VISIBLY INVISIBLE

with 35 years in the service industry...whether it was on the very front lines

at Hardee's...on the stage of the Jenny Jones show or on my knees in some busted down bronco on a late friday nite...i've always tried to give 110% of my full unsalted attention to the audience that was stand'n before me regardless of their age or their unwarranted "karenomics" or their demand'n demands whether i liked 'em or not...unfortunately those days are long over when i apparently turned into some invisible entity recently to this brain dead barbie doll who i assumed was doin her tinder aerobics swipe'n left and right like a tawdry tazmanian trollup when i popped in at the latest local non hetero water'n hole destined to be a sure fire failure most likely due to my advanced age...

like find'n a needle in a hay stack...

a diamond in the rough...

or gett'n all the correct lotto numbers in the correct order

it's a rarity that you will ever see me blow my top...

well...unless of course he's used proper hygiene first...though this latest incident made me remember the very first time i ever encountered the invisible entity syndrome after i had turned 40

so there i was a while back at my gym try'na squeeze in my routine...

doin my nightly laps in the whirlpool  work-out routine on the locker room benches  work-out floor...doin' my damnedest...rush'n to get in...to get out...and to get off...

to get my car tire fixed at the mechanics

i stuffed all my valuables (that ARE NOT attached to me by way of my inception) into a small hole in the wall locker...and after an exhaust'n 30 minute rushed work-out...i had simply fergotten my locker and combo...

as one does when they got a million things goin on in their head...think'n of head...wait...i'm gett'n A HEAD of myself there

let's just back it up...just a wee bit...there ya go...just like that!

oops...where was i?...ummm...oh yea

(sorry i had a bit of dickslexia happen'n...why not! it's my story)

so anywho's...as i was try'n to say...i was rush'n outta the gym...and couldn't remember my combo...so i asked the counter help fer help...

but they were more interested in find'n some pokemon shit apparently than help'n me so after the raise'n of my evil eyebrow...i gave them the exact details of all of my contents and could they please entertain the thought of bein an actual paid worker fer once and open up the 20 or so lockers with the master key so i can get on with my irritable nite (though i narrowed the area down to about 10 lockers to save them precious time)

well after 15 or so lockers...and no luck gett'n the correct one...he says he can no longer open another locker without a general mangers approval...

HUH?

instead of goin' bat shit on this guy cuz that never solves A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G

(and you A double snake holes know who you are that give customer service kittens no reason to be polite to you at all!)

so anyways he went back to the counter to email the GM who apparently

was MAX HEADROOM as it appeared he was just fumble'n and converse'n with the key board 

tick tock TICK TOCK 1 minute...2 minutes...5 minutes and still NOTHING!

as he kept aimlessly type'n away while check'n in the nightly chorus line of cruisers...my patience was slowly start'n to check out

i could feel my engine spinn'n inside...ready to go all tourettes on his ass...

but i put it in park and simply asked if he would like to be served with some fava beans and a nice ciante i could speak with the M.O.D

i now had 10 minutes to get to the other end of town which was about 15 

 minutes away and without move'n from his front counter he asked some guy...less than 20 feet away...if he could open the lockers and who was this guy you ask? the fuck'n GM/M.O.D

are you kidd'n me?...the fuck'n GM clown was less than 20 feet away...

and you had to email him to get his approval?...i wanted to punch this gen Z fucktwat in the neck!

of course the GM was no better as he says to me with callous cunt face

that they were "super busy all nite give'n out FREE day passes" and that was a direct quote

S-E-R-I-O-U-S-L-Y...ARE YOU FUCK'N KIDD'N ME WITH THIS?

i saw him sit at his desk across from the front counter watch'n...instead of bein' concerned about a current pay'n customer's obvious urgent issue...of course i had no choice but to tame the beast within me so i wouldn't end up bein' fitted fer some straight jacket or shot down with some tranquilizer dart...but i just couldn't let it go that easy...via this blog of course!

long story shortened...i could say perhaps they had issues with me bein'...

 the unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe that i am or cuz i was 2 generational letters away from him who's to know...it took the GM less than 10 seconds to open the right door...i got my shit...called the mechanic to wait...who was more than happy to oblige...which in turn...made me not go ape shit on his mechanical ass...in my head or in this blog! and just fer the record...if you want GOOD CAR SERVICE done right and reasonable...go to ANY ma & pop operation (it's worth the headache to do yer research) DO NOT call TIRED PLUS RIPOFF ARTISTS

the same EXACT job just to change a flat tire? 30 buckaroo's...OR...

