'n was on the wall and by late nite the follow'n day...i would receive that "it's not you...it's me" text...somethin' a spineless jelly fish would send cuz you know...person to person is outta the question...pretty much say'n nothin' i haven't heard before...which is why it didn't shock me much at all...plus i'm not gonna waste my time try'n to decipher whether he may or may not have meant somethin' else via his text...

so to save face of course...i would respond with the stale mate refried crap on toast response "yea...friends are fine" text...which is what i thought that's all we were to begin with anyways...though realistically we both know it'll never come to that in the end

all of a sudden...a light bulb popped on in my mind as Miranda ran thru it

i seriously hold no ill will towards him at all...cuz he really is a sweet guy

and as per Avril...he to would make it into a sweet song...but sweets cause cavities...and who needs another mental dental bill?...i could say i certainly hope he finds what he's look'n for...but why?

i have absolutely no regrets with anyone i've ever fancied thus far in my 

life as much of a struggle as it at seem in the 1st place with anyone at that particular moment in time nonetheless i'll make it thru the wilderness and soldier on 

til it's time fer my metamucil martini's in the moonlite...marinate'n my shoulders in an assortment of bengay cremes and Murder She Wrote marathons

i'd just filed this whole experience under "don't distress"...

just Get Off My Dress!

date'n dementia's

i...like many chosen single non heterosexuals...have a plethora of  "drugs" to choose from...when we're choose'n a potential failure as a shipmate...

 and by "drugs"...i mean options!

listen kittens...i paid attention to Nancy in the 80's when she simply said

"JUST SAY NO"

"if i wanna get high...i'll add another inch to my heels"...P-E-R-I-O-D!

so put that in yer crack pipe and smoke it...or better yet...learn to control yer destruction...so you can function at my junction

thee only drug i want any future failure to O.D. on...is ME!

BUTT i digress...

in yer 20's you were judge...jury...executioner...defendant and plaintiff on yer look and what you wore when you went out with yer gaggle of gays and the one token fag hag who felt like the luckiest bitch on the planet

the dollars bill's would flow like a whore with halitosis at any given bar on any given nite of the week...which usually consisted of cover charges and cock breath!

i somehow inevitably would become some sorta surrogate therapist way...

too many times...to one too many meals on wheels look'n fruit baskets who happened to be some inebriated idiot that was environmentally delayed...and expected me to find his foot'n just cuz he gave me his 2-4-1 drink ticket!

eventually i would turn down my reason not to have another doctor...

 prescribe me a cure that would take 3 to 4 weeks to clear up...instead...i opted to rummage around fer the leftovers at any bar close...fer someone that was close enough to the top of the food chain...OR

stroll fer a troll in the wee hours of the nite in the park fer a ride home...

and don't you wholesomeless whores start point'n fingers at me like some sharp shooter...cuz i wasn't there alone

by the time i hit my 30's...i knew i was goin' to become a romantic wreck...

or deemed a tragedy in a tiara if i wasn't involved with a mate to date fer more than 24 hrs...and so the clown show would begin  

not once...not twice...and by the third time...i was no longer a laydee...but i did it anyways...just cuz i figered i needed to evolve beyond the bar stools and the bad morn'n after breath mints i picked up from the nite before...

plus...eat'n fer one is never really as much fun...and cuz i was too lazy to commit suicide!

well...20 years later on...and end'n out my 40's sooner than expected...i feel like i'm back in my early late 20's once again and look'n better than my middle 30's...but with alot less hope...alot less hair and alot less tolerance fer find'n a potential failure in my own age box...oh...don't take that the wrong way...i've learned to accept my new check box...without all those unsightly stretch marks...or awkward family reunions

i'm just not that desperate enough to settle fer sangria and sausage links for breakfast just yet

bein' hit with the on goin recession to my non existent piggy bank doesn't

help either...it's made a HUGE impact on the way us 40+ single non heterosexuals go about conduct'n our "free time"

no one can afford the $10 covers...or feel that we should have to anymore

since we never had to when we were bask'n in our over indulgent youth...nor do we want to be bothered by some anal antiseptic past his ambercrombie due date with a $200 8-ball...who refuses to give up their crown as disco queen...show'n off their personally trained abs...under an over priced GUCCI tank to a bunch of twinks and tweekers

for the most part...the only choices out there are between meth heads or manic depressants who've replaced their overhead lamps with dollar store tea candles in hopes you don't notice that they had to cancel their gym...

