Poopie Diapers, Baby Barf & Formula

An open letter to the stupid little girls at Gloucester High School in Gloucester, Mass.

Dear Soon-to-be Teenage Moms of Gloucester High,

Question.  Have you lost your ever loving little minds?

Question.  What the fuck were you thinking making a pregnancy pact?

Question.  Did you even consider for one second what this will do to the rest of your family?

Seriously. 

It’s not cute.  It’s the absolute stupidest thing I have ever in my life heard.

Being pregnant is only the beginning of this.  Sure, you’ll all wear maternity clothes and think you’re so cute.

Then there’s labor.  Have fun with that. 

Do you realize what happens when you give birth?

Not only does an object as big as a bowling ball come out your va-jay-jay, no.

Then the fun starts, ladies. 

Yes, oh, yes.  Fun, fun, fun.

Trust me here.  I became a lovely teen mom at the ripe old age of 15.

So, this is experience talking.

How do you plan to pay for formula, diapers, A & D ointment, bottles, wipes, clothes… all the things your child will need?

Do you plan to finish school or be drop-outs and go on welfare so that all of you can just sit at the park and let your little dirt monkies run around wild while you collect a check and the rest of us pay for them?

Do you really expect this to be a great time?  There will be snotty noses, sleepless nights, shitty diapers, uncontolled crying fits… and that’s just when they are little.

Then they grow up to be intellegent like you and they sass, backtalk, get on drugs, get pregnant.

Want to go out with your friends? Good luck with that.  You have a kid now.

Just because people like Jamie Lynn Spears did it??  At least she has the money to pay for a nanny.

It’s not like in the movies. 

A young girl I know just had a baby, luckily she graduated first.  She’s 17.

Did she think her life was going to change?   Not so much.   Did it change?  Oh hell yes it did.

She can’t just pick up and go to the amusement or water park anymore.

She can’t just go to the movies anymore.

Not only do you have to find a babysitter, but you also have to have the money.

Her money is now spent on diapers and clothes and formula.

Unfortunately, your school is not the only school playing this little game.

It’s an epidemic of sorts.

The above mentioned young lady, she said that it happened at her school too.   My old school.  22 pregnancies in one year.

I wish you all the best in your life.  I hope you don’t drop out, and I hope you are able to make something of yourself.

Me, I struggled to raise my daughter.  I didn’t have a social life.    I was 30 years old before I was able to enroll in college and finish.

Life isn’t over, girls, but it’s gonna be a long row to hoe.

Weddings, Corn Flakes & the Word Fuck

Today is one of those days where I’ve got a ga-jillion things to say, but not enough to constitute an honest to Christ post.  Besides, it’s vacation week and to be perfectly honest, I’m a lazy bitch.

So, here you get some pot-luck crap. 

As good as Aunt Thelma’s mystery casserole.

Oh yah, before I forget… check out my pictures over here.

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One of my best girlfriends called to tell me all about her upcoming wedding plans.  She told me about the dresses, the ceremony, the reception, the colors, her dress, his tux the green chocolate fountain, the planned choreographed dance and everything else under the sun.  Ain’t love adorable. 

She and her wonderful man have been living together for going on two years. 

So, I get off the phone and start telling Big T all the details. 

Me:  “And they’re gonna have a green milk chocolate fountain…”

Big T:  “Seems all ass backward to me.”

Me: *blink*   “What does?”

Big T:  ” Ya know, getting married after living together for so long.”

Me: *blink*

Big T:  “How can I explain it so you get it?  Ok, it’s kinda like wiping your ass before you shit.”

Oh yah, that’s exactly how my man thinks.

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Me & Big T were out ridin in the country on Norris Lake the other day, cuz that’s what we do.  He was telling me stories about all the crazy shit they used to do out there when he was growing up.

Me: “Well, why can’t you do any stupid shit to make me laugh now.”

Big T:  “You can’t plan stupid shit. Stupid shit just happens, baby.”

Me:  “Ain’t that the truth.”