60 to ONE HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS?

ok so it wasn't EXACTLY 100 million quote i was given (it was more like 60-160 benjamins i was told) however it might as well have been a 100 million dolla quote...either case TIRED PLUS RIP-OFFS will NEVER have to worry about me give'n them a piece of my mind...a piece of my ass or a piece of my very humbled misfortune...PERIOD!

BUTT there's more!

the follow'n day i figer'd it was an experience that i would not have to relive fer a long time...if ever again...so i took my long leisurely sunday drive...

to the BULLSEYE in some unknown burb...aimlessly goin from aisle to aisle...think'n about nutt'n nothin'...comtemplate'n whether or not if  i really needed certain items in my basket...like...

new head clippers

a new pair of dungarees

shower jams and jellies

or perhaps the new black eyeliner...in the newest shade of black fer the season

i opted out of it all...and instead...i just left with some stomach fillers...

ps...i ain't preggers...i had my insides scraped out years ago...they were just items i knew i needed to satisfy my crave'ns

as i made my way to the only open check-out...i needed somethin' else...

the thirst quencher check'n out in front of me though he would be just a pass'n phase fer the next 60 seconds!

as i placed the items on the conveyor belt one by one watch'n 'em make their way past the scanner...i watched the young cashier swipe'n my shit

up 1st was the mustard...

2nd was the chocolate milk...

as my last item came down the conveyor belt...the cashier who was marinate'n in old spiced past it's expiration date cologne says to me...

"sir...can you please scan this item?"

ESQUEEZE ME?

"sir...i cannot scan this item...it is against my religion" (yes he said that!)

i swore i had too much to drink from the nite before...cuz i thought  i was hear'n double

HUH?

"sir...there is pork in this item...it is against my religion to touch it"

"AGAINST YER RELIGION?" i said as i fumbled around in my pockets...

look'n fer the keys to turn off my batshit mental mind at this point

well listen in case you haven't heard you CASPER crusade'n cherry pick'n mother fucker...it's AGAINST my religion to work on sundays...or to do someone else's job that i'm not gett'n paid for...or to give 2 simple shits 

about what voodoo you do on yer own time...i'm fuck'n hungry and in NO MOOD to hear about what yer fairytales say you can and cannot do at yer place of employment! cuz apparently he said that there cuz there was pork product in my pizza he could not touch the item...BUT the questionable pork was not exposed where his fingertips would touch it...IN FACT...i'm almost pretty sure that it was conveniently sealed in some non denominational plastic 

look...i'm ALL fer the United Colors of Benetton workers...i really am...

and have no problems with whatever people choose to do with their OWN life that means nothing to ME...since THEY mean nothing to me after i leave their register (unless of course they plan on bring'n me their "goods" wrapped in plastic) except that when i'm a pay'n customer and yer the paid employee...YOU are gett'n paid to DO YER JOB...FOR ME...PERIOD!

you don't like it?...then work in another area where you are not exposed to yer fairytale filth!...cuz i can bet you...like most religious voodoo'ers...

 they're ALL conveniently fitt'n their "fairytales" laziness...instead of actually THINK'N what they're say'n...before they have to chow down on their own feet!

i scanned the item and BAGGED it myself and i now expect to get paid...

fer my services rendered!

the only good thing that came outta the whole weekend...(besides me)

was winn'n the lotto...well it was only a buck...but still...ya can't win if ya don't play kittens...kapeesh!

i get enough religious puke from the news...the fairytale thumpers on the streets corners by my old job or the CASPER crusaders that lurk all alone try'n to save yet another soul from burn'n in their delusional pits of fire

however...keep yer voodoo stories to yerself...or  you'll be goin' on the wildest ride with my visibly spiked tongue!

in close'n...fer ANY person place or thing they choose to go by these days 

who is completely unaware of who exactly shot J.R....just remember that yer next in line to turn into the inevitable invisible entity...

and receive'n the same bs yer dole'n out today (if yer lucky enough to advance in yer generational letter that is) so learn to fake yer enthusiasm fer us as we have fer all of you and all yer self imposed pronouns

so that's a weekend in the life of an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...it's time fer me to hum 

my him's...so GET OFF MY DRESS!

