OK, I'm still giggling about this one. It's just too good.
In earlier posts I have mentioned my faux-niece. She's a charmer and I love her with all my heart. I was there the night she came into the world and there is a very good possibility that I actually got to hold her before either of her parents did after she got out of the incubator. Red flag Number One...
I am her babysitter of choice. Red flag Number Two... Who in their right mind would give me their child??? That basically means that both of us are unsupervised!!! For an extended period of time... FREAKING RED FLAG!!!
So, yesterday, her mom gets a call at work about an "incident" that has taken place at school. An "incident??? " I'm sorry but if I would have gotten a call like that my first thoughts would have been of a school on lock down, an armed gunman and a hostage taking situation. I'm not a parent but an "incident" at school and I jump right to Columbine High School. All the while the principal is on the phone describing what has happened, her mom is desperately trying not to laugh her ass off. Yes, indeed, she truly is her mother's daughter. To a fault... That's why I love them both...
It seemingly started out simply enough. Doesn't it always??? It seems that her "bus buddy" (I have no idea what that actually means) and best friend decided to have a bit of a disagreement out in the hallway before class started. He said that he hated school because everyday was the same thing and they never did anything new. She disagreed. Monday was art class, Tuesday was Spanish class, Wednesday was swimming glass, you get the picture. So, he counters, yeah, see, everyday is the same, there's never anything new. She counters back, we do different stuff everyday. He counters back, NO WE DON'T!!! That's when she stomped on his foot. He quickly repaid the favor. OK, we're starting to escalate here. This apparently began the crying and gnashing of teeth that thankfully alerted some teachers.
But before the teachers could make it out into the hallway to see what the bloody hell was going on she had managed to punch him in the stomach as hard as she could. YOU GO GIRL!!! Again, he repaid the favor. Imagine two first graders going all North Korea on each other...
From the sounds of it, by the time the teachers made it out into the hallway, she had him by the collar and was spitting in his face!!! OMG, I just love that!!! Had they not been separated this was going to quickly degenerate into head-butting, crotch kicking and rolling around in the hallway like a barrel of rabid cats on diet pills. Fortunately, the school has decided not to do a knee jerk reaction on this and other than a stern "talking to" from the principal (remember those things???) neither of them are getting any real disciplinary action from the school. Although I know in my heart that this is in her PERMANENT RECORD FOLDER!!! And we all know that that shit follows you beyond the grave and into the afterlife. Even if you don't actually believe in an afterlife... That is SO cold!!!
However, her punishment at home has not been so easy. She is currently under house arrest, the TV privileges have been revoked for a WHOLE week and she will be fed nothing but cold gruel (is there really any other kind?) and scraps she can scavage off of the floor or steal from the cat. OK, it's really not THAT bad, but in her mind it is. Remember, she's six... Oh, yeah, and she has to write a letter of apology to the little dude that she beat the shit out of. Again, YOU GO GIRL!!!
The pieces are starting to fall into place for me now. I'm her babysitter of choice, I'm auntie Donn for gods sake. She has been surrounded by the most insane group of 'mo's and dykes since the second she was born. Her toys of choice have always been stuff like train sets, Lincoln logs, race cars, tool belts and farm machinery. She is seriously addicted to heavy duty equipment like bull dozers, earth movers, dump trucks and cranes. She's six and not only gotten into her first fight, she started the damned thing. With a boy. And apparently she won because she got the last spit in!!! OMG, I think we've dyked her...
This "village" of loonies that have helped raise her, coupled with the fact that her parents somehow still consider all of us of her significant others, are so proud of her that it hurts. We may not have brought her over to the "other side" but damn, we all helped give her backbone and taught her how to use it. Over the next 6 years we just hope to teach her how to temper it a bit. Because if she attempts to use one of those "Get Out Of Jail Free" cards I gave her on the night she was born before she's 16, it's gonna be a foot stomping, stomach punching, spitting free-for-all before I post her bail and try to figure out what I say to her parents as I'm driving her home!!! To hell... In a hand basket... As I lie my ass of for her with a look on my face like a deer in headlights... On the brown acid...
