CRACKVILLE CHAOS pt 2

last week on CAGED HEAT...well click here to find out <---i ain't gett'n paid

to reread this shit to ya just cuz you were too damn lazy to tune in last week! and now pt 2 of the excruciate'n adventures of CRACKVILLE CHAOS

once i reached the book'n station...the disbelief that i was feel'n...had now 

turned into fear...fear that i would never taste fresh air again...fear that i would be stuck in an orange jumper...know'n full well that orange gives me that unflatter'n jaundice complexion...fear that i would never get to play in the Tabernacle Choir...even though i never played the electric guitar in my life...

the hot bulge'n bucket in blue was no longer of any interest to me in the slightest (well almost of no interest) i mean come on...i was gett'n thrown into the clink...not gett'n a home lobotomy perm...besides...i needed somethin' to think about to get me thru the nite

as i stood against the cold clammy brick wall wait'n to get me picture

take'n as part of the book'n parade...i knew i should've checked myself  in the mirror...plus the over head fluorescent light'n wasn't calm'n my native nerves one bit...though somehow i managed to take a breather when the photographer arrived

i'm ready fer my close up Mrs. Demille...i exclaimed...only problem was...

i wasn't on sunset boulevard...and Billy Wilder was nowhere to be seen

i was told to just look forward and stand still fer roughly 5 seconds...the

only thing that ran thru my head was...what is the look i wanna convey in my snapshot?...sad?...scared?...hysterical?...eh! i'm an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe and i'm gonna kick yer ass!

next thing ya know i heard the glamour shot gargoyle say "ok thankyou"

what?...it's over?...i didn't even get a countdown to get myself together in my glamour shot pose...though she was kind enough to let me see what she had suddenly snapped....

i was absolutely fuck'n horrifically undelicious!

i mean after all...this picture will represent my humiliate'n downfall with

some low baritone underscore like symphonie fantastique by composer Hector Berlioz perhaps during my E true hollyweird story someday and who doesn't want a non embarass'n embarass'n photograph splattered all over the gossip rags?

BUTT anyways...

i have never groveled fer anything in my entire life...well besides tickets to 

see the QUEEN's 2nd tour in St Paul, MN at the tender and supple age of 16...however i was NOT about to let this picture ever see the light of day...so i seriously asked the polaroid princess in the borin' benneton sweater if i could get a total do over with a countdown and whether she was completely bored or felt my fear in the photograph...she totally agreed WITH ME and saw no harm in it...so i got a fuck'n DO OVER...thank CHER!!

after my session with Annie Leibovitz had ended...i was escorted to the

drunk tank and lemme tell you...there was no turned down queen size bed with a wrapped truffle sleep'n on the pillow (well cuz there was no queen sized bed or feathered down pillow to rest my weary head) there was no privacy door around the toilet (well cuz there was no wall to attach it to) there was no remote fer the cable tv (well cuz there was no tv) and most of all...there was no CHRISTOPHER MELONI in my cell...

  the other inmates where not at all as hot like they were portrayed on "OZ"...I WAS ROBBED!!

instead i was stuck with a drunk Tonto and some DYNOMITE dude

i opted outta the shower scene since Christopher wasn't in my cage...

and i was in no mood to be anybody's soap bitch...so i just sat quietly on the cemented couch and just starred at the clock fer my entire stay

tick tock tick tock tick tock!

watch'n and listen'n to the hands on the clock slowly sync up with the beat

of my heart was the only consolation that kept me somewhat sane that nite...cuz while Tonto was kick'n back count'n sheep...JJ kept up the entertainment by bang'n on the tank's window and tell'n me "they let'chu out whitey before me...cuz they always be try'na bring my people's down" (a direct quote i assure you!)

though i somewhat agreed with his complaint in general...i'm pretty sure

it's cuz he kept bang'n on the cell window...yell'n like some drunk bitch with a bad attitude and trust me when i say...i was ready to start digg'n my way to the outside just to get away from him...b.o. may have been his cologne of choice but it most certainly did not go with my aura at the moment

