date'n dementia's

i...like many chosen single non heterosexuals...have a plethora of  "drugs" to choose from...when we're choose'n a potential failure as a shipmate...

 and by "drugs"...i mean options!

listen kittens...i paid attention to Nancy in the 80's when she simply said

"JUST SAY NO"

"if i wanna get high...i'll add another inch to my heels"...P-E-R-I-O-D!

so put that in yer crack pipe and smoke it...or better yet...learn to control yer destruction...so you can function at my junction

thee only drug i want any future failure to O.D. on...is ME!

BUTT i digress...

in yer 20's you were judge...jury...executioner...defendant and plaintiff on yer look and what you wore when you went out with yer gaggle of gays and the one token fag hag who felt like the luckiest bitch on the planet

the dollars bill's would flow like a whore with halitosis at any given bar on any given nite of the week...which usually consisted of cover charges and cock breath!

i somehow inevitably would become some sorta surrogate therapist way...

too many times...to one too many meals on wheels look'n fruit baskets who happened to be some inebriated idiot that was environmentally delayed...and expected me to find his foot'n just cuz he gave me his 2-4-1 drink ticket!

eventually i would turn down my reason not to have another doctor...

 prescribe me a cure that would take 3 to 4 weeks to clear up...instead...i opted to rummage around fer the leftovers at any bar close...fer someone that was close enough to the top of the food chain...OR

stroll fer a troll in the wee hours of the nite in the park fer a ride home...

and don't you wholesomeless whores start point'n fingers at me like some sharp shooter...cuz i wasn't there alone

by the time i hit my 30's...i knew i was goin' to become a romantic wreck...

or deemed a tragedy in a tiara if i wasn't involved with a mate to date fer more than 24 hrs...and so the clown show would begin  

not once...not twice...and by the third time...i was no longer a laydee...but i did it anyways...just cuz i figered i needed to evolve beyond the bar stools and the bad morn'n after breath mints i picked up from the nite before...

plus...eat'n fer one is never really as much fun...and cuz i was too lazy to commit suicide!

well...20 years later on...and end'n out my 40's sooner than expected...i feel like i'm back in my early late 20's once again and look'n better than my middle 30's...but with alot less hope...alot less hair and alot less tolerance fer find'n a potential failure in my own age box...oh...don't take that the wrong way...i've learned to accept my new check box...without all those unsightly stretch marks...or awkward family reunions

i'm just not that desperate enough to settle fer sangria and sausage links for breakfast just yet

bein' hit with the on goin recession to my non existent piggy bank doesn't

help either...it's made a HUGE impact on the way us 40+ single non heterosexuals go about conduct'n our "free time"

no one can afford the $10 covers...or feel that we should have to anymore

since we never had to when we were bask'n in our over indulgent youth...nor do we want to be bothered by some anal antiseptic past his ambercrombie due date with a $200 8-ball...who refuses to give up their crown as disco queen...show'n off their personally trained abs...under an over priced GUCCI tank to a bunch of twinks and tweekers

for the most part...the only choices out there are between meth heads or manic depressants who've replaced their overhead lamps with dollar store tea candles in hopes you don't notice that they had to cancel their gym...

membership...cuz they're still try'n to pull off that sparkly crop top that they bought on their first trip to Saint-Tropez in their 20 years...without the use of the jaws of life to get it over their head

and yer lucky if you will ever get to meet the photo-chopped fucker on the

other end of the informational highway anyways...cuz the botox bar has been raised so damn high...that they're terrified someone might notice

when and if ya finally do...they're usually try'n to recreate the image they sent ya by pose'n like some sorta age defy'n egyptian hieroglyphic when

  you open the front door...just to satisfy yer obvious desperate yearn'n to be acknowledged by a warm blooded entity...in person...at the very least...you have a chance to start an actual conversation...online...it's just all about delete...delete...delete!

and speak'n of my own experiences...it's no surprise that viagra sales are soar'n thru the roof when all the things that make a date with a new mo' interest'n these days are reduced to a simple formula of boredom and

regret...oh and ps...btw...they ought to be personally erect'n a life size crucifix with my name on it...cuz 30 years ago...i was one of thee original governmental test bunnies who got that pill approved fer all those long'n fer erect-creational pleasures

so they to could be energized til the wee hours of the morn'n

well...not too long ago a while back...i received an email from some online porker with an ax to grind with me...who i never had met...that i can recall

from 10 years ago apparently...i thought...oh...what perfect time'n!