Oh yeah, by the way, her new nickname is "Rocky"...
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
This is just WAY too good to pass up!!!
OK, I don't know where to go with this one. It's even too twisted for me, so you know it has to be good. I'll just do a little cut and paste and let you decide for yourselves...
MIAMI (Reuters) – Burglars snorted the cremated remains of a man and two dogs in the mistaken belief that they had stolen illegal drugs, Florida sheriff's deputies said on Wednesday.
The ashes were taken from a woman's home in the central Florida town of Silver Springs Shores on December 15. The thieves took an urn containing the ashes of her father and another container with the ashes of her two Great Danes, along with electronic equipment and jewelry, the Marion County Sheriff's Office said.
Investigators learned what happened to the ashes after they arrested five teens in connection with another burglary attempt at a nearby home last week.
"The suspects mistook the ashes for either cocaine or heroin. It was soon discovered that the suspects snorted some of the ashes believing they were snorting cocaine," the sheriff's report said.
Once they realized their error, the suspects discussed returning the remaining ashes but threw them in a lake instead because they thought their fingerprints were on the containers, sheriff's spokesman Judge Cochran said.
Police divers were trying to recover the ashes. The suspects were jailed on numerous burglary and other charges.
OMG!!! Eww!!! No, wait... SUPER EWW!!! How dimwitted were these guys??? If it is sitting on the mantel, is bronze and is full of gray chunky stuff it is not, I repeat, NOT cocaine!!! It is cremains!!! Yes, they rhyme, but that's about it. They are not similar. Trust me, no matter how many times coke has been stomped on it just doesn't look like cremains. And if it does, then you should NOT be snorting it!!!
What were these idiots thinking??? No, wait, they weren't... "Hey, dude, we got some awesome speakers, a Blue-Ray, some jewelry and some stuff that doesn't look like coke at all. Wanna snort a line or two???" "Sure, dude, that sounds gnarly..."
And with that, America, good night and god bless...
MIAMI (Reuters) – Burglars snorted the cremated remains of a man and two dogs in the mistaken belief that they had stolen illegal drugs, Florida sheriff's deputies said on Wednesday.
The ashes were taken from a woman's home in the central Florida town of Silver Springs Shores on December 15. The thieves took an urn containing the ashes of her father and another container with the ashes of her two Great Danes, along with electronic equipment and jewelry, the Marion County Sheriff's Office said.
Investigators learned what happened to the ashes after they arrested five teens in connection with another burglary attempt at a nearby home last week.
"The suspects mistook the ashes for either cocaine or heroin. It was soon discovered that the suspects snorted some of the ashes believing they were snorting cocaine," the sheriff's report said.
Once they realized their error, the suspects discussed returning the remaining ashes but threw them in a lake instead because they thought their fingerprints were on the containers, sheriff's spokesman Judge Cochran said.
Police divers were trying to recover the ashes. The suspects were jailed on numerous burglary and other charges.
OMG!!! Eww!!! No, wait... SUPER EWW!!! How dimwitted were these guys??? If it is sitting on the mantel, is bronze and is full of gray chunky stuff it is not, I repeat, NOT cocaine!!! It is cremains!!! Yes, they rhyme, but that's about it. They are not similar. Trust me, no matter how many times coke has been stomped on it just doesn't look like cremains. And if it does, then you should NOT be snorting it!!!
What were these idiots thinking??? No, wait, they weren't... "Hey, dude, we got some awesome speakers, a Blue-Ray, some jewelry and some stuff that doesn't look like coke at all. Wanna snort a line or two???" "Sure, dude, that sounds gnarly..."
And with that, America, good night and god bless...
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Kate Middleton...
OK, I admit this, I like her. She's stunningly beautiful and like me, a commoner. Yes, a commoner. Can you believe that for the first time since 1660, (yes I said 1660!!!), an heir to the throne of England is going to actually marry a commoner. Oh well, as Patsy Stone was known to say, every 4th or 5th generation they have to shag a commoner just to maintain bone structure. My god, how true that is... That family has less genes than a yard sale on a Tuesday.
