i'm exhausted...we've been all over the country...me and my jewish piano player...you know how we people get along so well" ~ SANDRA BERNHARD...of course those lucky enough who got to see this fabulous rendition of "ME AND MRS. JONES" by the vivacious vixen MISS BERNHARD be performed in my nightly repertoire when i was start'n out on stage in the 90's at the 90's is also the perfect segway into this week's very blog...don'tcha think?
now that PRIDE is in full swing...just remember you can't bounce on
all those outta town throat plunger parties without a vat of gun oil lubricant and a gallon of poppers kittens so cash in yer bitcoins and be safe...however...fer those of you that are look'n fer somethin' a lil more substantial amd a lot less suicidal & spermicidal...perhaps consider grabb'n yerself (in the privacy of yer own room sicko) and get tickets to the hottest tour in yer town this summer...
i also wanna add a happy 62nd to the man called BOY this week...therefore...if yer hooked on him as much as i have been since 1982...grab yerself a seat to see CULTURE CLUB this summer as they hit the road in selected cities across the globe and since i got ya on a promotional ticket frenzy...ya might as well get yerself a free ticket to the catch-up train so yer not lost as to what the H-E-double hockey stix is goin on by click'n here fer pt. 1
so once we had landed at O'hare...both me and my new best friend fer the
next 24 hours scurried off to baggage claim to claim our baggage and then hunted down our driver we were promised by the producer who would whisk us away to the studio to meet the rest of the "cast" (i put "cast" in quotes fer a reason kittens...you'll find out soon enough...now on with the program)
this was the 1st time i had ever been inside a stretch limo...and lemme tell
you right now i just felt like i was bein' driven around in a gigantic sperm wagon on wheels...although i've enjoyed the occasional throat plunger thru-out my unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe lifestyle...i much prefer my cars compact like my compact and had no desire to google the area code in order to contact my driver!
and though the guests of THE OPRAH SHOW at the time got to stay
over nite at the gorgeously designed and spaciously opulent OMNI hotel in beautiful downtown Chicago...
me and Dave were give'n a $50 bar tab at some tacky Howard Johnson
equivalent sleezy no-tell motel next to the studios...where you were greeted by the lovely afternoon shift in the park'n lot who so generously offered you a sip of their minty fresh swill to take the edge off any stage fright...but hey...$50 is $50 right? H-O-W-E-V-E-R...
i can bet you dimes to donuts though...MARTIKA never had to put up with this kinda shit start'n out!
after we had finished our park'n lot chaser and max'n out our biggest bang
with our newly acquired JENNY bucks at the bar...we met the rest of the "cast" that was gonna be on my episode and keep in mind...i was under the distinct impression that i was come'n on THE JENNY JONES SHOW to display my unique unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe skills since i was that shy and quiet as a kid and now that i was grown up i was a drag queen (well...i was never nor AM NOT old and ugly as that tired title suggests...but that's neither here nor there kapeesh!)
after we had all said our proverbial hello's and doled out our fake hugs
to one another...we were split into 2 groups...the 1st group of the people that were part of my "cast" who were their to hopefully sell their creative accomplishments and parlay them into somethin' bigger...was sent off with this drill sergeant producer to keep us in line and tell us all the do's and don'ts once we were in front of the camera...while Dave and the other plus 1's went off with another show handler to a "secretive" location in the back of the studio i guess
i had always assumed the term "green room" was some highly sensitive
secretive technical industry term...however...once i got to the desired dress'n room...wouldn't you know it...the room was literally fuck'n green...apple green to be specific!
once i had sectioned off my section on the large wooden picnic tables
set up in front of the brightly lit mirrors...it was time fer me to transform into my stage presentation of the deliciously naughty nurse (which would normally take a 3 hour tour) though i knew i was under time constraints with the show so i worked as fast and as diligently as possible without degrade'n my artistic integrity by block'n out the chatter clatter...sipp'n on my ovaltine and feverishly work'n it out
as some of the other floor mops milled about the room discuss'n how
they just wanted to go out on stage and basically CHEECH & CHONG their way thru the tape'n (i was the oldest at 26 of the pre-selected "wanna-bee's" after all so i wasn't really work'n with the brightest bulbs on the christmas tree) 3 of the chicklets in the group were in absolute awe of my transformation apparently and wanted me to teach them a few make-up tricks...only a few of them though had stuck out in my mind after all these years...
one of the chicklets wanted to fill out an application to be a new SPICE GIRLS (i christened her SALTY SPICE since she knew how to dish it out)
one of the floor mops wanted to be the new MARILYN MANSON (but looked more like ERNEST BOURGNINE in bad clown make-up and a dusty unbrushed black wig he 5 finger discounted from the 70% off bin at the dollar store...hey these are only obscure memories my dementia riddled mind can recall)
while the youngest of the floor mops wanted to be the lead singer in THE PRODIGY tribute band you could rent fer yer goth wedd'n or briss (though he looked more like a rejected applicant from a HOT TOPIC interview fer huff'n on the manic panic durin' it)
BUTT wait...there's more
once we had all completed our looks fer the stage...one of the producers
came in and gave us a quick run down of who was goin out first and what to expect from the audience and things we could and could not say to them or we would be kicked off/edited from the show (ie: fuck you! kiss my ass! suck my dick! which should'a been a no brainer since this wasn't cable tv however this wasn't their first time at the rodeo) instead they told us to be spirited...animated...laugh...have fun and most of all...try and throw in a "TALK TO THE HAND" or "YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS YOU DON'T HAVE A FACE AND BODY LIKE MINE!" when possible
i had heard these quotes numerous times on hypnotically tacky daytime
talk shows from RICKI to JERRY to MONTEL to GERALDO to SALLY JESSE fuck'n RAPHAEL and then i thought to myself (i said self) how is it that many of these train wrecks appear'n on all these shows are practically repeat'n each other on different stages practically verbatim time and time again? NOW I KNOW! they were fed this annoy'n BS before tape'n...it was all so pathetically disappoint'n fer me and i fer one WAS NOT goin to be pigeon holed into ANYONE's lame self centered tag lines...