4 1/2 hrs would go by before i would finally hear the click of the cell door

open'n and i was asked to step out the cage...Tonto was still rest'n peacefully as i bid J.J au revior and told him i'd do my very best to bake him a Betty Crocker with a prize inside if i got a free minute...however he knew it would be our last time we'd see each other unfortunately

as i was shuffled to the front to collect my belong'ns...look'n around and

soak'n up my surround'ns hopefully fer the last time...i realized one thing...the overall interior design was atrocious and obviously NOT done by any legitimate non hetero although i guess that is defeat'n the purpose in the first place one might say!

as the lady Gamorrean guard behind the glass partition pulled my only

belong'ns that had been confiscated on my way in from the vanilla envelope before my glamour shots session...she read off one by one what they had entered...which was now only my lonely set of car keys...my flip phone...14 benjamins with some loose pocket change and my dignity wrapped in a wrist band...to which i said...just keep it!

that is until i looked closely at the photo?...hmmm...this actually could be

used to my advantage...everyone fantasizes about have'n an outlaw in them! i seriously had asked the guard if i could get an 8x10...apparently though not only did she not have a sense of humor...she also had a bad olgilvie home perm with capped highlights (i was trapped in 1989 hell) i had done my hard time long enough...i was starve'n fer affection...along with baby spinach salad with a raspberry vinaigrette and some chunky monkey ice cream...i knew this would be my ticket outta loverlessville and i'd be beat'n 'em off with a stick once i uploaded this pic onto my profile page on throatplungers.com

everything was there...one flip phone...one wallet...keys...but now the 14

benjamins and loose change that were inside the wallet had now been replaced by a diluted pink check in the amount of $14 and some change...it's 4:30 in the fuck'n am...excuse-em-wah!! how does one expect me to get a cab with this check?

i was not a happy camper...wait'n fer large Marge to pat me on the back

and tell me everything was gonna be ok...instead i was told to find my own way home and don't come back...ummm yea...DON'T WORRY! i had almost washed away my life prior to check'n into San Quinton nonetheless was quickly reminded when i listened to my voicemails from my siblings...OH SHIT! of course each one was more aggressive than the last from one of my siblings...not ask'n what had happened to me at all...like if i had been mugged...maimed...mutilated and dumped on the side of the road gasp'n fer my last breath...no it was more like "where the fuck are you goddammit...we're wait'n at the fuck'n airport...you better pick up the phone"

as i walked forlornly home that early morn'n...i thought to myself how very

surreal the past 4 hrs had been and how it feels like to be a caged animal on the outside once again and how i gotta stop watch'n all those prison shows think'n how glamorous life is like on the inside (cuz it ain't!) and as i made it around the bend to the corner of hooker junction and crackville avenue...i was home...or at least not sleep'n on a cold hard slab (but enough about my boyfriend)

tune in next week fer the barely unbearable conclusional concussion of 

CRACKVILLE CHAOS...now GET OFF MY DRESS!

CRACKVILLE CHAOS pt 1

picture it kittens...the year was 2005 and i hadn't even turned 35 years yet

the evil sith lord known as DARTH VADER came into power durin' the 6th installment but in the 3rd succession of the STAR WARS galaxy

KELLY CLARKSON was that year's PAT BENATAR answer fer the new

 generation of pissed off "petunia's" with her postpartum break-up anthem "SINCE YOU'VE BEEN GONE"

and i had made my return to the Minne-Apple after a very brief break-up 

with a future adult entertainment personality who would become experienced in the art of project'n macintosh apples from his backdoor (plus the only guy i had ever let move in with me) and settled into an acquaintance's home that i had played pool with off and on fer a couple of years (in the center of crackville avenue and hooker junction...and i mean that L-I-T-E-R-A-L-L-Y) cuz the 1st morn'n i awoke with a stale chilled cup of sanka regret to hunt fer a new position on the informational highway...i heard a car screech abruptly outside and out popped what i assumed was...