I can't imagine why she wants to marry into that nest of inbreds. Let alone want to have Camilla, the Duchess of Cornhole as her mother-in-law and Elizabeth II as her great-mother-in-law. My god, how well hung is William that this makes sense to her??? Has she never read about an underpass in Paris??? Or a totally drunken driver??? RUN!!!
OK, she represents a gene pool they haven't had the chance to pollute yet so maybe the kids will have some semblance of cheek bones and teeth that don't look like Mr. Ed. But girl, you are marrying into an incestuous snake pit of of an enormity that cannot be described. Please tell me you have an iron clad prenup that gets you half of the goodies in the Tower of London, a time-share at Windsor Castle for the rest of your life and at least five minutes of uninterrupted time to just bitch slap the wrinkles off of Camilla. And the right to burn all of those bloody freaking ugly hats!!!
Yeah, what is up with those hats??? They're ugly fuckers. I don't know a single drag queen that would wear one of those things face down in a coffin. How many little hat fairies does the House of Windsor have enslaved in the bowels of Buckingham Palace making those things??? It must be an armada of them because you never see the same hat twice. They must own controlling stock in Hobby Lobby!!! Just how many birds have the Windsor's slaughtered for all of that horrid head gear???
Kate, you're 29, drop-dead gorgeous, with great legs and a nice rack. And you enjoy showing all of that stuff off. You go, girl!!! But just remember, as you walk up the aisle, the Queen will be sending MI5 into your apartment to seize your entire wardrobe and burn it. Yeah, no more exposed knees or cleavage. You will probably hear her giggle as you walk by her on your way up to the alter, thinking to herselve's, "NOT in 'Our' House you bitch!!!".
Best bet, Kate, get a hold of Sir Elton and ask for protection... And some of his hats, they were SO much better!!!
I can't imagine why she wants to marry into that nest of inbreds. Let alone want to have Camilla, the Duchess of Cornhole as her mother-in-law and Elizabeth II as her great-mother-in-law. My god, how well hung is William that this makes sense to her??? Has she never read about an underpass in Paris??? Or a totally drunken driver??? RUN!!!
OK, she represents a gene pool they haven't had the chance to pollute yet so maybe the kids will have some semblance of cheek bones and teeth that don't look like Mr. Ed. But girl, you are marrying into an incestuous snake pit of of an enormity that cannot be described. Please tell me you have an iron clad prenup that gets you half of the goodies in the Tower of London, a time-share at Windsor Castle for the rest of your life and at least five minutes of uninterrupted time to just bitch slap the wrinkles off of Camilla. And the right to burn all of those bloody freaking ugly hats!!!
Yeah, what is up with those hats??? They're ugly fuckers. I don't know a single drag queen that would wear one of those things face down in a coffin. How many little hat fairies does the House of Windsor have enslaved in the bowels of Buckingham Palace making those things??? It must be an armada of them because you never see the same hat twice. They must own controlling stock in Hobby Lobby!!! Just how many birds have the Windsor's slaughtered for all of that horrid head gear???
Kate, you're 29, drop-dead gorgeous, with great legs and a nice rack. And you enjoy showing all of that stuff off. You go, girl!!! But just remember, as you walk up the aisle, the Queen will be sending MI5 into your apartment to seize your entire wardrobe and burn it. Yeah, no more exposed knees or cleavage. You will probably hear her giggle as you walk by her on your way up to the alter, thinking to herselve's, "NOT in 'Our' House you bitch!!!".
Best bet, Kate, get a hold of Sir Elton and ask for protection... And some of his hats, they were SO much better!!!
Friday, January 7, 2011
Some SOB called me "Sir"!!!
This pissed me off so bloody fucking badly I could just spit shit and shit nails. Big ones. Sideways. WTF!!!
