OXY MORON!

well now that mother nature's turned down the thermostat and booked a 

one way to Barbados fer a much deserved vaca fer the next 6 months after over hear'n about all the bullshit shenanigans at the latest COP26  summit in Glasgow with those paid to play pricks of the planet...pack'n her bags full of all the essentials one would need...like 1000 proof sunscreen to keep her creamy milky white flesh as fresh as a daisy...a cosmo in a big gulp...a colostomy bag fer the big gulp so she won't have to mill about the plane while in motion...her solar powered vibrate'n rabbit (hey even though she's just as old as dirt...she's well aware of all the global fuckery we've done to her work of art and doin her part to try and reverse what she can...plus she's got urge's too)

and the latest greatest memoir from the MISTRESS OF THE DARK fer her flight (A MUST READ) leave'n us with a slight chill in the air turn'n every day ordinary unemployed assholes at my local library that i've utilized on a weekly basis fer years now...

look'n fer an easy payday from Judge Judy...lemme explain

so there i was last week triple check'n my hard hitt'n journalistic endeavors

make'n sure that all my mispell's were spelled incorrectly (of which they were thankfully) and i noticed the douche rag sitt'n directly opposite of me at the computer not wear'n his mask correctly as stated at the front door when you enter the library and then again on the GIGANTIC sign once inside (you know...just in case you were too distracted from swipe'n left or right on TINDER or GRINDR...depend'n howeva ya butter yer breadstick) 

instead...wear'n his mask it as if it were some unattainable hope diamond molested in $20,000 worth of Harry Winston's white diamonds around his worn out weathered neck

the library of course has always had a security guard on the off chance 

that some book worms decide to turn things into some sorta twisted world wrestle'n smack down 

over the last copy of SUZANNE SOMERS heartbreak'n book of poetic genius!

BUTT wait...there's more...

so as i try not to turn this situation into some "KAREN" moment cuz i was 

not camera ready this particular afternoon...i noticed the security guard step forward and lightly tap the douche rag on the shoulder once to no avail...i'm sorry...that's not accurate and very insensitive of me...i meant that mentally deranged cock suck'n mutha fuck’n pig slutt'n anal wart...so i decided to mute my music and once again said security man politely gestured to him to pull the mask up over his entire mouth and nose...clearly a very simple universal command and not to be confused with a sadistic request...it was library law after all!

well you'da thought the gates of all hell fire rammed a hot poker up his 

dilapidated jaxie cuz once the offend'n perpetrate'n prick locked his eyes onto mr. security man...he went off like a psychotic snake leap'n outta his assigned seat engorge'n his neck and vommit'n expletives that would turn a tap dance'n tourette'ser into a puddle of tears...spew'n a barrage of demands like he'd have the security guards badge...that he'd be removed from his position by days end and sanctioned his boss's personal number from the staff cuz he was plann'n on a huge pay out 

once he'd have his spotlight dance with Judge Judy in the very near future apparently from the sound of it all!

well...i had had my share of "KAREN" encounters fer the year at this point

so i decided to turn the volume back up on the pleasant sounds of one Burt Bacharach that i was listen'n to as the smack down began (why not!) and rattled of an anonymous letter of support fer the berated officer lett'n the staff know the exact 411 then slipped it into the outside book return... 

as not to be the cause of some twisted Fabulous Moolah/Wendy Richter meaningless moment with this obnoxious asswipe

2 days later as i returned to the scene of the inflammatory incident...i'm 

happy to report mr. security guard was still patrol'n the place and i had received a personal heartfelt thankyou from mr. librarian seconds after i sat down at my assigned computer who figered out that i indeed was the one that had sent the letter of support thru the outside book return

the only other time i've ever written a letter of support was to the daddy of 

daytime dirt removal tv who promoted the fuck outta OXY CLEAN back in the 90's to let him know how pleased i was with their stain removal product...it went somethin' like this...

