Monday, July 21, 2014

reap what you sew

fine...i'll just say it...KIDS ARE ASSHOLES!...and don't gimme grief about it
or start write'n to yer congressman/woman...political pedophiles...or march'n in the streets with yer picket signs and petitions...or burn'n me at the stake to prove me wrong...you know this to be true...well...ok maybe not ALL...BUT...

there's always one kitten that'll pounce on those who are weaker...
just to prove that they are a total A double snake hole to their friends...it's an annoy'n but all to often an acceptable passage into teenage life

kids just being kids!

i had fergotten about most of my teenage angst and ridicule that i suffered at the hands of certain peers thru-out high school...like most do once they leave the shell of their former self...that is until you get an invite to yer 25
year reunion of hell high school...so i decided to hop on my huffy bike and remember how cruel a certain portion of the prepubescent pimple population can really be to their generational flock

after a much deserved nervous breakdown during my religious education in 10th grade...i got my pink slip to finally attend public education...after being
 forced to attended J-man high school fer the past 3 years of my life...oh BTW...the prepubescent pimple population AIN'T any better in the J-man schools...just FYI

by my 3rd day at public education...most of my friends that i had acquired pre-high school...were no longer interested nor remembered who i was...
and i couldn't blame them...I WAS NO LONGER the "Kermie"..."mohican" or any of the other countless nicknames i was christened durin' my grade school life...but i was much happier than i had been fer the past 3 years of hell in the CASPER classroom 

but 3 years and puberty later...we ALL had completely changed everything
physically...mentally...and socially...why not!...i no longer was sport'n the Richie Cunningham cut...my somewhat squeeky clean image annoyed me...
i don't follow leaders...
THEY FOLLOW ME!

it was the 80's...and i had built a shield of ownership and independence thanx in part to the fab worlds of my 2 hero's...Boy George and Madonna
whenever i was frustrated with life (or not watch'n porn at my cuz's) i would lock myself in my room for hours...turn up my boombox...tune out my family and the worries would melt away as i auditioned in my own dimly lit spotlight

i had finally tossed away my depression pants and suppression blouse i had worn for 3 years in J-man school...and was a tick'n time bomb that finally
exploded all over everyone around me since i was no longer shackled to the demented and demonic religious rules or under any religious fashion police regime

a force field i had found in a 10 oz. can...was both intoxicate'n and toxic...
but it held up my confidence...independence...along with my out-of-control mane that was completely controllable with a few 10 second streams of my fav-o-rit liquid schlack...i figered nothing or no one could huff or puff or blow my pre unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe world down

that is...until 7:45 am one morn'n

my good friends from grade school...Wendy and Shelly...
not to be confused with Wendy and Lisa...well cuz they weren't play'n with the lil purple paisley man on stage...(that i was aware of anyways)...so anywho...as i began acclimate'n myself to my new surround'ns and reacquaint'n with my past...a chill ran down my spine as a slight breeze ran past behind me...and all of a sudden my stalkers friends eyes popped outta their heads...
as if they had just witnessed the Hindenburg burst into this flamer

my meticulously hand crafted crown of thorns i spent an hour on that morn'n
 was wiped out in mere milliseconds while reminiscence'n with my old friends before the school bell rang...by the head of the football team with a pair of shear's on a lame bet...needless to say...i wasn't too damn happy at this point in the pimple show

the blood rushed to my head as if i was about to rip outta my clothes...
so i immediately had to make a decision...since i spent my morn'n perfect'n my image to be seen by the pimple parade

do i go ape shit and Columbine the entire pimple parade in my sight...
or do i have a nuclear teenage meltdown and spontaneously combust?

since i didn't pack my sawed off shot-gun (well Bambi cured me of that)
and i knew physically...i could be snapped like a pea pod...i darted fer the nearest exit before the 1st tear would ever have a chance to hit the lunch room floor

by the time i had made it home...i didn't care what anyone thought anymore and the flood gates opened...i could barely form a sentence relive'n the event to my parental adviser...but was given a response i wasn't expect'n...
"if ya wanna look like an ass...ya get what you deserve!"

