Whoops. New phone.

So, I went to Vegas a few weeks ago with Freddy Mercury but it wasn’t really Freddy Mercury it was my friend who is a guy named Frank who is a drag queen stripper named Valencia but decided to go in drag as a man from his usual drag queen Valencia. So it was Frank in drag as Valencia in drag as Freddie Mercury. Needless to say, he/she/he had at least three layers of slightly different shaded foundation on. 

As luck would have it, Frank/Valencia/Freddy Mercury asked to borrow my phone to call his/her/his dealer who goes by Black Jack (I guess its a Vegas thing…). He/She/He got makeup all over the side of my blackberry so when the dealer called back later I couldn’t read who was calling, answered the phone and thought it was Black Jack calling back, but it was really my aunt who’s heartily addicted to pain killers. She was trying to say “Hi, honey, franks over toast?” which is a breakfast food she used to make, but it came out all slurred from the Vicodin so it sounded like “High Bunny, Frank overdosed.” At this point, I’m still thinking it’s Black Jack and not my aunt and there is this S & M joint on the strip called “High Bunny” so I figured Frank/Valencia/Freddy Mercury had headed over there early and overdosed on coke because his eyesight was soooooo bad he never knew how much to take.

Obviously, I run out of the hotel and head towards High Bunny when a horse-drawn carriage comes out of fucking nowhere and scares the living shit out of me. In a panic, I throw my phone and where does it land? The window of some dude’s Porsche, smashing to smithereens both the Blackberry and the guy’s window.

Twist! It turns out not to be just “any guy”. Its John Stamos. But he’s in disguise. As who? I’m not sure but he’s wearing a blond wig and I’m like 90 percent sure he was trying to pass as one of the Olson twins which is all sorts of ironic. So, he pulls me into the car and says “Valencia! What the fuck are you doing out in public! No one is supposed to know you’re here! What will the press do if they find out!”

I’m obviously stunned. I have no idea what is going on so I just sit there and silently stare back at him/her (John Stamos/Ashley Olson). I’m sure I looked visibly distraught because he asked what was the matter and then looked down at my shattered phone. He must have thought I was upset about the phone and just handed me his. “Here. Take mine. I’ll get another one and this way I’ll know how to get ahold of you.”

So I take the iphone and am trying to process why he thinks I am Kandy or how he even know Valencia, until I realize I am wearing Valencia’s dress which I threw on before I left the hotel room.

To make a long story short, I’ll just sum up the rest. So, turns out John Stamos and my friend Frank have been having an affair for a really long time. But, back in the late 90’s, John Stamos was getting a lot of flack for being gay from the CCAF (Christian Conservatives Against Full House - it’s a pretty vocal organization) so Frank decided to start dressing in drag as Valencia so the two could meet up and rendezvous in public without any protest from the CCAF. So, John and Valencia were a thing. Later, John got into a pretty serious relationship with a woman. He loved her but still wanted his rendezvous with Valencia but didn’t want his girlfriend to be suspicious about him vacationing with another woman.

So, Valencia decided to start dressing in drag as a Freddy Mercury look-a-like so John and Freddy could pal around in Vegas without anyone suspecting an affair.

This has been going well for about a year, but because Frank/Valencia visits Vegas so much as Freddy Mercury, a lot of people started thinking that he actually WAS Freddy Mercury. The only way Frank/Valencia could convince the paparazzi public that he wasn’t the real Freddy incarnate was to prove he wasn’t gay. That would be a significant difference. So, whenever he went to Vegas, he had started to ask John Stamos to dress as a woman so the couple could publicly appear and convince everyone who they were.

Thus, we get the Frank/Valencia/Freddy and John Stamos/Ashley Olson switcharoo.

Obviously, Ashley was shocked to see me/Valencia out in public not dressed as Freddy.

Because that’s a whole other issue. If Valencia and Ashley Olson were to appear in public as a couple, shit would hit the fan.

Turns out Frank/Valencia/Freddy was in the hotel room the whole time.

That’s how I broke my phone. And got a free upgrade.

GREATEST INVENTION WEDNESDAYZ!

Albino Animal Mondays were running a little slow since I was running out of bleached animals and apparently the “humane society” gets “pissed” when you “make your own”.

So instead of showing you funny looking living thing I thought I would show you much more serious looking dead things.  (Dead as in never alive at all.) MY INVENTIONS! 

These things aren’t as much inventions as they are great ideas, but if you file for a patent I’ll sue you so you saw it here first.   Then, I’ll finally go to the dentist and fix my protruding molar.  Reality Check: I shouldn’t need a lawsuit to get me a dentist visit, but seriously, in this economy? Come on Obamacare, I need you to pull this off a little bit quicker.

P.S.  Hannah can sue you too because she probably invented most of these things too.

TODAY’S GREAT INVENTION!  THE SHOWER BEER!


This is what it looks like:

Not this.  This is a different thing all-together:


It’s a beer that you drink in the shower.  If you have a high pressure spicket thing, I suggest you use a bit of syran wrap to cover the top and puncture it with a straw if you don’t want to get shampoo water in your beer.  If you drink Pabst/Coors/Budweiser/etc. this is an unnecessary precaution.

