katie couric gots nothang on me

i always get a bit funky or should i say more like a touch of sour milk the day before i am going to travel somewhere...there is nothing i hate more then rancid dairy products. i am so craisins about the date on shit like that. i like to have a two week vacation stamped on my half n half when i am tapping that shit dry. sunday is going to be a 3 part miniseries too. i am going to take the #20 bus from closter to nyc. actually, the bus stop sign is on my fricking cousin's property so that is nice. the bus is usually filled with asian fashionistas some with real vuttons and some with tacky chloe knockoffs from houston street. nothing says something about someone more than trying to pull off fake couture. i hate it. i hate it. i hate it. i love when you see a teenage girl with bad roots tied up in a scunchie that resembles a birds nest that has been thru a tropical depression, a dirty disney sweatshirt, and fat faced baby with hand me down clothes from sally's on her hip holding this big ol' gucci purse that looks like someone stenciled the G's and the pleather is as stiff as cardboard. don't get me started on her shoes, miss thing. call me caddy. call me a bitch. if you cannot afford the real thing that is fine. don't try to live outside the trailer lines. stay inside your dirty litter box bubble. don't confuse stupid people that your the junk on your trunk is 100 percent.
i then take the greyhound from nyc to atlantic city. which is the middle of the road bus mostly ol' bettys going to a/c to gamble with sheila and mitsy for the day and there is always a token puerto rican couple with kids bouncing off the seats like romper room...and don't forget their refried bean burritos that makes me feel like you have an oxygen mask and the air supply is courtesy of the 42nd street taco bell. i am sorry i took that last part a little too far it usually smells like day ol' chips and salsa from your cinco de mayo frat party. i love arriving in atlantic city bus terminal it is when my brakes lock and i slam right into the guard rail waiting for my eddie bauer limited edition suv to flip over and kill me. lots of crack heads, bag ladies, unwed mothers, and casino employees trying to catch the bus to the projects or their next fix. the doors slide open and lil' ol' me comes in for a guest appearance...baby blues, pale smooth skin...thank you dr. wexler your face creams are doing wonders. worth the $110. ounce. i sometimes think maybe i should poor it down and throw a garbage bag in the mix instead of having matching lacoste luggage, gloves, hat, sneakers, belt and sweater. but then i think to myself it is better that these people see how the other side lives and maybe the will take pen to paper and have make some long term goals. 1. buy a 40 ounce beer 2. get the electric turned back on 3. find out who my real father is. 4. buy matching luggage.
Finally, the last stretch of my trip is a reality show on NBC called confession of the 552. it is riveting and a nail biter. your a sitting duck waiting for the ex convict or fat girl in the belly shirt running from her pimp to get on. your glued to the doors of the bus watching everyone that comes on. it never falls someone is always getting out of jail, is talking about someone in jail, or is going to visit someone in jail. someone is down to their last dollar and they spent it on smokes and booze. as the bus knits itself a sable blanket of drama and weaves thru every little town towards one of the top ten most beautiful places in the country, CAPE MAY. yes, it is. ask forbes magazine. thank you. i start to get a rash from the synthetic seat covers and i long to see mr. augustine's black pick up truck waiting to scoop me up and bring me back to reality. by the time nightfalls, as we are sipping on martinis noshing on shrimp cocktail and a perfectly grilled piece of beef getting ready to watch a netflix on the flat screen. i forget all about how i got roped into doing a compelling expose piece for the tyra banks show on public transportation...how i got into a fat suit in stretchie pants and spanks. how i carried fake coach luggage. how i stuffed a big mac and dripped my special sauce down my shirt. how i melted into the fondue pot from hell. for what? for the glory of the story. in the real world of supermodels and celebrities, i only get out of bed for 10,000 or a good bump of coke. next week, i am going to dress in drag and see what is like to be a trannie with a mean smack habit and a thing for black guys.....stay tuned and check your local tv guide for times. i smell a refried emmy peeps.

