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!

TSSS TSSS TSSS...AHH AHH AHH!

ever get that not so fresh feeling...like yer being watched? and i don't 

mean that in some twisted wicked cuntruffle from the west end with a dozen flying monkeys and a dollop of Dorothy Gale cream fill'n kinda 3way way...

nor do i mean that in a Jeff Stryker should have his own zip code fer his middle portion kinda way either kittens...well not today anyways!

so you know how very deeply i'm into gangsta rap BOY GEORGE right?

well...this has nothing to do with the follow'n events...i just thought i'd let ya know BOY and the boys from CULTURE CLUB are back out on the road fer a mini US tour this summer to entertain the masses with their asses that will surely sell out so click here to find out what city you can catch em at...cuz the BOY is like buttah these days!

BOY...if yer read'n this...and i know in some parallel universe you are...

i want you to know..."THE NEXT THING WILL BE AMAZING" at the "CHURCH OF THE POISON MIND" and that "TIME CLOCK OF THE HEART" won't give me time as i look fer my "KARMA CHAMELEON" look...now i'm gett'n flaklempt! talk amongst yerselves...i'll give you a topic...GEORGE is no longer a boy nor was Culture ever a club you could personally pay a membership fee to join...discuss!

so there i was a couple months back...a few years ago...chatter'n amongst the lost lonely souls along the informational highway look'n fer fornicational pleasures at the easiest and apparently...the most polluted and diluted...i mean the most "popular" informational highway rest stop...

out there...GRINDR...strictly as a sexually charged starved observationalist of course

well truth be told...i actually loathe non verbal communication completely...

about as much as i loathe sushi...Belushi...phoney's and flakes...and definitely anything deep fried on a stake...the socially retarded...the chemically dependents...and what is up with all these emotionally delayed defendants?

i think it was the one Miss Macgregor's nipples who said it best sing'n...

"torn between two lovers...feel'n like a fool...lov'n both of you...is break'n all the ruuuuules!"

bein' the unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe that i am...i seriously don't have time to be bothered with

play'n the proverbial text game of cat and mouse...i mean come on...i'm a pseudo sorta somewhat star in my own mind after all...i don't have to put up with that shit!

so unless i'm totally engaged in a deep conversation of yer boredom...i just throw my contact number out there like candy to the depraved non heterosexual kittens with a pulse...in hopes fer some human inter"action"

when ya think about it really though...text'n is sooo impersonal...it was

much more romantic when our ancestral indian mo's used to send smoke signals...granted you never knew back then if it was fer a hook-up...or they just needed a bucket of water cuz their tee-pee was on fire...but just like smoke signals...9.5 times outta 10 (and trust me...that .5 helps) they rarely ever call back anyways...cuz aggressive passiveness is sooo much more attractive...don'tcha think?

well on the occasion that the one half that actually do decide to do voice on voice connection...i do my best to try and weed out their intentions within the first 5 to 15 minutes...and make my call if it's gonna end up bein' a terrific nite on the town...or just a tea bag party after the sun goes down

and if the latter is the case...i do my stretches and make sure to lay out an assortment of spermicidal jams and jellies...i am a safety gurl after all

one even'n while i was pump'n my pecs...i received a text from an out of 

my area code  unknown number and to make a short story a lil longer than needed...if yer name ain't in my cellular device...you either lost my interest or didn't bring me any canned goods! such was the case i guess with said texted man but i'm all about give'n it up to charity (when a quota is needed) so i requested from him to send me a pic to remind me why i didn't wanna be bothered to log him in my phone in the first place cuz now perhaps maybe i do (one never knows right?)

minutes later...i received a text look'n like the guy work'n out next to me...

now...i can neither confirm nor deny that said picture above is the texter in question so play along with me on this one...at first i thought SCORE! i was so ready to hop on board his gravy train after all!

though as i looked closer to the picture it was my back stand'n next to him

hmmm? now this text was turn'n more into like the call is come'n from inside the house!

i immediately put down the dumbbells and pulled up my leg warmers...and skedaddled the H-E-double hockey stix outta there...as i was head'n out... 

my good friend Faedre called and i was tell'n her about this phone freak who took a pic of me work'n out and not that THAT was so unusual...it was more the manner that the pic was take'n as it was take'n thru the window of the gym

my 1st OFFICIAL stalker! now i know what it feels like to be MADONNA

well...minus the gazillion dollars in my piggy bank...a hot bilingual conalingul to read bed time stories to and a posse of A double snake kissers every where i go to do my bidd'n but at least we now have a common thread to talk about over beluga caviar...carrot strips and some kabbalah on the side...if the situation should ever happen that we meet...again

BUTT...that ain't all!

by the time i had made it home i started gett'n dinner ready and noticed another text from him...by now i decided that this cat and mouse game had gone on way too long enough so i deleted it without even read'n it however a minute later another text had made it's way thru unfortunately HOWEVER this time with a pictorial that looked awfully familiar to me...

