TWISTED TALES

grow'n up in a very small minded but equally just as unimportant town...

i became an exceptionally pre-pubescent unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe by learn'n the slings and arrows of an imperfect world thru the words of wisdom from the mouth of america's fav-o-rit top sell'n Sears catalog sweater model from 1968 to 1973...Mister Rogers...who taught me so much on how to mind yer manners...be kind to one another...while occasionally give'n the A OK to fry up a backhand sammich to deal with unruly fucktards

it was an afternoon staple...wake'n from my afternoon nap at my nana's 

while roll'n her cigarettes...that is until that horrendously salacious scandal of '79...when it went off the air fer a short period of time...due to alcoholics anonymous alumni Lady Elaine gett'n caught poodle ball'n with MADAME behind King Friday's castle late one friday nite...read all about it in Tiger Beat if my fade’n memory recalls

BUTT...

since his death in 2003...children around the world have mourned the loss 

of knowledge readily read to them...as they try their damnedest to escape a life of celibacy

and cope'n with life's struggle's...just like dear ol' mom & dad have ever since they were born

luckily fer all my kinder-kittens out there that have been tune'n in each 

and every week to read my whimsical words of bastardized but highly educational wisdom fer the past 11 years...today is NOOOO exception...so kick back Jacks' and don't be a pill Jills'...cuz i've found you a few educational gems that you probably won't find at yer local library anytime soon to help get you thru those tough and tawdry adolescent years

1st up is this perfect lil sleeper fer that new lil peeper in yer life that's been 

try'na steal away yer spotlight by milk'n all those oooh's and awww's that you so rightfully earned and desperately deserved on yer very own fer the past 5 years...by batt'n their damn butterfly lashes every time granny Aiken's comes over to visit....dress'n them in the finest threads from Gucci and Prada...when all you got at that age was some hand-me-down potato sack splattered in glitter from yer aunt Gerald

next up is the story of how pretty pink might be...unless it's in yer eye!

i learned this lesson way too late in life...picture it...the year was 1996...i had just made my final payment on my uncle's car...and had been chatt'n to this "gentleman caller" fer the past 3 months on the phone line who lived on the north side of town...who wanted me to go down on his south side and make it go north (among other indiscretions) but wasn't gonna pick me up...well...on this one particular nite...i decided to throw caution to the wind...

ironed my culottes and threw on my fav-o-rit floor length Laura Ashley floral blouse with a modest lace sweat soaker... and flew thru the streets of the Minne-Apple... 

like an animalistic wench look'n to get wickedly wrecked...properly!

by the time i had arrived...(roughly 30 minutes past the witch'n hour)...

he greeted me at the door like a proper whore and invited me in....now i have an imagination trust me...but he was not AT ALL what i was expect'n...since most i've met on line back in the day's always inverted their numbers and ALWAYS add more inches without back'n it up with proof...he was thee BRAWNY MAN...x10...kittens...i nearly died!...cuz as i peeled off his nearly painted on jeans...i was knocked in the face by...

45 minutes later...after all the huff'n and puff'n and pose'n like an egyptian hieroglyphic (don't ask) i was ready fer the fantasy to end...however...i was not ready fer what i was about to witness fer the 1st time...cuz as he let out his final grunt...it was as if the hoover dam had just burst wide open

and trust me...there was no time to escape!

oh i wished i'da bought those spooge goggles...luckily fer me though...antibiotic drops were invented at this particular moment in time

i may have came there as some sorta twistedly innocent on-licker...

but i left a full grown root'n toot'n gun slinger (insert evil wink here)

now where was i?...oh yea...this book frightened the literal fuck outta me...

trust me...DON'T!

this next book is a no brainer strainer fer all you bad boys out there...

that don't wanna make a mess on yer grama's sunday dress....when yer visit'n the ol' preparation H parade again fer the 5th time in a week...cuz mommy's gotta go to another emergency "PTA meet'n" with the head coach and superintendent...at 10 pm...after catch'n daddy one too many times...

take'n the "babysitter" with him on his lunch break

and finally...last up in "a lil kwiet time with KRYSTAL KLEER" book klub...

self exploration is completely natural at any age...whether yer a tired toddler or a tween with yer tingly parts in hyper drive...it's yer body...so you might as well find all the hidden treasures and pleasures on yer very own...before they become utterly destroyed by relationships that will ignore you and yer left on the kitchen floor of yer broken down trailer....categorize'n yer STD's...thanx to all those long and very expensive lonely nites!

there ya have it...hope that helped ya out some...now go spread my words

like a like gorgeous case of gonorrhea and GET OFF MY DRESS! 

