THE SHIT SHOW COMING 9/21/09.

i have been working with a new director and a new producer. we had some lettuce issues with some of the main characters. so, some were let go and some new faces are coming. the locations have been scouted and the season premiere will be a mind flowin' cluster fuck. a roller coaster ride. a train wreck with some deadly results. sex, drugs, and mise en place baby. i am BAD ASS and i am bi sexual. well, i think there might be a fag or two. dykes not so much on the set. i don't know the stories will unfold. very top secret. very top shelf. so make yourself a french martini and get ready for THE SHIT SHOW.

SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY

i am writing this blog from a secret location today because someone broke into my house and went thru my things last night while i was out with the girls. i cannot figure out what or if anything was taken? But, you can tell that they were looking for something. 1500 apple laptop still here. 350 watch still here. my 3 closets full of clothes in tact and that shit is priceless. peeps in one piece a bit shaken up. i brought him to george's today for pancakes and bacon he is doing much better. i begged and pleaded with christina to stay another night but she had unbreakable plans. i felt stupid calling the police. this is now 2 times in one week where i have felt very vulnerable. i feel like i am just waiting for the house of cards to fall with me in the middle. i was never good at 52 pick up and i am sure am one bitter queen of hearts. so, i have myself locked up at a friend's place while they are away and i have some one watching my place. i just hope i don't need a magenta weave to protect me from stray bullets in the parking lot of acme.


good speed.
be safe.
keep you enemies close.

SIGNS

some might question where my dick is sometimes? i may sometimes push things to the limits. i watched the true hollywood story of janice dickinson and i felt like she was too much....is that callin' the supermodel whack? i mean sure back in my hay day runway days i did a lot of blow and booze. we did a lot of pill swappin' too. yeah know, i will trade you a malibu barbie for a strawberrry shortcake. did not really matter what they were it was more about....i hope i don't end up on the cover of the ny post or in bed with some random Z-lister. But, that all changed when i bought this fiber optic lady of guadalupe portrait from an old vegas show girl in berlin, new jersey. actually, i got it from a parking lot flea market. i so am going to get nailed by oprah when i go on to discuss my memoir. she is going to bitch slap me for over embellishin'. yeah know what oprah, everything looks better dipped in glitter...just like you look better in those big ol' diamond earrings...then "WE" both would forgot about how you hit 200 pounds again...shhhhhh, i won't tell anyone.... then you can make up some half ass online self help class and have your robot dr. wizard of oz tell everyone that it is as easy as 123. another 100 million in the bank, girl. $$$. then you and gail cane move to belize and live in the rainforest and come out of the damn closet.....i am jumping ahead. you first have to win and oscar and be vice president of the USA. Ok, back to the lady of guap. one night in the late 2000's. wtf? that does not sound as good as the late 80's....anyway, i saw a tear go down her cheek and i knew that she was crying out to me to get my life in order to stop dating unavailable assholes and to be a strong black woman. we don't got to be factory workers or lunch ladies....wait a fucking minute? i am thinking of that movie called Norma Linda Jackson where sally field went all black face and won an oscar. she really played ghetto to the "G" FYI: single ladies by beyonce. ABOUT LITTLE OL' ME. so, after that holy night, i vowed to go back to school and be single till Mr. Right came along and not settle for Mr. Right Now Will Do Because I Am Drunk As Hell. that would Mr. RNWDBIAD. was he in slumdog millionaire? i wanna sell slumdog hot dogs at the chalfonte hotel in a cart on the front porch and get one of those little indian kids to come sell them. we can put him on milk cart so he can reach the sauerkraut and relish. plus, we have better housing here than over there? to be honest, i don't really know where there is? i live at exit zero in nj we don't get indie movies here. HELLO NETFLIX, PEOPLE. I was going to pick up the mail for the hotel yesterday and on franklin street right next to my favorite family's house...shout out to the posse. i won't use their real last name because mama doesn't think this blog is for her eyes. it ain't everyone's cup of tea that is fuck sure. what? is pauly shore still alive? i have to go to the bathroom a lot this morning. WTF? i ate candy for the first time in weeks and i think my insides are telling me your not going to have a size 29 waist before june 1st eatting butterscotch krumpets, the raisin nette dancers, and a wawa iced coffee....really? really. i have a house guest. back the fuck up. back to my walk to the post. in a sea of washed out colors, i saw one beautiful bright yellow croctus smilin' at me. I SAID OH SHIT WINTER IS OVA. PAYCE. BRING ON MOTHA FUCKIN' SPRING, YO. HELLS TO THE YES, BOBBY B. that is my whitney houston. you should see me in my one man show this summer in the henry sawyer room it is called loose ends. it will be in the newsletter coming out march. i am doing the newsletter for the chalfonte this year. very glossy. lots of candid pics. lots of behind the scenes of the new renovations. the debut of my new column. this lip gloss is poppin', yo. i think everything happens for a reason and i think god or the virgin mary give us signs to lead us down the higher road in life...on the oh shit flip cup, last week the sign for the chalfonte hotel fell off the hotel in a wind storm after 130 years...what the hell does that mean? i don't know i have an email in to god asking what is in store for club chalfonte this summer and is the shit show gonna get picked up by NBC for another season.
in the name of the father.
in the name of the holy ghost.
in the name of fame...i wanna live forever....i wanna learn how to fly........
by the gay, i think i am totally getting ESPN and i am starting to see the future. weirds. RICE?