CUZ IT WAS THE BACK OF ME LEAVE'N THE FUCK'N GYM!

seriously kittens...this was now gett'n a lil to "i will not be ignored!"

and i was in no mood to sit down to a bowl of bunny soup that even'n!

about 3 hours later as i was O.D.'n on S.A.T.C. since i wasn't have'n any...

a call came thru with no name...but i was so strung out like some junkie whore on the show...that i picked it up without think'n...they said they were Jay and that we met a while back...hmmm i did meet a Jay in chicago over market days that was from the Minne-Apple that wanted to "hang out" so i said sure come on over however only if you wanna swap stories and not split you like a caramel sunday only cuz i was gett'n ready to count sheep

30 mins later a text popped up say'n he was here so i threw on my smurf jammies (why not!) and headed fer the back door (lil side note...contrary to popular belief...that is my door of choice...i gotta tattoo above mine that says exit only...unless you gimme a ring) but any who'zll'ding...as i finally

reached the top of the steps i could see some odd guy peer'n thru my back door window though this was not the Jay that i had previously met in Chicago...have'n said that he hadda sorta Colin Farrell cum fuck me look to him (well...if i had early onset dementia and glaucoma of the eyes)

 in a Charles Nelson Reilly sorta way...

i had zero clue who he was and was in no mood to play 20 questions so i 

opened the back door and asked him who he was and unbeknownst to me unfortunately it turns out...HE WAS MY STALKER!

as he paced back and forth in the park'n lot try'n to get me to let him inside...i wondered....hmmm....how did he ever find me?...then i thought wait!...i'm thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist 

i let him say his peace cuz he was not gett'n any piece of me...besides i wasn't wear'n my explosive deflector jammies that particular even'n

he pretty much rambled on...hop scotch'n from random story to random story...how 95% of non heterosexuals lie on line about themselves (can't argue with him there unfortunately)...how i was good look'n (again...good point!) but looked like i'm pretentious (hey hold up a minute there...i'm not conceited...just convinced!)...then he went off the deep end about if he ever had kids and the stove was on how he would let them touch it and they would learn their lesson and how no one ever wants to hang out...

with him...and how he has an IQ of 110...A-N-D...time to go P-S-Y-C-H-O! 

i told him it's been lovely meet'n him and thanked him fer play'n then he

went home with some beautiful part'n gifts...a phone number to a "friend" of mine who works with the "lollipop guild" society and some unused turtle wax i had left over from my price is right winn'ns back in '87...and made my way back inside my shit box...

i racked my brain over and over how he found me as i applied my St Ives mint julip mud mask...turns out a friend i had called said that any picture's that i may have take'n in my own lil shit box i call home and sent out to the universe...can easily be tracked by GPS from my phone

DOH! i knew upgrade'n my dino flip phone to a smart phone was gonna be the death of me...my dumb ass would never figer out all the tricks and triggers and chaos's it could cause...it's a trilogy of terror i could live without!

3 days later...i received a call from yet another unknown number...and like an idiot think'n it could be a call from Ed McMahon tell'n me i had won the publishers clear'n house bullshit...(before i realized he's dead) i picked up!

he wanted to know what my name was...i said "WHY?"...he said...
 "cuz i wanna know who i'm look'n at!"

well it has been 4 years since my stalker left me...but i know he's out there...watch'n...wait'n...want'n more...of me...well why the hell not?

but i'm in no mood have'n to get my number changed once again fer fuck's sakes...i can barely remember my ABC's let alone my STD's...so until we meet again and i'm sure we will...celebrate yer alive!

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

buff puff

i was recently reminded…a while back…by this mo who don't know jack

that "str8 act'n and appear'n" is apparently the new black!

 (how dr. suess of me and i wasn’t even try'n…i swear)

by that…i don’t mean that african american…african european…

african asian or african african (did i leave anybody out?) non heterosexual men are the latest in relationship accessories…

hot mixed interracial relationships have been around...

since Tom and Helen Willis of the "Jefferson’s"

(that was not meant to be in any way…shape or form…single'n out any ethnicity of any part of the universe)

i'm not a complete social retard…but nor do i march in the PC parade

i’ve seen Prince like 3 times live...

and own almost all of Tina Turner’s musical history 

(stay with me kittens…i will make my point…eventually)

no…what i speakith of…is far more taboo…a rare hybrid sub culture of...

the non heterosexuals who try and pass themselves off as "STR8"...
by act'n and appear'n in a way publicly that is perceived by others that they have the ability to completely fool members of their own naturally born non heterosexual race as well as those of the naturally born non homosexual race…just to prove to their narcissistic riddled ego their inability to deal with themselves as a mo’

and in their feebly delusional mind…they also believe they can…get this…

sexually turn a non homosexual into a non heterosexual…and that THAT would then be their greatest accomplishment to their entire existence

well i'm hear to tell ya…ya ain't fool'n no one mary mary on the contrary…

let's keep the "act’n" for the professionally trained....oh kaaaay gurlfriend!