NO SHAME in my GAME!

this is a real addiction...confusion and cheap tattoos

a princess...a car thief and a lost shoe

loneliness...laughter...lust...the promise of pain

judas in blue jeans...tell me your name

~ Boy George

there has never been a person that has resonated with me more...thru melodramatic melodies...about the hopeless art of the instant oatmeal hook-up....betta than the BOY has himself 

we...and i'm speak'n only to the non heterosexual has-beens and has-been-nots out there...all desperately yearn'n to be temporarily tingled at some point thru-out their journey on this planet...just like all those other

"unnatural types" that choose to be non homosexual...not to be confused with the "wasbians" = used to be carpet cleaners but could never fully commit to shop classes

or the "unfageluffigus's" = used to have style and savoir flair but ended up with a prolapsed ass due to one too many "mission impossibles" in their unmentionables durin' the 80's

i can recall back in my days...before that dreaded trilogy of terror...simply known as my smart phone...that my dumb ass is STILL try'na figer out after 2 1/2 years of marriage...that the only means of communicado with someone to help scratch that friday nite "itch" (that you hoped didn't need a spermicidal application and a razor)...was accomplished by 3 huge ways

1. BARE ASS BEACH....

located just a handful of very large red rover red rover steps away from the U of M...along the mighty Mississip..where my most preciously precocious Petrinella (and her minions) would indoctrinate me to the ways of the instantaneous gratifications under the pale moon light...(that is...if you fergot to bring yer chloroform spray with you to the bar)

this was accomplished by walk'n down a long stairway to a sandy hell in the middle of the nite...to the desolate open beach down below...like we were castaways that just got off the SS Minnow on a 30 minute tour to titillation town...

eventually we would be greeted by a plethora of unimpose'n figures emerge'n from the behind the bushes along the shore line in the still of some random hot summer nite...sadly though...it felt more like a scene that was straight outta the night of the living dead

and thanx to Peetrinella's infectious cackle echo'n amongst the seediness of the even'n...this avenue was unfortunately no longer a viable option for me to participate in future out'ins

2. BLOW JOB VALLEY...

you heard me right kittens....what is now a sprawl'n 4 story high subsidized house'n complex...that is home to many air bnb affiliates on the edge of the downtown Minne-Apple area in Loring park...was once a spacious and vacant park'n lot...

much like Miss Huckleberry Pie-in-the-Face...

that housed many suburbian commuters by day...but turned into a circus arena of salacious sidewinders by sunset...where you would learn yer ABC's of the STD's that were readily available on any given nite...that me and many of my inept bar "friends" would participate in back in the early 90's...

corralled to the center of the park'n lot like a no-gag-reflexed cattle of cock...while the outside perimeter of perverseness would unilaterally and literally drive around us in a complete circle...single file...no more than 2-5 mph...as not to avoid any missed "purchases"...since they had no luck at the side walk sale outside the saloon...cuz this would be their last chance to get down anyone's pants...

 before they would have to head back home to their pabst blue ribbon past out on their unpaid ashley furniture...while we [the inept] waited anxiously fer the high beams to hit us from behind from some hot high roller that would flag us down and open us up like a lotus flower...though i would never be so lucky

after months of study'n the "art of the sale"...i would finally get a high beam i could call my very own...that would sadly only lead to the 1st...

