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!

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!