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]

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!

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.

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.

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!"

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?

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."