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 A Blonde Joke from OG.  Here goes:

A blonde chick was sitting at the table working a puzzle.  She calls to her boyfriend to come help her because the pieces just didn’t fit.

He walks in, picks up the box to study it, tosses it back on the table and says:

“You can put the Corn Flakes back in the box, Babe.”

Heh.

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I was at the grocery store the other day and the damn little cans of pineapple are waaaay up on the top shelf where I had to stand on my tippie toes just to get to it.

There was a little old man talking to an acquaintance and offered help.

Sweet old guy:  “Need some help, Missy?”

Me:  “Nah, I’m just short.  Help me if these cans fall and knock me out though.”

Sweet old guy:  “Well, just remember it’s better to be a little diamond than it is to be a big hunk of rock.”

Wasn’t that sweet?

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Pulp Fiction News:  The word FUCK is said 269 times throughout the movie.

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As Big T was making every effort to enjoy and old John Wayne flick, my well informed child daughter N states that movies done in Technicolor shouldn’t be watched by people younger than 40. 

He informed her that she had just made a blasphemous statement and she would spend eternity in a hell that is broadcast in Technicolor and surrounded by cheezy actors from the day.

 

Heathens, Hypocrites & Halos

A good friend of mine in here on Blogger’s Lane, The Warped Mind of Ron, did a post on Religion. 

Yah, yah, yah.  It’s not ethical to talk politics or religion…

Oh wait, that was what they told us not to discuss with clients when I was in beauty school…  but this es mi casa on Blogger’s Lane and I can be as unethical as I wanna be, huh?

Ron’s post basically stated that he beleives in a higher power and:

“In the end an act of good committed in the name of any deity is still an act of good and an act of evil committed in the name of any deity is still evil. It’s not the label you chose wear it’s the choices you make in life.”

I couldn’t agree more with that statement.  Just because I don’t actively participate in church doesn’t mean I don’t believe in a higher power.

Which brings me to my subject at hand…. heathens, hypocrites & halos.

I suppose I would be classified as a heathen. 

Websters says a heathen is an uncivilized or irreligious person.  That’s me.  

I suppose I could qualify as civilized easy enough, I don’t fart or burp in public.   Nor do I chew with my mouth gaping open or talk when my mouth is full.  In short, my Mama done taught me some manners.

With regard to religion though… no thank you.  You can keep it.  I am old enough to decide for myself that church ain’t my cuppa joe.  Don’t get me wrong.   I may be a heathen.  I may not go to church.  I may smoke and I may drink. 

And God knows, I’m catty.  Not a gossip or a hater… just catty.

That in mind, I do know right from wrong.  I know the commandments.  I live my life and I do good by others.  If I see someone who needs help, I help.  If someone needs a shoulder or an ear, hey, here I am. 

I do unto others as I would hope they would do for me. I will get my halo. 

I’m not sitting in church, pretending that I am at least as Holy as Jesus himself and then going out gossiping or closet drinking or cheating on my spouse… all along acting the good part.

All my years growing up (until I was 17 and made my escape), I was forced into church/religion.  Pew jumpin, Bible pounding, fire and brimstone Southern Baptist upbringing. 

I actually enjoyed the social side of church until I was around 14 since the youth group was always doing something super cool. 

It wasn’t so bad until we moved to Tennessee.  Right smack in the heart of the Bible Belt.

Maybe the pastor was sincere in his teachings.  He knew scripture well enough to know every single passage about tithing and giving and yelled enough to keep a the dozing types awake… and the congregation….

This is where we get to **hypocrites….

I have never been around so many people who were there for the fashion show and the social hour rather than for the learning of the Word.

My aunt is a socialite and a big time mover and shaker in this congregation.  She is there to be seen.  She holds social functions at her huge house to be noticed.  She does this not so much because she wants to open her home up to share, but she wants to be sure that all the other hens in the coop are certain to be ranting and raving for days, nay, weeks about her, her house, her clothes, her perfect family.