Here is my shower beer with advanced manufacturing techniques.  Except I couldn’t find syran wrap so I used a bit of a plastic bag:

It’s the perfect way to monitor your water consumption while you shower.  A good beer takes about 7 minutes before the steam heats it up to an undrinkable temperature so you can tell when its time to hit the faucet and head out. AND it blurs up your vision just enough so you don’t see the cellulite on your legs from all the Twinkies you ate during your tweens.

For a highly advanced technique, get a suction cup soap holder and place it at mouth level.  For a more advanced xtreme technique, get a mini-fridge and put it under your bathroom sink.  The space will be more efficiently used.  Think about it.  Beer is better than tampons, Q tips, and Neosporin put together and you can still probably fit your vibrator in the fridge anyway.

It Sucks Owning a Slinky if You Don’t Have Stairs.

But you know what doesn’t suck?  Owning a vagina.  YEAH RIGHT, CINCINNATI! This just in: having a Vagina means that women around the United States pay an estimated $151 billion dollars a year more than men in price markups.  Meaning all our sweet little gizmos like deodorant, razors, car insurance, car repairs, so on and so forth cost more if they are marketed to women. (Source: “Throwing Shade”, a great little podcast about ladies and gays.)

Do you know what I could buy with $151 billion smackers?  Pay for eighty-six Apollo 11 missions, accountings for adjusted inflation. (Or four-hundred and twenty-five missions according to the 1969 price index.)  Note: This is the formula I use to count my college debt.  As long as the interest remains underneath three Apollo 11 missions at the 1969 rate, I’m not going to panic.

So now is the obvious seque where you are expecting me to talk about the skyrocketing student debt rates, but I’m not an optometrist so I’m not really qualified to answer.  I’ll stick with lady issues.

Price markups combined with the pay gap really put us femies in the financial lurch, but instead of seeing the glass as half empty, I’ll just throw in another shot of tequila.

All in all, lesson learned: Dress in drag when I go to the mechanic.

justin-bieber-as-a-creepy-old-man-14748-1297043795-9.jpg

For instance, this is what I wore last time I got my oil changed and it only cost me $100 bucks. This is me dressed as Justin Bieber dressed as a middle-aged manager of a putt-putt course.

At the end of the day, all I can say is “Thank God for the ShamWow and good morning, Vietnam!”

What’s your tattoo of?

Sweet Moses, I can’t wait for election year to be over.  Just like M. Night Shyamalan’s movie career.  (BURN SHAMY!  Just because you’ve been “laying low” for the past few years doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.) (I seriously retract that previous statement.  Just checked out the bro’s website and he is channeling a serious Edgar Allen Poe vibe.)

In other news, turns out its illegal to name your kid “IKEA” in Swedan, which seems unfair because I thought IKEA was one of the only things Sweden had going for them, other than a killer (get it?) story, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.  The legal ruling states that naming a child “IKEA” is unfair to the child.  It could cause psychological trauma.

Or it could mean that your baby will be hard to assemble, fall apart in 3 months, and be stuffed with cardboard.

Either way, I think we can all agree that The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo was a worthwhile social commentary on rape and violence against women.  I’ve heard a lot of opinions on the film, some saying “It was a really important feminist film”, others saying “It was just a bunch of gross sex and I didn’t get it” (this guy), and some saying “This is the most beautiful thing that…It’s like an orange.  It’s like a color, yet also just a word.  Yet also a fruit. Nothing rhymes with fruit. Except pollute. I’m so freakin’ hungry…But then again, so is the world.” - Those people are on drugs.

Basic plot *spoiler alert* is: girl gets violently raped, then violently tortures the bro who did it, all while this crazy side story, murder-mystery-meets-anti-semitism-and-corporate-conspiracy is going on.

Needless to say, it’s difficult to watch.  A lot of people dismiss it as too violent for the big screen.  I think that it’s a story that happens to millions of women around the world every single day, just as violently.  But rape has become something that is supposed to be quietly dealt with.  Women are told to report it.  And if they do, they go to counseling where they quietly see a psychologist that helps them overcome their pain and the offender is put on a list of issues that the police office is supposed to examine if they have time to get around to it, and on the rare chance that they do, the perpetrator is rarely charged in the court of law.  To watch a film where the woman takes matters into her own hands is different.

While I rarely advocate violence as a response to mistreatment, I think this film shows the plight women face in a weak judiciary system.  I think the violence sends an important message.  It turns the typical scenario (of man as perpetrator and woman as victim) on its head.  

So that’s the story.  

And what is that tattoo of?

Last New Year’s Resolution before the Apocalypse which will most likely happen when sharks grow feet and become ravenous land creatures before next December 21st!!!!!

Morning, followers! Also known as my debate team and a handful of friends from college currently livingathomelivingthedream. (Shout out- C. PATE!! We’re so pops.)

Sorry I left you guys for Christmas.  I was busy with “really important things” like showering.  But I’m back in action and about to make some vodka gummy bears as part of my new years resolution to act more like a grown up.