Dear Billy Mays...i'm contact'n you about my recent use of yer product...

see what had happened was...my roomie at the time worked my last nerve constantly use'n my ELECTRIC YOUTH PERFUME by teenage sweet tart DEBBIE GIBSON when meet'n up with his "massage" clients without my consent and i had an impromptu date with someone one even'n who had answered my message in the back section of the "chance encounters" inside the free local paper that was like my bible at the time and on this particular even'n there was not a spritz to spray me with so after a few heated altercational words with said roomie...i ended up with his blood on my blouse

well i had just happened to notice that my roomie had one scoop left of 

yer product left in the bucket of OXY CLEAN that was sitt'n next to his boombox on the shelf in his bedroom and i was on a deadline so i decided to give it a go since you've always mesmerized me durin' all those infomercials on my lunch breaks from clean'n out the booths at the video store i worked at at the time and to my amazement...the stain came out

in fact the removal was soo good that when the detectives asked to test 

my blouse at the labs i was told emphatically that his DNA was no where to be seen on my shirt and luckily my roommate's "client" who just happened to be a lawyer i also met on a "chance encounter" said i was no longer considered a suspect in the disappearance of my roomie...well you can imagine how relieved i was to hear this good news so in close'n i will be rave'n about yer product to all my hormonally charged friends

well...i gotta go now...i have'ta telephone the makers of  GLAD 3-ply garbage bags fer an absofuckinlutely bang up job they did on the durability of their product

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

thanx for CHER'n pt 2

just like the old fairy tale goes by one Miss Sarkisian from the late 90's

you can make a glow'n headdress look like you spent a million bux on it (with only 5 actual benjamins) by purchase'n 10 feet of fiber optic tube'n and a can of spray glitter glue from yer local craft store...just make sure not to store it in a hot steamy closet without ventilation dur'in the summer months in MN cuz of the high humidity...

or it'll melt into some sorta unrecognizable science project and ruin yer fav-o-rit pair of A-double snake hugg'n acid wash girbauds that you've been carry'n around with you fer the better part of 10+ years...just cuz yer hope'n you can squeeze yer very plump and supple A-double snakes back into em some day (true story)

in case yer a late comer (of which i am not privy too) catch up here kittens

and now the excite'n conclusion to "thanx fer CHER'n" pt 2

as i was gett'n ready to leave the RITZ that nite...i was stopped by 

a presence that i hadn't felt from my forcefulness in some time...this guy just sitt'n outside enjoy'n a chilled glass of  "give it to me" with the floral bouquets from the urine soaked streets of Hell's Kitchen permeate'n the air...completely stopp'n me in my very tracks once we made visual contact and said gentleman caller started chatt'n me up...H-E-L-L-O!...why not!

OH OH OH...no..WAIT a CHER fuck'n minute...i'm gett'n a head of myself

(and i don't even know the 1st thing about auto felicito...though seriously...i'm about ready to sign up fer some seminar somewhere...so anybody out there read'n this...send me yer thoughts) before i move on with this never end'n sordid life of mine...i gotta tell you about how i met STEVIE FUCK'N NICKS at the RITZ...well...it wasn't the actual real STEVIE NICKS...it was more like some fabulous impersonational reflection...but they actually sang her live at the "a nite of a 1000 STEVIE'S"...i was introduced to fellow performer by Dr Octopus earlier...and though he was a dash of stand-offish at 1st impression i thought...(well...to be fair...i WAS under the influence of jim beam or johnny walker...i can't remember)

(as most are when they are in the presence of an unintentionally internationally perform'n illusionist of their own universe...it's the name of the game i've had to relish in my entire dimly lit career)...she impressed the fuck outta me by gett'n me killer seats to "the CHER SHOW" in seconds on my cell...so i will be ferever grateful fer his kind gesture (plus...he hadda certain jena se quois about her i couldn't shake) so anywho'zill'ding...back to the presence outside

the rain had somewhat subsided...so i decided to pop a squat and shoot

 the shit with my newly adopted AA partner in crime as Dr Octopus decided he'd had enough fer the even'n...and after a few medicinal cocktails...turns out my new partner was a stylist to the stars...most notably...Miss Wind Machine...excuse me...i mean MARIAH SCAREY...among many many others...i was completely transfixed on his sordid stories and felt so dirty on all the titillation he was serve'n up...like an STD on any give'n hook-up site...

a few hours later we ended up chatt'n biz chatter over more tasty cocktails and over priced munchies at some tasty restaurant around the corner...where we met a lovely aussie fam complete with child...on a mini vaca from the land down unda

as the clock struck past my prime hour...it was time to start count'n sheep

so he gave me his cell number...his work number...his email...his undergarment size...his next of kin  and a sperm sample and we said we'd stay in touch...since we decided to collab on a secret project togetha (that DIDN'T involve the exchange of bodily fluids...you pervie) and i meant it!

