So I was scouting out locations for Sue Grafton's new novel "U is for Utili-kilt," its a murder mystery, of course, that takes place in a queer bar. She hired me to find some bars with great local color that would be easy enough for her to hash out descriptions of with her Funk & Wagnall's Thesaurus. She pays me in Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf gift cards, so its all good.
I was checking out one called the Kitty Kat Klub, I had heard about it through the grapevine, but its kinda hard to find because they only have the initials on the door. Anywho, turns out is was lezzie night, I swear, you couldn't swing a cat without knocking off some chicks baseball hat. So I was scoping the place out when I spied a kiddy pool filled with whipped cream and the Bush Twins totally scamming on each other.
"Scissor Me Timbers!" I screamed.
"Oh stop, its no big deal," Jenna, or was it Barbara, said.
"Since when is incest no big deal?" I mused.
"We're just here to act as a distraction to the nation while Daddy starts war with Iran."
"What?!?!" I cried.
"Yeah, while the tabloids are all going on about how nasty we are, he'll be starting World War III," one of them said.
"So we're not really lezbos, we're just proud Americans doing what we need to do to protect this country from non-existent threats," the other added.
"The only way you'll protect this country is to get your Daddy out of office. Besides your plan will never work! Americans aren't that stupid, they'll never let that happen... again." I said just as Asimo the Robot walked in with a group of journalists in tow.
"Look at these girls, these dirty dirty girls." Asimo said with its cold robotic voice.
"Mom, you were supposed to let us know before you brought them in," said Jenna-Barbara.
"Yeah, so we could make sure we were really nasty, you know, like at the end of requiem for a Dream'," said Barbara-Jenna.
"Shut up you stu-pid whores and just make out, Dan Rather is growing impatiant," Asimo said.
"Dan, don't you see," I implored, "they're just trying to sucker you into some bogus story here!"
"Dan would rather look at the hot chicks making out," he said in the third person.
"But they're not even hot!" I cried and fell to my knees, then quitely repeated through the sobs "They're not even hot... "
So when I saw "Nasty Bush Twins Hot Make Out Session" on the headline of the New York Post, and the story about how Iran has not had an active nuclear program since 2003 relegated to "Page 6", I couldn't help but wonder how difficult is it to get Canadian citizenship, though they'd probably make me say my 'o's all fucked up, I just couldn't do that... damn Canucks.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
A Tale of Terror. Part IV: A New Beginning Nightmare of Blood
[Back to Part 3-D: The Final Chapter]
As the Zuni doll flew towards me, all slow motion Matrix style, I turned and leapt out of the way, all Bionic Woman style, complete with that O.G. "da-nah-nah-nah-nah" sound effect, well in my head at least. The doll landed face first in the mud, but quickly regained its composure and started running towards me. I threw my prescription sunglass at its head. It didn't much care for that. Then I ran like a little bitch.
It was a spry little thing, and was able to keep a good pace. I tried to ditch it by running into a creepy cemetery. As I ran past the headstone for Britney Speers' Career, I tripped and fell, breaking the heel of my Jimmy Choo knock offs. I tried to crawl away, but froze when I saw a zombie lumbering towards me.
"It's coming to get you Frau Bella," taunted a drunken Kiefer Sutherland as he pointed at the Zuni Doll coming around the corner.
"Thanks captain obvious." I said, getting to my feet. He took another swig from the bottle he was carrying but tipped back a little too far and fell over, knocking his head on Britney's headstone. I kicked my shoes off, and started running just as the Zuni doll stopped next to Kiefer's lifeless body and stabbed it right in the eye, twenty four times, for good measure.
I ran out the other side of the cemetery up a silent hill and into new housing development. It was near dark, and a fog started to roll in, so I hid behind the last house on the left, hoping to ditch the Zuni doll. When I peered around the corner, I saw a figure moving through the fog. As it got closer I could make out a pirate hat and sword.
"Oh Johnny, you've come to rescue me! I knew you would!" I squealed, running out from my hiding place. "You didn't bring that kooze Vanessa with you, did you?" As I ran closer, I could see that it wasn't Johnny after all. In fact it was some half decayed zombie pirate leper. He pointed at my gold bracelet, as if to indicate that my returning it to him would lift some ancient curse placed upon me when my ancestors caused his ship to crash into the rocks so that they could steal his gold, or at least that is what I thought he was saying, it was hard to tell, he didn't have a tongue.
"Fine, here," I said, tossing the bracelet over to him. Just as he caught it, the Zuni doll emerged from the fog and lunged for his face, stabbing him right in the eye, er, rather, empty eye socket. This pissed off the zombie pirate leper, and then they started to fight. I didn't stick around to see what happened.
Twenty eight days later, I sued the crap out of Oprah's estate, after all it was very traumatic, and I won everything. I was relaxing, rolling around in my vault of money, when my agent called. Jane Fonda had in turn sued me, claiming that the independent feature film I produced was a rip off. The courts ruled in her favor and she was going to donate all of my money to charity.
I screamed and bolted awake, it had all just been a bad dream on Maple Street. Just then, Oprah rang me, and offered me fifty million dollars to drive her across country. Sure fifty million bucks could get my independent film, "Fraubarella," into production, but I couldn't help but wonder if my horrible dream was some sort of omen or prophecy or something.
Nah, couldn't be…
Happy Halloween!
As the Zuni doll flew towards me, all slow motion Matrix style, I turned and leapt out of the way, all Bionic Woman style, complete with that O.G. "da-nah-nah-nah-nah" sound effect, well in my head at least. The doll landed face first in the mud, but quickly regained its composure and started running towards me. I threw my prescription sunglass at its head. It didn't much care for that. Then I ran like a little bitch.
It was a spry little thing, and was able to keep a good pace. I tried to ditch it by running into a creepy cemetery. As I ran past the headstone for Britney Speers' Career, I tripped and fell, breaking the heel of my Jimmy Choo knock offs. I tried to crawl away, but froze when I saw a zombie lumbering towards me.
"It's coming to get you Frau Bella," taunted a drunken Kiefer Sutherland as he pointed at the Zuni Doll coming around the corner.
"Thanks captain obvious." I said, getting to my feet. He took another swig from the bottle he was carrying but tipped back a little too far and fell over, knocking his head on Britney's headstone. I kicked my shoes off, and started running just as the Zuni doll stopped next to Kiefer's lifeless body and stabbed it right in the eye, twenty four times, for good measure.
I ran out the other side of the cemetery up a silent hill and into new housing development. It was near dark, and a fog started to roll in, so I hid behind the last house on the left, hoping to ditch the Zuni doll. When I peered around the corner, I saw a figure moving through the fog. As it got closer I could make out a pirate hat and sword.
"Oh Johnny, you've come to rescue me! I knew you would!" I squealed, running out from my hiding place. "You didn't bring that kooze Vanessa with you, did you?" As I ran closer, I could see that it wasn't Johnny after all. In fact it was some half decayed zombie pirate leper. He pointed at my gold bracelet, as if to indicate that my returning it to him would lift some ancient curse placed upon me when my ancestors caused his ship to crash into the rocks so that they could steal his gold, or at least that is what I thought he was saying, it was hard to tell, he didn't have a tongue.
"Fine, here," I said, tossing the bracelet over to him. Just as he caught it, the Zuni doll emerged from the fog and lunged for his face, stabbing him right in the eye, er, rather, empty eye socket. This pissed off the zombie pirate leper, and then they started to fight. I didn't stick around to see what happened.
Twenty eight days later, I sued the crap out of Oprah's estate, after all it was very traumatic, and I won everything. I was relaxing, rolling around in my vault of money, when my agent called. Jane Fonda had in turn sued me, claiming that the independent feature film I produced was a rip off. The courts ruled in her favor and she was going to donate all of my money to charity.
I screamed and bolted awake, it had all just been a bad dream on Maple Street. Just then, Oprah rang me, and offered me fifty million dollars to drive her across country. Sure fifty million bucks could get my independent film, "Fraubarella," into production, but I couldn't help but wonder if my horrible dream was some sort of omen or prophecy or something.
Nah, couldn't be…
Happy Halloween!
Friday, October 19, 2007
A Tale of Terror. Part 3-D: The Final Chapter
[Back to Part 2: Electric Boogaloo]
"OUTLANDER!" He screamed again. I tried to block him out by sticking corn husks in my ears, but that didn't seem to work.
"Malachi, will you get in here and help me with the dishes!" another voice chastised.
"Coming, Isaac!" Malachi answered. I had a strange sense of déjà vu, but shook it off, after all, your girl was stuck in the middle of nowhere without a ride, and no Xzbit to be seen. So I put on my prescription sunglasses [Dr. Lawrence Jacoby is the best optometrist ever!] and went off to investigate, following the voices through the rows of the corn fields. I finally came upon a Penguins Frozen Yogurt. I went in, but nobody was at the front counter, so I rang the little service bell next to the register.
"Malachi, will you get that?" I could hear Isaac in the backroom say, more politely telling rather than asking.
"Yes dear!" Malachi answered, "damn nag have to do everything never does anything," I could hear him grumble as he walked out from the store room. Then, putting on a smile, "Good morning love, what can I get you?"
"Well I know its kind of strange, but can I wash up in your bathroom? I've been sleeping in a field."
"Restroom is for paying customers!" Isaac called from the store room.
Malachi rolled his eyes and whispered, "Its okay, its not like we're busy or anything, not since Louis Gossett Jr. opened up his store across the way." I turned and realized that I totally didn't even notice the Pinkberry across the way.
"Don't worry sweetie, Penguins is way better than Pinkberry. You know I hear they put cocaine in their yogurt, just so people get addicted," I offered. Malachi seemed to lighten up and pointed me toward the bathroom. After I had washed up, I went out to find Malachi standing on one of the tables playing with a yo-yo. He was doing all of these fancy tricks and it looked like the yo-yo was coming straight at me. I explained my situation to him, and he recommended that I call a locksmith. So I called "He who Tows behind the Rows," who was also a locksmith, to get the van door open for me.
When the Locksmith and I got to the van, he went to work straight away, while I went to perch myself sexily on the side of the van, after all, I didn't have any money, what with Oprah being sucked into the vortex and all. I knew I should have had her pay me half up front. As I propped myself, I scattered a group of flies that had been congregating on the smears of Courtney Love's blood. One of them flew up to my face, and it looked like the fly was coming straight at me.
I had struck the perfect seductive pose, just as the Locksmith got the door open. "Check out that shag carpeting in the back, its real comfy," I had started to say, just as the Locksmith broke the necklace off of the Zuni Hunting Fetish Doll. The Zuni leapt to life, and stabbed the Locksmith right in the eye. I suppose it looked like the knife was coming straight at him, and then it did, right in the eye. The Zuni pulled the knife out and then leapt. It looked like it was coming straight at me...