there are many theories of how this sub culture of no-no homo's derived :

too much fake bake'n with a spray tan before goin' to the beach or on some tropical island vacation…

Miller beer…

the RAM truck 

(fer overcompensational purposes due to their "shortcumm'n" i'm sure) 

watch'n all 4 seasons of "PRISON BREAK" on a loop 

(one word…WENTWORTH MILLER…meeeouch!)

these are just a few suggestions…there are a merried of theories out there

hold up…now before you grab yer picket signs…coon dog and hop in yer monster truck (and by that i mean…work-out purse…pekineses and pontiac grand prix)…i am not suggest’n in the slightest that some of you non heterosexuals out there cruise’n around along the informational

highway on...yer daily 5 minute break from adam4adam…gaydar…grinder…mancunt...scruff...jak'd...or whateva social site you choose to cruise for the latest has-been or been-had by half the population fer some dimestore dick…are not just being yerself as you would...regardless of who was/wasn’t present

a quick hiccup…for those right wing’n…apocalyptic fear’n…anti-bacterial soap’n…leave-it-to-beaver thinkers who think i or anyone of my naturally born non heterosexual race would CHOOSE to live this way…ummm ya...

pick a finger!

think about it…if we didn’t have hetero’s…we wouldn’t have homo’s…

if we didn't have homo's…we wouldn’t have poppers…

if we didn't have poppers…we wouldn't have brain damage…

and if we didn’t have brain damage…i'd be the only one read'n this right now!

now…where was i?...oh yes...

no...i am merely speak'n to the trend of non heterosexuals known as...

the socially retarded…chemically dependent…emotionally unavailable...self-loath'n…narcissistically rare mo'…otherwise known as the "muscle mary"

in the simplest of terms…a “muscle mary” consists of the follw'n...

high maintenance groom'n for a minimum of an hour in front of their bathroom mirror…and decide'n which undergarment looks best on them to take that "all natural" non posed selfie to update their profile on 

www.peniledenial.com...

before head'n to the gym…for another hour of check'n themselves out in the locker room mirror (and who’s check’n them out) and squeeze in enough time to take that "all natural" non posed selfie to update their profile on www.poundmetilthesunormecumup.com…

then do the usual work-out routine til they break a sweat from check'n themselves out on the gym floor mirror (and who was check'n them out)…pop into the steam room to see what they're serve'n at the cock buffet…

then publicly pretend they have no inclination of someone's existence…because of the other person’s acceptance of who they are…what they do for a live’n…or how they may choose to dress themselves…and whether or not last season’s Prada bag falls outta their mouth every time they open it and their comfortness level around others in public…or that there is any remote interest in said person…

but secretly are the first ones to have their feet stapled to the bedroom ceil’n before you get the front door closed on any random friday nite!

we hate to be judged…but let’s face it…we all have played judge…jury and prostituted for our acceptance to someone we found remotely interest'n at a glance at some point in our life

oops…may have to back-up on that one there…if yer not me (and why would you be) i can sense yer confusional delay…so grab a ticket and hop aboard the catch-up train and i'll take ya there…in a minute or so

i am and have always been…mostly…comfortable in my natural born non heterosexual body and mind (though being a guinea pig for those governmental drug studies back in ’93 altered things…just a lil bit)

i used to be the skinny minny that would get shunned by the hideously delicious muscle mary flock corral’n around in circles at any downtown non heterosexual entertainment establishment...in my temporary town i've called home fer the past 27 years

until one day i joined a gym for personal and mental growth...and all of a sudden the gates flew open…i was accepted as one of the flock...

at first i felt like i had made a bad judgment in judge'n the judgers…then i realized…when it was discovered time and time again thru word of mouth...

within the flock...that i was indeed the unintentionally internationally unknown perform’n illusionist of my own universe...and durty gurl of the Minne-Apple...KRYSTAL KLEER…i would be shunned once again by the flock in public or on-line…though privately…via text or any on-line meat market...more than a handful would prostitute themselves for my "ATTENTION" (i’m talk’n about the "basement meat")

too be fair…money was never exchanged…cocktails…cuisine and/or barely there conversations…yes...but never any benjamins!

why did i care what they thought?...why does anyone care what they think?...they don't! (it’s hurts their brain too much to think…what…with their balls take’n up so much space) so in conclusion to erase any

confusion...they are not trophies…but a testament to the torment we all felt as an awkward teenager on any given playground try'n to just fit in

some were a friend…but that's come to an end

they're just an illusion…filled with chaos and confusion

i'm a buff  with a puff…and a hella LOTTA stuff

they're just a mess…so just get off my dress!