by morn'n...i was pissed...well cuz mother nature decided to piss on my

parade with a non stop down pour all morn'n...and i was in no mood to become more a puddle than i already was...at least i had "the CHER SHOW" to look forward to later on that afternoon before my former vice prezident of my fan club would make his way from Montauk to meet me after the show

after 3 hours held up in my sweet suite on the 5th floor over look'n the 

soulvaki vendor from down below...i decided to pull up my britches and stop bitch'n about the rain...as clearly mother nature wanted to continue to fuck with me fer the entire day...so i ventured out to locate the theater i'd be occupy'n later...and luckily fer me...turns out it was only 5 simple blocks away

mother nature decided to take a lil siesta...thank CHER...so i popped into

a quaint lil hospital that just happened to be adjacent to the theater...and i thought i'd fill out a couple of my much needed prescriptions before all the madness would begin

2 hours later...and 40 minutes stand'n in line while mother nature decided

once again to empty her fuck'n bladder all over the anxious crowd gather'n around the theater doors...then BAMMM!!...the doors finally opened up like a hooker on holiday and i was inside wait'n patiently fer the house lights to go down in my kick ass seats (10th row a lil off center...fer half the cost) that "STEVIE" had gotten me from the nite before

i don't wanna spoil it fer ANYONE plann'n on make'n their way to the BIG 

APPLE to see it...cuz even if yer not a CHER fan (and why wouldn't you be anyways bitter betty) this is one show NOT TO BE MISSED seriously!...the costumes...the drama...the music...when the world ends...it is completely true what they say...that the only things left will be cockroaches and CHER...she has survived sooo much...suffice it to say...

i was left completely and absofuckinglutely BLOWN AWAY by thee entire cast...(and fer once...it's cuz of the cast AND NOT by someone stowed away under my chair kittens) 

though i could'a done without the damn fossils ferment'n in ben-gay sitt'n to my right...that kept chomp'n on a bag of cool ranch dorito's like a couple of damn rude schizophrenic chipmunks who'd never seen a broadway production in their entire fuck'n life...luckily by act 2 their oxygen tank needed to be recharged or somethin like that...so i was no longer tempted to punch em in the throat and sell their pearly whites to the highest bidder on ebay!

an hour later i'd meet up with my former vice prezident...but not before

popp'n in next door once again to replenish my medicinal drip and rave to the doc behind the counter about how much i absofuckinglutely loved the show and slamm'n down a couple more cast'n call cocktails

never mind the rest of the shenanigans that happened fer the remainder

of my mini vaca kittens...i'll just leave you with this...don't ever try and fool mother nature!

though...mother nature never stopped piss'n on my parade the rest of my

vaca...i was a bit grateful fer her showers...cuz hours before i hadda head to the airport...me and my co-pilot gotta full service send-off from this gentle and completely grrrrranimalistic gigantic hot tamale @ POSH BAR & LOUNGE on 405 w 51st st in Hell's Kitchen (pop on by if yer in his 

'hood...tell em Krystal sent ya)...who seriously had me reconsider'n an offer to switch my flight til the next day...BUTT alas...

(and trust me when i say...he had THAT...and a HELLUVA LOT MORE)

unfortunately i just left with a terrible terrible tooth ache...cuz her was just sooo super sweet!

(if yer begg'n fer more...and wanna go south of his border visually speak'n of course...& i know some of you pervie's out there are just die'n to...you can follow him on instagram @ sanpedronyc)

of course thee above mentioned vaca was to prep myself fer the 4th fab

farewell installment of CHER's "HERE WE GO AGAIN TOUR" that i would attend a week later...and just like the last 3 farewells tours...i was on a magical trip down memory lane once again...

BUTT...once again...

i would get stuck sitt'n behind another damn headache...this time by some screetch'n ovulate'n owl past her expiration date thee entire damn concert...it could just be that cuz i'm in my prime time of my dimly lit career...that i no longer appreciate a rusty rake bang'n against my ear drums fer 2 straight hours like i used to at past live events...but i'm here to tell you one thing when sitt'n in the nose bleed section...CHER DOES NOT CARE WAY UP THERE!...she already has yer coins...that's enough!

plus have'n to spend $15 on a pretzel shaped teethin' ring made from an old leather couch that Greg Almond left behind on Cher's tour bus from their time together...sprinkled in chunks from a salt lick & a frozen dixie cup of urinal cake flavored lemonade didn't help me out one bit!

though in the end...CHER was there fer me from the very beginn'n & i'll be ferever grateful fer her connection to my dad

now get off my dress!