BLACK N BLUE FRIDAY

four words for ya'll MACY'S THANKSGIVING DAY PARADE FLOAT. actually, that is 5 words. yesterday i felt i had been hog tied with butchers twine and slowly released up into the skies over closter, nj by a team of 12. let me get the menu over with now: cornish hen, acorn squash, roasted yams, stuffing, beets, cranberry sauce, mashed potato, and for starters i had chips/dip and hummus/crackers to the point where i was licking the container with my fingers to get every last morsel of chic pea. not cute. oh, i forgot the warm apple pie from the farm(remind me to tell you about the local farm in closter, nj...girl, there is a story there!) and mrs. smith pumpkin pie. FAT CAMP STAT. i am going to be one of those chubby girls that people throw their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at in the lunch room and i run screaming with smuckers stuck all up in my pony tail. oh shit. however, i will be the star of the softball team. i had a dream last night that tony aka crazy Ethiopian was a campus killer at ithaca college aka like virginia tech and i was the head of the FBI team searching for him but he kept killing and getting away...oh yeah ithaca college was also an outside outlet mall..i think that is the pink side of my brain..gayin' up the dream..in the middle of the dream the guidance counselor that i had back in high school caught my ear and said that my blog was racist and written poorly. disclaimer: i write the blog as i speak or think: lots of run ons, chopped up thoughts, and no structure....HELLO.... i instantly woke up and was panic stricken. as i sat down to pee, i did not have my contact lens in and was not in the mood for water sports at 8am. i thought am i taking this too far? is this blog going to get into the wrong hands? is this going to set up a detour on the right path to my future happiness? is god going to be disappointed in me once again? is JLC going to pick up the stank of this with his superhero sense of smell?
i pulled up my fruit of the looms and said if the blacks, jews, dago guidos, wasps, meat and potato beer infested drunks, fags, dykes, sheets, and goya o boyas cannot take a joke...then beyonce said it best....I DON'T YOUR READY FOR MY JELLY...MY BLOG IS BOOTILIOUS BABY.
P.S. if your going out today to shop at the mall for black friday, your a hot mess it is like going out to a bar on new year's eve...all the amateurs. bumping into you and cannot carry themselves and spilling their cocktails all over you. NOT THE LOOK. GOTTA HO, JLC IS HERE.
P.S. P.S. THE DEVIL MADE ME DO THIS.

GOBBLE THE FRIENDLY GHOST

when i was a little tater tot i always had a vivid imagination always cutting and pasting....the rubber cement out 24-7....peeling back the paper on the crayons till there was only a twig stump to work with....P.S. magaenta was my favorite color which was created in 1949 and to date there are a 153 colors of crayola crayons. just a little side of factoid n cheese to go with your mashed potatoes and gravy..i loved the holidays...of course, i loved halloween it is what "we" refer to in my inner circles as "gay christmas" but as i turned the corner on my inch worm into november i felt a static electricity in the air...ironing leaves with wax, making turkeys for the cleary ice box museum out of paper plates, colored felt, and pipe cleaners. don't get me started with the things i made with glitter. so, as thanksgiving would approach an ol' school friend would come to visit me...i would hear a clangling on the back sliding glass door and their she would be with all of her beautiful plummage.....GOBBLE THE FRIENDLY GHOST. i would brush her feathers and i would lend her mom's vintage tiffany's double set of pearls. We would play kick the can with the leftover canned cranberry sauce. We would laugh and laugh. She always told the best off color jokes. I think she had something against the jews because she was always whispering something in yiddish...she would say NAFKA. NAFKA. NAFKA to my aunt effie who has been married 4 times and has two kids with no baby daddies. my cat fredrica french fry would always hiss and moan at gobble and i would have to separate the two of them...gobble loved to play with her toys..but fredica was not havin' any of that. as the hourglass ran out of thanksgiving and all the men would head out to the stumble inn for beers and darts before returning the next day to the coal mines to feed the families in our gated community aka "the trailer park." gobble would start to fade out and it would be harder and harder to see her. I would try to reach out and I would scream gobble gobble..and my grandmother betty would say "oh chris thinks he is a turkey how cute"...but no one knew the pain i was in and i how i longed for my feathered friend to stay with me to shelter me from the woods filled with buck tooth pedophilias and grizzly bears....gobble can you hear me....gobble can you hear me.....the man made mountains are alive with the cries of gang raped children. So, as my cousin puts out the name cards at the dining room table for dinner today, she places my boyfriend's card next to mine...as we start passing the stuffing, the candied yams, and gravy..i turn to him and say isn't the turkey so moist...and he smiles back with a mouthful of sweet potato pie and mumbles yes......and then my aunt rita looks over at the empty chair next to me and shots me her famous crazy eyes. I heart thanksgiving, but I cannot wait to leave Santa cookies and milk because he then comes up to play a game of crazy 8's before heading off to the next house.