We got together with a couple of our very good friends this evening for and impromptu Friday night fish fry and catch up session. We had not seen each other since sometime in October before their cruise and we were all long overdue for some grease and gab. Of course, we end up at one of our favorite little local dives out in the burbs. It's the quintessential Wisconsin "supper club". It's family owned, a bit run down, has never been remodeled since it was built in 1660, pours heavy double drinks and has a salad bar. You just don't get more Wisconsin than that. The only thing this place is missing is several generations worth of dead dear and moose heads on the walls. And that is only because the ceilings are too low to accommodate the antlerage. It's a wonderous place. The average age of the patrons is about 112. Centuries, not years... Yeah, this is 'sconsin in all of it's glory.
When we all arrived at 4 o'clock the place was empty. An hour later the bar was packed, the restaurant was damned near full and the lobby looked like the evacuation of Saigon. We all decided it was time to dive for the hostess station and get a table fast. Which we somehow managed to do. We were seated in a section of the dining room that had one waitress. Who was up to her eyeballs in a 10-top, and 8-top, a 6-top and 2 other 4-tops besides ours. Oh god, she couldn't tread water fast enough. It was separate check hell!!! Fortunately we were there for the long haul of cocktails and catch up so we were her saving grace. Every table around us turned at least twice while we drank and giggled. My god, that waitress worked her skinny little young ass off.
Now, I was a waiter for way too many freaking years so I know how to judge this stuff. At one point damn near every table in our area got up and hit the salad bar at once. I know what that means. Log jam at the lettuce!!! Time for another round of drinks until they get back so we can get a crack at it. By the time we finally made our break for the salad bar the crowd was thankfully gone, the staff was hastily restocking it and it was ours alone. Except for that SOB on the other side. Little did I know just how fucking badly he was about to piss me off...
I watched as he piled a salad plate high with cottage cheese and cole slaw. OK, I thought to myself, you're a little jello-y in the mid section so maybe that's a good idea for you. Then we meet face to face at the soup tureens. There's one soup bowl left. And with out batting an eye that cocksucker looks at me and says "Sir, here, you take that bowl." I damned near put him face down in the navy bean and ham!!! SIR??? SIR??? That motherfucker called me "Sir"!!! He was in his 40's for christ's sake. Nobody calls me "Sir" and lives to tell about it. Who the bloody hell do I look like, Mrs. Roosevelt??? Sir??? WTF??? Well, the next thing you know there's cottage cheese and cole slaw all over the ceiling and the sneeze guard , I've got the guy down on the floor, I'm kneeling on this chest and threatening to decapitate him with a soup spoon and a bread stick. It took two waitresses, a bus boy and the sous chef to get me off of him. All of us covered in lettuce, fat free Ranch dressing, croutons and cucumbers. It wasn't pretty...
Around about midnight, when the McFarland police were finished processing me, Sea Squirt was able to bail me out, get me home, calm me down and hose me off in the shower. And then he turns to me and says "Honey, look on the bright side. At least he didn't call you 'Pops' ". I suffocated him with the shower curtain... And then I put him in the trunk of his car. In a couple of days I will file a missing persons report. Maybe... When they finally find him I will simply tell the authorities that he had become despondent...
We got together with a couple of our very good friends this evening for and impromptu Friday night fish fry and catch up session. We had not seen each other since sometime in October before their cruise and we were all long overdue for some grease and gab. Of course, we end up at one of our favorite little local dives out in the burbs. It's the quintessential Wisconsin "supper club". It's family owned, a bit run down, has never been remodeled since it was built in 1660, pours heavy double drinks and has a salad bar. You just don't get more Wisconsin than that. The only thing this place is missing is several generations worth of dead dear and moose heads on the walls. And that is only because the ceilings are too low to accommodate the antlerage. It's a wonderous place. The average age of the patrons is about 112. Centuries, not years... Yeah, this is 'sconsin in all of it's glory.
