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!

THE STRANGEST THINGS

37 years and a mule ago after british babe CATHERINE BUSH dropped 

her hit single "RUNNING UP THAT HILL" fer the gen X'ers of the Mtv generation in 1985 where it only peaked at #30 on the billbore'n charts...an unexpected resurrection has occurred make'n KATE's bush beat the current competition of crap out there by turn'n her hit into the shit once again...race'n back up the charts this time to #1 in the UK and Australia and #5 in the US...owe'n much gratitude to her new found popularity from the whiney "wokers" with a weak backbone i mean non verbal social media clubbers of the gen Z'ers 

and Winona Ryder fans...like myself

thanx to the 4th installment of some lil upside down show...

and a feisty lil red head jammin' to her hit on her casio walkman!

so there i was one afternoon o.d'n on the tik taky's and insta hater reels

each one try'na out do the next with the oddest 15 second video overlay'n it with MISS BUSH's beats and it made me stop and think of the strangest things i've encountered in my very own upside-down existence like the time i stopped down one sunday funday years back to some over priced eatery in downtown Minne-Apple with a group of gaggers fer some shots of jaggers and nibbly's

i was warned by one sassy stalker in my group that they don't allow hats 

to be worn inside their establishment...however i'm here to tell you that this throat plunger don't play that game and simply explained to the halitosis hostess who reiterated and hated on my head piece that was keep'n my follicley challenged farm from the blister'n heat "that's fine but do you tell ALL cancer patients to remove their wigs?" to which she politely replied "hold on...let me ask my manager"

my groupies stood their in complete disbelief and couldn't believe that i 

thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe just told the simply dressed under paid door monitor that i had cancer...i immediately snapped back "i said no such thing Mary...on the contrary...i simply implied would she tell cancer patients to do the same? if she wants to interpret that as me have'n some incurable disease...well...whos' really to blame? me fer simply ask'n a simple question or her inability to enforce some racist profile'n bullshit?" a minute later we were shuffled inside single file and all was right in the world once again 

we ended up bein' seated at a big round booth in the back next to the  

kitchen...directly across from the Real Housewives of Raytown emergency blue rinse bingo luncheon as i 'm sure not to cause any sorta Jerry Springer smack-down with the barely there audience that exhaust'n afternoon over my deliciously dastardly hat deception...however i didn't care...we were seated and served like any other normal thirsty mongrel with a full purse of benjamins to blow as we continued on with our blissful unabashed banter...that is until i over heard some diabetic Iola Boylan bunion model at the table next to us ask the waitress "why is that young gentleman wearing a hat in here?" to which the waitress replied with a smile "he's got cancer!"

BUTT wait...there's more

the next strangest thing that i have ever had the last'n displeasure of bein 

engrained into my memory banks was bein offered to invest in what i was told was a very niche' market the very first time i was officially date'n my X steroidal Heman in my 30's while i was in between jobs of look'n and blow'n...somehow the topic got onto underwear...specifically his...more specifically...well lemme make this "brief"

with the downward spiral durin' the age of the dot coms in the early 2000's

my steroidal steak and eggs X i called Heman (button yer lip...that's was the last and only time i have ever used a lame ass nickname) anywho'zll'ding...he told me about these muscle worshippers online from around the globe who would pay him handsomely if they could use his undergarments as a surgical mask and even more so if he would "decorate it" with his dinner

now listen...everyone had there kinks and fetishes and if yer legally over 

the age of 18 and it's totally consensual...i say FUCK IT! just go fer it...regardless what others may think of the kink or of you...with that said...i just gotta say...who in their ever luv'n santa claus fuck'n mind would ever spend money from nana's change purse to bid on a pair of bean burrito basted bvd's from some buffed puff in Boise... 

while they mastered their own universe with a bidd'n war online? 