the pimp bellow'n out "WHERE"S MY FUCK'N MONEY BITCH?" as she was poke'n her CARDI B nails into her bitch's bad weave job she'd just ripped outta the car like a botched abortion (and yes that is a direct quote kittens)

i nervously called my box of franzia friend known as Sallie May Day Hat 

as i Mrs. Kravitz'd the situation to see if i should call the cops however i was informed not to waste my time cuz they wouldn't come to that end of town anytime soon so i went back to job hunt'n until minutes later i heard gun shots

flash forward to 4 months later and then there i was one even'n when i had

ventured out with the Edina to my Patsy to some local homo shithole fer showtunes nite in downtown Minne-Apple...

i've been in my fair share of shithole's from town to town...lemme tell you...

though most of them have been usually on all 4's...however nothing says homo heaven more than bein' in a seedy leather bar on a late sunday afternoon belt'n out broadway hits with a bunch of beer guzzle'n ritual bath'n man tits in tank tops that could barely keep a tit mouse dry in a drizzle...

oddly enough though...there i was pretty much kill'n time with my bumble'n box of franzia...try'na get into the spirit by soak'n up the spirits...til i hadda pick up 2 of my siblings and Joan Crawford at the airport when they crossed the border from margaritaville at midnite

it's funny though how the same group of beer guzzle'n non hetero's that 

cruised me online an hour earlier are now all of a sudden want'n nothin' to do with me after they found out i was indeed thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...cuz they're look'n fer someone more "str8 act'n and appear'n"...

yet the 2nd MADONNA's "DON'T CRY FOR ME ARGENTINA" appeared 

on the screens overhead...these "macho str8 act'n n appear'n" burly beer guzzle'n bears...cubs...and their counterparts...would raise their fists (after they pulled them outta their dates ass of course) clutch'n tightly to their napkins and wave'n them in unison as the QUEEN would erupt into song on the casa rosada above the crowd 

BUTT i digress...

well once you've seen that...it's all down hill from there...anywho'zll'ding

as we tic-tac-toed our way thru the sea of toads that nite...we made our way to the outdoor patio fer some not so fresh smoke filled air...consist'n of bacon breath and bad b.o. with a subtle hint of someone who'd soaked way too long in their after bath body splash...i noticed this hag that lost her fag make some comment on my eyes as she passed by...so of course she would become my new best friend fer at least the next 45 minutes...why not!

she had this sorta flirty innocence that the box of franzia loathed...well...cuz she hadn't offered any complimentary compliments up to his intoxicated derriere...so of course this meant that his mouth would pop open any minute like a pez dispenser and out would pour a flood of cuntage...tear'n her to shreds until she was nothing but a mere puddle of regret on the floor fer make'n eye contact with us in the 1st place...which is exactly what had happened...

so i quilted my best comforter as fast as i could and pulled her from the cage match that she was no match for!

by now the clock was tick'n and i only had 45 minutes before i hadda fly 

out to the airport to pick up my blood line...unfortunately puddle girl was still a puddle while try'n to decipher the reason'n fer Sallie Mae season'n her ass and i was in zero mood to explain Sallie Mae's semantics to her (seriously...i don't know how you non homo guys put up with all their blubbery mess...call a doctor pronto!)

so i opted the best way i knew how to shut her up by putt'n a Miller to her 

mouth...which i did at the next water'n hole though i had let her know the clock was tick'n and this would be the last stop or she'd be thumb'n it home so by the time we left the bar...she had completely fergotten about the cage match from earlier and was give'n me directions to her house...which of course ended up being on the other end of town

as we walked to my car...i had noticed a small pocket knife had fallen from

 her purse and though she seemed completely harmless enough at the time...i was in no mood to find out if i was cart'n Lezzie Boredom's cottage cheesed A-double snakes all over the metro area...

