DeeEnlightenment

I was going for a jog last night [okay, fine, I was walking to Yogurtland to get a cup, whatever] when I was enveloped by a shaft [*snicker* shaft] of blinding white light. The light was so bright that it temporarily burned out my surroundings, and when the light began to dim and my vision returned, I discovered that I had been transported to an alien spaceship. I saw that I was surrounded by little grey men with big eyes, it was like being in a Margaret Keane painting, but less tortured.

"Oh man, are you going to probe me?" I asked tentatively.

"No," said the alien closest to me, "and what is it with your peoples obsession with butt stuff?"

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it," I answered.

"Anywho, look, we come bearing gifts to your people. Gifts that will advance your civilization by leaps and bounds."

"Aw snap! Yer giving me an iPad Pro!" I exclaimed.

"No you dizzy tart, everyone in the universe knows that iPads are nothing but a gateway to 'freemium' game apps. We're giving you innovations that will cure all disease and hunger. But first, we have to ask you, is this shit for real?" the alien asked, gesturing to a monitor on the other side of the room that was playing the latest Donald Trump tirade about Muslims, building a wall, and giving babies guns.

"Oh no, he's a total joke, nobody in their right mind thinks that he believes what he is saying in the slightest." I answered.

"Then what about this?" the alien flips the channel to some preacher going on about killing Muslims. He flips the channel again to some redneck saying that "the only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun, is a good guy with a gun." He flips the channel to a news report about a mass shooting.

"Enough!" I cry. "I know, I know, there are total d-bags in the world, but you can't fault our entire species because of a couple of assholes."

“If you bought a five-pound bag of peanuts and there were about ten peanuts that were deadly poisonous, would you feed them to your kids?"

"I dunno, do they have a peanut allergy? I mean, would your miracle cures also fix peanut allergies?"

"Only gluten allergies," the alien answered, "but you're missing the point. Sorry, we can't help you, sorry."

"Aw man, this is like one of those Twilight Zone episodes, isn't it?

"Yes, it is. That's because Rod Serling was one of us, disguised as a human. He thought that he could get you people to change your ways through story telling allegories. But here we are, over 50 years later, and the situation is still the same."

"Crap. Really?"

"Yes, you should really catch up when they air one of the marathons. It's quite pathetic that many of those stories still apply to your species. Anywho, it is time for us to leave now."

"But you can't just leave me, there has to be something you can do to help me. I don't want to go back, these people are crazy and they terrify me."

"Here, take this. It will slowly dissolve all of the thought pathways in your brain. It's a slow death, but a painless one," he said as he handed me a new iPad Pro. "It's already loaded with the 'Facebook' and 'Game of War' apps."

And with that, they beamed me back. When I got home, I sat and thought about their words. I looked at my new iPad Pro and realized that, much like Jean-Luc Picard and Q, the trial never ended. The only way to end the verbal tyranny of idiots, is to speak out against the idiots, so I picked up the iPad and made this awesome meme:

Now fly fly fly, little meme, spread your message!

Ho Ho Ho

I walk in an see him sitting there. I feel him looking me up and down, with his silent stare, taking note of my wrinkled clothes.

"Whatever, dude, you don't know me," I start. "You don't know my story, and you know what, little man? I'm fully aware that I'm wearing the same outfit from last night. Its not a 'Walk of Shame' just a 'Walk of same.' You think that you can sit there, all sanctimonious and judgey just because you are in tight with the big man up there? Well I've got news for you, buster, it feels super nice to be naughty and I'm not going to be slut shamed by the likes of you. Just because you decided to sit at home at watch ABCFamily all night doesn't mean that I'm required to endure it's cavalcade of shitty romantic comedies staring A.C. Slater. I'm an independent self-empowered woman. I'm like Diana Prince! Thanks right, asshole, I compared myself to Wonder Woman, and you know why? Cause that bish gets what she wants, and she don't need a man to feel fulfilled. She'll call up Steve Trevor for a bootie call then be like, 'check you later' afterward. Empowerment! So fuck you, you judgmental little prick!"

I stride over to him and smack his silent little face. He falls off the little shelf that he was perched on and hits the ground. I'm worried that he might be concussed, but then I see a copy of an old Hustler magazine fall from his pocket.

 

"Uh-huh, figures," I say, gingerly picking up the magazine. Its pages worn and sticky. "Isn't that always the case with judgey bitches like you. When you point your finger at people, you've got three more pointing back at you!" Then of course, I start to think of my date with Ryan Gosling last night. I'm going to start calling him "Yellow Pages," cause he sure knows how to let his fingers do the walking.

A Learning Moment

It was a hot muggy afternoon yesterday, so I decided that I was going to get myself a nice cold Blended Vanilla Ultimate down at the Coffee Bean. You know how much I love my Coffee Bean [and that's not just a euphemism for my clitoris, but they both give me life]!

I roll up and find a huge line, apparently I wasn't the only one with the idea, but whatev's, I'm a patient gal. I pull out my phone and I'm flipping through my Scruff profile [don't judge, you tell me a better way to get random dudes to send you pictures of their junk, I know they ain't into me, but a girl likes to window shop, amirite? My pseudonym is Herr Bello, and on Scruff I'm 8 1/2 inches, uncut, like everyone else, just sayin'] when some janky woman with an expensive weave walks up and cuts in line.

"Hey, Steven Tyler," I yell ,"no cuts!"

"Excuse me, you cissy bitch?" Caitlyn Jenner turns and says.

"I said 'no cuts,' Trannysaurus Rex!"

 

"You can't say the "T" word, its derogatory."

"Oh, and you can call me a sissy?" I protest.

"I called you a cissy, as in cis-gender," she says contemptuously.

"What the eff is that bull-s?"