THANK YOU CARDS OPTIONAL

i guess this is the time of the month that we should smile a little bit bigger when we pass indians on the streets..and be thankful not just for the 21 pound turkey filled with stove top stuffing but for the genius who invented cranberry sauce....can i get a what what.....can i get a gobble gobble....SNAP.
so if i try for once to be serious in this blog thanksgiving is two words. THANKS and GIVING. so, i am thankful i have a job even though it is only from april to october...it is 6 days of week..and by the time august comes i feel like the whole parish of catholic priests gang raped me for my host...but i am thankful to have a job. i am thankful for my unemployment check. every two weeks going online and two days later on que my check comes and i suck down dirty martinis and drip myself in lacoste and jcrew as i hip hop from place to place. actually, i am thankful for JLC. he is a great dad. a dr. a poet. a diva. a white collar dad. i would not be thankful if he say worked construction when i was growing up...dirty boots in the house, smelly clothes on the plastic covered sofa...empty beer cans and cigarette butts dancing all over the den. our house on wheels heated by a propane tank...beating me with his suspenders because he caught me giving my older cousin, billy bob a blow job behind the outhouse...but dad we were just putting the garden hose away....REALLY? ..i just got so upset with that image i painted that i am starting to get misty waters right now. the holidays take a lot out of you. so, i am sipping coffee at my cousin's casa with my coffee..my cousin is shooting a episode of law and order so i am going to throw a beef brisket together for the family and try to make this pumpkin cheesecake with marshmallow topping...hello, does that not sound delish. i guess i should be thankful for not having not a worry in the world right now..but i have the cleary curse and i am worried about hundreds of things that are out of my control and carrying the weight of " i need to change this about myself", "i need to get rid of this toxic person in my life".....if i was a "smart gay" i would have someone hit me in the head with a brick and forgot my whole life and start over. GAME OVER. my pinball machine is hitting "TILT" so, i have to wonder when the pilgrims came down from canada did they kill all those indians because they really wanted to try out martha stewart's cornbread recipe or was it more like a gang thing...like this is our turf now...i could see the pilgrims in baggie jeans with their boxers hanging out...and wearing big ol' diamond necklaces with a cornacopia of bling. SNAP. but i think it was more god mixing up the melting pot...he wanted brown peeps, olive peeps and white peeps....oh i love the pink peeps at easter....i am thankful for that sugary confection too..... so, as we approach thanksgiving tomorrow whether we are serving tofukery at the soup kitchen to all the lazy bums who can't hold a job or fighting with your brother who is a drunk wife beater at your parents house or if you are having a cornish hen stuffed with cranberry pecan goatcheese stuffing with a mango glaze with your life partner, stephen. just remember long before there was pumpkin pie there was something called pride. so, let's stand together, hands open and say prayer that we are not in iraq caught up in a bushfire of bullets and sandstorms.
just like my mother told me every last thursday of every november....DON'T ASK DON'T TELL.