so when the time had come fer me to spew this regurgitated vomit...i...ummm..."borrowed" a tag line from my fav-o-rit goth queen "ELVIRA MISTRESS OF THE DARK" movie that i had just watched the previous nite before jet sett'n off to do the show (which i'll get to later)
everyone's nerves were kick'n into high gear and matters didn't help
when the door attached to our green room opened up and out popped a herd of scantily clad porn stars that apparently had filmed an episode before ours that was about married/date'n couples in the industry of adult entertainment though there was one particular steroided stallion that had strayed from the herd after gett'n a glance of me like a beacon of beauty (since i was almost 7 ft tall in hair and heels) make'n a bee-line straight to my 8 inch shiny red patent luchinni heels...scoop'n me up like a forklift with his massive guns flex'n...rave'n to me how he desperately needed a shot though the massengill magpie i surmised he was attached to was not too pleased with me literally curled up in his gigantic arms caress'n his enormous hard pillow'd pecs
cuz when i got home to develop the film from my instamatic camera (yes all you kittens born after 2000...you had to actually wait 3 to 5 days to see what pix you took and if any actually turned out) which of course the ONLY one that i wanted in full KRYSTAL KLEER view was with this incredible edible HULK (i don't mean that in any Jefferey Dahmer way mind you) though wouldn't you know it...he had asked his maxi pain in the ass to take our pic in the green room...however...all i could see when i picked up my prints was a close up of her fuck'n finger prints with her cheap Lee press on nails hang'n on fer dear life and a bit of my red platform heels (what a complete cuntasaurus!)
it was confirmed that i would be the "show stopper" as in the last guest
to appear out on stage the producer said...then all of a sudden it was as if the seas of porn stars and producers had parted in front of me and there stood this teeny tiny franklin mint of tv talk show figurines MISS JONES herself...check'n out the cast from the island of unfit fortunes...that is until i had caught her eye so she meandered her way thru the crowd and gleefully asked me "wow...from across the room your chest looks so real...who did your make-up?" i simply exclaimed to my newer best friend JENNY "ME!" and she followed it up with "i should hire you to do my make-up" (and that is a direct quote...though i never did get an application)
as we left the green room to cross the hall fer film'n...a line had already
gathered outside in the hallway fer another show that was bein filmed directly across from ours and though these pleasant pheasants patiently waited to be let into the studio...they also expressed mild shock and awe...glare'n at me in particular like a tractor beam with their death stare aim'n straight fer my Alderaan (well...since i stood above the rest of the flock)
luckily a handful in line were all too eager to meet me and snap a shitty pic of us together on their motorola flip phone to post on their myspace page...turns out they were in line fer THE JERRY SPRINGER SHOW (which would seriously explain all the worn out acid wash guess-what-these-aren't jeans and bad potato sack V-neck tops from The Limited and The Dress Barn)
soon enough...one by one...each member of my group was lead out to
their death on stage like a cattle call where they would meet up with their plus 1 from the other side while the producer was egg'n the audience on to respond back with questions and cat calls...and lil ol' waify me wait'n patiently in the wings powder'n my nose and watch'n on the monitors as the stage turned into some sorta all to common WWE match between the audiences and the guests while another producer that was stand'n next to me backstage reiterated that i could say and do whatever i wanted just as long as it didn't involve swear'n like a sailor or stripp'n down to my nibbley parts...
oh and to add to the shock value i noticed on the backstage monitor...the title of the show had now been changed to "YOU'RE TOO FREAKY TO BE FAMOUS" to my shock
i was give'n a 5 minute countdown backstage before i was told to break
thru the doors as the smoke machine filled the corridor which was practically choke’n me off fer what i had assumed was fer tv dramatics...only this time as i was prepare'n to remember to lyp-sync fer my life (years before that o-t-h-e-r drag show) to PEGGY LEE's "FEVER" i noticed on the monitor back stage JENNY look'n straight into the camera say'n "up next after the break is MATTRESS and he thinks he's going to be a bigger supermodel than CINDY CRAWFORD!"
WHAT IN THE HOLY SASHAY SHANTE' LIVE'N FIDDLER'S FUCK IS SHE TALK'N ABOUT?"
tune in next week fer the excrutiate'n conclusion to ME & MRS. JONES
now GET OFF MY DRESS!
ps...on a side note...a part of my past is now deal'n with alot on her plate
at the present...this lil rapp'n ray of sunshine (i'll just call her Miss Calories Calories Calories) recently lost her job of almost a quarter of a century all cuz of her dangerous do rag...no that's not right...i mean her bitch'n Three's Company tee...no wait that's not it either...oh yea...she was deemed an "inconvenience" to her employers all cuz she's deal'n with that foreigner that decided to move in with her unannounced called stage 4 breast cancer (the nerve right?) and then to add more himalayan sea salt to the already painfully open wound...
Jen had to say goodbye to her beloved family pooch Elena of 15 years who was deal'n with her own body malfunction'n in her twilight years unfortunately...so i ask...NO that's not right...i IMPLORE you (yes Jen i do believe you OWE ME fer that one *wink*wink*) if you don't need that mocha choka frappe latte caramel'd caffe'd macchiato and/or can skip yer friday nite date that costs you $2.99 fer the 1st minute fer the next 4 weeks...why not dig deep down in yer nana's coin purse and buy a feel'n by help'n heal a helluva lady out with yer change fer a change! click here fer more info