HIT N RUN

it has been 14 days since i last blogged. i feel like a teenage mom who gave birth at a bus stop on rt 47 and then threw my baby boy in a dumpster behind the burger king in rio grande. so many mixed emotions clouding me head. trying to rise above the sand and fog to make the right decision. i just did not think i could face everyone in cape may with a baby. the stares. the gossip. and don't get me started on what my local priest would think of me. oh shit. i fell in love with a local bartender who used to feed me free drinks and whispered sweet NOTHINGS in my ear about how i was like a best friend who he wanted to take the middle of the road with. OF COURSE, I LET HIM FUCK ME AND GET ME KNOCKED UP. my aunt marge always said, marry someone with less class than you. you will always will be prettier in the light. WTF? isn't that what botex and lifts are for? your suppose to marry someone who has a great relationship with their family, an amazing job and have enough lettuce to support your shoe fetish...shout out to fergie. HOLLA. if anything the only thing you should compromise on is their looks. it makes a lot of fucking sense if they are a tad on the ugly side.....then when that spotlight is burnin' a hole thru you....you will look like a fucking supermodel. will the real giselle stand UP?
so, this beyatch is back. i got a new 3G iphone glued to my side. i now own my personal gym. WTF? ya know what the clock is ticking..and this fag ain't gonna wake up one day 45 and wearing a XXL. jcrew don't come in that size. please, the only thing i am sleeping with these days is my dannon light n fit yogurt before 9pm. There is only 80 calories in it and I don't wake up feeling guilty about why the fuck i am sleeping over somebody's house that i am not having sex with or in a relationship with? angry? bitter? jaded? not really, just the simple true. i signed up to run the susan g komen race for the cure again in may. i have signed up to volunteer in NOLA to cook for 6 days. So, i guess I have been busy....but i should never be to busy to take a little time out of my day to blog. we all need our sugar. do they make sugar free gummy bears? i don't like sugar free jello it is has this foreign aftertaste....and not the turkish delight i love so much. you think you might give it a go then it slides down your throat and you ain't seein' it. kind of like when you get caught up in the moment and you let your older brother cum in your mouth. THAT IS NOT GOOD FOR BUSINESS. you are going to get shut down and the FOR RENT sign will be going up, ASAP. i was running today in cape may and i had this weird feeling that my ex boyfriend-best friend was going to pick me off with his jeep and i saw myself lying on the side of the road in a pool of blood in the dead of winter waiting for somebody to find me on the barren streets of cape may...then i snapped out of it and i laughed to myself. oh chris, he would never run you over with his car. why? because it is new and he would never want to dent it. he would rather just try to strangle you and throw your face into the counter in a room full of friends. sometimes you pick a candy out of the box and you bite into an awful orange creme filled chocolate. that is when you spit it out and wash your mouth out with kettle one. and say NEXT. i find it so much easier to fuck the ones with no class and never know their first names or cell numbers then try to do charity work. can you imagine me bringing that one home to JLC and me telling him he is like tom cruise in the movie, cocktail. really? really. let's leave the pity party to the poor people waiting on line for section 8 cheese and government bread. i do love a nice hearty soup in winter though. a nice minestrone. i should open a soup kitchen. screw that then i really would not have time to blog. i must go i have 10 more orders to fill before federal express comes picks up my battered wife gift baskets. sometimes you you have to turn lemonade into lemon souffle...and sometimes the only solution that makes sense is to run the mother fucker over with your jeep.
i am only getting my feet wet here children.
suck on this hard candy for awhile.
i will see ya tomorrow.
i never knew they made sour patch fags.
sometimes sweet and always bitter.
PAYCE BITCHES.
THIS TIME AROUND THERE WILL BE NO SURVIVORS.