just to drive to some deserted alley and end up as a side dish with some fava beans and nice kiante...so i pocketed the pocket knife and would give it back to her once i kicked her to the curb

as i was cross'n the majestic river and not over to grama's house...i had

decided to coast down the other side of the bridge...when i noticed christmas lights flash'n in my rear view reflection from a distance and i suddenly got all in a panic cuz i realized i hadn't even put my x-mess list together fer Peetrinella yet...

then i realized...wait!...it's only july!

though i personally felt i was more than ok to drive...i knew i was suppose 

be the sober cab that nite...nonetheless i did have 4 watered down bottles of piss diet beer all nite (hey no one else is gonna watch my waistline but me) and a good hour had passed since i had a drop to drink before i had put the keys into my ignition so i figered i had a tail light out or perhaps it was against the law to carry some half baked bitch in my front seat...i don't fuck'n know!

as i pulled over to the side of the road i noticed in my side mirror a beam  

of light and from the distance an incredibly hulky cop walk'n towards my car and i swear on a stack of CHER cd's...

"EROTICA" by the QUEEN was play'n in my cd player at the exact same time...so of course i'm think'n...F-I-N-A-L-L-Y i get to play out my wildest fantasy...only prob was i had this drunk miserable maxi pad take'n up in my front seat which was a total mood killer!

by the time the officer made it to my window...i had already rolled down

 my window along with my dignity...anticipate'n as to what position i was gonna be ordered in next however much to my surprise...he just asked me "do you know why i stopped you? in a not so very bend over and take it like a bitch kinda way either i might add

ummm "hey is it cuz i'm pretty and yer in the mood fer an unintentionally 

internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of their own universe?" though i heard my mind say it...i hadda dash down stairs to my mouth as fast as i could to make sure i didn't actually say it to mister officer (though i'm not gonna lie...secretly i had wished i had...who knows how this whole nite would'a turned out instead) have'n not said that thought it turns out as i was come'n down the bridge...i had inadvertently ignored my speedometer and was goin approximately 9 miles over the speed limit...EH! it'll happen!

he'd asked me what i had to drink...instead of ask'n me out on a date...like

 i assumed he would've asked me...i mean HELLO? look at me...i'ma catch! i decided not to turn this into some twisted fantasy any longer cuz i noticed the time on my dash board and i was now NOT at the destination i was suppose to be by this time so i told him the story about my night as i checked myself in the mirror and then he asked me to step outta the car (finally…about time…my eggs were about to hatch)

as i placed my hands on the hood of my car wait'n in anticipation fer that 

slow hand PONCH pat down as seen on tv and that i had read about in all those erotic novels as a teenrager apparently though i was misinterpret'n everything as he had just simply asked me if i had anything in my pocket...to which i said just my cell phone and wallet (and any fantasy he wanted to play out)

as he had me lift my hands out he slipped slowly down my front pocket...i 

knew i wanted him inside me (though i thought i'd be in another position mind you) instead he just pulled out a pocket knife!

it had completely slipped my mind that i had grabbed it off the sidewalk...

and had put it in my pocket but fergot to give it back to my not so new best friend anymore mess once we got back in my car...so i simply explained it to the officer and wouldn't you know it the next thing i know is i'm lean'n over the trunk of my car gett'n hand-cuffed by Roscoe...

though when i played this exact scenario out in my head...i'd assumed they'd be wrapped in some sorta bubblegum pink fun fur and i'd be strapped to his bed posts like some caged animal

so next thing i know...i'm being escorted ...without a corsage i might add 

to the back seat of his car (without him join'n me i might also wanna add) and not 5 seconds would go by before i noticed some Sanford and Son look'n tow truck arrive'n on the scene with no DJ equipment or disco ball and the gal bein' told to get outta my car as it was lifted up on it's hind legs and they disappeared off into the distance in a matter of seconds

WTF?

it was as if the world had stopped and i wasn't gett'n off with anyone at all

join me next week fer part 2 of the excite'n adventures of  CRACKVILLE CHAOS now GET OFF MY DRESS!