Meet & Greet The Voices In My Head. FUN!

I can eat again! OH JOY! And in my joy of being able to eat solid foods again and having a bowel movement that doesn't look like swamp.....(I'll stop) ....., I put together a vlog just for you fine people this wonderful Food Filled Friday!!!

In this episode, you have the treat of meeting just one of the many voices/personalities in my head. She's quite a charmer. See for yourself!

You can never be as hot as Joyce Dewitt. Seriously, don't even try.

Yes, I'm still here...a little more calm from the last time I posted a blog but not by much. (one week from today!! ticktockticktockticktock).....Again, please note that I will be documenting my adventures daily via "vlogging" (video blogs) so bookmark my Madonna site now and don't miss out on all the fun. (Main gay Joey also scored front row tickets to a Broadway show - Phantom Of The Opera! - ...seriously, if this isn't a fag and a hag's dream vacation, I don't know what is.)

My big talk about changing the blog's format to just only showcase FLF obviously didn't pan out because I'm lazy and someone really needs to remind me that I cannot be clever during the week. And "Fan Letter Whenever The Hell I Feel Like It" really doesn't have the same ring to it as Fan Letter Friday. So blog stays the same with FLF to round off the meal.

Can someone also remind me to stop eating Flaming Hot Cheetoh ANYTHING??? They go in like a sparkler but they come out like a bottle rocket. They should just change the name to scorched sphincters because that's what you're signing up for when you eat those things.

I usually wake up at the ungodly hour of 5:30 am. (I know, it's insane and I don't have to get up that early but my body clock is just wired to wake up at that hour....weekends I "sleep in" until 6:30 am.) Anyways, I sometimes have the morning news on and it always cracks me up when the traffic reporter acts "surprised" and excited that there's no traffic to report and everything is going smoothly. It's 5:30 in the morning!! Sane people are asleep, even the sun is still hittin' the snooze button, the only people on the road at that hour are college students driving back from Tijuana after a hard night of partying. (I NEVER did such a thing...). Every day this traffic guy acts "surprised" and happy to be delivering the "good news" of no traffic. That's like acting surprised that Pamela Anderson isn't a virgin.

It was Joyce Dewitt's birthday yesterday. In honor of her birthday, please go to her site and buy me an autographed picture. Because it will make Joyce happy. Trust me.

Okay no, not really. Joyce Dewitt could give a damn. What I'm really trying to do is wallpaper my bathroom with her image because nothing gets my bowel moving faster than Janet Wood smiling at me while I'm on the loo.

Okay, not really, I'm just trying to score more free shit.

How I'm even typing right now is beyond me I'm so excited about my trip to see my girlfriend. My nights have been filled with fantasies of meeting the Queen and Joey and I becoming her new BFFs. And maybe, after a drunken night of cocktails, she decides that she loves the idea of Polkadonna and offers me a spot on her tour to be the opening act. Yes, it will all happen because my blog reader's good vibes are powerful and strong.

My blog readers sayeth and so it shall BE-ITH! Hallelujah, praise the Lawd and put some pennies in my Joyce Dewitt donation plate.

Amen.

Its Dead I Tell Ya....Dead.

FLF is going to probably be a spur of the moment type of thing now since all the crazed celebs took mommy midget's advice and went to rehab/jail or are so incredibly crazy that its not even crazy anymore. (Her name rhymes with Shitney Steers). Although, one crazy who's still in denial and won't answer my phone calls is Paula Abdul. True she's not the classic, slurring tater tot eatin' hillbilly like Anna Nicole was. At least Annie was SOO out of it, she didn't have time to be a bitch. She was too occupied chasing her dog Sugar Pie underneath tables and laughing at herself. In other words, Annie is like a happy drunk whereas Paula Abdul is the mean drunk you never want to take to the bar because they end up fighting with the pool table after a couple of beers. True, Paula Abdul is a tad bit more functional than Anna but somehow this makes her crazy tirades even more of a spectacle. Because you start to THINK she's normal and then wham, she does this shiz:


Um. wait. Did she just say, "Where is God when you need him?"
Hold on Paula, let me ring up God, I think he might be in Darfur. God's cell phone isn't getting any signals over there but I guarantee you that once God hears about you getting fired from the Bratz movie, he'll drop everything and come running.
Genocide and mass killings will just HAVE TO wait.
I really can't even watch "Hey Paula"..I'm so embarrassed because I used to think Paula Abdul was the coolest in the sixth grade. I can't tell you how many midgets like myself rejoiced that a fellow midget like Paula Abdul became such a success. (I can't hear "Forever Your Girl" and not be reminded of sixth grade or my sixth grade boyfriend Ray. He looked like Fred Savage. I was his Filipina Winnie Cooper. hollah.).
Paula seemed like a down to earth chick back in the day. Damn Paula. Didn't we almost have it all? When love was all we had worth giving!?!?
Sorry.
I think the midgets and I need to have a meeting and throw her out of the Lollipop Guild ...cut up her union card and everything.
Remember when crazy only applied to Tom Cruise...?? and it was only because he jumped on the couch and told Brooke Shields to walk it off and take some vitamins??? It wasn't because he had called out to God (Xenu) in disgust because he didn't get an Oscar or feed Suri Pop Tarts and soda. (um. rhymes with Shitney Steers.)