These women gossip about each other.  Tell each other’s secrets and are meaner than the biggest asshat I know.  They fuss and fight over who will be sitting at the pastor’s table at the next pot-luck.

The pastor himself is trying to build a mini empire.  HUGE church, HUGE school, HUGE college.  More like a huge gated cult for social climbers.

What gets me is this.  These so-called Christians, who are called by God to spread his word, wouldn’t piss on someone who was on fire if they were from outside of the bubbled in social circle. 

I know this pastor and was a loyal (forced, but loyal) attendee.  He knew me and he knows my extended family very well (snooty auntie).   As does his wife. 

But, if you pass them at the grocery store or any other place, they will look up, take note that you aren’t in their social circle, and look away so as not to have to speak.

That my friends is hypocracy.  If you preach it or listen to it and act like you believe it, you should live it…. not just act like it.

**Disclaimer.  I do not think all good, clean-living church folk are hypocrites.  Nor do I believe all Pastors are in it for the money.

I’m just giving an account of why I choose not to do “religion”.

Hangovers, BBQs & Panic Attacks

When you drink way too much at the watering hole on a Friday night and get up with a nasty hangover on Saturday morning to prepare for a huge surprise barbeque to be held Saturday evening.

7:02 am… Start strong pot of Verona coffee.

7:15 am…  Get up, nearly drown whilest shaving legs in the shower. 

7:25 am… Ingest first sip of coffee.

8:00 am… Go to the store to purchase a variety of crap to BBQ along with fixins.

8:35 am…  While placing the variety of crap on the checkout to pay, realize that rather than ordering the birthday cake last night, we (translate ME) drank to much and forgot to order it.

8:37 am… Feel dizzy from hangover as I’m watching the lady scan the items while on the phone with the bakery ordering a rush order guitar cake for pick up at 1:00 pm.

8:39 am…  Pay the lady with CASH.  (This is important).

8:43 am…  Crap loaded up in the back of the truck, driving home… realize I forgot buns for the weenies and burgers.  FUCK!

Flashforward…… to 1:00 pm.

1:10 pm…  at the bakery, picking up rush order cake ($$$ dammit) and buns.

1:25 pm… at checkout to pay for all this crap.

1:27 pm… cashier girl tells me total.  I go to get my debit card…  and it’s gone.  GONE I say.

1:27:06 pm… flipping out, panic attack, calling daughter to look for card, holding up line.

1:28 pm… writing check for stuff, on phone with bankcancelling debit card, swearing that I just had it this morning because I used it at the grocery store to buy BBQ goodies and I must have lost it there.

1:34 pm… realization that the card is in the back pocket of the jeans I wore to the watering hole on Friday night.

GREAT!  I cancelled my ATM card, which is my lifeline as I NEVER, ever have cash, EVER.

I’m the bitch at the store who will pay for a 20 oz. Diet Coke with the card.

So, the lesson we learned is to always put our ATM card back in our purse after we use it, less we think it’s stolen and our mortgage money is being used by some thug on a spending spree after finding it laying on the ground.

Jeez.

 

 

Sexual Undertones, Kissing Bandit, & Makin Whooopie

So, lately I’ve been regaling myself with things past.  Mostly in the TV format.  It all started while I was laying in bed overdosing on Nyquil and other various meds in order to make a deliciously mind-numbing cocktail.

Match Game

Yah, this show was as full of sexual undertones as Pamela Anderson is full of silicone.   The game involved two players and six celebrity guest stars.  The object of said game was for the players to match the answers of the celebrity stars to a question.

Contestant 1 would pick either question A or B. 

Gene Rayburn, the host with the most, would ask the celebs to write their answers down and then the contestant would give his or her answer. 

The contestant who matched with the most celeb answers wins.  Yay!  Simple!

Sample questions may have been something like…

“When at the beach, the cabana boy stuck the umbrella in her __________________.”

I would have said ass.  But that’s just me.

You try.

“Murray is a human musical instrument; he makes music by blowing his _____________.”