then of course there's that pend'n case recently where some maxi padder 

alleges that in 2017 in a 2014 hyundai genesis nonetheless that she contracted a STD from her DILF and expects the insurance company to hand her a cool 5mill fer her troubles...ummm if she actually gets this payday someday then i want a retroactive payout fer my experience in 1992 where some Dirk dickslinger who wrangled me into the back seat of his 1987 busted out brown bronco after a difficult nite at the park doin things that would frighten fish and 3 days later i ended up have'n to shave my muffin down to the roots cuz apparently he gave me his family of crotch crickets who started perform'n a damn Wringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey act out on my nether regions

lastly is the advice i was give'n by many in regards to my humbled abode

plans fer my retirement home...now my head (which was never an issue with anyone from what i've been told) has always been forever romantisize'n about a 2 bedroom 2 bathroom tin canned tornado terror in the middle of nowhere thanx to my very 1st ever crush Joe Brabbit from the 6th grade who invited me to a sleep over at his dad's trailer one weekend

we constructed a gigantor fan fort...cuddled inside our sleeping bags (yes it was plural pervies) play'n donkey kong on the miniature arcade machine i got from our old neighbors the Cudahy's fer an xmas prez til the wee hours of the morn'n...sipp'n on shasta's while dream'n of play'n with his donkey dong (hey my hormones were start'n to blossom) 

then all of a sudden i heard "YOU CAN'T HURRY LOVE" by Phil Collins play'n on his Mtv 

so i DIANA ROSS'd my ass back to reality real quick like!

nonetheless i've always found it strange when someone in the realty world

needs a reality check from me when they try and convince me of the unbenefits from own'n a trailer...like the simplest fact that when mother nature decides to toss a fit...ummm REALLY? cuz i believe Dorothy lived in a modest 3 bedroom bungalow on her aunt and uncle's farm so yer skate'n on thin ice with that argument 

then they try to convince me that the resale will be a waste of time as i will 

not recoup ANY investments i may have poured into it and try to convince me a condo might be more of a sound investment for me (here we are again) ummm  REALLY? cuz if i plan on this bein' my last rest'n place to enjoy my "MURDER SHE WROTE" marathons while sipp'n my metamucil martini's and enjoy'n a creamy caramely worthless originals from time to time then why in the fiddler's fuck would i want a 30 year mortgage that the bank will most likely repossess before i kick the can?

or is it because you just wanna win a round of tic tac dough so you can enjoy yer yer tacky tiki drinks in Taiwan with yer con-vince'n?

everyone paves their own path in this life and i let them live it the way 

that they wanna live without turn'n into some judgmental judy however i like my organs in my body to give two shits about chromed brushed appliances with a bird's eye view of downtown hookers and heroin addicts so in close'n...you eat yer carrots yer way and i'll eat them mine!

and cuz i'm not gonna stay complicit and silent on reproductive issues

fer anyone even though they may have no physical bear'n on my supple and plump behind personally…

FUCK THESE EGREGIOUSLY HYPOCRITICAL REGURGITATED PURITYRANICAL CASPER BASTURDS and their DIABOLICALLY MONSTROUS SMUG OBSERDITY and ANY of those who do believe their rule'n was on point...you are 100% complicit with RAPE...INCEST...MEDICAL WELL BEING OF THE BIRTHING PORTAL and want a GILEAD nation…P-E-R-I-O-D!

bann'n the constitutional rights of uterine walls that they've fought for fer almost 50 years is beyond absofuckinlutely insane just fer the simple fact that all these callous CASPER crusaders talk'n out of their blown-out anal entrances vomit'n that it's "murder"  are so full of sanctimonious shit that

if you smacked any of them...they'd simply fuck'n splatter all over their biblical blouse of bullshit cuz once the lil puke buckets are born and the unbiblical chord is cut they will soon be abandoned and fergotten like Amber Heard's career...then all of these ass scratch'n puritanical pabst blue ballers and twisted subservient twats who had the frontal lobes of their brain removed by their own knitt'n needles will whine relentlessly about these pink eye paraders live'n off the system instead of putt'n any sorta energy and resources into fund'n enough aid fer those unfortunate unwanted tater tots especially if they're bequeathed with special needs and other inept disabilities at birth...or any sorta safety net fer single maxi-padders and poor families that are just try'na make the bare minimum to survive 

or safe foster care/adoption so the lil inch worm rodeo wranglers don't have to take their school field trips to the red door clinic and get antibiotics fer a lunch snack and wash them down with their tutti fruity juice box...

overturn'n ROE vs WADE had absofuckinlutely nothing to do about bein' pro-life at all with these tiresome tyrannosaurus zealots...it's just fuck'n hypocrisy to save their seething self-righteous soul at it's core!

now GET OFF MY DRESS!