[Next: Part IV: A New Beginning Nightmare of Blood]
"OUTLANDER!" He screamed again. I tried to block him out by sticking corn husks in my ears, but that didn't seem to work.
"Malachi, will you get in here and help me with the dishes!" another voice chastised.
"Coming, Isaac!" Malachi answered. I had a strange sense of déjà vu, but shook it off, after all, your girl was stuck in the middle of nowhere without a ride, and no Xzbit to be seen. So I put on my prescription sunglasses [Dr. Lawrence Jacoby is the best optometrist ever!] and went off to investigate, following the voices through the rows of the corn fields. I finally came upon a Penguins Frozen Yogurt. I went in, but nobody was at the front counter, so I rang the little service bell next to the register.
"Malachi, will you get that?" I could hear Isaac in the backroom say, more politely telling rather than asking.
"Yes dear!" Malachi answered, "damn nag have to do everything never does anything," I could hear him grumble as he walked out from the store room. Then, putting on a smile, "Good morning love, what can I get you?"
"Well I know its kind of strange, but can I wash up in your bathroom? I've been sleeping in a field."
"Restroom is for paying customers!" Isaac called from the store room.
Malachi rolled his eyes and whispered, "Its okay, its not like we're busy or anything, not since Louis Gossett Jr. opened up his store across the way." I turned and realized that I totally didn't even notice the Pinkberry across the way.
"Don't worry sweetie, Penguins is way better than Pinkberry. You know I hear they put cocaine in their yogurt, just so people get addicted," I offered. Malachi seemed to lighten up and pointed me toward the bathroom. After I had washed up, I went out to find Malachi standing on one of the tables playing with a yo-yo. He was doing all of these fancy tricks and it looked like the yo-yo was coming straight at me. I explained my situation to him, and he recommended that I call a locksmith. So I called "He who Tows behind the Rows," who was also a locksmith, to get the van door open for me.
When the Locksmith and I got to the van, he went to work straight away, while I went to perch myself sexily on the side of the van, after all, I didn't have any money, what with Oprah being sucked into the vortex and all. I knew I should have had her pay me half up front. As I propped myself, I scattered a group of flies that had been congregating on the smears of Courtney Love's blood. One of them flew up to my face, and it looked like the fly was coming straight at me.
I had struck the perfect seductive pose, just as the Locksmith got the door open. "Check out that shag carpeting in the back, its real comfy," I had started to say, just as the Locksmith broke the necklace off of the Zuni Hunting Fetish Doll. The Zuni leapt to life, and stabbed the Locksmith right in the eye. I suppose it looked like the knife was coming straight at him, and then it did, right in the eye. The Zuni pulled the knife out and then leapt. It looked like it was coming straight at me...
[Next: Part IV: A New Beginning Nightmare of Blood]
Friday, October 12, 2007
A Tale of Terror. Part 2: Electric Boogaloo
[Back to Part I: Almost a Massacre]
I stood, frozen in terror as the leather faced man raised his chainsaw and screamed "GOOOOOOD MORNING GOLDBERG FAMILY!"
"Huh?" I asked, perplexed. "There aren't any Jews in Texas!"
"Jews for Jesus!" Ty Pennington said, lowering the chainsaw. "And we're here to build them a new house for Extreme Home Makeover."
"I see. So, do you know if there is a Popeyes around here?"
"Nope, don't know."
"Useless fuck," I said, turning and walking back to the van. When I finally made it back to the van, I found Oprah gnawing on a dead armadillo that had been on the side of the road. This seemed to satisfy her hunger for now, so we both hopped in the van and kept driving.
Several hours later, the sun had set and a thunder storm had rolled in. I was getting a little tired, so I decided to pull off the road for the night. I wasn't quite sure where we were, since Oprah didn't splurge on the GPS option for the van, so we just kind of drove around. We finally saw a huge old house that was nested in between two large corn fields. We pulled up and parked.
"Let's go see if they have a room for the night." I said.
"It's gonna rain on your head."
"Yes, I realize that, and it wouldn't have been a problem if you didn't give Rihanna our only umbrella."
"-ella -ella -ella." Oprah added.
"Get the fuck out," I grumbled. Fuckin' Rihanna. We ran over to the porch, passing the large muddy hole of a half dug swimming pool, the storm water slowly filling it. I rang the doorbell, and when there was no answer, I knocked on the door, inadvertently pushing it open slowly with a creek.
"Hello?" I called out as I tentatively walked in. "I guess nobody is home," I said, turning to Oprah. "Come on, lets check the place out," and motioned for her to follow. We were half way up the stairs when we heard a ghostly voice loudly whisper, "Get out!"
"Guess they don't serve our kind here." I turned to Oprah and said, because as you know, I consider myself a "sista" ever since Chaka Khan recruited me into her chapter of the Black Panthers. Ain't nobody loves me better than Chaka. "I guess we can sleep in the van," I added.
We had almost reached the door when an evil pig headed demon materialized in front of us.
"Get out!" Rush Limbaugh growled.
"Well if you would move your fat ass, we would!" I yelled. "Get out!" he repeated. Realizing his logic was as dense headed in person as it was on the air, I had to think fast. I pulled a pack of Lemon Heads from my purse and hid the label. I rattled the box and taunted Rush. "Who wants some OxyContin?" Then I opened the box and spilled the Lemon Heads on to the floor [seriously folks, always carry a box of Lemon Heads, you'll never know when you'll need a placebo of some sort]. Rush hit the floor so hard he caused the house to shake so much that it began to collapse in on itself.
As Oprah and I ran out into the blinding rain, I tripped and fell into the muddy water of the half dug pool just the corpses of Ann Coulter and Nancy Grace floated to the surface. I screamed in terror when I realized that in fact they were still alive.
"If only we could get Muslims to boycott all airlines, we could dispense with airport security altogether." Ann started, followed by an in comprehensible squacking from Nancy. I screamed like a little girl [which is not okay, because I am a lady] and dunked Ann's head under the water, using her for leverage to get the hell out of the pool as fast as possible. Just as I pulled myself out the rain stopped and the house, Oprah, Ann and Nancy [not Wilson] were all swallowed into another dimension.
Well at least I still had the van, I thought to myself as I walked over to it, then cursed myself when I realized that Oprah had the keys. Damn her. I figured the best thing to do was try and get some sleep and then figure out what to do in the morning. I made a make shift bed out of corn stalks next to one of the fields and fell asleep right away. I was awakened the next morning someone yelling from in the corn fields.
"OUTLANDER!" he called out accusingly...
[Next: Part 3-D: The Final Chapter]
I stood, frozen in terror as the leather faced man raised his chainsaw and screamed "GOOOOOOD MORNING GOLDBERG FAMILY!"
"Huh?" I asked, perplexed. "There aren't any Jews in Texas!"
"Jews for Jesus!" Ty Pennington said, lowering the chainsaw. "And we're here to build them a new house for Extreme Home Makeover."
"I see. So, do you know if there is a Popeyes around here?"
"Nope, don't know."
"Useless fuck," I said, turning and walking back to the van. When I finally made it back to the van, I found Oprah gnawing on a dead armadillo that had been on the side of the road. This seemed to satisfy her hunger for now, so we both hopped in the van and kept driving.
Several hours later, the sun had set and a thunder storm had rolled in. I was getting a little tired, so I decided to pull off the road for the night. I wasn't quite sure where we were, since Oprah didn't splurge on the GPS option for the van, so we just kind of drove around. We finally saw a huge old house that was nested in between two large corn fields. We pulled up and parked.
"Let's go see if they have a room for the night." I said.
"It's gonna rain on your head."
"Yes, I realize that, and it wouldn't have been a problem if you didn't give Rihanna our only umbrella."
"-ella -ella -ella." Oprah added.
"Get the fuck out," I grumbled. Fuckin' Rihanna. We ran over to the porch, passing the large muddy hole of a half dug swimming pool, the storm water slowly filling it. I rang the doorbell, and when there was no answer, I knocked on the door, inadvertently pushing it open slowly with a creek.
"Hello?" I called out as I tentatively walked in. "I guess nobody is home," I said, turning to Oprah. "Come on, lets check the place out," and motioned for her to follow. We were half way up the stairs when we heard a ghostly voice loudly whisper, "Get out!"
"Guess they don't serve our kind here." I turned to Oprah and said, because as you know, I consider myself a "sista" ever since Chaka Khan recruited me into her chapter of the Black Panthers. Ain't nobody loves me better than Chaka. "I guess we can sleep in the van," I added.
We had almost reached the door when an evil pig headed demon materialized in front of us.
"Get out!" Rush Limbaugh growled.
"Well if you would move your fat ass, we would!" I yelled. "Get out!" he repeated. Realizing his logic was as dense headed in person as it was on the air, I had to think fast. I pulled a pack of Lemon Heads from my purse and hid the label. I rattled the box and taunted Rush. "Who wants some OxyContin?" Then I opened the box and spilled the Lemon Heads on to the floor [seriously folks, always carry a box of Lemon Heads, you'll never know when you'll need a placebo of some sort]. Rush hit the floor so hard he caused the house to shake so much that it began to collapse in on itself.
As Oprah and I ran out into the blinding rain, I tripped and fell into the muddy water of the half dug pool just the corpses of Ann Coulter and Nancy Grace floated to the surface. I screamed in terror when I realized that in fact they were still alive.
"If only we could get Muslims to boycott all airlines, we could dispense with airport security altogether." Ann started, followed by an in comprehensible squacking from Nancy. I screamed like a little girl [which is not okay, because I am a lady] and dunked Ann's head under the water, using her for leverage to get the hell out of the pool as fast as possible. Just as I pulled myself out the rain stopped and the house, Oprah, Ann and Nancy [not Wilson] were all swallowed into another dimension.
Well at least I still had the van, I thought to myself as I walked over to it, then cursed myself when I realized that Oprah had the keys. Damn her. I figured the best thing to do was try and get some sleep and then figure out what to do in the morning. I made a make shift bed out of corn stalks next to one of the fields and fell asleep right away. I was awakened the next morning someone yelling from in the corn fields.
"OUTLANDER!" he called out accusingly...
[Next: Part 3-D: The Final Chapter]
Friday, October 5, 2007
A Tale of Terror. Part 1: Almost a Massacre
I was driving Oprah from her compound in Santa Barbara back to Chicago. We were transporting a Zuni Hunting Fetish Doll as a special gift for Stedman, and rented an old 1973 Green GMC van, I don't know why she couldn't have just bought a new car, but I guess she didn't feel like it after buying all those cars for her audience. It's a little sad when you have to buy your friends. Anywho, I didn't complain, after all, she was paying me 50 million dollars to drive her and she said something about not being able to sit in the car another minute with Gayle.
