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.

O is for OH SHIT

OBAMA.

S.O.S

the boat hit an iceberg called the diva lounge and let me tell you there are some choppy waves of drama crashing down on our deck. juicy aka kate and i have our tory birch lifevests on and i think we are going overboard. oh shit goldie hawn in FX. actually, we have to clean up after the xmas tree then we are abanadonin' this shit. i almost had a panic attack and blacked out in a mexican taco joint. tinga. tinga mucho pinga.

diet drama with lemon, please

anti freeze geese aging cream by ralph lauren

i was up all night with the kids crying about the flock of geese getting turned into perdue ticker tape more like ground chicken confetti chili. i love sour cream and cheese on my chili. don't forget the scallions too. i heart mexicans and how they skillfully infusion beans, cheese, and minimum wage manual labor. i am working with a company out of philadelphia about opening a sandals resort style and/or club med style resort on the usa/mexico border. very third world feel. very boozey. lots of 600 thread count sheets and a lot more cruisin'. very glory hole in one. sex and the city meets taco bell? hmmmm, back to the drawing board and i have pinata making 101 at 1:30 pm at north cape may county college for the vocational work force of greater new jersey. try saying that with a mouthful of kashi, a cup of green tea in your hand, and a multi vitamin and a 1200 mg fish oil pill. i am so re fried fat camped out.
i am praying when we fly to san fran at the end of the month that there is a not peeps backlash and the airlines don't start racial profiling. i just keep thinkin' of that crazy sneaker bomber and how now everyone has to take off their shoes before they go thru security. are peeps going to have to fly with the cargo? are sales of peeps going to go down come this easter? are people going to think that every peep wants to fly into the engine of the plane and take it down into the nearest river. hopefully, there will be a miracle on howard street and some other group of animals will do something stupid to mankind to take the spotlight off peeps. maybe an alligator will shred a kid to pieces at disney world or maybe a tiger will hop the fence at the san diego zoo and take out a whole family of tourist from china. it is about 15 degrees here today in cape may, i am going to take the kids over to the local church and light a couple candles to pray for that fallen flock of geese and have faith that america will see peeps as the cuddley loving marshmallow filled confections we all grew up falling in love with. actually, what would be perfect is if a gang of pez held up a office building or connivance store and there was a hostage situation...that would bump the geese straight to the back page of the ny post.
p.s. there is a rumor going around those geese where canadian...that would explain A LOT!!!

a star is born

it is 11:47am and i still in my pj's. i have no energy to anything and actually i really don't have to do or go anywhere today if i don't want. how many people can say that? take that, dr. phil. WTF? i guess i had talk show turrets just then. a very rare disease for unemployed gay guys. brutal. i am only unemployed till april. easter bonnet snaps. i love jelly beans. actually, i don't like hollow bunnies. that is like candy for the poor and i also don't like white chocolate bunnies, eggs, or crosses. i do like when they pipe jesus christ on the cross with royal icing. sometimes the fudge packin' factory on the washington mall uses pretzel nuggets as the nails and real rose thorns for the crown. steve and dan own that shop. steve is a dirty top into pig play and water sports. dan is a big ol' bottom who is into preschool roleplay and his knickname on the lower cape may rainbow flags are people too bowling league is the lincoln tunnel. girlfriend, if she collected a toll for every car that went thru there, she would be richer than howard hughes. oh shit. i watched the aviator via netflix. cute. long. cate blanchett was fierce. cut. edit. print.
i moved my office up to room one in 309. some will understand that and some will be WTF in fiesta font. if i were a font i would have to say right now i would be escalido streak. that is just how i am rollin' up to this shit today. www.fonts.com so, i bought this shampoo this week and it called drama clean. so, i got all up in my grey gardens that is what i call my claw talon tub, p.s.
i lathered. i rinsed. i repeated that powerwash. i got fresh with my facial scrub. anyway, i think there is some leave extract in it. i started trippin' my face off and my rubber duckie grew horns and was chantin' some voddoo cult shit in hebrew. i totally jumped back and hit my head against the window pane and for a minute i thought i was going overboard the railing of a carnival cruise ship with my vodka gimlet in one hand and my kathie lee fruit basket in da other. well, i pulled my shit together and i was totally doin' a jett t. and i am not liscensed to teach that dance in n.j. we don't allow that dance in jangleville at all. but, mable jones sometimes has house parties in the summer under her cyprus tree and we drink moonshine, pop roofie dolls, and do the jett t till the rooster sing up the sun. back to the poo, so i washed my hair with drama clean and i went over to the brown room last night. i thought it was suppose to shield me from drama. i am going to keep this on the sweet n low for ya'll so i don't offend anyone. this is blog is suppose to be helpful and educational. so, i am going to give a tip. if you think that layering makeup on your face like wet cement is going make your eyes pop and your lipsticks don't always need to match your sweaters. pins are statement pieces. i know a lot of clowns that live for brick red blush. i fill the cracks in my walls with spackle not maybelline casper concealer. i should be working at the chanel counter at macys. i need to dial up my katie in montclair. see if she wants to do tea and crumps at diva lounge with ms. b brown. liquid eyeliner snaps. where are those cute greyhounds, daddy? the bottom line is you should not throw cheap makeup in glass houses and leave caddy to you husband. OH BY THE WAY HE IS GAY and i never knew people could be hollow like a marked down white chocolate bunny crying on the sale rack at CVS. i guess i feel like an asshole for believing that my shampoo would fend off drama. i gotta go now i am having a can of fruit cocktail for lunch. i was told the heavy syrup is made with kettle one. i hope i don't too boozey and pass out before general hospital.
oh by the way way gay, casper was a friendly ghost. BOO.