“Farmer Brown said “I never should have hired that midget farm hand, he is so short, he has to stand on his tiptoes to _______.”

Family Feud

I.Loved.Family. Feud.

Two families in a battle to the death against one another.

Kind of like the Hatfields and McCoys.

But Richard Dawson, the infamous Kissing Bandit, was so suave and delicate and lovely.

Anyways, in general, there was always a complete dipshit in every family.

A dipshit who knew nothing and would answer way out in left field. 

Losing it all for their poor family.

“For $250, what is the top non-carbonated soft drink?”

The dipshit would answer “Diet Coke!” and jump up and down just knowing that would be the NUMBER ONE ANSWER….

Kissing Bandit:   “For the win, name a continent.”

Dipshit:  “New Mexico!!!!!  Whooooo!!!!”

 

 

The Newlywed Game

This was the one of the greatest shows ever. 

Why?

Because it pitted freshly married, oh-so-in-love couples against each other in an effort to find out which of the couples knew most about each other.

Classic.

The women would be taken away. 

Bob Eubanks would ask questions to the men.

The women would come back and try to match their man’s answer.

Not always working out so well.

What was cool, most of the questions were about SEX - Maaaakin Whoooopeeee.

Questions might have been something like:

“Where is the weirdest place you’ve ever made whoopee?”

“Most of the electricity in your home flows from the ______ to the _______.”

From the outlet to my vibrator.

So, thanks for your eager and active participation in my flashback today.

I promise to lay off the Nyquil Cocktails.

 

 

Nyquil Trips, Brown Bags & Bad Acts

I was laying in my bed for the better part of last week. Drinking mass amounts of Nyquil and watching TV.  So I started thinking about a show that tickled the crap out of me many moons ago.

Long before the days of being standed on an island with only bugs and rats to eat…

Long before the days of whoring one’s self out on TV to find a man/woman for marriage….

there was….

Oh yah, Babe…..

The Gong Show.

Did anybody else watch this??   My daddy was addicted to it and most of the goofy ass game shows that were so popular back in the mid to late 70s.

I remember watching for alot of years.  I mean, where else could a pre-teen catch all of the “off color” jokes and language.   

Chuck Barris is the King of Schlock, the Baron of Bad Taste & the Ayatollah of Trashola.  I thought he was cute as a button even back then.

The celebrity judges were hilarious.  Jaye P. Morgan and Jamie Farr would be off in the judge’s box acting like fools and alot of times, they would be even funnier than the act on stage.

One of the regulars on the show was the The Unknown Comic.  This guy wore a tacky leisure suit and a brown paper bag over his head.   He’d be introduced and he’d come off with silly lounge act one liners.   Cheese. Definitely.  Funny.  In a cheesy kind of way.

Then there was Gene Gene the Dancin Machine.   He made the show, because everytime he’d be on, Chuck Barris and all of the judges danced.

The show was basically making fun of all of the variety type shows out there.    There was one host, three judges, guest performers and amatuer acts of all kinds clumped into this show’s essence.

Most of the acts were, how to say it mildly, super sucky. 

And most of the time, the judges would GONG them as soon as they were allowed.  But, sometimes, an exception to the rule would slide through and complete the act.

If they did get through, the judges scored them from zero to ten.  The winner would be announced at the end of every show.  And a midget would go skipping across the stage throwing confetti.

Sweet.

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Random Chick hit me up with this meme: the task is to write your memoir in six words. So here goes:

When everything else sucks ass, SMILE !!

Spam, Chicken Skin, & Other Mystery Meats

There are certain things that just aren’t right in the world.   Like mystery meats and rat shit in cereal and what not. 

Believe it…

this is a PSA from me to you about what kind of crap you might be eating.

I don’t eat meat or chicken nuggets, American Cheese, Cheez Whiz, tripas, chorizo, or anay other  mystery food, but still there are somethings that are just grosser than gross and make me want to throw up a little… or alot.