We were cruising across Texas, [I was in the front, Oprah in her wheelchair in the back. She wasn't convalescing or anything, just too lazy to walk, so I had to push her around, but whatever, 50 million] when I spied a hitchhiker in the road. She was all dirty and kind of crazy looking, so naturally I stopped.
"Thanks for stopping." Courtney Love said as she climbed in the back of the van with Oprah. She sat down, on the shagged floor at the back of the van. I eyed her suspiciously in the rearview mirror, I half pondered telling her "Ass, Grass, or Cash, nobody rides for free," but then thought against it, as I knew she didn't have a cash, surely smoked all her grass, and I definitely didn't want her to offer up some of her ass, so I opted to say nothing. Oprah turned the wheelchair so that she was facing Courtney and we continued for a few miles in silence. Then Courtney whips these pictures of tortured animals out of her purse and shoves them in Oprah's face. I don't think anything of it, until she starts going on about how great PETA is, then I knew she was a complete nutter.
"See, and they hook them up to electrodes and put lipstick in their eyes." Courtney was saying. I could see Oprah in the rearview mirror staring at the pictures rather intensely. "And the chickens," Courtney continued, pulling out another stack of pictures, "You won't believe what they do the chickens."
"Harpo hungry." Oprah said, but this seemed to excite Courtney, she started to giggle and bounce on the balls of her feet like a monkey getting ready to fling poo.
"Yeah, yeah, and they boil them alive." Courtney added.
"Harpo hungry!" she bellowed. "Want Popeyes!" For some reason this excited Courtney further. She was practically frothing at the mouth when she pulled a knife out of her bag and cut herself across the palm of her hand. I never knew she was a cutter, but somehow, wasn't surprised.
"Yeah, yeah, you like that?" Courtney said, waving her hand around, getting blood all over the wall carpeting.
"This is a rental, you cow!" I screamed, pulling over to the side of the road yelling for her to get out. The side door slid open and Courtney nearly fell from the van. As I peeled away, she jumped up and down, rubbing her bloody hand along the side of the van.
"Harpo want Popeyes!" She continued to yell.
"Yes, yes, as soon as I see one, we'll stop." I tried to calm her.
"Want Popeyes now!"
"Fine," I yelled, and pulled off the road. We were definitely in the middle of nowhere, but I guess you, dear reader, gathered that when I said earlier that we were in Texas. I hoped out of the van, and I'll be damned if I didn't smell fried chicken.
"Harpo want out, find Popeyes." she said calmly. I set up her ramp on the side door and wheeled her down out of the van. She pointed off down a dirt path that was on the side of the road. I told her that I would go get some and bring it back, but she demanded her chicken hot out of the deep fryer and that I push her there.
We were about half a mile from the road pushing though a thicket of several short dead trees when a man wielding a chainsaw jumped out in front of us. His face of leather hung loosely from his skull. The skin damaged and decomposed. As he raised his chainsaw, Oprah took off like a shot, running back to the van, leaving me with the leather faced man
[Next: Part 2: Electric Boogaloo]
We were cruising across Texas, [I was in the front, Oprah in her wheelchair in the back. She wasn't convalescing or anything, just too lazy to walk, so I had to push her around, but whatever, 50 million] when I spied a hitchhiker in the road. She was all dirty and kind of crazy looking, so naturally I stopped.
"Thanks for stopping." Courtney Love said as she climbed in the back of the van with Oprah. She sat down, on the shagged floor at the back of the van. I eyed her suspiciously in the rearview mirror, I half pondered telling her "Ass, Grass, or Cash, nobody rides for free," but then thought against it, as I knew she didn't have a cash, surely smoked all her grass, and I definitely didn't want her to offer up some of her ass, so I opted to say nothing. Oprah turned the wheelchair so that she was facing Courtney and we continued for a few miles in silence. Then Courtney whips these pictures of tortured animals out of her purse and shoves them in Oprah's face. I don't think anything of it, until she starts going on about how great PETA is, then I knew she was a complete nutter.
"See, and they hook them up to electrodes and put lipstick in their eyes." Courtney was saying. I could see Oprah in the rearview mirror staring at the pictures rather intensely. "And the chickens," Courtney continued, pulling out another stack of pictures, "You won't believe what they do the chickens."
"Harpo hungry." Oprah said, but this seemed to excite Courtney, she started to giggle and bounce on the balls of her feet like a monkey getting ready to fling poo.
"Yeah, yeah, and they boil them alive." Courtney added.
"Harpo hungry!" she bellowed. "Want Popeyes!" For some reason this excited Courtney further. She was practically frothing at the mouth when she pulled a knife out of her bag and cut herself across the palm of her hand. I never knew she was a cutter, but somehow, wasn't surprised.
"Yeah, yeah, you like that?" Courtney said, waving her hand around, getting blood all over the wall carpeting.
"This is a rental, you cow!" I screamed, pulling over to the side of the road yelling for her to get out. The side door slid open and Courtney nearly fell from the van. As I peeled away, she jumped up and down, rubbing her bloody hand along the side of the van.
"Harpo want Popeyes!" She continued to yell.
"Yes, yes, as soon as I see one, we'll stop." I tried to calm her.
"Want Popeyes now!"
"Fine," I yelled, and pulled off the road. We were definitely in the middle of nowhere, but I guess you, dear reader, gathered that when I said earlier that we were in Texas. I hoped out of the van, and I'll be damned if I didn't smell fried chicken.
"Harpo want out, find Popeyes." she said calmly. I set up her ramp on the side door and wheeled her down out of the van. She pointed off down a dirt path that was on the side of the road. I told her that I would go get some and bring it back, but she demanded her chicken hot out of the deep fryer and that I push her there.
We were about half a mile from the road pushing though a thicket of several short dead trees when a man wielding a chainsaw jumped out in front of us. His face of leather hung loosely from his skull. The skin damaged and decomposed. As he raised his chainsaw, Oprah took off like a shot, running back to the van, leaving me with the leather faced man
[Next: Part 2: Electric Boogaloo]
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Avast...
I was waiting in line at the Coffee Bean this morning [Frau does not do the Starbucks, even though they opened one in backseat of my car just last week] when I over heard a pair of overly affected voices lisping away behind me. At first I tried my best to ignore it, focusing on the rather phallic looking stack of Rice Crispy treats neatly displayed on the countertop, but for some reason that didn't help at all.
"Oh girl, if you saw that outfit up close you would have died!" the voice squealed.
"Oh, you are such bitch, I love it!" his friend added.
"You know I'll give it to you straight, girl!" he said, then they both snickered as if assured that they were the cleverest queens in the southland. "And you should have seen Hayden Panettiere's dress! Save the cheerleader's dress, save the world, maybe!" he minced on, but I couldn't take it anymore, nobody fucks with my Claire [she can throw herself out of a window and live! That's one tough broad!].
I quickly turned to face the offenders. I was not at all surprised to see the Queerest of the Queers, Ryan Seacrest and his little lackey Al Roker. "
Its talk like a pirate day, not talk like a butt-pirate you little wanna-be homo!" I spat. Al quickly cowered behind Ryan, hoping that his product filled hair would serve as a shield from my wrath.
"And who are you supposed to be, the fashion police?" Ryan sassed.
"At least I have enough sense not to wear crocs out in public."
"It's the new 'metrosexual' thing to wear," he tried to justify.
"Metrosexual your ass!" I yelled and grabbed one of the Rice Crispy treats off the counter and shoved it in his eye. He went down like he was hot for a popsicle, if you catch my metaphor. Once he hit the floor, it was Seacrest out. Al cried and pledged his allegiance to me if I would spare him. I told him to get this trash out of my sight, kicking Ryan in back of the head as if I were one of the Jena Six. Then I ordered a Vanilla Ultimate, damn those things are goooood!
"Oh girl, if you saw that outfit up close you would have died!" the voice squealed.
"Oh, you are such bitch, I love it!" his friend added.
"You know I'll give it to you straight, girl!" he said, then they both snickered as if assured that they were the cleverest queens in the southland. "And you should have seen Hayden Panettiere's dress! Save the cheerleader's dress, save the world, maybe!" he minced on, but I couldn't take it anymore, nobody fucks with my Claire [she can throw herself out of a window and live! That's one tough broad!].
I quickly turned to face the offenders. I was not at all surprised to see the Queerest of the Queers, Ryan Seacrest and his little lackey Al Roker. "
Its talk like a pirate day, not talk like a butt-pirate you little wanna-be homo!" I spat. Al quickly cowered behind Ryan, hoping that his product filled hair would serve as a shield from my wrath.
"And who are you supposed to be, the fashion police?" Ryan sassed.
"At least I have enough sense not to wear crocs out in public."
"It's the new 'metrosexual' thing to wear," he tried to justify.
"Metrosexual your ass!" I yelled and grabbed one of the Rice Crispy treats off the counter and shoved it in his eye. He went down like he was hot for a popsicle, if you catch my metaphor. Once he hit the floor, it was Seacrest out. Al cried and pledged his allegiance to me if I would spare him. I told him to get this trash out of my sight, kicking Ryan in back of the head as if I were one of the Jena Six. Then I ordered a Vanilla Ultimate, damn those things are goooood!
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Something smells fishy
So I went to the Beverly Center yesterday to do a little shopping. I swear I walked up and down that place looking for the fucking Target, but I'll be damned if I couldn't find it. After about and hour, I worked up quite a thirst, and had a craving for an Orange Julius... mmm... it just isn't a trip to the mall without an Orange Julius! I was making my way to the food court, when I heard somebody quietly calling me. I looked around but didn't see anyone, but then, out of the corner of my eye, I spied movement behind a group of potted plants.
Naturally, being a lone woman, I went to investigate further, after all you never know, it could be somebody handing out puppies! And who wouldn't want an adorable little puppy?!?! That's why I always say, a stranger in a white van is a friend with who will help you move that you just haven't met yet! Sadly, I was sorely disappointed, as it turned out to be Bobby Brown. He was crouched behind the plants licking the grease off a discarded KFC box.
"Is it safe to come out?" he asked.
"Out of what? A Career Coma? I suppose, but that's your prerogative."
"No, I'm hiding from Osama Bin Laden. He is looking for me because he wants to get with Whitney. I'm sure that he wants to kill me."
"Something tells me that there are a few Baby-Mommas that were in line before him. That aside, I really doubt Osama wants to get with some cracked out whore. Besides, aren't you divorced or something?"
"That's not the point, he wants to kill me!"
"Sure sure," I glanced around for an exit strategy. Exit Strategy, now there's a funny term. "You know, I think I saw him in the Macys over there. I'll pop in and have a look." I said as I walked towards the entrance. I turned and gave him the thumbs up before going in. Freaking nutter. When I turned back around I was assaulted with a fine mist of alcohol sprayed right into my eyes.
"I had to have it!" exclaimed an overly perky Sarah Jessica Broderick.
