THE WAY WE WERE

picture it kittens...the year was 1973 and K-K-K-K-ATIE MOROSKY who

was played by that semi operatic anti war protestor BARBARA STREISAND fall'n in love with this uppity waspy classmate of hers that had his sites set on hollyweird named HUBBEL played by the righteous ROBERT REDFORD who could barely remember "THE WAY WE WERE" by film's end

CARLY SIMON topped the charts by bottom'n out all those egotistical narcissist's everywhere with her backhand sammich hit "YOU'RE SO VAIN"

and WALTER CRONKITE delivered the devastate'n news to all right wing maniacal anti abortionists everywhere

BUTT let's move on if you can...

fast forward to 42 years later (8 years back) and i found myself relive'n 

key elements of that time in space from 1973 (thanx to a FB memories reminder) see...i've been in the biz of show off and on fer the better part of 25+ years now and lemme tell you...things can get petty ugly at the drop of a dildo

with PRIDE month finally cumm'n to a close...i found myself reminisce'n 

of the last time when i participated in PRIDE...it felt as if i was right in the middle of a bad episode about some petty and bilious reality show once the claws came out durin' one pitiful PRIDE event after some piteous pigeon toed piranha tried pour'n a glass of pinot misery on my parade

so puff on yer virgina slims while slurp'n on a delicate glass of 2 buck chuck and enjoy this trip down memory lame

many many moons ago my sensationally savvy CEO and simply sublime

VP of my fan club had inquired about throw'n a new bash atop a certain downtown rooftop eatery fer PRIDE weekend in the Minne-Apple to try and wake up plus shake up this tired city...

with a taste of glorification and grandeur that this town had been so desperately lack'n fer (let's be honest) years sadly

we were toss'n up idea's as to who could pack the punchline in the lunch 

 line dur'in the annual non heterosexual parade...someone who was in yer face like date rape mace...someone quick with the whip that's still pretty hip...someone clever and funny so we opted fer LADY BUNNY

of course what roof top party would be completely complete without a lil

sprinkle'n of just a few savory eyesores eye candy butt models from Andrew Christian give'n away free underwear (and maybe even a few std's if yer lucky enough to get their number)

and then suddenly it was as if a tantrum tornado started to whip up from the west!

well...deposits were paid fer BUNNY and the boys at this unnamed eatery

nonetheless leave it to some self-centered bloated pig in wig to toss a pissy hissy!

trust me...she ain't worth mention'n (though i've worked with her before) even if she may be artistically inclined with floral arrangements by drown'n 'em in glitter and glow lites dur'in the holidays...

 she's nothin' but a maniacal merlot bore...nothing more and then i started hear'n rumors around town that she professed how she was the "MADONNA" of the Minne-Apple and that she made boat loads of benjamins every year at her brunch salad bar while she would have one of her many epic merlot meltdowns though she was extremely elated when she heard that some "huge corporation" wanted to sponsor her sad soiree...

here's the deal-o unfortunately (i hate to be the bearer of bad news) the "HUGE CORPORATION" she was referr'n to was the CEO and VP of MY fan club...and truth be told...this annual event had been loose'n money year after year which was in dire need of a defibrillator with a new name and a new cast that could bring it back to life and bring in the big bucks...however...the owner did not see eye to eye with my fan club members...

 cuz even though he lost money year after year...he felt some loyalty to this self-involved eye sore...nonetheless said we could still do the party as planned as long as they forked over a bundle to cover his loses from the past 3 years before we would see a profit

 so my VP pulled the plug on the whole damn show and skedaddled outta dodge...though CUNT WEEDS was goin around town tell'n those who wished they could rearrange their DNA in the form of Helen Keller...that she had stolen the party out from under us...