When we all arrived at 4 o'clock the place was empty. An hour later the bar was packed, the restaurant was damned near full and the lobby looked like the evacuation of Saigon. We all decided it was time to dive for the hostess station and get a table fast. Which we somehow managed to do. We were seated in a section of the dining room that had one waitress. Who was up to her eyeballs in a 10-top, and 8-top, a 6-top and 2 other 4-tops besides ours. Oh god, she couldn't tread water fast enough. It was separate check hell!!! Fortunately we were there for the long haul of cocktails and catch up so we were her saving grace. Every table around us turned at least twice while we drank and giggled. My god, that waitress worked her skinny little young ass off.
Now, I was a waiter for way too many freaking years so I know how to judge this stuff. At one point damn near every table in our area got up and hit the salad bar at once. I know what that means. Log jam at the lettuce!!! Time for another round of drinks until they get back so we can get a crack at it. By the time we finally made our break for the salad bar the crowd was thankfully gone, the staff was hastily restocking it and it was ours alone. Except for that SOB on the other side. Little did I know just how fucking badly he was about to piss me off...
I watched as he piled a salad plate high with cottage cheese and cole slaw. OK, I thought to myself, you're a little jello-y in the mid section so maybe that's a good idea for you. Then we meet face to face at the soup tureens. There's one soup bowl left. And with out batting an eye that cocksucker looks at me and says "Sir, here, you take that bowl." I damned near put him face down in the navy bean and ham!!! SIR??? SIR??? That motherfucker called me "Sir"!!! He was in his 40's for christ's sake. Nobody calls me "Sir" and lives to tell about it. Who the bloody hell do I look like, Mrs. Roosevelt??? Sir??? WTF??? Well, the next thing you know there's cottage cheese and cole slaw all over the ceiling and the sneeze guard , I've got the guy down on the floor, I'm kneeling on this chest and threatening to decapitate him with a soup spoon and a bread stick. It took two waitresses, a bus boy and the sous chef to get me off of him. All of us covered in lettuce, fat free Ranch dressing, croutons and cucumbers. It wasn't pretty...
Around about midnight, when the McFarland police were finished processing me, Sea Squirt was able to bail me out, get me home, calm me down and hose me off in the shower. And then he turns to me and says "Honey, look on the bright side. At least he didn't call you 'Pops' ". I suffocated him with the shower curtain... And then I put him in the trunk of his car. In a couple of days I will file a missing persons report. Maybe... When they finally find him I will simply tell the authorities that he had become despondent...
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Everybody needs a motto to live by.
And I'm not talking one of those ridiculous "God and Country" or "To thine own self be true" pieces of crap. It's a motto, not a resolution for christ's sake. Pick something you can actually live with that produces as little guilt and suffering as possible. They are just "guidelines" after all...
Two of the best one's I have ever heard come from my time in Minneapolis. A now longtime friend introduced me to his: "Fuck 'em, feed 'em fish!!!". I love that!!! It's short, it's sweet and rolls of the tongue very easily. I have borrowed it on occasion. The other was from a 62 year old, blue haired adjudicator with the unemployment office: "Oh, just fuck 'em all". I love that one too. I just don't want to ever be put on her docket!!!
When Sea Squirt and I first met he quickly noted that I had little to no self control. This apparently was of concern to him for some reason. He questioned why I had a fridge full of whole milk, butter, cheese, bacon fat and half & half. Let alone why I bought eggs in the 18 count cartons. I pondered for a moment and then told him that my motto was "Deny yourself nothing but moderation in all things". Oh, just stop laughing, you bitches.!!! He fell for it. I think he may even still believe it some strange sort of denial way. Go figure...
To be quite honest though, I actually do have a motto that I live by. I stole it from Jayne Mansfield. (OK, you just know this is gonna be good...). As a child, OK, as a young gay child, I was fascinated by her. She was larger than life in my eyes and as we all know, larger than life is always just the right size. A couple of years after her death in 1967 I read a book about her life and it had some of the most marvelous quotes from her I have ever read. Lord, she had a wit. The quote that I found the most amazing was "If you're going to do something wrong, do it BIG, the punishment is the same either way". OMG, that is bloody fucking brilliant!!! It changed my life on the spot and I took it as my own. This gave me the perfect excuse that I had been searching desperately for. And as you all know, I don't do anything small. It just wouldn't seem right. After all, if it was good enough for Jayne Mansfield then it's good enough for me too!!! Hey, Sea Squirt, mix me up another pitcher of margaritas and bring them to me in the shower, would you???