"Then keep it to yourself next time, you silly kooze!" I yelled, while wiping the tears from my eyes.
"No, you don't understand, that's the catch phrase for my perfume."
"I don't much care what it is. It smells like ass and makes my eyes burn. Do I have to call upon the power of Isis and give you an ass whoopin'?"
"Just give it another try," she said as she went to sprits me again.
"OH MIGHTY ISIS--" I began, fingering my oversized amulet necklace.
"Okay, okay! I'm sorry..." she conceded and slowly backed away, knocking over a display of "White Diamonds" in the process. Oooo, Liz is going to be pissed!
"That's right," I said scowling, not taking my eyes off of her, until she disappeared behind a rack of grandma panties. Generally annoyed, I gave up on the Orange Julius and went on my merry way, smelling of alcohol and flowers.
Naturally, being a lone woman, I went to investigate further, after all you never know, it could be somebody handing out puppies! And who wouldn't want an adorable little puppy?!?! That's why I always say, a stranger in a white van is a friend with who will help you move that you just haven't met yet! Sadly, I was sorely disappointed, as it turned out to be Bobby Brown. He was crouched behind the plants licking the grease off a discarded KFC box.
"Is it safe to come out?" he asked.
"Out of what? A Career Coma? I suppose, but that's your prerogative."
"No, I'm hiding from Osama Bin Laden. He is looking for me because he wants to get with Whitney. I'm sure that he wants to kill me."
"Something tells me that there are a few Baby-Mommas that were in line before him. That aside, I really doubt Osama wants to get with some cracked out whore. Besides, aren't you divorced or something?"
"That's not the point, he wants to kill me!"
"Sure sure," I glanced around for an exit strategy. Exit Strategy, now there's a funny term. "You know, I think I saw him in the Macys over there. I'll pop in and have a look." I said as I walked towards the entrance. I turned and gave him the thumbs up before going in. Freaking nutter. When I turned back around I was assaulted with a fine mist of alcohol sprayed right into my eyes.
"I had to have it!" exclaimed an overly perky Sarah Jessica Broderick.
"Then keep it to yourself next time, you silly kooze!" I yelled, while wiping the tears from my eyes.
"No, you don't understand, that's the catch phrase for my perfume."
"I don't much care what it is. It smells like ass and makes my eyes burn. Do I have to call upon the power of Isis and give you an ass whoopin'?"
"Just give it another try," she said as she went to sprits me again.
"OH MIGHTY ISIS--" I began, fingering my oversized amulet necklace.
"Okay, okay! I'm sorry..." she conceded and slowly backed away, knocking over a display of "White Diamonds" in the process. Oooo, Liz is going to be pissed!
"That's right," I said scowling, not taking my eyes off of her, until she disappeared behind a rack of grandma panties. Generally annoyed, I gave up on the Orange Julius and went on my merry way, smelling of alcohol and flowers.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Shame on me...
So last night I was just finishing up the new Harry Potter book [I was totally surprised to find out that Ron was a chick and he and Hermione were total scissor sisters... oh, spoiler alert, sorry, forgot to mention that, anywho, talk about plot twist] when my on again off again hairdresser, Mary F, rang me up. She heard that Posh and Becks were having a kegger, and she wanted to invite me along. I figured, why not, maybe I could slip into David's room and, you know, turn on the Frau charm. I'll bend it like Beckham, if you know what I mean...
So twenty minutes later we roll up. We were about to ring the bell when Lindsay Lohan stumbled out with a enough blow on her upper lip to make a "got milk" advert. We watched her stumble around for a bit before hopping in to her car and careening off. With the door still open we let ourselves in.
The party was bumpin, it was like beyond Beyond the Valley of the Dolls! Everyone who is anyone was there, and of course they were all fighting for my attention, I would do the same if I were in their shoes. After we made the rounds, Victoria came stumbling up to us.
"Frau, you wanna scam on each other in the hot tub?" She asked.
"Oh Vic, I'm flattered, but how many times do I have to tell you, these scissors don't cut that way," I said, she seemed a little crushed, while Mary F giggled like a girl with a secret. "Now if you want, I'll let you watch me make out with your husband." I added, which seemed to cheer her up and she jetted off to find him.
While we waited for her to come back, Mary F offered to get us some drinks from the bar. I didn't want to move, perchance missing the return of Vic with David in tow. By the time she returned with the drinks, I had cozied up to an amusing little blonde who insisted I call her Cathy Lee Crosby.
"Why look at your little outfit!" I exclaimed, as she was fully decked out Wonder Woman style.
"That's Incredible!" She seemed reserved at first, but then after making sure that we were not wearing any Maybelline products, she loosened up a bit. We all laughed a bit as Jon Lovits kicked Andy Dick in the, well, dick. By the time Andy ran out of the place, following the snowy Lohan path, I had downed my Bartles and James and began to get a little impatient.
I tried to focus on the large wall clock across the room, but it was all a blur. I turned to Mary F in what felt like a slow motion twirl as the colors of the room seemed to sing and dance around me.
"Koo-koo-ka-joo," Mary F giggled. I then looked down at my empty bottle of B&J and noticed the gritty residue at the bottom. Damn that girl, she had done it to me again. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice... well, then I passed out... needless to say, by the time I came to, Mary F had uploaded a ton of new images to her pay-per-view website... at least she bought me a coffee the next day... all though it was decaf and I had to throw it in her face.
So twenty minutes later we roll up. We were about to ring the bell when Lindsay Lohan stumbled out with a enough blow on her upper lip to make a "got milk" advert. We watched her stumble around for a bit before hopping in to her car and careening off. With the door still open we let ourselves in.
The party was bumpin, it was like beyond Beyond the Valley of the Dolls! Everyone who is anyone was there, and of course they were all fighting for my attention, I would do the same if I were in their shoes. After we made the rounds, Victoria came stumbling up to us.
"Frau, you wanna scam on each other in the hot tub?" She asked.
"Oh Vic, I'm flattered, but how many times do I have to tell you, these scissors don't cut that way," I said, she seemed a little crushed, while Mary F giggled like a girl with a secret. "Now if you want, I'll let you watch me make out with your husband." I added, which seemed to cheer her up and she jetted off to find him.
While we waited for her to come back, Mary F offered to get us some drinks from the bar. I didn't want to move, perchance missing the return of Vic with David in tow. By the time she returned with the drinks, I had cozied up to an amusing little blonde who insisted I call her Cathy Lee Crosby.
"Why look at your little outfit!" I exclaimed, as she was fully decked out Wonder Woman style.
"That's Incredible!" She seemed reserved at first, but then after making sure that we were not wearing any Maybelline products, she loosened up a bit. We all laughed a bit as Jon Lovits kicked Andy Dick in the, well, dick. By the time Andy ran out of the place, following the snowy Lohan path, I had downed my Bartles and James and began to get a little impatient.
I tried to focus on the large wall clock across the room, but it was all a blur. I turned to Mary F in what felt like a slow motion twirl as the colors of the room seemed to sing and dance around me.
"Koo-koo-ka-joo," Mary F giggled. I then looked down at my empty bottle of B&J and noticed the gritty residue at the bottom. Damn that girl, she had done it to me again. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice... well, then I passed out... needless to say, by the time I came to, Mary F had uploaded a ton of new images to her pay-per-view website... at least she bought me a coffee the next day... all though it was decaf and I had to throw it in her face.
Friday, June 29, 2007
An Apple a day...
Dear friends, long story short, I have been waiting dutifully in line for five days to get my hands on a brand new iPhone. Well to be honest, I wasn't there the whole time, I paid some homeless guy five bucks and a carton of GPC cigarettes a couple of days ago to wait in line for me, he excitedly accepted, that Kevin Federline, he'll do anything for a carton of GPCs. So this morning, I popped back over to the store so that I could be there at 9:00 when it opened. I was surprised to find K-Fed MIA and a one Rufus Wainwright in his steed! He hasn't forgiven me for my review of his album, but really, he does sound like he is gargling jizz when he sings, and I wasn't just saying that because I loathed him.
8:15 AM
"Excuse me, but I believe this spot is reserved for me." I said politely, hoping he wouldn't recognize me, which is an impossible dream, since people are always coming up to me on the street begging for autographs and change.
"No way, sister, I bought the right to be here fair and square. Its amazing what a six pack of Keystone is worth on the street." He sassed, looking me up and down.
"Damn that K-Fed!" I cursed silently under my breath, then to Rufus, "Look, just because you are some privileged queen born into money, doesn't mean that you can bully your way in front of me. I represent the--"
"--Common Woman." He interrupted. I was going to say "Lollipop Guild" hoping the little queen would respect my reference to something Judy related, and all you have to do is lay your gaze on my sweet apple bottom and supple bosom to know that Frau is no Common Woman. So of course this little comment set me sideways, but I wasn't about to let him get the upper hand. I had to release my quick wit and give him the verbal lashing he deserved.
8:39 AM
"So I hear Hank Hightower is making an appearance at the Yum Yum Donuts. He is promoting his new "Glory-Donut Holes" this morning. I'd think you would like to be there first, you know, to get in on all the glory." I suggested.
"Whatever." he said blithely. Damn, this was going to be tougher than I thought.
8:42 AM
"Fag"
"Hag"
8:58 AM
The hour was drawing near, and I was growing desperate. There was no way that I was going to play second chair, I absolutely needed to get that iPhone first, damn it. YouTube! I could have YouTube on my phone for the love of god! My heart started to beat faster as my thoughts began to run chaotically trying to devise a plan to get this big red lobster man out of my way!
"I had to leave my condo to come to this?" I asked rhetorically. "I'd hate to come down to your level and become a BW, A basic woman, but if you don't get out of my way, it's gonna get scandalous."
"Okay, you can have my spot." He finally offered.
"Really?"
"PSYCH!" he screamed then began to laugh. I couldn't take it, so I pulled a Pumpkin, and spit my gum into his hair. But he was un-phased, his laughter growing to maniacal levels.
"You don't think I had worse in my hair? I've been to key parties at Travolta's house! Bitch please."
I was about ready to shank him (after all, what else us a girl to do?) when the front doors opened. Damn him. There was nothing I could do now, I almost didn't want the phone anymore, but I figured I could just lie about it and say I was first in line. Nobody would know otherwise. We both walked in, and I stood anxiously behind him at the register.
"Welcome to Boost Mobile, how can I help you?" The store clerk asked politely.
"Yeah I need buy more minutes." Rufus said. SCORE! This sucker wasn't even buying the phone! What an idiot! That means I wouldn't have to lie [because Frau would never lie! Lies make baby Jesus cry].
"Lindsay, where you at?" Rufus chirped into his phone after completing his transaction. "You know where I'm at. I'm just checking into rehab again." Lohan chirped back.
"Sweet, maybe we can grab lunch this afternoon." He replied before skipping out of the store.