membership...cuz they're still try'n to pull off that sparkly crop top that they bought on their first trip to Saint-Tropez in their 20 years...without the use of the jaws of life to get it over their head

and yer lucky if you will ever get to meet the photo-chopped fucker on the

other end of the informational highway anyways...cuz the botox bar has been raised so damn high...that they're terrified someone might notice

when and if ya finally do...they're usually try'n to recreate the image they sent ya by pose'n like some sorta age defy'n egyptian hieroglyphic when

  you open the front door...just to satisfy yer obvious desperate yearn'n to be acknowledged by a warm blooded entity...in person...at the very least...you have a chance to start an actual conversation...online...it's just all about delete...delete...delete!

and speak'n of my own experiences...it's no surprise that viagra sales are soar'n thru the roof when all the things that make a date with a new mo' interest'n these days are reduced to a simple formula of boredom and

regret...oh and ps...btw...they ought to be personally erect'n a life size crucifix with my name on it...cuz 30 years ago...i was one of thee original governmental test bunnies who got that pill approved fer all those long'n fer erect-creational pleasures

so they to could be energized til the wee hours of the morn'n

well...not too long ago a while back...i received an email from some online porker with an ax to grind with me...who i never had met...that i can recall

from 10 years ago apparently...i thought...oh...what perfect time'n!

lett'n me know that i looked like (and this is a direct quote) "a moron wear'n your shades" thru the downtown mousetrap systems on my daily

 breaks...cuz non verbal communicative passive aggressive behavior is so much more effective and alot more easier form of communication to understand these days (and annoyingly acceptable i might add) with almost everyone...than actually have'n to say face to face "ummm...wanna fuck?"

don't EVEN get me started on unreturnable texts in a timely manner

and you know it's sad...when some green mile look'n change collector...

scouts you out in the skyway on yer many mindless walks...look'n fer enough coinage to get him and his 3 made up kids back to some made up home far far away...but it happens on a daily basis from a merried of other story tellers...yer just conditioned to ignore their request...only to be belittled and berated by them as you keep walk'n by...but fer once it almost made me wanna run to the closest ATM as he caps off his verbal tyrannosaurus tirade with these eloquently body tingle'n words
(i said A-L-M-O-S-T)

"oooiiie...fer a white boy that's some fine ass...i'll tap that any day!" it's like the biggest compliment i'll remember fer as long as i can

basically...it breaks down like this...

online meet-n-greets are like stars from the 2nd cast of Designing Women

no matter how funny Jan Hooks and Julia Duffy were...they would never be able to live up to the originals...

cuz they were no Delta Burke or Jean Smart

                                         

meet'n face to face fer a cuppa caffination or whatever yer drink of choice

may be...is much better than try'n to read a wreck wait'n to happen on-line!

i may have unwillingly surrendered to the online hook up these days...

but i refuse...let me repeat that fer the kittens in the back...REFUSE to surrender my heels...so get over it already!

cuz when ya break it down in the end desperado's...guys in their 20's want

guys in their 40's...who want guys in their 30's...who want guys in their 50's...who want guys in their 20's...and all i want to do is get a damn cocktail before loose'n my dignity to any legal aged box

so it looks like i will need a new kinda "drug"...since my preferred method

apparently is...get this..."ILLEGAL"...plus it gets a bit spendy and is too much trouble try'n to guess the ratio to body frame 

it's human nature...we all possess that undeniable animal instinct...yo'

if you want it...just ask...i just might...if not...don't worry abod' it...but puhleez...GET OFF MY DRESS!