Two of the best one's I have ever heard come from my time in Minneapolis. A now longtime friend introduced me to his: "Fuck 'em, feed 'em fish!!!". I love that!!! It's short, it's sweet and rolls of the tongue very easily. I have borrowed it on occasion. The other was from a 62 year old, blue haired adjudicator with the unemployment office: "Oh, just fuck 'em all". I love that one too. I just don't want to ever be put on her docket!!!
When Sea Squirt and I first met he quickly noted that I had little to no self control. This apparently was of concern to him for some reason. He questioned why I had a fridge full of whole milk, butter, cheese, bacon fat and half & half. Let alone why I bought eggs in the 18 count cartons. I pondered for a moment and then told him that my motto was "Deny yourself nothing but moderation in all things". Oh, just stop laughing, you bitches.!!! He fell for it. I think he may even still believe it some strange sort of denial way. Go figure...
To be quite honest though, I actually do have a motto that I live by. I stole it from Jayne Mansfield. (OK, you just know this is gonna be good...). As a child, OK, as a young gay child, I was fascinated by her. She was larger than life in my eyes and as we all know, larger than life is always just the right size. A couple of years after her death in 1967 I read a book about her life and it had some of the most marvelous quotes from her I have ever read. Lord, she had a wit. The quote that I found the most amazing was "If you're going to do something wrong, do it BIG, the punishment is the same either way". OMG, that is bloody fucking brilliant!!! It changed my life on the spot and I took it as my own. This gave me the perfect excuse that I had been searching desperately for. And as you all know, I don't do anything small. It just wouldn't seem right. After all, if it was good enough for Jayne Mansfield then it's good enough for me too!!! Hey, Sea Squirt, mix me up another pitcher of margaritas and bring them to me in the shower, would you???
Monday, January 3, 2011
WTF is up with this circumcision thing???
Yes, I said circumcision. What the bloody hell is up with that??? OK, as a somewhat, well, totally fallen Jew, I get the welcome to the tribe thing. Well, kind of. Actually, not really at all. It's my fucking pee-pee. And you bastards cut part of it off!!! OK, to be honest it wasn't the Jews that did this to me, it was a redneck doctor in Arkansas that did it. And he didn't even ask. Me, or my parents. He just did it. It was common practice back then. Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Colee, you have a son. In couple of hours we're going to be mutilating his tally-wacker. Hope you don't mind... That son of a bitch cut part my pee-pee off!!! WTF???
In the medical world it is called a circumcision board. Horrid thing. That is Spanish Inquisition for water boarding. On steroids. This is child abuse on the brown acid!!! And with NO anesthesia. Apparently, like cattle, babies feel no pain. Is that why you strap us down like a condemned prisoner and do this to us??? I did not consent to this crap!!! It was my pee-pee!!!
Hell, I love my pee-pee. I play with it at least 3 or 4 times a day. Sometimes even more. Yes, I'm a serial masturbater. Oh, just go fuck yourselves!!! I'll do what I want with with my pee-pee. It's mine after all. Well, what's left of it. I call him Peggy. In a deep Russian accent. Like an overseas telemarketer . Don't ask, don't tell...
Now, as we all know, that little piece of my pee-pee should have been ceremoniously presented to my parents so they could save it in my "Baby Book" so I could be buried with it as a "whole" human. But NO, it was tossed into some now unknown land fill in Arkansas. Like some piece of southern road pizza. I'm sure it looks like a slice of decomposing calamari by now. OK, not a pretty picture. But it was a part of my pee-pee!!! My foreskin for christ's sake!!! I want that motherfucker back!!! It was mine!!! I was born with it!!! It's natural and normal you bastards!!! It was my pee-pee!!! Trust me, I truly fond and protective of Peggy!!! Hell, I apologize to him several times a day. And then we have a cigarette. Sometimes two... Sometimes three... It all depends on how much comforting he needs...