"Miss, what can I help you with?" the clerk asked me.
"iPhone! I want the iPhone! Give it to me, NOW!!!" I impatiently demanded.
"Sorry Miss, you can only get that through AT&T right now."
"Nooooooooooooooooo!" I screamed, as I fell to my knees. "Damn you Steve Jobs!"
8:15 AM
"Excuse me, but I believe this spot is reserved for me." I said politely, hoping he wouldn't recognize me, which is an impossible dream, since people are always coming up to me on the street begging for autographs and change.
"No way, sister, I bought the right to be here fair and square. Its amazing what a six pack of Keystone is worth on the street." He sassed, looking me up and down.
"Damn that K-Fed!" I cursed silently under my breath, then to Rufus, "Look, just because you are some privileged queen born into money, doesn't mean that you can bully your way in front of me. I represent the--"
"--Common Woman." He interrupted. I was going to say "Lollipop Guild" hoping the little queen would respect my reference to something Judy related, and all you have to do is lay your gaze on my sweet apple bottom and supple bosom to know that Frau is no Common Woman. So of course this little comment set me sideways, but I wasn't about to let him get the upper hand. I had to release my quick wit and give him the verbal lashing he deserved.
8:39 AM
"So I hear Hank Hightower is making an appearance at the Yum Yum Donuts. He is promoting his new "Glory-Donut Holes" this morning. I'd think you would like to be there first, you know, to get in on all the glory." I suggested.
"Whatever." he said blithely. Damn, this was going to be tougher than I thought.
8:42 AM
"Fag"
"Hag"
8:58 AM
The hour was drawing near, and I was growing desperate. There was no way that I was going to play second chair, I absolutely needed to get that iPhone first, damn it. YouTube! I could have YouTube on my phone for the love of god! My heart started to beat faster as my thoughts began to run chaotically trying to devise a plan to get this big red lobster man out of my way!
"I had to leave my condo to come to this?" I asked rhetorically. "I'd hate to come down to your level and become a BW, A basic woman, but if you don't get out of my way, it's gonna get scandalous."
"Okay, you can have my spot." He finally offered.
"Really?"
"PSYCH!" he screamed then began to laugh. I couldn't take it, so I pulled a Pumpkin, and spit my gum into his hair. But he was un-phased, his laughter growing to maniacal levels.
"You don't think I had worse in my hair? I've been to key parties at Travolta's house! Bitch please."
I was about ready to shank him (after all, what else us a girl to do?) when the front doors opened. Damn him. There was nothing I could do now, I almost didn't want the phone anymore, but I figured I could just lie about it and say I was first in line. Nobody would know otherwise. We both walked in, and I stood anxiously behind him at the register.
"Welcome to Boost Mobile, how can I help you?" The store clerk asked politely.
"Yeah I need buy more minutes." Rufus said. SCORE! This sucker wasn't even buying the phone! What an idiot! That means I wouldn't have to lie [because Frau would never lie! Lies make baby Jesus cry].
"Lindsay, where you at?" Rufus chirped into his phone after completing his transaction. "You know where I'm at. I'm just checking into rehab again." Lohan chirped back.
"Sweet, maybe we can grab lunch this afternoon." He replied before skipping out of the store.
"Miss, what can I help you with?" the clerk asked me.
"iPhone! I want the iPhone! Give it to me, NOW!!!" I impatiently demanded.
"Sorry Miss, you can only get that through AT&T right now."
"Nooooooooooooooooo!" I screamed, as I fell to my knees. "Damn you Steve Jobs!"
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Call Me
So its official, I put the squash on my Jem cover band, Tori Amos kept talking to imaginary creatures on her keyboard, refusing to practice around them, and I'll be damned if Bjork's Misfits cover band didn't work the the shit out of the music tent and the Tri-State Fair grounds last month. It was too be expected, as Bjork and Beer Battered food just compliment each other so easily. Like Chocolate and Peanut Butter.
I entertained the prospect of a Carrie Nations revival, but it looks like original "Z-man" Phil Spector is going to be busy producing Paris Hiltons come back album. I hear the early title is "The Parisskank Redemption." So I'm done with singing, aside from my intimate solo work at The Broadway, but that's really just for the true fans. I like to give back to them.
So with my band officially dissolved, I was directionless. I didn't know where to go, or what to do. I was just left standing, alone in a world that's so cold. Well it wasn't that cold, but it has been a little overcast in the mornings, but I'm usually in bed sleeping it off, so that's not really standing, let alone in a world that so cold. With nothing better to do, I went into the local T-Mobile Shoppe to pay my bill, when inspiration struck me. Technically it was a Sony Erickson, and it hit me square in the noggin. I turned to see Naomi Campbell standing next to the display. The glass had been smashed and she was frothing at the mouth. Apparently her primal instinct had kicked in and she was chucking phones like ninja stars.
I dove behind the counter and tried to confront the scared store clerks as they cowered in terror. I assured them that she would run out of phones in a minute, and simply move on, that was her nature. To my horror, they informed me that they had just received a delivery and that Naomi could have enough ammo to last almost an hour. Clearly this would not do, as I had a lunch date with Jake Gyllenhaal.
I had to take action, as Frau is never that late to a lunch date. Its one of my mottos, never be that late to a lunch date. Of course you want to be a little late, you know, keep'em waiting and all. But not too late, because you never know when Kirstin Dunst is going to be lurking behind the decorative plants, waiting for the right moment to swoop in and declare the territory as her own. The bitch. And nobody wants Kirstin's sloppy seconds. I leapt from behind the counter and flew across the store, all Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon style and kicked Naomi in the head. She went down like Kate Moss on a cocaine covered Pete Doherty.
The store clerks all carried me on their shoulders and declared me their savior, just as Catherine Zeta-Jones walked in and awarded me with the key to Wales. And that was when I decided my true calling was to become a vigilante. Well, for a couple of hours at least, until I found out that I couldn't find an invisible jet. Totally Lame. So I threw out my Feminum bracelets, and the magic lasso I had weaved with the hair I pulled out of Criss Angel's hair brush.
What's the point, really, if you don't have an invisible jet to travel in?
I entertained the prospect of a Carrie Nations revival, but it looks like original "Z-man" Phil Spector is going to be busy producing Paris Hiltons come back album. I hear the early title is "The Parisskank Redemption." So I'm done with singing, aside from my intimate solo work at The Broadway, but that's really just for the true fans. I like to give back to them.
So with my band officially dissolved, I was directionless. I didn't know where to go, or what to do. I was just left standing, alone in a world that's so cold. Well it wasn't that cold, but it has been a little overcast in the mornings, but I'm usually in bed sleeping it off, so that's not really standing, let alone in a world that so cold. With nothing better to do, I went into the local T-Mobile Shoppe to pay my bill, when inspiration struck me. Technically it was a Sony Erickson, and it hit me square in the noggin. I turned to see Naomi Campbell standing next to the display. The glass had been smashed and she was frothing at the mouth. Apparently her primal instinct had kicked in and she was chucking phones like ninja stars.
I dove behind the counter and tried to confront the scared store clerks as they cowered in terror. I assured them that she would run out of phones in a minute, and simply move on, that was her nature. To my horror, they informed me that they had just received a delivery and that Naomi could have enough ammo to last almost an hour. Clearly this would not do, as I had a lunch date with Jake Gyllenhaal.
I had to take action, as Frau is never that late to a lunch date. Its one of my mottos, never be that late to a lunch date. Of course you want to be a little late, you know, keep'em waiting and all. But not too late, because you never know when Kirstin Dunst is going to be lurking behind the decorative plants, waiting for the right moment to swoop in and declare the territory as her own. The bitch. And nobody wants Kirstin's sloppy seconds. I leapt from behind the counter and flew across the store, all Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon style and kicked Naomi in the head. She went down like Kate Moss on a cocaine covered Pete Doherty.
The store clerks all carried me on their shoulders and declared me their savior, just as Catherine Zeta-Jones walked in and awarded me with the key to Wales. And that was when I decided my true calling was to become a vigilante. Well, for a couple of hours at least, until I found out that I couldn't find an invisible jet. Totally Lame. So I threw out my Feminum bracelets, and the magic lasso I had weaved with the hair I pulled out of Criss Angel's hair brush.
What's the point, really, if you don't have an invisible jet to travel in?
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Practice Makes Perfect
Hi Kids, sorry I've been out of touch, I've just been really busy with band practice. We've been getting together every night and practicing in my garage. Things were going swimmingly, that is until early last night...
We were working on the choreography to our opening number. It was fantastic. First, I walk out as Jerrica Benton in my plain jane pantsuit, and I'm surrounded by the Starlight House orphans, played by Maddox and Zahara Jolie-Pitt, and Pax Jolie-soon-to-be-Pitt. Shiloh cried and cried to be part of the show, but I told her no, she just wasn't orphany enough. Anywho, so I walk out, and then in a could of smoke and lights Alison Goldfrapp appears as Synergy, I tug on my over seized earrings [I got them at Jodie Watleys yard sale, total score!] and then the orphans rip off my tear away pantsuit to reveal my Jem fabulousness. Then the band I and break out into "Glitter N Gold"... Its truly outrageous!
So we were in the middle of out 7th walk through, fucking Zahara keeps missing her cue, when the garage door swings open! Standing there, in the fading sunlight, was Bjork.
"What do you want?" I ask, somewhat defensively.
"Hvað kostar það? Þakka þér fyrir. Reykjavík." She says mousily.
"I told you, I don't speak Spanish!" I chastise her. "Anyone know what the hell is this bitch saying?"
"Ég veit ekki. Gus Gus." Bjork says, throwing a 12" record down at my feet. I look at the cover and understand instantly. She started a Misfits cover band with PJ Harvey and Morrissey. The bitch.
"You stupid slag! I'll cut you like Tori Amos cuts the insides of her thighs!" Alison screamed, pulling a butterfly knife from her va-jay-jay.
"You know, I'm right here." Tori whined from behind the keyboards. We needed somebody to play Kimber since Alison refused, and Tori was a last minute fill in.
"Shut up, Tori, before I rape you again!" Alison called back. Tori sulked into a corner and started talking to the fairies and butterflies.
"Girls, girls!" I interrupted, fearing the disintegration of the band right before my eyes. "Lets remember who the real enemy is here. If Bjork wants a throw down, lets give it to her!"
Then, as if I were a Cable TV Reporter, Bjork leapt at me with a guttural squeal [I'm pretty sure it was one of the tracks off Medulla]. I reeled backwards, tripping over Pax, my hair narrowly escaping her claws. Just as Bjork readied for another attack, Alison threw a glass of water onto her. Instantly, Bjork's skin began to sizzle and smoke as she slowly melted into her clothes.