 Alex...i'd like to take "delightfully delusional" fer $1000 pleez?

 though i was a bit disappointed...i was in no way expect'n the board of my fan club to cover someone else's mistakes...so i tucked in my tail and moved on as well

that is...until i recently read an article written by some snoreville ink slinger

who worked at some local mag rag mention'n how said CUNT had done floral arrangements fer the QUEEN's birthday bash

 and helped in the redecoration of Prince's throw pillows at Paisley Park in the 90's

 Miss "my name's on the marquee" drops as many names as fast as she drops her glass of wine and in the 15 some years that i've known this self diluted drunk...not ONCE was the QUEEN ever mentioned...

so i put on my Angela Lansbury cap and did a lil investigate'n...
only to find out that she was fired from the Paisley Park staff after a day fer bad mouth'n her boss and steal'n material from the purple paisley man himself...

 so there was no need to delve into this rubbish any further though my ghost writer (IVANA P) decided to write a retort to said fabricational story in some shitty monthly rag said "reporter" worked at to set the record straight once and fer all:

"seriously?...there's more holes in that story than a slice of swiss cheese 

and Bonnie & Clyde put together...this is just a poorly written episode of PR FLUF~N~STUFF!

if you REALLY want an exclusive...lemme tell you about the time me and 

Madonna decided to get away fer the weekend by hopp'n aboard the Starship Enterprise to the planet Uranus...

and had tiki cocktails and kiki dances with the likes of Cher and Ruth Bader Ginsburg"

now i won't give away this "reporter's" identity...cuz really...her legacy

and "integrity" is at stake apparently...H-O-W-E-V-E-R...fer visual purposes to this hard hitt'n story thru journalistic fantasy land...lets just call her "PELICAN"

this is the actual transcript between me and said "reporter"...

 via FB due to my simple freedom of speech

08/06/2015 15:26 

"just so you know, I'm deleting your rude comment."

08/06/2015 15:58

"just so you know...it's all PR fluff"

08/06/2015 15:58

 "Well, I wrote the article so I take offense to you publicly questioning my integrity. Please don't. If you have and issue with Richard (CUNT WEEDS), please send him a private message."

08/06/2015 16:01

"delete'n my comment is as humorous as that fairy tale yer try'n to sell to yer readers"

 

08/06/2015 16:36

"You can keep your rudeness to yourself."

08/06/2015 16:41

"you call it rudeness...i call it a comment to yer delusionally fabricated story"

"but i'm not the one try'n to win the Brian Williams reporter of the year award!"

and scene!

so there you have it kittens...the real story how it ALL really went down

all them years ago!

i look back and know that i have grown from this experience...however...

you fuck with a virgo bull...yer just ask'n fer my glittered horns!

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

Rotten to the Core pt. 2

i swear to fuck'n CHER...that anytime i go on a temp vaca all by myself

it always ends up somehow as a demonic twisted and tawdry saturday nite special from satan's lair...that i never really wanted...nor cared to star in...so before you go any further kittens...get yerself a ticket to the catch up train fer a quick flashback to where it all began in pt. 1 here...before you pull outta the station

are we all on the same page now?

well...buckle up cuz it don't get any better i'm afraid...kick back and pop a prozac and enjoy the torment'n continuation to: ROTTEN TO THE CORE

i finally landed with all my senses in tact at Laguardia airport...look'n impossibly fresh faced and innocently naive and gitty...like a young fantastically spastic Valarie Bertinelli (hey i'm tell'n the story...so put that finger of judgement where the sun don't shine)

i contacted my bnb host as to the quickest (and let's be real...CHEAPEST)

 route to get to my temporary palace and he informed me unless i packed my broomstick or ruby slippers...that the best mode of transportation would be a shuttle to port authority cuz he was blocks from there and it would be approximately 40 min...

hey...i may be a bit anal...but i work best on a time table

little did i know...i was gonna be accompanied by a gaggle of castaways...

that i just wanted to cast away from my shuttle...goin on a damn 3 hr tour practically around the airport and then the city (well it was only 1 1/2 hrs)...but you feel my pain...don'tcha?

as i was the 2nd to the last bein dropped off...i took a deep breath and

 finally deshuttle'd at the port authority and text'd my host Elliot (fer security purposes...Elliot will be played by hollyweird heartthrob Matt Dillon...well cuz he had that Dillon villain quality about him...you'll understand soon enough) plus...after my russian host had canceled on me with no reason a week before i was to fly out...Elliot was the perfect runner up...looks wise anyways...cooooome on...it's shallow...i know...but you live fer it!

so he texted me to walk 6 short blocks and i'd be at his place...ya right?