GUNS N WILD ORCHIDS

someone 'roof" ed my champ at the golden globes. i don't know if it was the boss or beauty and the beast aka mickey mouse rourke. he never forgot that i stole the show in wild orchid back in late 80's or was it 90's. i don't know but i woke up in drew barrymore's pool on a raft shaped like a watermelon on tuesday. yes, i missed 24 hours and superstars of dance. WTF. my left foot was in the pool the whole time so it looks like box of raisinettes. NOT CUTE. i think i may lose a toe nail or not. i have doogie comin' over to look at my talons in a bit. i was so upset that i made up for last night by having an extra helping of ina's apple pear crisp. i think jeffery tainted the fresh nutmeg with drano. i have been backed up since and i feel like i am dodging a wrecking ball every time i move my head. i don't care what anyone says some twat and i when i say that i mean a gentle pussy. i should be more clear. anyway, some bitch put down their nuvaring on my coffee table and left a ring on my imported oak table from malawi. it was gift from madge when she step n fetched david from a banana tree there. it was hard to get him to let go. kids from their have italian sausage fingers their. so forgive me if i have not been able to get to my office to blog. i am at LAX right now and I flying into A.C. I have to go a steam carpet cleaner convention at harrah's and i may go to the casino just to chain smoke winstons and put back a 12 pack of coors lights. CANS NOT BOTTLES. I am going to clearwater for the superbowl and I am staying at the kegs n eggs guesthouse. it is 340 a night with a keg in every room and an egg any style buffet with a fountain of ketchup and a toaster that shoots whole wheat 40 feet in the air. amazing race.
do you know how many licks to get to the center of toostie roll pop?
P.S. it is pet friendly. hello, peeps.
GO HAWKS GO. or is it crows? wait, eagles? or beagles? all the same animal bird or fowl?

AWAY GAME

i am attending the 27th annual beef n beer fest in jangleville, nj. i will be back on monday morning to tie on one with my blog. is it spring, yet?

THE DARK CANE

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FIRE N ICE

i have not blogged since sunday due to my return to cape may on monday to find out that 309's heating unit shit the bed. she was only ten but she looked about 20. lots of fine lines and wrinkles. so, i spent 2 nights in west cape may. root canal. good summary, cmc. now, i am on day two dancing to the space heater shuffle. no blue collar men in sight. it could be a lot worse. it could be 20 degrees not 40. it could be cloudy not sunny. it could be camden not cape may. i could be white trash not ghetto gay. i could be black not white. i meant grey is the new black. calm down everyone. i was going to have a 3 week fat camp in cape may before san fran but that is not going to happen. i got the icalendar up and i am picking outfits in my head. screw this icebox full of stale ice cubes and acme fiesta blend frozen veggies. gotta go back to work building igloos with a bunch of trout lovin' Eskimos. do you think penguins are gay? they always look so nice and they runway perfect. fish food for thought. time to go defrost my talons, have to catch something for dinner. oh, the icicles on top of the house today. a fucking dog came after me behind 309 while i was trying to look at a bunch of old pumpkins from halloween that the squirrels having been bowling for seeds with. he was big, brown, and barky. YUCK. i hid out in the screened in porch till he left. hermes and marc j should start making lots of handbags out of dogs. cause i am over them. especially the loud ones. i would like a pair of 6inch pumps made out of collie fur please. i think i am going to have hummus tonight with a side of PETA....oh shit..the earth ain't round and our nature isn't to be GREEN. thank god or madonna or obama that i am in good spirits are i would be one raging pot of stewed tomatoes boiling over on my holly hobby stove.
payce out, yo.