lett'n me know that i looked like (and this is a direct quote) "a moron wear'n your shades" thru the downtown mousetrap systems on my daily

 breaks...cuz non verbal communicative passive aggressive behavior is so much more effective and alot more easier form of communication to understand these days (and annoyingly acceptable i might add) with almost everyone...than actually have'n to say face to face "ummm...wanna fuck?"

don't EVEN get me started on unreturnable texts in a timely manner

and you know it's sad...when some green mile look'n change collector...

scouts you out in the skyway on yer many mindless walks...look'n fer enough coinage to get him and his 3 made up kids back to some made up home far far away...but it happens on a daily basis from a merried of other story tellers...yer just conditioned to ignore their request...only to be belittled and berated by them as you keep walk'n by...but fer once it almost made me wanna run to the closest ATM as he caps off his verbal tyrannosaurus tirade with these eloquently body tingle'n words
(i said A-L-M-O-S-T)

"oooiiie...fer a white boy that's some fine ass...i'll tap that any day!" it's like the biggest compliment i'll remember fer as long as i can

basically...it breaks down like this...

online meet-n-greets are like stars from the 2nd cast of Designing Women

no matter how funny Jan Hooks and Julia Duffy were...they would never be able to live up to the originals...

cuz they were no Delta Burke or Jean Smart

                                         

meet'n face to face fer a cuppa caffination or whatever yer drink of choice

may be...is much better than try'n to read a wreck wait'n to happen on-line!

i may have unwillingly surrendered to the online hook up these days...

but i refuse...let me repeat that fer the kittens in the back...REFUSE to surrender my heels...so get over it already!

cuz when ya break it down in the end desperado's...guys in their 20's want

guys in their 40's...who want guys in their 30's...who want guys in their 50's...who want guys in their 20's...and all i want to do is get a damn cocktail before loose'n my dignity to any legal aged box

so it looks like i will need a new kinda "drug"...since my preferred method

apparently is...get this..."ILLEGAL"...plus it gets a bit spendy and is too much trouble try'n to guess the ratio to body frame 

it's human nature...we all possess that undeniable animal instinct...yo'

if you want it...just ask...i just might...if not...don't worry abod' it...but puhleez...GET OFF MY DRESS!

pessimistically optimistic

i believe it was one Mr. Johnny Paycheck who sang the anthem fer all

those 9 to 5'ers out there who wished that they were doin somethin' else with their professional life financially...like whale gutt'n in the arctic perhaps...with his 1977 hit 

"TAKE THIS JOB AND SHOVE IT"

we've all had those utter mundane jobs at some point in our life...up to 

and include'n those that begin with blow...that you know goin into it is gonna work yer last nerve...but outta sheer laziness...yer always hope'n fer the best in the end

even though...9 times outta 10...you know yer just gonna end up punch'n into Charlie's chocolate factory (call it intuition if you must)

live'n the luxurious lifestyle of an unintentionally internationally unknown

perform'n illusionist of yer own universe...ain't all what it's cracked up to be...it is...as one might say (that one bein' ME of course)...albeit an extremely far far F-A-R stretch...but very akin in the same manner to the immortal words once muttered by everyone's fav-o-rit country chanteuse herself...Miss Parton...many moons ago...

"it's costs a lot of money...to look this cheap!"

when i started this bumble'n blog of whimsical words of witty non sense

almost 10 years ago...i was work'n in the fraud department of some downtown financial industry that would simply become to be known as Twin City Fuckers to me!

some could contemplate as to why i would suffer such indignity fer 10

long and arduous years that i suffered at the hands of said company...cuz to be quiet honest...a monkey really could've done my job...i guess the only real answer i could come up with was that i had unfortunately give'n myself one too many home lobotomy perms in the 90's...though i would attribute it mostly to the fact that i enjoyed the comradery i had with MOST of my co-workers...i said MOST!

BUTT...lemme back it up to the beginn'n

i was eventually picked outta the rejected cattle call of applicants and would become the newest fraud analyst to join the team and fer the most 

part...i caught on pretty quickly to the position...my 1st boss (name withheld due to the fact that she's not worth mention'n) well...except to mention the H-E-double hockey stix she would desperately try to put me thru over the years to get me to quit or she would desperately try to write me up so she could eventually fire me...but i was always one step ahead of that crusty and callus colostomy bag...thankfully i was lucky enough to attain an 8x10 head shot of my boss's corporate photo from a company mole just to give you perspective fer this blog

i've learned over the years that you don't have to like everyone you work 

with...include'n yer boss...though you learn to just suck it up when yer not yer own boss...co-exist and get the work done if you want to eat 3 square meals a day...have a roof over yer head (in order to get head someplace outside of the back of their bronco) and buy some pretty nice things

after many months of learn'n all the nooks and crannies of my position...

i had FINALLY became a contestant as one of the company's popular ass kissers...simply known as employee of the month...and was beyond excited since my average haul was roughly between $25g's to $50g's in fraud coins i got back fer the company...i assumed that the powers that be would be highly impressed...and i would bequeath a handsome reward fit fer a queen of my stature...so i was ready to press my luck!