LISTEN UP!

in the 1800's...it was all the rage to be enraged at any youthful

jezebel who would dare show off her ankles in a public forum to all the horned up halitosed chimney sweepers on the block...these titillate'n tawdry teenaged tramps were simply given the sanctimonious title of bein' a modern day madonna whore...at the time

not to be confused with Madonna or any given respectable whore 180 years later

by the mid to late 1900's all H-E-double hockey stix broke loose

on those troublesome teenaged trollops with the rise of the speed demon juvenile delinquents of the 1950's

the hallucinogenic ritual bath'n free love'n STD riddled nympho's of the 1960's...that barely made it thru the 1970's

and the ozone kill'n fly trapp'n shoulder padder'n multi task'n friendship pinners of the 80's 

my gloriously self indulgence included...of course

now...before move'n forward with yer judgmental judy eyes...keep in mind

i AM NOT blame'n or shame'n an ENTIRE generational pair of gap genes that i am only personally associated with thru the plethora of off-springs created by my sibs and friendly stalkers (like those before me) i simply am regurgitate'n my insurmountable frustration with those pro-noun parade'n prickers...and the #METOO'ers who want ALL the glory of bein' the latest "trendy" victim of the month...while completely ignore'n simple social courtesies that should'a been taught to them when they were grow'n up (even though they continue to live in the parents basement after the legal age limit into adultville) that i myself have personally come in contact with!

BUTT...let me explain

after i was bein' graciously stalked by some steroidal homicidal knuckle 

dragg'n water buffalo in the park'n lot of a local grocery store in my neck of the woods roughly 10 years ago this week...who i just assumed wanted an autographed selfie of thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionists of their own universe to place above the mantle in his charm'n lil abode...

turns out he was just try'na turn me on by pimp'n me out into a carbon copy of himself...so i signed up the follow'n day after take'n his 3 hr tour (of the steam room...ummm insert laugh here kittens...i'm a proper gurl) and bibbity bobbity boo...10 years later...he turned me from an over grown twink to a grown-up gladiator

years later...i've noticed how the front desk staff went from jubilant jesters

every time i would come to bob fer blue balls in the steam room rigorously run thru my 45 minute work out routine at my neighborhood uptown LA FITNESS...

to the pissed off piranha's "work'n" (and i use that term as loose as my last failure) the counter at any given TCBY's in any given mall...just cuz they can't be bothered to DO THEIR PAID FUCK'N JOB...all while have'n a totally tough time decide'n whether to slide right or left on their latest tinder matches while COMPLETELY ignore'n actual pay'n customers like myself that they should be check'n it and out!

but it ain't just the self imposed comatosed scoliosis'd counter help 

that's turned me into some nail bitten...metamucil martini'd...murder she wrote marathon'n...earl grey tea bagg'n...soon-to-be AARP cunt mobile...it's also ALL those insubordinate brain dead shopp'n ferrets...of ALL ages...from cow-town'n tweekers to trader joe'n geekers...trendy tantrum'd trannies to coupon clipp'n grannies...who absolutely REFUSE to return their shopp'n cart to the correct storage facility after their purchase...in the correct position...

instead...toss'n them off  in the center entrance to the store like a pimp toss'n a hooker outta a move'n vehicle all cuz they didn't make bank one nite...or let'em run loose in the park'n lot like a small child who just came home from a ritalin'd party

and since i'm fly'n high on my bicker'n brookstick...there's one more thing

fer all you 2 wheel'n huff-n-puffers out there who think that they're actually save'n the planet by take'n up a full driver's lane or sometimes 2...move'n at the speed of a petrified snail in a french bistro...cause'n a complete traffic jam when there ain't even any planned marathon or fuck'n rush hour...instead of just ride'n single file with yer band of mary jane puff'n...bernie bro'n ho's...CUNT PUHLEEZ!

my 4 wheel medication has a damn scratch in it and keeps skipp'n dur'n my fav-o-rit pill...plus i gotta heavy foot...

so DO THE MATH!

and GET OFF MY DRESS!