SPAM

 No, not all the shit you get in your inbox from those asshats peddling Viagra, Rolex and offering bajillions of dollars if you’ll just give your checking account number.

The SPAM I’m talking about is that mystery *meat* (?) which is submersed in a gelatinous substance, and smells like dog food.

According to the ingredients, SPAM is composed of:

Chopped pork shoulder meat with ham meat added.

Salt (for binding, flavour, and firmness)

Water (to help in mixing)

Sugar (for flavour)

Sodium Nitrite (for colour and as a preservative)

Makes me wanna run right out and grab me a can, slap it in the skillet, cook it to a crisp, top it with a salmonella infested tomato and enjoy!

Or… not so much.

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Chicken McNuggets

Yah.  One would think that a chicken nugget would be chicken and breading.  One would think anyway.  But, not McNuggets.  Nope.  It’s so much more chemically enhanced goodness for your buck.

These babies are composed of some chicken (supposedly white breast meat, but I question that), water, corn starch and get this shit…. CHICKEN FLAVOR. 

WTF?   I, for one, would think if it’s chicken to begin with, it would taste like chicken. 

But alas, that’s not the case as the Chicken McNugget is a small piece of minced chicken breast and mechanically separated meat held together with phosphate salts and some chicken skin.

Deliciously lip smackin, huh?

Color me hungry, kiddies.  *gag, gag, gag*

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Potted Meat….mmmmm, mmmm, good.

Meat By-Products - the non rendered, clean parts, other than meat, derived from slaughtered mammals. It includes, but is not limited to, lungs, spleen, kidneys, brain, livers, blood, bone, partially defatted low-temperature fatty tissue and stomachs and intestines freed of their contents. It does not include hair, horns, teeth and hooves.

Nice to know. 

What on our grocer’s shelves might contain this yackity mystery meat?  Well, Potted Meat for one. 

Grossed out yet?   Yah, I’m about to spew.

But I think it’s important to let you kids know what you might be consuming.

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 The last thing I’m itching to share is the fact that most everybody knows anyway, but I’d feel better if I yell it loud enough for all of Blogger’s Lane to hear…

Did you know that there is an amount of rodent hair and poo and insect parts allowed in our food??

Yuuuuck!

Is there really any way to know how many insect parts have been ground right up with the rest of the ingredients?   Probably not.

I’m not making the stats that I’m listing below up…. nope.  From the FDA itself ….

The FDA’s action level for peanut butter is 30 or more insect fragments or one or more rodent hairs per 100 grams.   Anybody want a PB & J?

In popcorn: Rodent filth: 1 or more rodent excreta pellets are found in 1 or more subsamples, and 1 or more rodent hairs are found in 2 or more other subsamples OR 2 or more rodent hairs per pound and rodent hair is found in 50% or more of the subsamples OR 20 or more gnawed grains per pound and rodent hair is found in 50% or more of the subsamples

In macaroni and pasta:  Insect filth: Average of 225 insect fragments or more per 225 grams in 6 or more subsamples.

Sorry for the repulsive subject matter.  I’m so easily amused.

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Ok kids.  Go see my picture page.  Come on.  You’ll like it.

Sweaty Palms, End of the World & Benny Boo Boo Boo

Let’s start with some shameless self promotion.  Come see my picture blog,  pleeeaze.   One picture per day of something or somewhere super swell.  

 End shameless self promotion attempt.

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I was out cat prowling posts the other day and I saw this MOVIE MEME on Inexplicable DeVice…  this is a page that I ran across cruising Blogger’s Lane as I so frequently do.

Now Inexplicable DeVice isn’t the type to tag, but offered it up for anybody to jack… and we all know I like to jack all things.   It’s pretty self explanitory and since I love movies, it’s a weiner.

A movie that made me laugh:  Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.  It was stupid, it had no rhyme or reason, but it was sooo funny.  My favorite scene is when Jenny, Ferris’ sister, comes home and finds Ed Rooney in her house, and she ninja kicks him in the face….  I watch that scene over, and over, and over.  Gut laugh I tell ya.