10 minute feature film as a solo performer i would ever perform in...but incidentally...would be where i also successfully negotiated my 1st apartment deal on my very own in the uptown area 10 years later...

and sometimes...fer a lil extra street cred (*wink*wink*)...you (insert ME here) would be summoned by a "famous" heavy hitter on some seedy saturday nite in '94 that wanted you to "hit them" into next week...before they would have to take that long uncomfortable walk down that forced aisle of misery

3. PHONE LINES...

i've always had an over active imagination when it came to plausible pleasures...but i always kept my expectations exceptionally low...so they'd be alot easier to attain that way...cuz i knew i would end up in pictures...

i just wasn't expect'n this was how it would all come to be...but i learned how to turn a tragic embarrassment into an animalistic ambush...the mo's went ape shit when i used my mug shot on gofuckyerself.com or somethin' like that...fer a short period of time

of course...i blame it on Jeff Stryker flicks and shows like OZ that made all those horny toads think'n they've hit the jack-off jackpot with a real life felon...and who was i to disappoint their twisted fantasy...but before the world of visual stimulation's were at my finger tips...

i would spend endless hours fall'n asleep on the free side of the phone lines with my over active imagination work'n in over drive...just to find that perfect mistake that i would eventually regret 10 minutes later (Peetrinella tried to curb my "addicktion" once...too many times...to no avail of course)

 cuz i was hooked like Steve Erwin to a stingray
(hey...hush the fuck up...more than enough time has passed!)

on any given day or nite...the typical gentleman caller genital wart...who was between the ages of 25 and dirt...6ft tall or above...with bushels of brunette follicles as thick as the amazon forest strategically placed thru-out their sculpted body...that consisted of 180 pds of pure 100% grade A chemically enhanced beef...enclosed in a 48 inch chest and a 32 inch waist...with enough italian sausage to wreck yer windpipe...

regrettably...reality would eventually set in when we met up...and just my luck...it rarely ever panned out the way i was expect'n it to...99 times outta 100 it was usually somethin' i personally would'a never ordered off the menu (if we had had today's technological advances back then)...only cuz they always ended up invert'n the numbers...and use'n the metric system where it mattered the most

so one particular restless early morn'n nite that i can recall...i met some casual caller (who i hoped was accurately describe'n themselves from the pre-approved menu fer a change) that was just a stone's throw away from my back yard (that is....if i was a hungarian shot putter)...so i decided to meet him half way...why not!

and once again...my over active imagination waves were way outta sync...but instead of ridicule'n his very existence and turn'n back home alone...which was a perfectly shallow...yet viable...option i...like many others in my position...have used many a times before...

i just didn't wanna end up as some damn moo juice model in yer kids cafeteria

so i decided to look fer an easy exit stragedy...but most regrettably & very tragically (FER ME) when i invited him into my shitbox...ummm...i mean my quaint lil shitbox...i heard a sudden thud on my entrance floor as he...

turned to shut my front door...i couldn't believe it...his left sleeve went limp on me as he turned back around...well that's cuz HIS FUCK'N LEFT ARM FELL OFF...SERIOUSLY!...and this was not just any old hand...like i know yer think'n lincoln...NO...this was a hook hand!...A HOOK HAND!...i nervously waited fer his response before i would give my constrained retort..."oh...did i ferget to tell you that i had a prosthetic arm?"...hmmmm?...i hesitated fer just a mere moment before i could come up with the only non judgmental serial killer response..."yea...sorry sailor...but i've already done my charitable act fer the year...plus...i don't want you to be late to yer peter pan rehearsal" 

see you in salutations...now get off my dress!

LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE: the stupid bowl chronicles pt. 1

there i was one day...enjoy'n a much needed peaceful afternoon nap...

after a long hard day at the orifice...when all of a sudden...outta the blue...i was rudely awakened by some cunt knuckled fucktard...blare'n his horn at me like a screetch'n owl...just cuz the light turned green (how rude indeed!)

by the time i had parked my lil shit box on wheels and opened the door...

 to my lil shitbox to collapse in bed fer the next 100 years...i was once again...rudely awakened by a snappy lil ding alert'n me that i had a new unopened email...so i flipped over to reach fer my bed staple gun to open'n one eye to see what was so damn urgent that i hadda read it at this very second

turns out it was from CAREY international car services...official car service for the NFL...and they were desperately try'na reach out me to become a chauffeur driver for the NFL and celebs come'n to the Minne-Apple fer

SUPER BOWL 52...wai'da'minute...WHAT?...SUPER BOWL?...CELEBS?...NFL PLAYERS?...this hadda be some sort of a joke...i mean...i knew i hadda pretty decent drive'n record...fer the most part...and that this was gonna be a totally easy breezy and by far...my best chance of ever gett'n discovered...to get outta my shitbox and to get on ELLEN...a star drive'n stars around...what parallel universe does that ever happen?

i immediately popped a xanax and washed the bottle down with a tasty...

merry berry metamucil martini and i was off like a hooker in heat...to find the perfect professionally look'n monkey suit that i could impress my famous passenger OR PASSENGERS with...that was also returnable so i wouldn't have to file fer bankruptcy...and i think i found me the winn'n ticket...dont'cha think?...unfortunately...my 3 other personalities wanted in on this gig as well...so i thought about it fer a minute and i was like...eh...why not!

the interviewer told me that i would need to take off 5 days from work...

plus work the weekend lead'n up to the game and that i would make minimum of $1000 a day in tips...work'n 12-16 hours days...so a quick addition in my head and i couldn't believe i was gonna make like a half millions dollars or somethin like that...i could finally get myself a lil getaway hut in the Poconos that i never dreamed was never gonna be possible...of course i was hope'n i would be chauffeur'n the likes of PINK or JT around town...give'n em a taste of the Minnehopelis hot spots...but what the hell...at this point...i would'a drove Ernest Borgnine's corpse around town if i knew he was gonna pay me handsomely

after a 6 hour train'n class the follow'n weekend with 10 other drivers

i got my drive'n papers to come pick up my vehicle in 2 days that i'd be use'n...i was as giddy as a pyro with a pile of matches...but also learned that they already had 190 other drivers on hand...so i thought to myself...wow...this is gonna be H-U-G-E with this many drivers on the road

i immediately asked fer my list of celebs so i could start practice'n my

A double snake kiss'n...without look too desperate...just in case i got stuck with some delusionally... less than stellar D lister...but i also wanted to know if i needed to have a supply of antibiotics on hand in my glove department...you know... just in case i got stuck with the walk'n STD clan

the morn'n i went to pick up my vehicle with the needed supplies...i was 

told that dispatch would contact me via text when to pick up my 1st celeb (or NFL meathead) at Minneapolis International Airport...so i was to have the specially designed NFL 2 way dispatch phone on me at all times...and that i couldn't be tool'n around town doin my errands or pick'n up any "friends" to make a "deal"...i couldn't believe my eyes when i walked out to the park'n lot...the size of my wheels were beyond enormous...i had never ridden anything this big in my entire life...

well...unless you count that one time Lil Kim's "how many licks" was play'n in the background and they were on all 4's

i was so nervous that someone was gonna put a damn ding my car...

that by the time i got back home...i immediately bubbled wrapped it up and sat on my couch inside my shitbox watch'n a marathon of  "STRANGER THINGS" season 1...(fer the 10th time) wait'n patiently wait'n for my 1st pick-up text

day would turn into nite before i would FINALLY receive my very 1st call

and wouldn't you know it...it was the wrong damn number...ARE YOU FUCK'N  KIDD'N ME?...i couldn't believe my luck...but instead of a ballistic breakdown... i just reset my emotions...cuz...to be fair...i did remember them say'n that i MIGHT not receive a call or text on my 1st day...but come on!...i swear this was a planted fake call to keep me from goin apeshit about ever agree'n to become a celebrity slave in the future

i decided to ruin my waistline by putt'n myself in a cream pie coma 

and began to count sheep til dawn would visit me once again....tune in next week for part 2 of LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE: the stupid bowl chronicles

now get off my dress!