1/2 pound of thumanns ham sliced paper thin

i just went to the a&p for my aunt riri..she was having a mini meltdown that she no groceries in the house for me to my cousin, glynis. so, i got the credit cards and car keys and went about my gal friday duties..well, i had to stand online for about 10 minutes at the deli counter...everyone must be making antipasto for thanksgiving..because EVERYONE was ordering a zillion pounds of meat. i got my cold cuts.... then breezed over to the fresh breads/sweets section...i was side tracked by the pies, cookies, muffins, and poundcakes....too many choices...so, i got all dizzy gillespie and started racing off what i thought was my shopping cart..only to see this dried prune sea leg claw reach out and pull it away from me...and i quickly turned around to see this old woman in these little glasses staring at me like i just raped her 15yr old grandson. i said very slowly to her....YOU NEED TO RELAX. NO ONE IS GOING TO STEAL YOUR RYE BREAD SWEETHEART. oh shit. she looked at me like i just ran over her jack russell....oops. as i sped off from my hit n run thinking i need to call my dr. and get some meds...maybes some valium or maybe a side by side shake of zanax and vicodin. i want whipped cream, cocoa powder and a cherry on top....then over the loudspeaker customer service said we got a bitchy fag in aisle 5 rustling up the turkey feathers of all the senior bettys up in here... i picked up a pumpkin pie from mrs. smith and i just learned that brooke shields plays hanana montana's mother on who wants to be a millionaire..... really? i did not know that piece of pop corn. actually, what is the most popular deli meat? a 1/2 pound of thumans ham, merideth....and by the way my aunt riri wants that shit sliced paper thin.