"ÉG bræða! ÉG bræða! Hvaða a veröld! Hvaða a veröld!" She crieed repeatedly until her voice was nothing more than a little squeak, which didn't really take all that long. We all pause for a moment, none of us wanting the chore of cleaning up the melted Bjork on the floor. Finally, I made an executive decision.
"Shakira, clean that mess up."
"My name is Zahara! Why can't people get that right!" Zahara cried, correcting me.
"No, I meant Shakira. Shakira, get in here, you beautiful liar you!" I called out to my maid.
"Pinche puta." Shakira mumbled under her breath as she entered with mop and bucket.
"Just clean it up, bitch, before I have you deported."
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Converting Centimeters to Inches...
So I was sitting at home working on my hook and latch rug (I couldn't resist the cute little puppy picture) when the phone rang.
"'Yello." I said
"Hi, is James in?" asked a very serious man.
"No, he isn't in, but this is his wife." I love fucking with people who dial wrong numbers.
"Great! Well if James isn't available, surely you will help out!"
"Of course I will!"
"We need you to substitute speak at a seminar tomorrow. Can you make it?" he said. I thought for a minute. I did have a lunch date with Britney, but fuck it, she could stay in rehab for one day at least. So I got the address and time for when I was supposed to show up.
I threw on my trampiest dress, but I did make sure to put some panties on, after all, I didn't really know where I was going. And Brit-Brit insisted I pinky swear that I will never leave the house without panties. Hypocrite. But anywho. I map quested the Holiday Inn and rolled up in my Escalade.
"Mrs. Dobson, I'm so glad that you could make it." a man said. I recognized his voice as the very serious man. "They are all waiting for you in the banquet hall. I wish I could stay, but I gotta go." He said just as a Mazda Miata pulled up next to him. Bad house music pouring out of the stereo.
"Come on Ted!" the man, with too too short shorts, yelled from the car.
"Later!" Ted said, getting into the car as it peeled away.
I made my way to the banquet room, which was filled with homos and drag queens. A large banner behind the podium that read "Cure the Disease." As I walked over to the podium the crowd hushed. I cleared my throat
"AIDS is a terrible disease," I started. "And all you homos need to stop bare backing with strangers." The crowd looked confused. I spied a drag queen who was dressed as Betty Page. "You, Drag Queen, what's the deal here?"
"I'm a Betty Page Impersonator! And the problem is, you are supposed to be curing us of homosexuality."
"Oh, that shits easy. Come up here." As Betty Page walked up onto the stage I grabbed the impersonator's hand and stuck it on my boob. "There, now feel that! The power of my tit!" Betty started rubbing a little harder. "Now pay attention guys and recognize! See how easy it is!?!" Betty started to really get into it, touching me in a way I had never felt before. My spine began to tingle. "WHOA there tiger, lets slow it down. Now why don't you go and put some mans clothes on and we'll call this a wrap. Maybe we can go out for a drink." I said with a sly wink. Maybe this day won't be a total loss.
"But you are supposed to cure me."
"I just did, my little drag queen."
"But I'm not a drag queen, I'm an impersonator."
"Yeah,so, either way yer still a dude, even though the boys are tucked up there, somehow, lord knows how you do it, but its there."
"No, I'm a chick."
"Nasty!" I said, slapping her soft tantalizing hand off my supple erect nipple.
"What the funk is your name?"
"Aja."
"Asia?"
"Aja!"
"Asia? Like freaking 'Heat of the Moment'?"
"No, Aja... like... Aja. Anyway, I'm not actually a lez or anything, I'm here for the Betty Page Conference next door. I saw you outside, and for some reason I was drawn to you, so I snuck in here. I think I really may be a lez."
"Well I don't blame you sweetie, this hot bod is a head turner. Now how do you spell your last name, I want to get it right for the restraining order." Then turning back to the mass of homos, I pulled a box of Lemonheads out of my purse and started to pass them out. "Here you go sweeties, this is the sure fire cure in pill form, now yer all straight! Ain't that great!?!" They all seemed a little perplexed, but accepted my cure all. "So who wants to go to Der Wienerschnitzel for corndogs!?!" To which the crowd responded with a cheer, except for the dikes. They were scowling, as dykes do. "And we'll also stop by Del Taco and get some tacos too!" The dykes then quickly joined in the excitement. Then I kicked the podium over and lit the banner on fire. "You can come too, Betty," I added.
"Aja."
"Whatever."
"'Yello." I said
"Hi, is James in?" asked a very serious man.
"No, he isn't in, but this is his wife." I love fucking with people who dial wrong numbers.
"Great! Well if James isn't available, surely you will help out!"
"Of course I will!"
"We need you to substitute speak at a seminar tomorrow. Can you make it?" he said. I thought for a minute. I did have a lunch date with Britney, but fuck it, she could stay in rehab for one day at least. So I got the address and time for when I was supposed to show up.
I threw on my trampiest dress, but I did make sure to put some panties on, after all, I didn't really know where I was going. And Brit-Brit insisted I pinky swear that I will never leave the house without panties. Hypocrite. But anywho. I map quested the Holiday Inn and rolled up in my Escalade.
"Mrs. Dobson, I'm so glad that you could make it." a man said. I recognized his voice as the very serious man. "They are all waiting for you in the banquet hall. I wish I could stay, but I gotta go." He said just as a Mazda Miata pulled up next to him. Bad house music pouring out of the stereo.
"Come on Ted!" the man, with too too short shorts, yelled from the car.
"Later!" Ted said, getting into the car as it peeled away.
I made my way to the banquet room, which was filled with homos and drag queens. A large banner behind the podium that read "Cure the Disease." As I walked over to the podium the crowd hushed. I cleared my throat
"AIDS is a terrible disease," I started. "And all you homos need to stop bare backing with strangers." The crowd looked confused. I spied a drag queen who was dressed as Betty Page. "You, Drag Queen, what's the deal here?"
"I'm a Betty Page Impersonator! And the problem is, you are supposed to be curing us of homosexuality."
"Oh, that shits easy. Come up here." As Betty Page walked up onto the stage I grabbed the impersonator's hand and stuck it on my boob. "There, now feel that! The power of my tit!" Betty started rubbing a little harder. "Now pay attention guys and recognize! See how easy it is!?!" Betty started to really get into it, touching me in a way I had never felt before. My spine began to tingle. "WHOA there tiger, lets slow it down. Now why don't you go and put some mans clothes on and we'll call this a wrap. Maybe we can go out for a drink." I said with a sly wink. Maybe this day won't be a total loss.
"But you are supposed to cure me."
"I just did, my little drag queen."
"But I'm not a drag queen, I'm an impersonator."
"Yeah,so, either way yer still a dude, even though the boys are tucked up there, somehow, lord knows how you do it, but its there."
"No, I'm a chick."
"Nasty!" I said, slapping her soft tantalizing hand off my supple erect nipple.
"What the funk is your name?"
"Aja."
"Asia?"
"Aja!"
"Asia? Like freaking 'Heat of the Moment'?"
"No, Aja... like... Aja. Anyway, I'm not actually a lez or anything, I'm here for the Betty Page Conference next door. I saw you outside, and for some reason I was drawn to you, so I snuck in here. I think I really may be a lez."
"Well I don't blame you sweetie, this hot bod is a head turner. Now how do you spell your last name, I want to get it right for the restraining order." Then turning back to the mass of homos, I pulled a box of Lemonheads out of my purse and started to pass them out. "Here you go sweeties, this is the sure fire cure in pill form, now yer all straight! Ain't that great!?!" They all seemed a little perplexed, but accepted my cure all. "So who wants to go to Der Wienerschnitzel for corndogs!?!" To which the crowd responded with a cheer, except for the dikes. They were scowling, as dykes do. "And we'll also stop by Del Taco and get some tacos too!" The dykes then quickly joined in the excitement. Then I kicked the podium over and lit the banner on fire. "You can come too, Betty," I added.
"Aja."
"Whatever."
Monday, February 19, 2007
If you touch it I'ma start some drama
Let me set the scene for you: Just got paid, Friday Night, the party was going to be bumpin. I went over to my friend Pygar's condo to help him get ready. He has this posh penthouse at the Long Beach Aqua building. He is always putting together the most random out fits, total haute couture stuff, but his hair is always a mess, pretty much because he is blind as a bat [sans the echolocation]. I used to get there around seven, but showed up around nine. I was tapering the growler, and since it had been a while, it took me a little longer than usual. I was just about to knock on the door when it opened, Pygar's angelic voice inviting me in.
"How'd you know it was me?" I asked and I walked into the living room where he was seated sipping on an Apple Martini. He was wearing these brown chords with some ambisexual blouse that was so bright that I had to squint to look directly at it. As usual, his beautiful blonde hair looked as if he had just gotten out of bed.
"You forget, Frau, I am an angel." He answered calmly.
"Yeah, but it still kinda creeps me out. Not that yer an angel, I totally have friends who are angels, and it doesn't bother me, but that you knew before I even knocked."
"Oh, Frau Bella, you should have no worries when I am near" His voice soothed like a shot of Irish Crème. "Chi-Chi, Frau is here, come and say hello." He called out with quiet grace. A moment later, Chi-Chi, Pygar's seeing-eye Puggle, walked in and came over to me, licking my boot before sitting next to Pygar. "Good, girl."
"Well, lets get started on that birds nest you call a head!" I quipped. After a laborious hour of combing and spraying, the place smelled of Aqua Net and Aussie, but all of my hard work paid off, and his hair appeared to be an effortless mess, almost as if he had just gotten out of bed and said to himself "I'm too cool to waste time combing my hair."
"Tonight is going to be so much fun! I called Britney Spears and told her it was going to be an 'Alien 3' themed party and that she needed to shave her head or else they wouldn't let her in! Man, is she gullible!" I said as we got into the elevator and both laughed. Pygar moved to the back of the elevator with Chi-Chi sitting quietly by his side. "So are you going to totally hook up with some chicks to scam on?"
"I do not understand, 'scam on?'"
"You know, like, make love!"
"Make Love? I do not understand." He said with a calm innocent confusion as the elevator slowed halfway into our decent to the lobby. The doors opened to a wreck of a woman standing there with a soiled shirt and a twig stuck in her hair. Next to her was a fat lump of a dog breathing so heavily it would have made an obscene phone caller blush.
"Oh that's that dog that bites." She growled at Pygar.
"Madame, you must have Chi-Chi confused with some other dog." Pygar said.
"Oh really?" She said, contemptuously glancing between us while getting into the elevator. The doors had just closed when she made a barking sound and a growl. "See, your dog just bit mine!" She yelled, mashing the elevator buttons with her palm to get off on the next floor.
"Chi-Chi did no such thing." Pygar said with quiet defense.
"Yes it did, and now my little dumpling is bleeding all over." She said. I was shocked silent at her mad rambling as I looked from her unscathed slab of meat she called a dog back to the twig sticking out of her hair. "I hope your dog has rabies!" she said as the doors opened and she stepped out.