CLEAN UP IN AISLE TWO

.

every since getting back from my "holiday" wink. wink. things have been kind of off and on. i feel like i have been on a ferris wheel that the axle rod...a rod? needles? what? is about to pop and the whole thing is going to holy rollin' down the boardwalk into the streets of wildwood. i love cotton candy and caramel corn. nothing is worse than losin' a limb on the boardwalk...actually, maybe getting an STD from the mexican dishwasher, gil that you ride the 552 with each morning. it is hard to have fucking willpower when his mom makes the most bangin' empanadas. oh shit. i can smell the ground beef and sazon in his hair...hmmm papi....well, i turned 37 about a week ago...on the heels of being released from rehab...when the cape may county police found me with my d&g jeans around my ankles in a pool of diet red bull and vodka on the washington mall behind the ugly mug... it was time for me to be shipped off to promises in malibu in cali by JLC ..i spent almost a month sorting thru my demons with jcrew, lacoste, kettle one, and a man that i would like to settle down with and have 14 babies with... wash his shit stained fruit of the looms and every night have a rump roast ready every night at 6 when he rolls in from the train hot off the streets of madison avenue..the last part is a bit of a stretch...more like the shell station around the corner where he pumps gas. i also came face to face or is place to place? or is race in space? or fuck is it rice n beans..i still am comin' off the methadone...sorry for the sand and fog... i grew up poor and i was born not with a silver spoon in my mouth but more like a spork from wendys eattin' only off the dollar menu...there is just so much chili and bake potatoes one girl can eat before she ends up being called miss piggy or worse....hey are you in the macys thanksgiving day parade or are you a statistic?...a teenage pregnant girl....i thought it was a great idea when this black boy, big nig from camden asked me to get off in millville and smoke some crank....i did not know i would wake up 7 days later wandering around the dollar general with a bottle of outdated miracle whip and no frills shampoo in my hands with my iphone battery dead on arrival...really, i just want to go back to my old job pushing shopping carts at the north cape may acme..really? really, i want to try to go back into beauty school in the spring. i always dreamed of doing updos for weddings and bringing in my famous jello mold during the holidays for all the other beyatches...and standing around mr. coffee talking about how we pray the loans come thru for the new double wides....BUT, i don't wanna be that kind of girl...who says...why me? what if? why did you fuck my man, ma? i should be thankful for my beautiful blue eyes and i am glad my dad only beat with his belt and didn't come sneakin' in the back door for a bit of milk in the middle of the night. so, i am 4 days clean and sober....the clown make up is fading and the bearded lady is whistling womanizer....i hope that my valentine brings me a bottle of britney's perfume, believe on saturday...and i hope i don't have a repeat of last year when i woke up on a fishing boat off the coast of wildwood with two dirty scallop fisherman and a woman named jo. actually, once i was so high on redi whipped cream gases, i played a game of crazy 8's with my mr. coffee. caffeine free craisins and bananas in the raw.
DON'T JUDGE ME.
DON'T HATE ON ME.
I AM NOT PLAYA HATA.
I AM JUST A POOR JERSEY GIRL.

take that bon jovi and turn that into a summer classic.

EARLY RELEASE

i just got my doctors ok to be released from rehab on sunday. so, i will be back in business. up and running with a 6 inch hoagie in one hand and a gallon of glitter in tote. i have had time to reflect on the past 36 years of my life and the murky pond scum is cleared and this swan is ready to snap the necks off all those little geese in the kiddie pool. sorry for the delay. i hope to have the shelves fully stocked with forbidden fruit cocktail by monday. recession or not. there will be no mark downs and nothing will be for sale. except my bitch ass.
P.S. i am in love with the queen of the supermarket.
a special thanks to mickey rourke for writing me every day i was in rehab. the monkey is off my back and i am having it turned into a fierce handbag. you can never have to many things drippin' off your limp wrists.
THE BITCH IS REBORN.
I SPIT THE NAILS OUT AND MY THORNY CROWN IS NOW A DOG COLLAR.
SEE YA AT SUNRISE.

B is for BREAK IT DOWN

i am taking a break from this for a bit. i will be back soon don't worry. i am basking in the afterglow of the inauguration. plus, i am mapping out the rest of my winter vacations. i got one coming up, two just planned, and a big splash in april that involves my native peeps and a passport.

SHAMROCK SNAPS.