mashed potato pancake makeup

i know i am a newbie at the bobbin' for blogs and i am getting emails from my peeps as to where my blog is? i should keep on this shit because i had such a jam packed weekend and my pussy is so tightly wrapped you would need a can opener to crack open this sardine can. i am at kate's in montclair..it is 11am..we just watched britney's vid for womanizer about 10 times on DVR. kate realizes now that she cannot live without a black wig and needs to start running to get her britney mojo back. keep ya updated on how that unplays.
madonna was a bit craisins. we had a sushi pre game before the show. i had 3 russian punches...don't ask me what sushi has to do with them? anyway, it was purple with lots of vodka and champange in it. kate got a sinus headache and was asking every random on the way into the show for advil. i think everyone thought that was a code word for coke or pot or crack? where is cokie roberts when ya need her? i miss her white gold straw.
i sat by myself in section 121. i met a married couple from galloway nj. they had a flask of vodka and one of black sambuca. needless to say i fricking sucking down sambuca on ice. in the middle of madge's opening number..two big security guards came with flashlights with this tool of a man. we had to get our tickets out because he was clueless where he was sitting.. well, my inner judy garland came out and i started having a diva fit. the guy was saying that i was in his seat..i said no your seat is next to me which all of my shit on it...new navy orvis blazer with shiny gold buttons and a silk pocket square...THANKS JLC...and my gangta down vest....he kept bitching..so, i told him i was going to fucking throw him into the next row if i could pick his fat ass up....the straight couple was eggin' my shit on...and it did help....well, he calmed down...only to realize that his wife/daughter were next to him. so, they both saw some crazy fag throwin shade and strands of pearls at their father. well, the icing on the black forest cake was that he had an actual CANE .i am not saying that we should give handicapped people a break. growing up JLC always parked in the handicap spot while i ran into the market to get some spam..actually, i think they should park farther away..they spend way too much time in their wheelchairs and now the powerized go carts the cruise around in now with the huge flags on them....they need their own bike line..and you know how much we get taxed for widening roads these days. we have enough problems after the last 8 years and we need to concentrating on britney's comeback..and that is bigger than the invention of fat free half n half.
so, i am going to stay at my cousin's glynis in closter. i am on the move again for a week. first atlantic city, now in montcair, then closter...then back to cape may. living out of the lacoste suitcases again. i am such a hot mess. i will tell you what i forgot to pack....M.I.A: flip flops..i hate slippers make my dogs sweat, my saline solution...have had my contacts in since saturday. not cute. huge bags under my eyes. the eye cream, depuffer, and the prep H is not going to help this....don't forget my under eye concealer and bronzer. ugh. it is so painful being 36 going on 70 in gay disco ball years. i forgot my regular sneakers and my boots. all i have is my running sneakers..which are gorgeous. but not 7 days straight...we will see if i even run while i am here. on top of that half the stuff i brought is dirty. need the washer/dryer on walnut st. STAT. the chimpmunk movie is on right now in the background and they are singing funky town. i feel like i just dropped a hit of acid and washed it down with a redbull/vodka. my hands are starting to shake..and i am seeing black spots out of corner of my eyes..if i start seeing blue birds with strands of flowers in their beaks i am going to lose my shit and puke up my starbucks on my macbook. really?
back to saturday night....or early sunday actually....kate ended up going to borgota to meet some cape may peeps aka dennis and alex the local photographer for the cape may rag, exit zero......it should be called zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
perfection. a game for all ages. i went to deja vu. it was very puerto rican and hard core lots of goya poom poom (look into that meaning)...you had to go thru a metal detector when you got in. love that. guns and gays. the perfect happy meal. just need a spongebob toy inside that is really a transformer flask in disguise....filled with kettel one. i am going to write ronnie mc d and do a power point on that shit
the jack and coke was flowing..i ended meeting a gay and his fag hag...we went to the other side of atlantic city to the westside lounge. SEEDY, KIDS... thank god for the madonna leftovers or it would have been tragic. i was dancing with 50 cent's gay body double, then i got tangled up in this queer sticker bush from outside philly...in the middle of giving free lap dances...i realized that my blazer and vest were on the dancefloor and everyone was dancing around that shit.
P.S. my wallet, iphone, all my plastic, and $$ in it. after i had a recovery mission..i sent my dancing kween on her way....did i go back to the marriott? HELL NO. ordering a jack/coke at 5am on a sunday morning is how i decided to wrap up the madonna mayhem with a big ol' sloppy ribbon on it. fast forward the beta to sunday night.... had a delish dinner with kate/paul at his cousin's in montclair. shout out to judy and tommy...perfect conversation..yummy pork with mango sauce and the sweets. judy introduced me to fried mayo. google it.
MONDAY 8:30PM i have had some tech difficulities getting on my blog today at my aunt riri's. so i am going to try to wrap this shit up finally.
on the bogart hall ithaca is gorges gossip wire...i heard this vicious rumor that joel rozen's wife had 6 babies...i mean all at once...and i was like doesn't he have 2 already...eight is enough was a very d list show and that does not to be anyone's reality....i was worried that joel was going to be shopping for his dress shirts and ties at walmart....and getting the scissors out to cut the plastic tie between his shoes off their sale rack..i am getting a rash just thinking about that...STOP. STOP. STOP. NO MORE ROLLBACKS. well, it was a rumor that went down the dixie cup phone chain.....meanwhile, back on the roof of plums, i feel lumpy mashed potatoes right now...jacked up on overflowin' candy dishes, sliced deli cheese, and pound cakes. closter is not FAT CAMP.
P.S. i left my brand new orvis blazer on the dancefloor of westside lounge. i hope that my scarf and blazer met up in purgatory where all the rest of my fashion floats around waiting for me.
i know something concrete for sure..when i am introduced to the devil..he is going to say...FYI christopher cleary....there is no music here, no booze, no smoking, no boys, and no disco balls.
THAT IS MY HELL PEOPLE.

MONTCLAIR MINUTE

watching tv with kate and paul. stuffed and dipped in trans fat.
will recap all my shit tomorrow.
i start the new chapter of blogs.