LE PETIT COCHON

4 inches into 2009 and i had to squeeze into da wellies to wet vac the last three days up. mop n glo, next phase. i decided to erase my last 3 blogs due to the lack of effort and thought. all the glitter wore off. 10 days without a smoke and or a drink fucks with your head. MAJOR. mrs. jack daniels and the marlboro man are holding the strings and i am flopping around the cardboard stage forgetting my lines and my dance moves are weak. sorry, debbie allen. i will get it down before jan 20th. i promise. i also promise to use promise on my toast every morning. better health in 2009. CHECK.
rum cake. sour cream coffee cake. soft center chocolates. ruffle chips and dip. hummus and bagel chips. swiss colony chocolate covered toffee. chicken salad sandwiches. potato skins. do i need to go on? do you get my point? really?
could not be a better time to join the susan g komen race for the cure again. thank god. i officially start training for that on tuesday. future blog teaser.
JLC unveiled his latest vacation plans over sheppards pie, calves livers, and corned beef and cabbage at the harbor house in piermont, new york. fierce town a hopscotch, jump, and a skip from cousin's place in closter. JLC and FOMO are on the Q2 from NY to ENGLAND. 23 days at sea. has he not been watching the news about people paycin' over cruiseships???. JLC said those people get stoned and don't know how to use the railings on the ships, properly. of course, they don't. JLC MANUAL ON BOAT SAFETY IN THE WORKS. I told him I was going to San Fran for my birthday and he snapped back at me via email that during this uncertain financial times one should think twice about lavish trips. really? 3 nights or 23 nights? actually, what i spend in a year is what my dad spends in a month. SNAP. is the Q2 by marriott? can you use the special password? and the password is shoelace. oh shit, i meant shoe horn.
i had one of those "if only i had " moments today. i have a lot of them when it comes to things like if only i had not worn my lacoste gloves to the bar, my fingers would not be human ice pops. if i only i had not used my bed as my glitter station. i would not have woken up with an eye infection and my contact lens stuck to the inside of my eyelid. if i only i had not forgiven him back in spring...OOOOPS....that one has to remain in the hope chest under my bed and keep beating me with the key. over and over and over and over again. i love groundhogs day.
i was going over to my aunt riri's house around 11am. by the time i got my moneymaker up to go it was going on 11:30. my cousin gave me a shopping bag of odds n ends some red peppers 98 cents a pound on sale, yams, hot/cold pad. you get the point. then she throw some cocktail franks on a sheet tray and wrapped them in tin foil and said bring these over too....when the kids get out of church at 1, we can have those over at riri's. well, jp took the red car so i just decided to walk over. it is only one block away. so, i grabbed the grocery bag and had the weiners in the other hand. i was thinking to myself as i was walking that i needed the exercise and was having a jane fonda moment...more like richard simmons on dope. well, i was quickly thrown out of that banana bubble by these loud barks. i turned to the right and this huge ass great dane was coming toward me. i just stopped and came to terms that i was going to fucking get bit. i kept saying to myself i am going to get bit. bit. bit bit. bit. that mother fucker came for me and hit a patch of ice in the road and slide right past me. the owner screamed his name and the dog stopped. looked at me. looked at his owner in his yard. he screamed his name again.i cannot even tell you what his name? no clue. then the dog ran. i was almost a gamey gay chicken leg.....excuse me, jcrew makes these sweatpants not milkbones and these ain't no cocktail franks. these mother fucking baby dicks are pigs in a blanket. so, yo pass me the guldens yo and get back in your cage and chew on that pigs ear. don't make me get out my cell and ring up that dog whisper on your black ass...and shit child, i don't think covergirl makes teeth mark concealer for thighs. better call up tyra and ask her america's next tired ass model b list cover girl if walgreens is going to be carrying that shit in 2009.
p.s. time to pack up the lacoste. red. yellow. green. time to go. all aboard the 552. holla.

resolution 2: visit more of the usa. first stop, chicago.

oh by way, does the chalfonte hotel have ham hocks wrapped in puffy pastry served with a blood orange honey mustard sauce? note to terry. wedding menu brainstorm. the gays always thinkin'.