"You dum-dum, 'cis' is Latin for "on this side of." It means that you are biologically the same gender that you identify with."

"Hmm, you know, you are right, it was totally insensitive of me to use the tranny word. I need to me more aware of the language I use, and be more thoughtful with the words that I choose. For that, I apologize," I said with a smile and opened my arms to offer her a hug as a peace offering in my moment of clarity. I truly understood the plight of transgender people and the struggle they have to deal with everyday. Caitlyn came in and we embraced in a powerful moment of true connection. "I promise that I will treat you no differently than I treat any one else. I will treat you just as I treat any sister," I added, then I shoved her to the back of the line and yelled, "no cuts, cunt-face."

Caitlyn stumbled to the back of the line, turned, and mouthed the words "thank you."

... Hashtag: Gymspiration

For the past few weeks, I had been admiring [we don't say "stalking," because that implies the need for some sort of law enforcement, court date, restraining order yadda yadda yadda, lets not complicate something so pure and innocent as a simple eye rape, anywho...] I had been admiring this hot guy at the gym... total DILF with a grey beard and tight short haircut reminiscent of the those turn of the century hotties (last turn, not this one, but I guess it's kind of the same thing, just without the douchiness of an ironic handlebar mustache...).

However, despite all of my efforts to catch his eye, he seemed to be resisting my irresistible charms. I had just about given up the chase when I caught a rerun of "Just One of the Guys" on the CW late one night, and because Goonies never say "DIE!" I came up with a fool-proof plan and ring up a Drag King friend of mine teach me how to tape mah titties.

So, fast forward, I kicked my plan into action and there I was, in the men's locker room, completely incognito, hiding my feminine wiles under a large beach towel. Nobody the wiser.

I played like I was rummaging through my gym bag as the Hot Grey Beard walked out of the shower in all of his DILFy grey bearded glory. I discreetly watched has he toweled off his beautifully sculpted furry chest. I played it cool as I rummaged through my gym bag. Nobody was the wiser. I watched him apply some sort of man lotion awesome beard. Nobody was the wiser, as I played it off rummaging through my gym bag, discreetly stealing glances of his thick thighs and booty. Nobody was the wiser. 

Then I caught some guy peripherally staring at me, clearly some homo checking me out because the only thing I had been doing for the past fifteen minutes was totally playing it cool by rummaging through my gym bag. I deepened my voice and turned to the guy and said "what are you staring at, homo?" 

"You know, you swimmers should really dry off in the pool area, you are going to slip in that puddle." he said.

"I don't swim," I said with contempt, but then looked down at the growing puddle at my feet. Or course I immediately slipped on the tile (which apparently wasn't the only thing that was wet), my towel flew off as I fell to the ground and hit my head. 

As the paramedics were wheeling me out on the gurney, they guy at the front desk said I was banned from the gym for some cockamamie bullshit reason. So, long story short, that's why I'll never go to Planet Fitness, I mean, those "Lunk Alarms" are fuckin stupid, am I right?! 

A Daisy Chain for Satan

So I was having that dream again last night, then one with Dolph Lundgren, Drago Lundgren to be specific. And we're in the boxing ring, and we're totally doing it, but then suddenly his deep manly moans of pleasure morph into some weird high pitched groans. I turn away, because the sound coming out of his mouth just ain't right, and see my alarm clock on the floor or the boxing ring. 4:15, it glares. I realize that its the weird moment of confusion between sleep and wakefulness, but the awful sound has carried over into real life... like some sort of Freddy Krueger Audio... and its even worse in the real world. Like that Grape Lady Newscaster who totally ate it...

Like this bitch [at mark 53 seconds]:

[bwahahah... dumb bitch... but anywho...]

So I get up, annoyed to be pulled away from Drago's strong embrace, and peek outside. From my second story my bedroom window, I see a dirty form in the darkness between the two buildings slowly gyrating on the ground moaning. My first guess its that its a wayward troll displaced by the impending demolition of the Desmond bridge. Naturally, I ring the police, since Animal Control doesn't open until 9:00 [seriously, thats the gig to have. 9:00. Bitches]. 

Anywho, the first cop shows up, and I had thought that I had ordered a stripper by mistake. Like a less Swedish [re:Russian] Dolph. All tall dark and handsome, kind of how I picture the Brawny Man to be IRL [that means "In Real Life" for you readers over 40].

"Right this way, officer," I say, tugging at my nightgown strings.

"It was reported that the noise was coming between the buildings," he says, all stern like, which only perpetuated the fantasy in my head. The only thing keeping me grounded was the Grape Lady Troll moans. 

"Oh yes, of course," I say, and lead him down the stairs and point out the way to the small alley between the buildings. As we round the corner, my tweaky neighbor pops up his head looking all confused and... well... tweakery. 

"Are you okay, sir," Officer Brawny asks. I know thats not his name, but it is to me.

"YeahI'mFineILiveHereThisIsWhereILiveWhichIsHere," Tweakerbell starts, pointing at his apartment. 

"When was the last time you used?" Officer Brawny continues. 

"ICouldNeverAffordItIWouldNeverBuyDrugs," Tweakerbell answered.

"Yer freaking out, very very badly," I added.

"Its Great," Tweakerbell said with a smile, "I'mTheWhiteRabbit"

"Sir, you were humping the concrete between the two buildings," Officer Brawny said, shining his flashlight on to Tweakerbell's dirty exposed erection. "We're going to have to take you to the hospital."

The ambulance showed up a few seconds later and carted him off. Officer Brawny was turning to leave when I thanked him for his service.

"No problem, ma'am, thats what I'm here for, to protect and serve. I hope you don't have any problems getting back to sleep."

I tugged on my nightgown again, adding, "I could use somebody to tuck me in." Then he came upstairs and showed that he really could protect and serve.