Beware The Ides of March: The Mayans Are Coming To Kill Us All

Ciao fucker!

Helllllllo mummy's little possums! Oh come come come let me scoop you up into my bosom and smother you with kisses. Oh I miss you like I miss stone washed overalls and Karl Kani tee shirts. Your dear old girl is burning the candle on both ends, so I've been a bit sluggish about posting. Do forgive me. But, I'm sure you've kept yourself busy by rubbing Noxema on your bacne and looking at artistic porn on Tumblr...yeah, you did you naughty monkey.


In the midst of hustling for my back rent owed, traveling, post production blues, recouping from the flu virus, personal life oddities, running sloths over with my tricycle and writing my new series Downtown Abbey for Massapiece Theatre--life has been a wee bit stressed. And it's the Ides of March--so I hope you don't get stabby out there. Some days, when I'm feeling stabby I grab my Lego set and recreate a scene from Midnight Run--one where Yapphet Kotto is giving the stink eye to Robert Deniro. Or Deniro fucking with Charles Grodin. Another stress buster includes culinary feats. I like to turn on the Food Network and mimic everything I see. I play Man vs Food--I get stoned and try to eat a 3lb fried bologna sandwich.

Or I play Chopped. I. Friggin. Love. That. Show. Play this game at home folks. It's worth every disgusting morsel. The other night, you couldn't tell me that the Cherrios, kumquat, sardine, cookie dough and katsup casserole wasn't gonna land me the centerfold of Food & Wine Magazine.  

Bobby Flay can't even fuck with this here.

Of course the thing that always makes me feel better (and you worse probably) is blogging. You know, if creepy Carrie had opted to blog, and not kill an entire gym filled with her classmates with telekinesis, why she'd still be with us today! She just needed to express herself. Although I know what it's like to walk around bloody and want to kill everyone near you. All women do. Oh fuck you if you can't take period humor! Come on, you're not uncomfortable are you? There is nothing wrong about a woman on her period. Nothing wrong with BEING ON THE RAG. Women folk didn't always have sanitary napkins. Womens usta use grass, moss, cloths to plug the period hole and eventuality we got our isle at Walgreens. Big business, women's health.  Menstration. Pads. Tampons. Diva Cups. Wings. Douche Nozzle. Eat more yogurt. Pro-biotic. Antibiotic. Garlic. Labia. Clitoris. FA- LLLO-PIAN  TUBES.  Uterine lining. Come on say it with me, cervix! Cssssssscccceeeerrrvix. Pubic Hair. Eggs. Endometriosis. Idiots at the USDA. Fibroids ranging from the size of a golf ball all the way to a grapefruit. HPV. Yeast Infection. Trichomoniasis. Ovarian Cancer. HIV. AIDS. Get the message Mitt Romney you inordinately fucked up jackass? You are such dick nose. Get rid of Planned Parenthood? Why don't you go pick corn out of a turd!

Does my vagina offend you, that much Mitt? You may not like pussy, but that's a pussy ass move. EVERYONE NEEDS A HEALTHY PUSSY! TRUST ME, IT WILL BENEFIT MEN & WOMEN. PLANNED PARENTHOOD IS WHERE PLENTY OF WOMENS GET HEALTH SERVICES. Not everyone gets scrapped there. And if she does, it's her choice gatdammit. Women and teenagers who do not have adequate health insurance go there for treatment. Not because we are all out here fucking in alleys, getting pregnant and running to Planned Parenthood waiving our "frequent abortion value cards". Yeah, because all women know the value of having 9 abortions, because you'll get the 10th free! Yay! 


"Planned Parenthood, we're going to get rid of that."

Get rid of it. How about we get rid of YO ass Mitt? We on't even know your fucking name, and yet you telling me your supposed to run my country? My pussy? The fuck off my lawn. Pussy is beautiful, especially when it's healthy. Y'all we must protect pussy from these uninformed vermin on capitol hill.

If some shit don't change soon, I'mma catch a case and end up in front of Judge Mathis. Then I'll be like all those other people, exposing the streaks on my draws before an acerbic judge talking about "See what had happen wuz, I seent Rush Limbaugh and I had got mad, so I threw a flaming tampon into his coffee...he went into cardiac arrest and next thing I know...he was pushing up daisies Judge Mathis."

Speaking of TV, why is NO ONE is running episodes of The Joy Of Painting? Fucking Bob Ross, that dude was SO soothing. Bob. Ross. His warm voice, billowy afro, and smile. We would watch him paint a little secret tree at the bottom of the canvas...it was just between he and I. I usta use my Crayolas on construction paper with him when I was little. In high school I took a Sharpie to my Trapperkeeper. College? My Million Man March poster was glorious, not because of my black pride...but because of Bob's artistic guidance. And now that I'm an adult? Where's my fucking canvas?
*Fills out another unemployment form.


{Insert Price Is Right you just lost the game brass section here: Womp womp wwom wom. wwwwwwwooooommmmmmmm. Fuck you Mitt Limbaugh.}

Oh please don't cry possum, mummy is okay. Just replace my vodka intravenous drip and I'll be fine. I'm just being my usual malevolent hungover self.  Under &over whelmed by the job market, the Republicant candidates, and the fact that unarmed Black 17 year old children named Trayvon Martin get shot and killed for walking down the street. I suppose young master Martin was threatening the gated community with his bag of Skittles and bottle of iced tea. I keep forgetting that most black teenagers are narco-terrorists who deserve to be shot in cold blood, notably by armed volunteer neighborhood watchmen.

George Zimmerman.

This man slaughtered that baby, with a 9mm gun. And guess what? He has yet to be arrested. Seems to me, Georgie boy should be just as popular as Joseph Kony.  People are out right shocked to see children die in Uganda, and demand action be taken against LRA's leader Kony--but in a small town in Florida? Not quite as RT worthy. Not quite the trending topic. One could argue we don't know all the facts of this case--that yes, it's tragic that a person lost his life. But we can't be so sure that race was a factor. You know--it isn't so black and white.

*squeezes IV drip for more vodka. Hmph.

Seeing Trayvon Martin get killed makes me think of Derrion Albert. It makes me think of the countless babies who are killed daily...be it from gang violence, interpersonal conflict, or just plain bad luck. In the late winter, if it's 80 degrees in LA we eat frozen yogurt and toss frisbees. But 80 degrees in Chicago means young Black and Latino children face imminent danger of being shot.  Bullets know no faces. 

One thing Bob Ross taught me was that with a little dedicated practice, masterpieces that you never dreamed possible will flow from your brush. I see some of these young brothers and sisters and I have to fight past my own bullshit so that I may paint a better picture for them...to have their spirit lend to my brush.   


Well now that I've become Debbie Downer with my talk of violence, politics and self help...I'll leave you with this picture of Eartha Kitt adoring pussy. Like we all should. Fuck you Mitt Limbaugh. Actually you'll never get a whiff of this pussy. Or any other pussy. Because we'll all be cured of our pussy problems at Planned Parenthood--BECAUSE YOU WILL NOT WIN THE ELECTION BITCH.

Carry on possum. Keep fighting until the picture in your life serene and beautiful. There's room for us all to live somewhere over the rainbow. Lets vow to help each other kiss the sky.



ciao for now,
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