It's Not About Whether You Win Or Lose, It's ALL About How Cool You Look Doing It!!!

Oh, god, that is SO true!!!   If you ain't got cool, you're just a tool...

At the moment I am still giggling my ass off.  I just received my first b-day card from a fiend (no, I did not forget the "r") in Cincinnati.  He trashed me so gloriously it hurts.  Bitch, I love you!!!  The cover is a photo of a cat, in sunglasses, June Cleaver pop-beads, sitting at a poker table with a stack of chips, a down turned hand of cards and the meanest poker face I have ever seen.  She's wearing a pink feather boa.  Yes, I apparently have a pink pussy with a gambling "issue".  Lovely, just what I need, problems with my pussy...  It's not like I'm not already up to my own three nipples in problems.  Now my pussy has some things that are going horribly awry.   What next???


The inside of the card gets even better.  I have been PhotoShopped and cut and pasted (with real scissors and actual paste)  into the Broadway poster for Priscilla: Queen Of The Desert--The Musical.  I am Donn-Cilla: Queen Of The Blogs.  I am radiant!!!  I am bejeweled!!!  I am talking into a sequined French style phone.  And my voice bubble says "HELLO MOTHERFUCKERS!!!"  OMg, this guy knows me WAY too well...

It's true about being cool though.  You either have it or you don't.  Fake cool is a load of crap.  True cool, that gets you a standing ovation.  On the occasions when I have won I have been humble, that's just the way I am.  Stop laughing, I can hear you!!!   But when the shit has truly hit the fan and I have nose-dived into the ground with the afterburners on I have done it with my shoulders back and head held high.  I own and embrace my errors.  Every last one of them.  Nothing says valor more than NOT looking like a Republican.  I will NEVER use the excuse of having a "wide stance".  In my opinion, if you have never lost then you really don't know how fucking good winning really feels.  Losing is really nothing more than a learning curve.  You either get it, or you don't.

To my fiend (NO, I did not forget the "r" again) in Cincinnati, I say, thank you.  I send you hogs and kisses.  Private joke.  Bitch, I love you like I love my bowling shoes.  BTW, I don't have any of those...