"Fuck you, you fucking dumb ass bitch cunting whore!" Pygar yelled. "I hope you get fucking ass raped, lord knows that cunt of yours if full of cobwebs!" He managed to say before the doors closed and we began our decent again. "As I was saying," his voice the picture of calm again, "Angels don't make love, Frau Bella, they are love."
"How'd you know it was me?" I asked and I walked into the living room where he was seated sipping on an Apple Martini. He was wearing these brown chords with some ambisexual blouse that was so bright that I had to squint to look directly at it. As usual, his beautiful blonde hair looked as if he had just gotten out of bed.
"You forget, Frau, I am an angel." He answered calmly.
"Yeah, but it still kinda creeps me out. Not that yer an angel, I totally have friends who are angels, and it doesn't bother me, but that you knew before I even knocked."
"Oh, Frau Bella, you should have no worries when I am near" His voice soothed like a shot of Irish Crème. "Chi-Chi, Frau is here, come and say hello." He called out with quiet grace. A moment later, Chi-Chi, Pygar's seeing-eye Puggle, walked in and came over to me, licking my boot before sitting next to Pygar. "Good, girl."
"Well, lets get started on that birds nest you call a head!" I quipped. After a laborious hour of combing and spraying, the place smelled of Aqua Net and Aussie, but all of my hard work paid off, and his hair appeared to be an effortless mess, almost as if he had just gotten out of bed and said to himself "I'm too cool to waste time combing my hair."
"Tonight is going to be so much fun! I called Britney Spears and told her it was going to be an 'Alien 3' themed party and that she needed to shave her head or else they wouldn't let her in! Man, is she gullible!" I said as we got into the elevator and both laughed. Pygar moved to the back of the elevator with Chi-Chi sitting quietly by his side. "So are you going to totally hook up with some chicks to scam on?"
"I do not understand, 'scam on?'"
"You know, like, make love!"
"Make Love? I do not understand." He said with a calm innocent confusion as the elevator slowed halfway into our decent to the lobby. The doors opened to a wreck of a woman standing there with a soiled shirt and a twig stuck in her hair. Next to her was a fat lump of a dog breathing so heavily it would have made an obscene phone caller blush.
"Oh that's that dog that bites." She growled at Pygar.
"Madame, you must have Chi-Chi confused with some other dog." Pygar said.
"Oh really?" She said, contemptuously glancing between us while getting into the elevator. The doors had just closed when she made a barking sound and a growl. "See, your dog just bit mine!" She yelled, mashing the elevator buttons with her palm to get off on the next floor.
"Chi-Chi did no such thing." Pygar said with quiet defense.
"Yes it did, and now my little dumpling is bleeding all over." She said. I was shocked silent at her mad rambling as I looked from her unscathed slab of meat she called a dog back to the twig sticking out of her hair. "I hope your dog has rabies!" she said as the doors opened and she stepped out.
"Fuck you, you fucking dumb ass bitch cunting whore!" Pygar yelled. "I hope you get fucking ass raped, lord knows that cunt of yours if full of cobwebs!" He managed to say before the doors closed and we began our decent again. "As I was saying," his voice the picture of calm again, "Angels don't make love, Frau Bella, they are love."
Friday, February 16, 2007
Huh... ?
Now, I can't deny that everyone wants a piece of Frau Pie, and really, I can't blame them, this is some high grade puddin'... but sometimes, I just get so very confused by people who don't seem to understand The Frau, no matter how much I try to give them a coupon to buy a clue...
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Robert
Date: Feb 13, 2007 11:17 AM
Check out my profile and hope you like and want to know me better. I see that you have Sun in Pisces. My Sun is in Pisces. My Moon is in Virgo, Taurus is Rising, Venus in Acquarius and Mars in Gemini. Do you know what your Rising Sign, Moon, Venus and Mars are? If not I can calcualte these. I just want to use astrology as one way for us to get to know each oher better. I hope I hear from you soon.
----------------------------------
From: Frau Bella
Date: Feb 13, 2007 12:20 PM
I don't have a son, I don't know who you've been talking too... but I know a certain adoption agency that was paid good money to keep their mouths shut...
----------------------------------
From: Robert
Date: Feb 13, 2007 6:20 PM
I was not referring to you about any son you may or may not have. I was referring to your Sun Sign as in astrology. I am interested in getting to know you personally for a friendship. I have no hidden information about except for what is in your profile.
----------------------------------
From: Frau Bella
Date: Feb 15, 2007 8:57 AM
Thats right, we shall speak of it no more... now whats this about astroglide? You little minx you!
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Robert
Date: Feb 13, 2007 11:17 AM
Check out my profile and hope you like and want to know me better. I see that you have Sun in Pisces. My Sun is in Pisces. My Moon is in Virgo, Taurus is Rising, Venus in Acquarius and Mars in Gemini. Do you know what your Rising Sign, Moon, Venus and Mars are? If not I can calcualte these. I just want to use astrology as one way for us to get to know each oher better. I hope I hear from you soon.
----------------------------------
From: Frau Bella
Date: Feb 13, 2007 12:20 PM
I don't have a son, I don't know who you've been talking too... but I know a certain adoption agency that was paid good money to keep their mouths shut...
----------------------------------
From: Robert
Date: Feb 13, 2007 6:20 PM
I was not referring to you about any son you may or may not have. I was referring to your Sun Sign as in astrology. I am interested in getting to know you personally for a friendship. I have no hidden information about except for what is in your profile.
----------------------------------
From: Frau Bella
Date: Feb 15, 2007 8:57 AM
Thats right, we shall speak of it no more... now whats this about astroglide? You little minx you!
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Truly Outrageous...
So I was at the Grammy's this past weekend trying to drum up interest in my "Gem and The Holograms" cover band [Alison Goldfrapp was slated to be Kimber but she refused to participate unless she got to be Synergy, I reluctantly agreed, bitch is always trying to upstage me]. I had a fabulous dress made out of my demo CDs, so that when ever I bumped into a high profile producer, I just plucked one off the bottom of my dress and nonchalantly handed it to him. Once word got out that I was there, my demo became the hot ticket and my dress quickly became a mini skirt.Ma' Knowles emerged from a dark corner corner like an evil Skeksis and scuttled over to Beyonce and whispered in her ear while pointing over at me. Beyonce grew red with anger but tried to maintain her cool as she walked over to me. I smiled and winked, which I knew caused her to rage on the inside. She is such a sociopath clinging on to that mask of sanity.
"Look, Frau," She started in quietly, "there is only room from one hoochie in the spotlight tonight, and that's me."
"Really? Does that mean Christina Aguilera isn't going to be here?" I replied. She scowled, silently looking me up and down. Then with her laser beam eyes, she quickly recorded over all of my demos.
"There you go, bitch, see how many people want a copy of Color Me Badd's come back album!" She began to cackle manically as my entourage of interested producers began to quickly disband.
"You little cunt!" I screamed as I lunged for her. I needed some quick P.R. now, and figured my beating Beyonce's ass was as good as it was going to get. Unfortunately, at that moment Tara Reid came walking in, and all of the journalists quickly focused their cameras on her tit that has just alighted from her top... again. Refusing to be defeated before I could even land a blow, I pulled Beyonce's hair so hard that I ripped it clean off her head while I kicked her to the floor. Triumphantly, like a warrior who had just claimed his enemy's scalp, I held it up for the crowd to see. This only seemed to encourage her laughter. I looked down at her bald ass laying there laughing, and then I realized that it was just a wig. I turned and ran, all the while, Beyonce's maddening laughter echoed through out my skull.
I was a distraught wreck, until a hour later, when Robbie Williams offered me some prescription drugs to console me. That began our two day bender of sex and drugs, but he couldn't keep up with the Frau. Many have tried, and they always end up in rehab after the first day. I do have to give Robbie credit for making through two days. I'll have to send him some flowers... or a carton of cigarettes.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
What happens when you try and be nice...
Yesterday was the worst day ever. It all started with stupid George Clooney. He had been hounding me and hounding me for a date, so I finally caved, and we were going to meet at the IHOP in Santa Monica for a Rooty Tooty Fresh N'Fruity. So I ring up my personal assistant, and former stylist, Mary F. I tell her that she needs to go and pick up my dress from the dry cleaners. She starts to whine that her cat has run off again, and she has to stay home in case he returns. If there is one thing that works my last nerve is whiny crazy cat ladies. I hang up on her before she can start sobbing.
So I pop into the car and drive over to the dry cleaners myself. It still gives me a couple of hours to get ready, not that I'm trying to impress, but Frau never goes out on the town without looking her finest. I was just about to walk in when I bump into a frantic Angelina Jolie.
"Oh Frau! So glad I saw you, I need a favor! I need you to baby-sit this afternoon. We've just bought a house in the French Quarter and we need to go sign that papers. Will you do it?" Its hard to say no to her, after all the good works she does with those little Romanian babies... or were they Brazilian... that reminds me, I need to get a wax. I agree to help, Maddox is a good kid, and I haven't spent a whole lot of time with Baby Zathura. She gives me the address and promises it shouldn't take too long, so I won't have to stand George up. Looks like I'll have to skip the wax.
I roll up to the address she gave me at 1:00 and ring the bell. After a minute the door cautiously opens.
"Oh thank goodness, I thought you were Tom Cruise." Says Dakota Fanning as she opens the door wider. "What happened to Angelina?"
"There was an orphanage fire sale in Silverlake, kids are like half off or something. Looks like I'm going to watch you for a couple of hours." I reply, quietly damning Angelina and her trickery. I walk in and plop down on the sofa when little Elle walks in. She gives me a defiant stare down, challenging me to a silent battle of power. I hold her gaze for a minute until Dakota breaks the quiet stillness with a forced awkward laugh.
"So what shall we play?" She looks at Elle tentatively, like some beaten whore making nice to her pimp.
"I know, lets play Mary-Kate and Ashley!" I say coolly. "Elle, you get to be the anorexic one."
"Sure, and you get to be Dave Coulier." She shoots back with a scowl.
"Why you little--"
"Lets just play something else!" Dakota interrupts before I can finish my thought.
"Lets play 'The Accused!' I get to be Jodie Foster!"
"Fuck that!" Spits Elle, "We're playing 'When A Stranger Calls'..." she trails off glaring at me.
"That's it, you little bitch! We're playing British Nanny!" I scream as I wrap my hands around Elle's throat and begin to shake her violently.
"Dakota...? Dakota...? Are you home?" A squeaky hobbit voice called from the front yard.
"Oh no, quiet, its Tom!" Dakota warned, terror in her eyes. "We have to hide! Quickly!"