so i hopped on my huffy bike to my best friend's palace in the house'n projects and luckily his ma...in her daisy dukes...puff'n on her marborlo...
gave me a completely different...and a much better slice of advice cake...
"you sue that muther fucker and tell the judge you were grow'n yer hair to be in a rock band!"

well...that was the straw the broke this non heterosexual's timid shell...
so i decided to visit the top neurosurgeon of cosmetologists in town...
armed with the exact look i was look'n for...and though she convinced me this was an impossible creation to create with what i had left on my head...she perfected the next best look...and perfected a perfectly good friendship that still holds stronger than any aqua net could to this day
3 months later i would have my Judge Judy moment...
and acquired a new gaggle of the coolest bad ass friends that i still am in touch with today...even though most of them are total fucktards when it comes gett'n any sorta response in a timely matter from these days
(insert kids are assholes here!)

it was THEE event of the school that year...the punk versus the prep...
it had never been done before...but i was not gonna back down...and even though i had my fair share of threats thrown my way until my day in court from a handful of future penitentiary patty-cakers...
i had zero desire to give up my newly acquired scrunchy...i was gonna let them all know there's a new sheriff in town!

half of the court was filled with school cutters that day...
whether they knew me or not...and most didn't at this point...but it turned out to be a unsolicited...unofficial...not so national holiday...fer ME! 

unbeknownst to me...i found out years later that there were bets placed who would come out ahead...and even though i had only won $37 outta the
 $2500 that i was ask'n for...hey i was 17...i was goin for the big bucks anyway i could...i wanted outta dodge A.S.A.P. and start my own destination...written by my own rules...far away from the backward mentality of the small cowtown that i once called home

also unbeknownst to me until long after the proverbial dust...
 from the cereal cutter has settled...was the fact that my cuz with the artistic flair...doin his best lawyer impersonation...called down from the Minne-Apple and spoke with the head of the school on my behalf...and rattled a couple of lifeless feathers in the administrational offices before i was immediately called down the follow'n day to try and settle this in a quiet manner and not tarnish the reputation of the serial cutters mother who was runn'n fer office at the time

FUCK THAT!

it was the talk of the town...from catholic school confessionals...
to coffee talk at the Happy Chef...i was on everyone's mind!

i've since become the unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...read around the entire world weekly...
and though i make an appearance back home now and then to visit with family and friends...it's usually at a $200 minimum fee...so i have to do overtime with my red light on before hand...
but i've stitched myself into the historical minds of that lil shithole town...wait...that's not right...i mean that majestic lil shithole of a town...where the story will be past down fer generations

25 years later i would receive an invite to the very place i wanted nothing to do with anymore...but i figered the times had changed...and hopefully...
most of them had...as well as i did

though it seems like it hasn't been that long of a gap from all the crap...
some of my class remains with the worms fer whatever reason...but fer those worms remain'n that remind me of all the unnecessary chaos they caused everyone else...they know who they were...i'm sure have hopefully 
grown outta their assholiness...unfortunately a large portion of my pimple parade have decided to procreate...here's hope'n they haven't recreated another assholiness to take their place...or they'll be drink'n drano

i don't know what ever happened to the cereal cutter...and i don't particularly really care...good or bad...it's over and i've moved on...well i will have moved on once i've yanked this moment in time outta my noggin

though i don't expect the red carpet treatment...when i come...it'd be nice...
but all the ridicule and restless nites i had back then...i wouldn't give up fer a minute...cuz it built me into who i am today...you don't like it...i don't care...but puhleez...get off my dress!