WTF is next??? Nipples??? Ear lobes??? Opposable thumbs??? Oh, god, no, not those!!! Those are the only things that give Peggy any solice at this point. He's fragile, he's been damaged. Hell, he's got enough baggage to move to Mars with. Trust me, I've known him a long time!!! He has night-terrors and wakes us puking. Horrid, horrid dreams that he is too terrorfied to talk about... Oh god, just stop the madness!!!
In the medical world it is called a circumcision board. Horrid thing. That is Spanish Inquisition for water boarding. On steroids. This is child abuse on the brown acid!!! And with NO anesthesia. Apparently, like cattle, babies feel no pain. Is that why you strap us down like a condemned prisoner and do this to us??? I did not consent to this crap!!! It was my pee-pee!!!
Hell, I love my pee-pee. I play with it at least 3 or 4 times a day. Sometimes even more. Yes, I'm a serial masturbater. Oh, just go fuck yourselves!!! I'll do what I want with with my pee-pee. It's mine after all. Well, what's left of it. I call him Peggy. In a deep Russian accent. Like an overseas telemarketer . Don't ask, don't tell...
Now, as we all know, that little piece of my pee-pee should have been ceremoniously presented to my parents so they could save it in my "Baby Book" so I could be buried with it as a "whole" human. But NO, it was tossed into some now unknown land fill in Arkansas. Like some piece of southern road pizza. I'm sure it looks like a slice of decomposing calamari by now. OK, not a pretty picture. But it was a part of my pee-pee!!! My foreskin for christ's sake!!! I want that motherfucker back!!! It was mine!!! I was born with it!!! It's natural and normal you bastards!!! It was my pee-pee!!! Trust me, I truly fond and protective of Peggy!!! Hell, I apologize to him several times a day. And then we have a cigarette. Sometimes two... Sometimes three... It all depends on how much comforting he needs...
WTF is next??? Nipples??? Ear lobes??? Opposable thumbs??? Oh, god, no, not those!!! Those are the only things that give Peggy any solice at this point. He's fragile, he's been damaged. Hell, he's got enough baggage to move to Mars with. Trust me, I've known him a long time!!! He has night-terrors and wakes us puking. Horrid, horrid dreams that he is too terrorfied to talk about... Oh god, just stop the madness!!!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Ah, the Personal Ads...
OK, I will admit it, I have used the personal adds. Many times actually. And NEVER with any success. It's a no-mans land out there. Brings a whole new definition to quiet desperation. And "poetic license". That's English for "I am lying my ass off!!!", "I am a stalker!!!" , "I look nothing at all like I have described myself!!!" and "I'm heavily medicated!!!". Trust me on this, I have met all four of those genre's. Repeatedly. It's so much more satisfying to just go out to the bars, get rip-roaring drunk, pick up the last straggler at the "side walk sale" at closing time, take him home, screw his brain cell out and then not care what his name is the next morning. And then give him the bums rush because I am running "late" for work. On my day off. Then boil the bedding and rub myself down with RID. In my mind this is so much easier than a "relationship" where I have to remember stupid things like birthdays, anniversaries and buying presents.
Yes, I met my current main squeeze, Sea Squirt, through the personals. Well, sort of. Match.com. He "winked" at me and I "winked' back. And six years later here we are. Much to his confusion and consternation... But that was through the internet. Not the printed media. And as we all know, the internet is a safe place where no one ever lies or deceives. ROTFLMFAO!!!
So, shortly after moving to Madison, I picked up the latest copy of the "Isthmus" and begin to read the personals because you just never know what you're going to find on those pages. Again, a no mans land of heartbreak and denial for only $12 for a 3 week listing. I found the most god forsakenly tragic ad I have ever seen. I was torn between laughing, crying or jumping off of a bridge. Fortunately, I chose laughing my ass off. It was so deliciously twisted I actually cut it out and turned it into a fridge magnet. Here it is, verbatum:
"WHITE MALE CROSSDRESSER SEEKS:
Other cross dressers, hermaphrodites or tran sexuals. Have slow hand and gentle touch for erotic fun. Non smoking only."
