ME & MRS. JONES pt. 2

"you know i had to sit my big fat tired lazy ass down...oooh what a relief

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

Frosty Flakers

i was a big fan of that chemically enhanced mouthful of confectionery fun

as were most of us Gen X'ers that grew up with that fuck'n hypnotize'n tiger in the ascot with a daddy's roar durin' the 80's...turns out though that they weren't all that fuck'n grrrrreat after all since i would end up gett'n 8 damn cavities from o.d'n on em before fall'n into some confectionery coma once a week durin' my tenderly traumatic teen years...you'd think i'da learn my lesson

when it comes to date'n a potential failure...that could very well turn into yer future failure...cuz let's be real here...you only really got 'em on loan...since well death is inevitable...so there's not really an effective how to handbook on how to keep them in yer clutches ferever...doesn't matter

whether yer some back comb'n...booze guzzle'n breeder in daisy dukes too sizes too small...puff'n a 2 pack of Marlboro golds on a daily basis...shoot'n out bastard children in the trailer park like a lawn sprinkler...

or some highly pitched bitch that squeals like some blow monkey on meth...think'n they're the creme' de'la'fem of the crop tops but look more like a bloated blood sausage burst'n in their BVD's...constantly consume'n the spotlight on themselves...either case...we all have our rules when hunt'n fer that special fucktard to call our very own

i used to find that when i was search'n fer a potentially interested failure...

i preferred someone closer to the top of the food chain...that would to jump off a cliff...while chant'n my name when they would see me...

though in all actuality...i find that just simply wait'n fer 3 simple dates with some simpleton before we're both make monkey love like greased up yorkshire pigs at the county fair is much more fair in the end as long as they don't ask me fer cab fare...keep in mind though...this doesn't mean i wanna move in or get married by date #4 or anything like that...

i mean seriously kittens...i don't have a lifetime membership discount card to any local hardware store nor do i own any stock options at any move'n company...

i'll just leave that to the professionals

of course fer the purpose of this melodrama...most of my love life has been played out like any one of Avril Lavigne's big hits and eventually

unfortunately just like the albums...when it's over...it's completely over...you just have'ta pick yerself back up and eventually move on to the next one without any regrets to start the ol' engine again

i have never felt the need to rent a room in desperadoville nor did i ever

practice my baton twirl'n in some pathetic pity parade charade just cuz society deems that yer used up and worn out at a certain age...nor do i subscribe to that tired "oh you'll find someone out there someday"

BUTT…hear me out

yes i agree when it's good...it's good...but let's get real here kittens...

it's way more fun to spend yer hard earned benjamins on the one person you know that'll really appreciate you fer you...and that is YOU! without have'n to get permission from yer annoy'n pathetick half...half the time...especially when you add other expensive shit buckets into the equation that have ruined yer waistline beyond belief and milk'd yer piggy bank dry just about every other week

i've done my fair share of charitable acts thru-out my love life...date'n from

 and fall'n into those head over heels hallmark moments with thee emotionally unstable in my late 20's...

thee socially retarded in my middle 30's...

and thee chemically independence in my early late 40's

after 3 decades of this...i didn't need to date any more judgmental judy's

and decided it was time to rethink about me fer a change and dip back into the insane single lane...oh don't take that the wrong way...each and everyone of those frosted flakes of failure from my past...did mean somethin' to me at some point obviously since they were with me and i'll admit...i do hold a very small portion to be polite to the demise of it all

but just like a carton of eggs...they all had their expiration date once i was fried on them

so i figer'd it was time to save money on therapy and decided to pack up

those things that many refer to as "feelings" to the back of my limbic system of my cranium...hit the road and just pump and dump fer a while...safely...when needed of course

it would take me 2 years later before i decided it was time to clean my...

love shack shit shack from all that bad chi that had been hang'n around me fer far too long and decided to go on my 1st actual date that i wanted to actually follow thru with 5 years ago

everyone knows when they think there's a possibility with a person of interest...you pull out yer rule book and just go from there...and this one seemed to fit my profile...he had the looks....charm...that wrinkled twinkle

 in his eyes that made me wanna know more...i am a sucker fer a set of iris's (to keep his anonymity safe...i'll just use what he said what he was compared to before as a visual and i'll say it's pretty close) anyways...where was i? oh yea...the only thing miss'n from him was the back handed sammich compliments or glassy eyes that i seem to mentally get attracted to...he was just way too nice and dare i say "normal" this was all new unfamiliar unchartered waters fer me...so we continued to have non verbal chatter via text fer a week or so til we would have an ACTUAL conversation...somethin' that most millennials can't even comprehend with a google search

date #1 was at my palace...since he said he didn't have a tv yet at home...