Monday, July 14, 2014

my own private i-da-ho

not sure how things are taught now in lobotomized class catholic school...
but back in the day when i was but a pre-pubescent unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...forced to participate in the voodoo rituals in a classroom full of coma-toasted Catholickers...very lil was told about the tingle'n sensations that were race'n thru our milky fresh pre-pubic nubile bodies

my sex education classes consisted of 2 basic rules :

#1  it's against CASPER's law and absolutely deplorable...
to involve yerself in ritualistic monkey love with someone have'n the same nibbley parts

#2  it's against CASPER's law and the #1 cause fer blindness...by...
"play'n with yer Pee Wee Herman"

"yank'n yer Yoda"
 
"make'n yer pogo stick puke"

or the hundreds of other nicknames referred to as "wake'n yer nibbley's from their nap"...plus many unscientific studies have proven this was the
main cause for mental retardation in most future political closet cases

well...needless to say...i wasn't too damn happy to get this news...cuz the endless hours i used to spend above our garage...once fingers found flesh...after rummage'n thru my cuz's garbage and meticulously remove'n
the gerber servers from back issues of beaver hunt and leave'n me with the pile of tonsil ticklers as visual aids fer my numerous exploratory expeditions

as my body began to change...so did the electricity surge'n thru my veins...and then one day it FINALLY happened...when i was have'n...
"my own private i-da-ho" moment...that the gates of Lucifer opened wide like the nuns spoke of...
and i gave myself my very first "pearl necklace"...which was very traumatize'n at the time...cuz i believed this was a punishment from CASPER thanx to those non fuck'n nuns...so i figered i had to rid my body of this obvious enjoyable evilness...sometimes at the rate of 10-15 times a day until i gave my one eyed willy serious rug burns and could no longer rub one out...
this of course would'a been alot less painful had i know about lather'n up in lubrication while perform'n self-fornication

it wasn't until i joined in on a weekly ritual with the chain wang gang a group friends "patty cake'n their baker's man" above another friend's garage...
that i learned heaven truly is a place on earth...or at the very least...in a buddies garage...they know who they are so i will forgo mention'n any names...besides...they wouldn't fit into my E true hollyweird story anyways

though i am reproductively retarded...i know now as a full grown wanker spanker...this is completely normal and natural act of release'n stress...and there's absolutely nothing wrong with "toss'n yer salad" from time to time...
though these days i just lay there like a dead hooker and let my informational highway speeders do the the duty fer me...i mean i am an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe after all...just make sure at the very least...there's a bucket of crisco near by

recently...a friend told me of how she'd been runn'n thru vats of hair conditioner like it was goin outta style...and with only birth'n 2 moochers...
each of the opposite sex...there was only one simple pimple solution to her conditioner dilemma...without embarrass'n the guilty gusher...i suggested she simply purchase stock in the merried of lubrication's on the market these days and slip it under his pillow...no words will ever need to be exchanged...as this is NOT a topic typically discussed between mother and child...and MOST  non homosexual fathers have penile denial when it comes to teach'n the topic of "spank'n the monkey"

of course there are those CASPER crusade'n parents out there who are vehemently apposed to the touch'n of any tingly parts with their children...
that they would have to chastise for...so is yer lil Gabriel try'n to "blow his horn"?
perhaps Bethany is become'n a blasphemous bad girl by "sinn'n underneath her linen"?

well don't fret my insane brain dead color'n book correctors...

thanx to the makers at Control Toys...yer prayers have been answered...
save yer son's soul by strapp'n him into this easily assembled cross fashioned after Mary's unbiological mistake from a one nite stand with CASPER...with comfortably adjustable canvas straps to help yer child control his urge to purge himself of the evilness within...until he is old enough to walk thru the pits of hell down the aisle...with his annoy'n tax write off...comes in 2 confessional colors...baptismal blueberry and deliver me from evil red

deliver yer daughter's from those evil dances with the devil...by buckel'n her into this blasphemous free jacket...made from 100% pure salvational cotton...completely hand washable with just enough wiggle room fer yer child to stop and think before they touch their purgatory palace...comes in many fashionable designs...or download yer own pentecostal design to shun them from their friends

have kids that just can't seem to purge that undeniable desirable urge?...

so there ya have kittens...hopefully my insight into the naturally sinsational demonic lifestyle of  "spank'n the monkey" will make you think twice...
the next time you feel the need to "she bop"

or start "turn'n japanese"

now get off my dress!