OMG...OMG...OMG...what did i win?...what did I WIN?...WHAT DID I WIN?

a new car?

an all inclusive weekend vacation at the charming Caprini-Green estates in Chicago, IL?

M-O-N-E-Y?

oh no...unfortunately all those home lobotomy perms affected my thought

 process...cuz after the corporate gimp finished feed'n from the daily donut trough...she would spend  2 minutes pick'n from the company's list of pre-approved speeches...print it off

then corralled the cubicle cattle around in a circle with her donut bell...to recite said speech to the ass kisser of the month
(which...how lucky was i?)

and proceeded to present me with a printed out version of her speech and my very much anticipated reward

wait...the unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of 

 my own universe actually won a FUCK'N $2 coupon off popcorn on the skyway level?

i thought at any minute...Ashton Kutcher was gonna pop outta the the broom closet and mutter that annoy'n phrase of his...unfortunately...there would be no hidden camera man jump'n out from behind the copy machine to get my reaction or any visit from Ashton

i would have to endure this utter humiliation fer the next 6 months 

in a row...well..cuz i was THAT good (i got the bedpost notches to prove it kittens) here's is the ACTUAL proof that i still hold onto as a reminder to NEVER work fer this shitty cheap ass company again as long as i breath (cuz trust me...the pay...along with my first boss...were way below my standard of life)

odd thing about this phony fiasco was that a select few of my co-workers

 were a bit cranky in their neatly pressed culottes cuz i kept winn'n month after month...until one co-worker finally beat my winn'n streak...until unfortunately...i had once again won the follow'n month after...and by now decided to give away my oscar meyer wiener winn'ns to those less unworthy...i mean unfortunates and "cash" in my assine awards fer the whole department

turns out...by the time i went to cash in all of my $16 worth of coupons...the fuck'n biz would no longer be accept'n my worthless winn'ns cuz they went out of biz!

well...needless to say...this DID NOT go over very well when one particular

CASPER crusade'n co-worker heard of this atrocity!

a year would go by before i was "nominated" by my peers as the latest

 ass kisser...i mean...employee of the month once again...but to be honest...i received said nomination cuz i was the last one they never voted fer in my department (jealousy is not a pretty color on the cankle crowd...no matter what the season may be)...only this time...there would be no popcorn consolation coupon to collect...and no longer was this charade parade left to just our immediate department...cuz now they had decided to make a mockery of you by make'n it a multiple company department fiasco where you hadda walk down the plank of yer peers like you were accept'n some sorta fuck'n golden globe...and if it were made of gold...hey...that would'a been a much needed improvement

no..instead...after the corporate gimp gave you accolades and praise fer yer obvious hard work done (and we ALL did collectively on a daily basis mind you)...you were gifted a bag of cray paper and inside the cray paper

some halloween candy they obviously stole from their kids bucket from the previous year...

a juice box...AAAAAND

a pop tart...NOT multiple tarts mind you to pop...ONLY THE ONE SET!

GET THE FUCK OUT! one might say to one self...and trust me...i could barely contain my shock and awe when i first experienced a co-worker's humiliate'n perp walk down the aisle to accept their "award"...cuz when it was my turn to accept mine on said day...i made sure to call in sick with a hideous case of chernobyl mononucleosis cuz i was absolutely not gonna partake in zero part of this sham scam! 

though i would unfortunately have to collect my prize the follow'n day that was sitt'n quietly in my cubicle...neatly gifted in a non recyclable bag that has been sitt'n forlornly in the back of my closet all these years until i photographed it as exhibit B fer this blog...before donate'n it to the waste management system outside my shitbox

i would last another 3 more years cuz i have always been loyal regardless

 of the company practices...before finally call'n it quits cuz they thankfully moved to the burbs...and i'm not sorry in the slightest cuz that just ain't in my vocab...now GET OFF MY DRESS!