so we watched one of my all time fav movies "MURIEL'S WEDDING" since he had never seen it before and i could basically recite it word fer word at this point...but trust me Muriel..."i was not terrible" i pondered whether or not to have this be the 1st movie since some might interpret it as a "sign" of panic or desperation...but 2 tears in the bucket...mutha fuck-it!

 the alternative i'da rather watched was "TEXAS CHAINSAW: THE BEGINNING" then i remembered 1st dates are all about give'n memorable impressions and i didn't want him think'n i was some ax wield'n homocidal maniac wish'n he'd packed his can of mace (well not yet anyways) or wish'n he'd gone with what was behind door number 2 instead

there was alot of saliva swapp'n and heavy pett'n at the conclusion of the

movie i can confirm but no dignity was lost nor were any pearl necklaces made

by date #2...i was summoned to his palace...which luckily...was within my

 drive'n radius...walk'n up to his perfectly sculptured yard...we talked more about this and that and that and this that really was just the typical filler conversation on a 2nd date...oh and he was the perfect hostess too...he served me brown rice and tofu on a bed of lightly sea salted kale an exotic beer and we talked alot more as his modular furniture faded into the nite sky...he started kiss'n me...like i hadn't been kissed in years (it's in my rules book under the chapter "slipp'n down the saliva slide too soon") then all of a sudden...off slid our dignity and i was oddly summoned by the faint sounds of Miss Bernhard...chant'n in the back of my head...while in his bed

"stop! do you have any rubbers? while yer at it...could you make it 2? and i would feel just a little bit better if you would apply some spermicidal  jams and jellies to the area" i will not confirm or deny if any sorta broken rules of fornication that may or may not have happened at this point that nite...you just go ahead and fill in the blanks with yer own dirty lil thoughts kittens

finally date #3 had finally arrived as planned...and he planned fer us to see

some sappy dizzy flick about fish...seriously? "FINDING DORY"? we were in our early late 40's fer fuck sakes how about "find'n a decent cocktail bar" perhaps with some Connie Francis or Shelly Fabre echo'n in the background...i always liked Shelly Fabre though i didn't wanna be some snotty ingrate and i can say with all honesty...i melted at the thought however at the same time i'll be honest...a bit of an odd choice fer us at our tender and almost crusted middle age without an accompanying cocktail but then i remembered he was a full 24 hours older than me and i had to do as he said

his hands were all over me like an octopus outta water the whole time which i guess meant he was sorta into me...unless it was due to some sorta nervous tick disorder...either way...i'll admit it was nice...though this "NICE" thing...just a lil eepy cray and totally outta my comfort zone from what i'm used to from my dates

once the movie was over...it was back to his palace to walk his dogs and as i felt more comfortable with him...i unfolded more parts of my past however i noticed an instant change in his demeanor when i spoke briefly of my unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe disappear'n career...an all to familiar feel'n that flows like a flood of apparent flaws thru me...now mind you...as much as i was try'n on these new flirty slacks that i haven't put on fer some time...i was in NO WAY ready to call it quits with my single life or memorize the lyrics to "i do i do i do" by ABBA (even though i've practiced plenty of times durin' one of my many highway car concerts) but i just knew the storm was about to hit

once the dogs were back home...the nite was ended with that uncomfortable kiss you would give an elderly incontinent relative you haven't seen in ages...who fergot to put their choppers back in their mouth

well...at this point...i figer'd i had no need to spend my benjamins call'n...

 Miss Cleo fer any future advice...the write'n was on the wall and by late nite the follow'n day...i would receive that "it's not you...it's me" text...somethin' a spineless jelly fish would send cuz you know...person to person is outta the question...pretty much say'n nothin' i haven't heard before...which is why it didn't shock me much at all...plus i'm not gonna waste my time try'n to decipher whether he may or may not have meant somethin' else via his text...

so to save face of course...i would respond with the stale mate refried crap on toast response "yea...friends are fine" text...which is what i thought that's all we were to begin with anyways...though realistically we both know it'll never come to that in the end

all of a sudden...a light bulb popped on in my mind as Miranda ran thru it

i seriously hold no ill will towards him at all...cuz he really is a sweet guy

and as per Avril...he to would make it into a sweet song...but sweets cause cavities...and who needs another mental dental bill?...i could say i certainly hope he finds what he's look'n for...but why?

i have absolutely no regrets with anyone i've ever fancied thus far in my 

life as much of a struggle as it at seem in the 1st place with anyone at that particular moment in time nonetheless i'll make it thru the wilderness and soldier on 

til it's time fer my metamucil martini's in the moonlite...marinate'n my shoulders in an assortment of bengay cremes and Murder She Wrote marathons

i'd just filed this whole experience under "don't distress"...

just Get Off My Dress!