A movie that made me cry: Backdraft.  When Bull dies at the end, I boo hoo like a damn baby every time.  Good flick if it could have just ended better, I would be a much happier camper.

A movie I loved as a child: Disney’s Jungle Book.

A movie I’ve seen more than once: Armageddon.  More than once is a total understatement.  I adore the movie.  The all-star cast was perfectly picked.  Harry Stamper was the most adorable man.  When he’s crackin the GreenPeace boat with golf balls from his oil rig, it makes my heart go pitter pat.  I highly recommend.

A movie I hated: Xanadu.   Yah, can anybody say fucking 80’s rollerboogie cheese gone bad??  Yah, me too.   I mean, come on, roller boogie was all the rage in the early 80’s, but really…   An imaginary girl who cruises around on her lil skate making dicks hard dreams come true?  Low and behold she inspires Sonny to build a roller disco.    I hoped through the whole thing that somebody would shoot me in the eye.  And that dress she rolls in… what was that all about?

 

A movie that scared me: Halloween.  The original.  Scary as all hell. Nuff said.

A movie that made me happy: The Princess Bride.  Yah, yah.  I know its a kid’s movie.  Yah, I know its sappy and gooey and so unlike me.    But, it sucked me in and I fell in love with The Farm Boy, who goes away and is presumed dead but became the Dread Pirate Roberts instead.  She gets kidnapped by some silly kidnappers.  He comes back to save her.   

Giants, Villians, Super Sized Rodents, Wizzards.  Not your basic, average, everyday, rut of the mill ho-hum fairytale.  Again, I highly suggest.

 

A movie character I’ve fallen in love with: Benjamin Barry from How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days.  He is witty and such a damn charmer.   He carries off that southern boy charm in the big city perfectly.   OMG, there are no words… so, have a picture.

The last movie I saw: The Eye. On DVD, at home.  Why?  Because I didn’t want to waste my hard earned gas money to go see a movie that just looked like it was gonna be lame ass.  And after three attempts and falling asleep midway all three times..  I gave up.  It didn’t seem like a bad movie.  Just slow as sticky moassas on a winter day in Minnesota.  So, I gave up.

The next movie I plan to see: The Strangers. Why?  Because I’m one of those people who loves a scary movie, especially something not all outlandish… You know.. the kind of crap that could possibly really happen.  I dig it until it’s time to try to go to sleep, then I convince myself there’s something there… somebody’s gonna get me…. Ahhhhh!!!

Maybe I won’t go see that one after all.

There ya have it friends and neighbors.  If ya wanna play this little game for shits and giggles, please have at it, as you’re more than welcome. 

Now, run over and join up for BITCHFEST hosted by one of my dearest friends here at Blogger’s Lane.

Okies.  Now I must act like I’m working.  Have a great desert day!

ABC’s of Catscratch ~ C & D

Let’s start with some shameless self promotion.  Come see my picture blog,  pleeeaze.   One picture per day of something or somewhere super swell.  

 End shameless self promotion attempt.

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Today’s post is brought to you by the letters C and D, boys and girls.

CREATIVE

I don’t know anybody any better at making up naughty, nasty and obscene lyrics when singing karaoke like I do.  I have twisted everything from love songs to southern rock.

Cat’s in the Kettle at the China Moon…  Cookie nazi say no cookie fo you.

Go me!

CATTY

I am admittedly a catty bitch.  Not to say I’m a total asshole and I go acting like a bitch and start fights.  Quite the contrary, actually. 

But when it comes to my family and friends, if there is reason the fur on the back of my neck stands up and my claws do come out.  Reeeow.

DETERMINED

As Master of the Universe, determination is a total requirement. 

And I am no slacker.    So, without further ado…

A short list of things I’m determined to do before I keel over and die… 

Go back to NYC to see the Macy’s Turkey Day Parade…

Win money playing Black Jack in Vegas. Actually, I could care less if I win any money because when I say I play Black Jack, it ain’t the real deal. 