S-E-R-I-O-U-S-L-Y...does he not know that i'm thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...where there ain't nothin' short about the blocks in NY...plus...i already had completed my calisthenics before i left the Minne-Apple

i mean...i wasn't expect'n Morgan to meet me at the port authority...but would'a killed Elliot to meet me half way...that's all i'm say'n!

by now it was almost 10 minutes til my next nervous break down....

so i dropped off my shit as we gave each other the proverbially welcome'n shoulder hugs and crotch tugs...then it was off to his friends bar directly across the street so i could drown myself in my ritual cosmo and endless banter and bullshit with the locals...

this would continue fer the next 5 hours and some countless minutes after the next...from bar to bar...east of Hell's Kitchen to the West Village...and of course bein' my 1st time in the BIG APPLE fer PRIDE...i expected it would be packed as all H-E-doule hockey stix out...with the many different flavors of faggotry and faggotry hagess's...

but with the high humidity the city was experience'n that nite...it was more like sweaty salami and sardine city

by 2:30...Elliot ran into his x at whatever bar we were at...where i wanted 

to seriously barf...not cuz of the booze intake mind you...but cuz of the bad stench...we're talk'n vomit valley...so decide'n to call it a nite...we all 3 skipped to my loo...to my new boo's bunker...well...cuz nature was call'n me off the hook fer like the past hour or so...and i wasn't about to take a number in line at the bars...when i was about ready to drop a couple of em off myself!

back at my home sweet home...i was ready to bust like a baboon in june

little did i know that once i pulled up my culottes and returned to the mini party in the other room...that i would be give'n the chance to audition fer the apparent stage production of breaking bad!

WHY MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

i was sooo damn tired at this point...i wasn't in any mode to point the finger of judgement at anyone...let alone my host and his half naked henchman

i just respectfully declined and started count'n sheep in the other room with one eye open and dreamt of some sugar daddy that would take me away from all this by morn'n...unfortunately...it would never come to fruition

by morn'n...i contacted my fav-o-rit filthiest bitter blonde and international

 youtube sensation MISS SHERRY VINE...(who i once had the pleasure to work with years back in the Minne-Apple at the Varsity Theater in Dinkytown and a moment in time i shall never ferget...now that i wrote myself a lil note here) to find out when and where i could catch one of her many PRIDE productions and was told to meet her at Intermezzo...so i wrapped my freshly showered nubile body in a simple full length Gaultier knock off from the bottom bins at the salvation army...

but quickly found out...i was just a bit over dressed fer the PRIDE weather when i got outside that morn'n

once i rearranged my DNA from the puddle i had become...i made my way to the SHERRY show...and trust me...she DID NOT disappoint...like so many others pretty much everyone i've ever worked with in the past back home

after the show...i met a local on the street who was put under a spell by...

 the billboard that i was apparently display'n on my noggin...and he'd become my partner in crime fer the remainder of the day...into the wee hours of the morn'n

it's always nice to get serviced from the boys in blue...

and of course no PRIDE would be complete without a visit to where it ALL began!

my day was full of 1st's...my 1st trip to the Chelsea Piers...my 1st PRIDE parade in the Big Apple...my 1st throat plunge'n proposal in some seedy bathroom bar in the West Village...my 1st attempt at gett'n pick pocket'd...

all the 1st's i'd always never expect'd...but glad i got to fulfill...unfortunately though...the ONE crucial 1st that i really deserved...and longed for...was never delivered in today's episode...

so i'm sorry...but you will not be hear'n about me sail'n away with some all mighty seaman/semen (explore the possibilities with that one on yer own) or swabb'n some almighty deck/dick (here we go again)..and though i still had 2 more days to fulfill my 1st's (well on this trip anyways...don't judge kitten!) i thought i could end it here...but i just can't cuz there's sooo much more...besides...i'm famished...and i ain't gett'n paid to write this shit...so come back next week fer the annoy'n conclusion to: 

ROTTEN TO THE CORE

now GET OFF MY DRESS!