NON SMOKING ONLY??? That's your deal breaker??? This is Madison, you idiot, it's pretty slim pickings on all three of those choices from the word go and you're going to make a smoker a no-go??? Hell, if I was any of those choices I'd be chain smoking cigars and free-basing cigarettes by the carton. On a public bus. In a really "pretty" dress. With shoes and a bag that sort of matched. Kind of. From Goodwill. Dude, you are a crossdresser!!! You take what you can get. Hell, if you can actually find a hermaphrodite in Madison count yourself freaking lucky. Buy them a corsage and take them out to Red Lobster. With that coupon you have for a free dessert that is about to expire. Just for shits and giggles, ask for a table for three. And we all know that you look like Ed Asner in drag anyway, so you're no catch... Your wig looks like road kill and you forgot to shave your knuckles... Neither of you are fooling anyone!!! Not the hostess, your server or the scampi!!! In the name of god, don't ever make shrimp go all dear in headlights. It's not pretty. Hell, they don't even have pupils to do it properly with!!! That sort of shit has been outlawed in most western countries. Especially Canada. What a civilized group of American-wannabies they are. Up there this is considered cruel and unusual punishment to crustaceans. And they club baby seals to death as a sport in Canada so, apparently, this is some serious shit in their eyes... Which by the way, I am told have pupils... Unlike the dead crustaceans that you are scaring the bloody shit out of!!!
Yes, I met my current main squeeze, Sea Squirt, through the personals. Well, sort of. Match.com. He "winked" at me and I "winked' back. And six years later here we are. Much to his confusion and consternation... But that was through the internet. Not the printed media. And as we all know, the internet is a safe place where no one ever lies or deceives. ROTFLMFAO!!!
So, shortly after moving to Madison, I picked up the latest copy of the "Isthmus" and begin to read the personals because you just never know what you're going to find on those pages. Again, a no mans land of heartbreak and denial for only $12 for a 3 week listing. I found the most god forsakenly tragic ad I have ever seen. I was torn between laughing, crying or jumping off of a bridge. Fortunately, I chose laughing my ass off. It was so deliciously twisted I actually cut it out and turned it into a fridge magnet. Here it is, verbatum:
"WHITE MALE CROSSDRESSER SEEKS:
Other cross dressers, hermaphrodites or tran sexuals. Have slow hand and gentle touch for erotic fun. Non smoking only."
NON SMOKING ONLY??? That's your deal breaker??? This is Madison, you idiot, it's pretty slim pickings on all three of those choices from the word go and you're going to make a smoker a no-go??? Hell, if I was any of those choices I'd be chain smoking cigars and free-basing cigarettes by the carton. On a public bus. In a really "pretty" dress. With shoes and a bag that sort of matched. Kind of. From Goodwill. Dude, you are a crossdresser!!! You take what you can get. Hell, if you can actually find a hermaphrodite in Madison count yourself freaking lucky. Buy them a corsage and take them out to Red Lobster. With that coupon you have for a free dessert that is about to expire. Just for shits and giggles, ask for a table for three. And we all know that you look like Ed Asner in drag anyway, so you're no catch... Your wig looks like road kill and you forgot to shave your knuckles... Neither of you are fooling anyone!!! Not the hostess, your server or the scampi!!! In the name of god, don't ever make shrimp go all dear in headlights. It's not pretty. Hell, they don't even have pupils to do it properly with!!! That sort of shit has been outlawed in most western countries. Especially Canada. What a civilized group of American-wannabies they are. Up there this is considered cruel and unusual punishment to crustaceans. And they club baby seals to death as a sport in Canada so, apparently, this is some serious shit in their eyes... Which by the way, I am told have pupils... Unlike the dead crustaceans that you are scaring the bloody shit out of!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)