You see, I go to the Casino Royale and sit at the computerized Black Jack machines and play and play because everytime the cocktail chickie walks by she brings me a cold beer.

Sing karaoke in a real karaoke bar in Shanghai.  My boss, the Master of the Galaxy, just got back from Shanghai where he went to a karaoke bar.  

You ain’t seen nothin to you’ve seen a bunch of drunks who speaky no English trying to singy songs in the English.  Oh yah, I’m there.

Drive the total length of Route 66, stopping at every goofy roadside attration along the way…

 

DARKSIDE

There was this guy.  His super hero name was *Darth*.   Darth taught me about lovin and life and SEX. 

Go Darth.  Anyhoo, it was a running joke, that he led my innocent self to the Darkside.

Damn I love Star Wars.  Damn that Darth Vader is friggin hot.

And the Darkside is a very good description of my personal overall mentality.

 

May I point you in the direction of some of my favorite blogs that begin with the

letters C and D….

Cathouse Teri

Ciao Bella

Celtic Knot

Cynical Bastard

Enjoy y’all!

An Occifer, A Porn Star & The Internetz

Let’s start with some shameless self promotion.  Come see my picture blog,  pleeeaze.   One picture per day of something or somewhere super swell.  

 End shameless self promotion attempt.

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Say, did you hear the one about the Tennessee State Trooper and the Porn Star???

Sounds like the start of a really bad joke, huh?

Actually, it’s funnier than a room full of Michael Jackson impersonators whipping each other with wet spaghetti noodles….  

AND it’s no joke.

James Randy Moss, of the Tennessee Highway Patrol, had an anonymous complaint filed against him by a cupie doll named Justis Richert in Nashville, TN.

We here in beautiful KnoxVegas should be proud to boast that Justis, a.k.a. Barbie Cummings *snicker*, is a Knoxvillian. Let’s pause and give Barbie some well-deserved kudos. She makes our community proud by being a big-time porn star who makes her living by flying back and forth to the City of Angels to shoot her fair share of scenes.

I would now like to paraphrase for you how the skinny goes down:

Occifer Perv-A-Lot (OP): Hey sexy, can I see your license & registration?

[Queue Saxaphone Music]

Local Porn Queen (LPQ): Why yes occifer. Here’s my license and registration.

OP: Well, these seems in order. (Hiking up pants, Barney style) Miss Richert, do you have any drugs on you or in your ride?

LPQ: Why hell yes I do. Want some? They are my happy pills, they make me happy and extremely horny. Oh, by the way, I’m a porn star. I can rock your world, baby.

OP: Realllllly now? You aren’t just saying that to get my manhood roaring and to get me into some serious trouble later?

LQP: Oh, no, occifer. I wouldn’t do that in a million and one years. Don’t you have a lappytop in your crusie-woosie. I can show you my work. By the way, my stage name is Barbie Cummings. *snicker*

OP: Well, first, Miss Cummings *snicker*, you’ll need to give me those pills so I can fix your problem. (OP scatters dim pills in da bushes) Now lets take a little stroll on back to my cruiser and we’ll see just how good you really are. How’s that sound?

LQP: Well, okay. I think that was really neat what you did.

(Getting into the cruiser and turning on lappy)

OP: Wow, girl. Look at you go. Say, what’ll it take for a nasty, middle aged, perv with a badge to get up next to a sweet thang like you?

LQP: Jeez, I don’t know. Maybe if you tape it with your cruiser camera so I can remember you.

OP: Fine by me.

Some various acts of a sexual nature were captured by Occifer DipShit as he rolled tape. You know Barbie might have fear of performing action without the lights and cameras.

To make a long story even longer, this guy gives her a copy of the tape…. Where she….you guessed it… POSTED IT ON HER WEBSITE FOR ONE AND ALL TO SEE….  ( No linkies are to be found… they pulled it).

I wonder if this would actually be one of the lamest things I’ve heard?