"Dakota? Have you read that pamphlet I gave you? Its been a couple of years now, and Steven won't give me your new phone number. I just wanted to see if you had a questions about Scientology. Dakota...?" I reluctantly release Elle from my Kung Fu grip and the three of us run over to the coat closet to hide just as Tom smashes a window to gain entry.
A tense five hours pass with Tom roaming the house in a L. Ron daze periodically calling out to Dakota. Why he never looked in the closet, I'll never know. Finally, we hear John Travolta's jet plane land on the front lawn. We hear a muffled exchange, some wet kissing, and then both of them walking upstairs to the bedrooms.
"Bump this, I'm out!" I say as I alight from our hiding place.
"No," Elle quietly pleaded, holding on to my leg, "you can't leave us!"
"Like hell I can't! I've got a Rooty Tooty Fresh N'Fruity with my name on it!" Then I kicked her in the face and ran out the door.
I finally made it to the IHOP several hours later. Of course George was still there, and he was desperate and clingy, just as I had suspected. And since he paid, I felt obligated to have sex with him. Like I said, worst day ever...
So I pop into the car and drive over to the dry cleaners myself. It still gives me a couple of hours to get ready, not that I'm trying to impress, but Frau never goes out on the town without looking her finest. I was just about to walk in when I bump into a frantic Angelina Jolie.
"Oh Frau! So glad I saw you, I need a favor! I need you to baby-sit this afternoon. We've just bought a house in the French Quarter and we need to go sign that papers. Will you do it?" Its hard to say no to her, after all the good works she does with those little Romanian babies... or were they Brazilian... that reminds me, I need to get a wax. I agree to help, Maddox is a good kid, and I haven't spent a whole lot of time with Baby Zathura. She gives me the address and promises it shouldn't take too long, so I won't have to stand George up. Looks like I'll have to skip the wax.
I roll up to the address she gave me at 1:00 and ring the bell. After a minute the door cautiously opens.
"Oh thank goodness, I thought you were Tom Cruise." Says Dakota Fanning as she opens the door wider. "What happened to Angelina?"
"There was an orphanage fire sale in Silverlake, kids are like half off or something. Looks like I'm going to watch you for a couple of hours." I reply, quietly damning Angelina and her trickery. I walk in and plop down on the sofa when little Elle walks in. She gives me a defiant stare down, challenging me to a silent battle of power. I hold her gaze for a minute until Dakota breaks the quiet stillness with a forced awkward laugh.
"So what shall we play?" She looks at Elle tentatively, like some beaten whore making nice to her pimp.
"I know, lets play Mary-Kate and Ashley!" I say coolly. "Elle, you get to be the anorexic one."
"Sure, and you get to be Dave Coulier." She shoots back with a scowl.
"Why you little--"
"Lets just play something else!" Dakota interrupts before I can finish my thought.
"Lets play 'The Accused!' I get to be Jodie Foster!"
"Fuck that!" Spits Elle, "We're playing 'When A Stranger Calls'..." she trails off glaring at me.
"That's it, you little bitch! We're playing British Nanny!" I scream as I wrap my hands around Elle's throat and begin to shake her violently.
"Dakota...? Dakota...? Are you home?" A squeaky hobbit voice called from the front yard.
"Oh no, quiet, its Tom!" Dakota warned, terror in her eyes. "We have to hide! Quickly!"
"Dakota? Have you read that pamphlet I gave you? Its been a couple of years now, and Steven won't give me your new phone number. I just wanted to see if you had a questions about Scientology. Dakota...?" I reluctantly release Elle from my Kung Fu grip and the three of us run over to the coat closet to hide just as Tom smashes a window to gain entry.
A tense five hours pass with Tom roaming the house in a L. Ron daze periodically calling out to Dakota. Why he never looked in the closet, I'll never know. Finally, we hear John Travolta's jet plane land on the front lawn. We hear a muffled exchange, some wet kissing, and then both of them walking upstairs to the bedrooms.
"Bump this, I'm out!" I say as I alight from our hiding place.
"No," Elle quietly pleaded, holding on to my leg, "you can't leave us!"
"Like hell I can't! I've got a Rooty Tooty Fresh N'Fruity with my name on it!" Then I kicked her in the face and ran out the door.
I finally made it to the IHOP several hours later. Of course George was still there, and he was desperate and clingy, just as I had suspected. And since he paid, I felt obligated to have sex with him. Like I said, worst day ever...
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
It started last autumn...
Everyone has been emailing me "Frau! Frau! Where have you been? We're so worried!" Fear not my little minions, I am fine, I just had to spend the past few months in hiding. Its a long sorted story, so of course I will trouble you with it....
It all started one brisk fall evening last year. I was just leaving Sky Bar [Lindsay Lohan and her entourage of Mouseketeers fresh off their Logan's Run style elimination off the Disney Channel showed up... they'll let anyone into this place, I swear, its off my list!] when I bumped into Vince Vaughn.
"FrauBellasogladIbumpedintoyouIwasjustcomingfromPinkystheirhotdogsarenot
asgoodasthoseinWrigleyFieldbutheyIwashungryforadognotlikeabarkbarkdog
butadelicioushotdogandIheardthatthebestplaceinLAisPinkysso-" At which point I shoved my tongue in his mouth just to make his stop flapping. I mean, he is kinda cute and all, but damn, he just doesn't know when to shut up. We're then totally making out there and I start to think, damn, I bet you he could work wonders with that little tongue of his. I was just about to ask him if he wanted to come back to my place when the Aniston Demon flew down and pulled at my hair.
Fortunately for me, her cheap Lee Press on nails were no match for my Pert strong hair and they snapped off. Seriously, its a shampoo and conditioner in one, genius! She was trying to circle around for a second attempt when I whacked her from the sky with my purse. She fell to the ground making a horrible banshee wail. I turned to avoid the screeching when I saw that it was actually Fantasia Barrino filming a scene for the upcoming "Fantasia Barrino Story Two: Making the Fantasia Barrino Story Starring Fantasia Barrino."
When I turned back the Aniston Demon had returned to her human form. She was talking to Vince like they had been going steady or something!
"Vince, how could you cheat on me!" She sobbed.
"Wait, I thought you two weren't an item, then you broke up." I interjected.
"ListenBabyitsnotlikethat-" I slapped him before he could gain any momentum.
"Listen Bitch, nobody slaps my man!" She pulled a travel copy of the Necronomicon from her cleavage. So thats how she keeps those girls so perky. She begins to chant in some evil language. You could just tell it was evil because there was a Texan accent.
There was suddenly a crash of lightning on the street before me, and Heather Mills appeared, all Terminator style. She lurched at me in a quick hopping motion wielding her leg as a blunt instrument. Forturnas wheel had spun my way, as just as that moment, a belligerent Lindsay was being escorted from the bar carrying a wine glass. Apparently she had tried to smuggle in her own bottle of Strawberry Hill. I snatched the glass from her hand breaking the base off in the process. Wielding it like a Waterford Crystal shiv, I stabbed her in the throat. To my amazement, the skin around her neck was so calloused that the shiv didn't even make a dent.
"Paul had been doing that to me for years!" She cackled. So I did what any good woman would do. I tripped her. Sweeping her good leg like Johnny did to Daniel-son.
"Wax off, Bitch!" I yelled, caught up in the moment. As Heather lay defeated and crying, I turned around to see Vince and Jennifer walking into the bar.
"YouknowyouaretheonlyoneformebabyIdon'tevenknowwhatthegirlsproblem-" Jennifer then shoved her tongue in his mouth to shut him up. As I walk down the street, picking cheap nails out of my hair, wondering if I should lay low for a little while, I swear I could hear Heather calling out into the night...
"I swear, I'll get you Frau Bella!" then after a minute, "Come back here with my leg, Lohan!"
It all started one brisk fall evening last year. I was just leaving Sky Bar [Lindsay Lohan and her entourage of Mouseketeers fresh off their Logan's Run style elimination off the Disney Channel showed up... they'll let anyone into this place, I swear, its off my list!] when I bumped into Vince Vaughn.
"FrauBellasogladIbumpedintoyouIwasjustcomingfromPinkystheirhotdogsarenot
asgoodasthoseinWrigleyFieldbutheyIwashungryforadognotlikeabarkbarkdog
butadelicioushotdogandIheardthatthebestplaceinLAisPinkysso-" At which point I shoved my tongue in his mouth just to make his stop flapping. I mean, he is kinda cute and all, but damn, he just doesn't know when to shut up. We're then totally making out there and I start to think, damn, I bet you he could work wonders with that little tongue of his. I was just about to ask him if he wanted to come back to my place when the Aniston Demon flew down and pulled at my hair.
Fortunately for me, her cheap Lee Press on nails were no match for my Pert strong hair and they snapped off. Seriously, its a shampoo and conditioner in one, genius! She was trying to circle around for a second attempt when I whacked her from the sky with my purse. She fell to the ground making a horrible banshee wail. I turned to avoid the screeching when I saw that it was actually Fantasia Barrino filming a scene for the upcoming "Fantasia Barrino Story Two: Making the Fantasia Barrino Story Starring Fantasia Barrino."
When I turned back the Aniston Demon had returned to her human form. She was talking to Vince like they had been going steady or something!
"Vince, how could you cheat on me!" She sobbed.
"Wait, I thought you two weren't an item, then you broke up." I interjected.
"ListenBabyitsnotlikethat-" I slapped him before he could gain any momentum.
"Listen Bitch, nobody slaps my man!" She pulled a travel copy of the Necronomicon from her cleavage. So thats how she keeps those girls so perky. She begins to chant in some evil language. You could just tell it was evil because there was a Texan accent.
There was suddenly a crash of lightning on the street before me, and Heather Mills appeared, all Terminator style. She lurched at me in a quick hopping motion wielding her leg as a blunt instrument. Forturnas wheel had spun my way, as just as that moment, a belligerent Lindsay was being escorted from the bar carrying a wine glass. Apparently she had tried to smuggle in her own bottle of Strawberry Hill. I snatched the glass from her hand breaking the base off in the process. Wielding it like a Waterford Crystal shiv, I stabbed her in the throat. To my amazement, the skin around her neck was so calloused that the shiv didn't even make a dent.
"Paul had been doing that to me for years!" She cackled. So I did what any good woman would do. I tripped her. Sweeping her good leg like Johnny did to Daniel-son.
"Wax off, Bitch!" I yelled, caught up in the moment. As Heather lay defeated and crying, I turned around to see Vince and Jennifer walking into the bar.
"YouknowyouaretheonlyoneformebabyIdon'tevenknowwhatthegirlsproblem-" Jennifer then shoved her tongue in his mouth to shut him up. As I walk down the street, picking cheap nails out of my hair, wondering if I should lay low for a little while, I swear I could hear Heather calling out into the night...
"I swear, I'll get you Frau Bella!" then after a minute, "Come back here with my leg, Lohan!"
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