In order to complete said resolution before the destruction of my soul, I have a to-do list:

1) Try to be more and “fair and balanced” in my media consumption so that my dad let’s me back into the family. First step? Fox News!

In the Fox universe, 183% of the population loves some Republican candidates.  Viva the 1%!

Fox wins at the Holocaust!

Fox loves some sexual presidential tension!

That’s really all of the steps I have so far, and its done nothing but send my into a spiraling death fall that sent me crawling back to the Huffington Post where I can read about the queer saints and other nice things.

P.S. Can’t forget about the vodka gummy bears.  It’s like Vladimir Putin and Willy Wonka had a meeting on how to end suffering in Russia and came up with these! Your welcome. 

Albino Animal Mondays (Take Two)

Is this kosher?  Or is it like when I used the phrase “midget” without realizing it was offensive?  (Wah wah, politically-correct-downer-moment.)

Speaking of politically correct language, I’ve been thinking about “snowmen” a lot and how otherizing it is to snowladies and snowtranspersons.  

And just to go a little deeper, there is the obvious problem with MANkind but it doesn’t stop there. HuMAN? PerSON? BiSON?

I’m going to go with the term “Earth Children” from here on out.  Snowearthchildren.

Well, enough of that.  No time to care because TODAY IS MON(EY)DAY!  

Today’s little treat has so many issues with its genetic code, it makes Michael J. look like….he has too many eyes….by comparison.

IT’S A CYCLOPS ALBINO SHARK! (This is 100% real.  And I’m not being sarcastic.  I don’t know how else to articulate how serious this is.)

Take that survival of the fittest!  Darwin can’t explain shit!  

I’m voting for Ron Paul! (I’ll let you decide if that’s a huge joke or a surprising reality.)

You know that feeling that you get when you wake up wearing an elf costume in someone else’s closet with three empty bags of Cheetos (the puffs kind) for a pillow, and you think, does it smell in here or is that me?  And then you think, who the hell cares! The world is going down the tubes anyway.

Well, if you haven’t heard/seen on YouTube, you’re in for a treat (read: disaster)!  Last week our lovely little Congress decided to pass a bill that effectively negates the bill of rights for United States citizens.  That’s right, the National Defense Authorization Act states that the U.S. military can now lock up a U.S. citizen indefinitely and without trial.  Good luck, Kim Kardashian- your tweets could end you up in Guantanamo.  

The activist group “Anonymous” has a really great video about the whole thing.  It’s super real.  (Click ye’ ol’ photo below to see aforementioned real thing.)

 

But there is good news.  The Black Keys released their new album "El Camino" this week and it blows the roof off, if you know what I mean.  (I don’t think that’s a real saying.)

In other news, Rick Perry is homophobic.  Who’da thought?

What do Herman Cain and the TSA have in common?

They’ll both feel you up for free!  Every now and again we all have a lonely week or month or year, you know, which is why I started flying Southwest a lot more and carrying sketchy fluids and only answering to “Ahmed Akbar” and it works!  TSA’s racial profiling comes through nice and strong.

Glory be!  But for all you who are either a) afraid of flying, or b) sexually aroused by political debates, there is a new way to get a free handsy feel-over!

Just jealous I didn’t think of it first.

Albino Animal Mondays

Did you know that professional bicyclists just pee on their seat whenever they need to? Makes me feel loads better about my life.

In light of the upcoming Christmas holiday, this week’s “Albino Animal Monday” is a seasonally-themed specimen.  

Note: This is a one time only deal.  Do not expect every “Albino Animal Monday” to correlate with the closest national holiday.  I have a social life, mind you, (I don’t) and do not have endless hours to spend googling animals on the internet. (I do.)

May I present, ALBINO RUDOLPH! So who’s dreaming of a White Christmas? This guy.

Snow Activities Lesson #1

So, it’s been snowing for three days and I am too lazy to dig my car out of the snow. BAHAHAHAHA! That was a joke.  My car doesn’t work, but was does work is my imagination!  (See what I did there?  Took a depressing moment, turned it into fun?)  I was forced to search high and low for some snow activities.

Snow Activities Lesson #1 Instructions:

1. Kill some flies.  (If you are exceptionally artistic or good at using eyeliner, gnats will work too.)

2. Dry them out in the microwave, on a very low setting.

3. Draw them doing things you wish you were doing so you have an escape from the boredom, but don’t get too jealous because they are still dead flies.  So there’s that.

 And remember kids, never buy anyone a gift from a mall kiosk.

I’d Rather Date A Tampon

Everyone wants a love song written about them.  A dreamy-weamie ballad that acknowledges your grace and beauty and makes you forget about your lazy eye and chin hair.  Well, look no further!  I give you: Your Own Personal Love Song (Brought to you by O.B. Tampons).  Just type in your name and let the romantic whispers carry you away. 

*Granted, they are singing an apology for their product recall, but if you just use a little imagination, you can pretend it is an apology from that guy you were going to go to prom with except he didn’t show up two years in a row even after your mom said not to agree to go with him again the second year because he was just making fun of you and everyone in high school called you “No-Date Cait” after that.