Monday, September 2, 2013

NEUROTICA

hey kittens...this fri sept. 6th...is my official day of birth 
hold the applause!...(ummm...you do the math!)

so put on yer pj's and gather round the camp fire...
cuz what i'm about to tell you is the most frighten'n tale i've ever told

i know what yer think'n?...that this must be just some insane folklore past down from generation to generation and this couldn't have possibly ever happened...but i'm here to tell you kittens...IT DID!...e-v-e-r-y last word...
well except fer the parts i made up...but hey...i'm tell'n the story...
so it begins...

once upon a time...it's was a cold dark stormy nite...
(well not really...but i'm try'n to set a mood...so sit down and shut up!)

my good friend from high school...ummm...now i know i know her name?!
ummm...wait!...hmmm?...oh yes...my dearest PEETRINELLA!

well...we have been x-change’n b-day and x-mas gifts to each other fer over 20 years now…and we both (to this day) wanna bitch slap a boy scout...
when we get crap we would NEVER EVER want…i mean seriously…
how many tchotchke’s can one person pretend to zsa zsa adore above their non exsistant fire place mantle that they don't even have...right?

so instead of ask’n each other what the other would really REALLY want to possess thru the other one's piggy bank…we'd spend endless hours...
along the informational highway til we we're bloody and bruised... search'n high and low fer the perfect piece of happiness on
and then we'll just fill out our --->  gift list

would it kill you to type in Mattress Fever in the ''find someone's list'' box at the above link?...i'm just say'n

cuz seriously...once ya start gett'n into yer pre-June Allison years...

 
you really should be done play’n that game...

 “what the H-E-double hockey stix do you want fer yer damn b-day you over grown baby?”

and it’s worked to perfection fer the past 20 some years i might add…
i mean…it’s bad enough we hafta fake our own orgasms at our age…do we hafta do it with our monetary pleasures at someone else's x-pense as well...i ask you?

besides...once you've reached past the tender and supple age of...ummm 30...the only requirements anyone should really appreciate and require...
is a plethora of colorful cocktails and good times with family and friends...
and if a clown stripper happens to be thrown into the mix...well...i deserve it!

but this year she was behave'n very very strange when she decided to toss a non verbal message along the informational highway fer me to pick up...
i thought...hmmm...this don't smell right!

she stated she wanted to go “rogue” this year and get somethin’ that wasn't off the pre-approved list...that she's wanted to get fer me fer a long time…

which i could only come up with the most logical response say'n...
"you may go rogue...as long as it includes "VOGUEfrom the the QUEEN'S sold out mega smash "MDNA tour"...out on dvd and blu-ray sept 10th "
(sept. 9th outside of the US...lucky fuckers)

well...she cackled like some flea bitten hyena…but she knows this would be a very serious infraction (i don't even know what that means) and pretty much a straight walk to the guillotine...if it turned into a total bomb!

i mean...if you can't rely on yer very close friends to... 
"give me proper credit...i just walk away!"

so of course i’m think’n…well she’s knows me WELL enough now after all these years…it’ll be fine whatever she gets me…so i said sure go fer it!
the follow’n took place between 6:30 pm and 6:34 pm monday evening…

as i was leave’n fer my usual monday nite routine...
sweat'n it with the moldies class

there was an amazon box by my mailbox…and i about blew my own box apart when i seen how huge and heavy this box was this year!!!
i thought…M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I...(i don't' know why)...it just felt like it needed it!

and then i thought...damn...PEETRINELLA really went all out this year... 
and seriously i personally don’t throw that big of a fit…i mean THAT BIG of a one anymore…i am beyond the tender age of *insert cough here* 30 after all...


besides...i remember what Joan used to say to me grow'n up...
"it's the thought that counts"


but then i would do a follow up rebuttal to her remark...
"well i guess they didn't put too much fuck'n thought behind it then...did they?"

so i tried to wait til my b-day to open it…but i thought i heard tick’n inside…
so of course i did what ANY unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of their own universe...saintly child of 42 would do…and went all ape shit turrets try’n to get the damn box open

inside that box was another box…UGH!...my turrets was kick'n into high gear...but i hadda stop the non tick'n tick'n right?

this box was alot heavier than normal to be just the usual dvds that i have pre selected that she usually gets me that i want…then i thought...wait...

OH MY CHER!…she did not just press my luck with the BIG BUCKS... 

and get me THEE ULTIMATE coffee table book that i’ve wanted like ferever!
"KING OF QUEENS" by BOY GEORGE…
to lay next to my "SEX" book by the QUEEN
 (under high tech flammable retardant glass with laser beam precision security of course)
as i ripped thru the outer layer of the inner box with the the jaws of life…

i was SHOCKED that she had gotten me a murder weapon…

in the form of a book about the crap that happened from 1991 to 2012…
and i say murder weapon cuz seriously... i could practically just kill her with it!

WTF?...did you have a bowl of frosted dementia flakes fer breakfast?
goin rogue?
ummm...you gett'n yer kicks use'n me as some sorta twisted target practice these days kitten?


i was in a state of non deniable utter shock...

i couldn't believe what i wasn't see'n!

so of course instead of doin the proverbial phone call that we always do…
“oh my CHER...thank-you SOOO much fer the blah blah blah…how did you ever know that’s exactly what i wanted”
i texted her back and said ...
“wow a coffee table book!…that’s nice…when does the damn coffee table ARRIIIIIVE?”

PEETRINELLA either picked up on the fact that i didn't call her fer the 1st time in over 20 years to thank her personally or she just finally realized…

"OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"

christmas is right around the corner and i'll have to sell my child into slavery to get him the ultimate gift to make up fer my insane travesty what i thought was the perfect b-day gift…(seriously kittens...she knows i can’t read!!)

OH JEZUS H CHRISTMAS TREE on a crunchy graham cracker crust!…
i can read you boob!

but outside of the couple of pages about drag queens...


 and the hey days of the PARTY MONSTERS of new york

there is no real reason in H-E-double hockey stix that i would EVER deserve this brand of punishment…well unless someone was actually break’n into my shit box apt and i could use it to either clobber them over the head to render'n them defenseless…or give it as a consolation prize as a goin away gift to some mid-nite fornicational pleasure…OR WAIT…even better…
i believe i got my x-mas shoppin' done early this year fer PEETRINELLA!

then i remembered...PEETRINELLA WAS WITH CHILD!


well...said child is now like 15 or somethin' unimportant like that to me

much like mythical nibbley's in a can are to my taste buds

then it hit me...CHILDREN RUIN E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G!

not only do they turn yer hips into saddle bags of regret...don't even get me started on the cottage cheese ass you have to look forward to...but they never let you appreciate the finer things in life...
like being best friends with an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n  illusionist of her own universe...when they call to talk to you fer a minimum of 5 g*d damn minutes...they turn yer house into a hootenanny hop scotch whore house when yer not around...
and they constantly whine about E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G that goes wrong in their miserably spoiled life...just cuz they're too lazy to run away!

so there ya have it kittens...the moral of the story is...

if dead men tell no tales...then i guess BBF's better not be bank'n on a merry x-mas anytime soon!

oh well...in 5 years time...this whole experience...much like my gift...
can just be turned into some regrettable blog that PEETRINELLA will undoubtedly end up laugh'n at...like some epileptic neurotic nut case just off the funny farm…
but i say…WHY WAIT!

ps...just in case yer wonder'n kittens...I AM FORTY FUCK'N THREE!
and there ain't no metamucil in my martini...yet


love you PEETRINELLA

now get off my dress!

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