I love you Tom.....The ride with you was worth the fall my friend
Loving you makes life worth living,
Didn't we almost have it all
The night we held on till the morning,
You know you'll never love that way again
Didn't we almost have it all...
(sniff...excuse me. I have to go choke out Katie Holmes for stealing one of my gays).

Fresh Fried Fan Letter Friday!

Dear Bai Ling

I’m going to admit it. I’m a little scared about writing to you because your eyes have the demented look of a woman who would cut off my toes and make dumplings out of them. It saddens me that you and Kimora Lee Simmons (shudders) are one of the few known Asians in Hollywood. Way to represent the “fire dorraah, you sucky sucky” stereotype girlfriend! But never mind that and let’s get to the matter at hand.
What are we doing in this picture exactly? I see you’re mustering up as much “model” vibe as you can and I’m pretty sure you wanted to look sexy, alluring and ethereal. But for those whose vision has not been made hazy with Coke and shrooms, you look like a drugged out Thai brothel worker suffering from the late stages of syphilis, telling your friend (the flower) all your ancient Chinese secrets.

Thou are the Asian Paris Hilton. That poor rose was probably shunned by the other roses in town from the tuna stink you left on its stem.

Love, Me.


Dear Mariah,

Why you make it so hard on me girlfriend? Why!?!? I don’t want to talk about you, I really don’t, but your crusade to look like a Bratz Doll’s momma on parole, keeps me coming back every time.
Let’s first start off with the positives…um………your thighs are well covered. And mind you, you’re not fat per se’; however, those clothes from Forever 21 .., which incidentally, that’s just the NAME of the store my dear, they don’t actually mean that YOU, Mariah, can forever BE 21…or 19…or 17.. or whatever age you and your Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen jacket are trying to convey. You need to return the holey jeans to Donnie Wahlberg circa 1989, you need to return the jacket to that poor middle schooler you stole it from and .…(sniffs air)……yeah, you need to lay off the botox…the sweet stench of botchulism emanates from every pore of your Garfield like face.

Otherwise, as I always say to you Mimi my dear, keep on eatin' on.

Love, Me.


Dear Star,

Terrifying your eyeballs, this is true.
They look as if they are going to shoot right out of you,
Your husband Gay Al can’t hide how he’s so faggy
especially when your breasts are so low and saggy
When you make love to him, he fantasizes like hell,
he really wishes that you were Denzel
But then he opens his eyes at the wrinkled goldfish before
him….
and can’t believe what a mess he’s got himself in.
Pretending he’s a husband and a lover
to a bug eyed piece of chewed up whale blubber.
You’ve done only one good deed from having your flapjacks
seen.
Now I have an good idea about what I want to be for Halloween.

Love, Me.


Oy vey that was a BAAAAAD. A poet I am not.

Sorry….so to sum up…
Star is lumpy.

Yeah, I rushed the Fan Letter Friday a bit, can you tell? It’s warm today and I can’t be in front of the computer with you folks. Daughter and I MUST go to the beach, dig giant holes in the sand so unsuspecting joggers can fall into them and I can teach my daughter to laugh and point.

Mom of the Year Award where fore art thou???

Have a Great Weekend Everyone!

The Adventures of Mrs. Ritchie's Bitch.

The Place: Target
Tools: Target Gift Card
The Mission: Sniff out the just released unedited Madonna DVD/CD. With BONUS FEATURES!! Oh baby, is it Christmas time AGAIN?! Hoooo wee!

1:30 p.m. Drove to Target. Parking was difficult due to idiots crowding up the parking lot waiting for the sweet spot at the front of the store. Because god forbid they park too far and have to walk a few seconds in the rain (..it was barely sprinkling people..).
Using my midget stealth and craftiness, I found the first available parking spot and braved the elements (two wet drops on my t-shirt). I walked passed the line of cars waiting for parking, laughed, pointed and shouted:

“FOOLS! Bwahahahahha..!!!”

and then I slipped on the asphalt, skinned my knee and walked shamefully into Target.
Lesson learned Mother Karma. Lesson Learned.

1:35 p.m. Wander the store aimlessly with a slight limp (skinned my knee remember?). At this time, I was unable to find the cd/dvd/entertainment department. Panic sets in.

1:45 p.m. AHA! I spotted a flat screen T.V. in the corner of my eye, beckoning me to partake in the newly released DVDs displayed below it. Panic replaced by excitement. I fart a little.
Apologies to the guy behind me. Why yes, I did have a burrito for lunch, whyever do you ask?

1:55 p.m. Wandering the department aimlessly, looking at newly released DVDs display with no luck. Panic sets in again. Palms sweating. The search continues.

2:00 p.m. Lets see.....Babel….March Of The Penguins…The Illusionist…..holy Maria Mother of Juan…where fore art thou is Madonna!?!? The thought of possibly having to order it through Amazon and (GASP) wait 3 days for it to get here, causes me to start hyperventilating uncontrollably. Short of breath, I huddle in between the self help and diet books and babble incoherently as I sway frantically to and fro.

2:05 p.m. Before a full out Rain Man incident occurred, a savior comes to my aid in the form of a gay guy in a faded red Target smock. He doesn’t even have to ask. I can see in his eyes that he is a wise one who can sense a distressed hag within a 10 mile radius.
He knows what I seek.
He leads.
I follow.

2:07 p.m. My savoir hands me the vacuumed sealed Madonna goodness with a calm smile and gently says, “It’s on sale girl.”
I hold back my tears….(and fart just a little.)

2:08 p.m. Due to unforeseen circumstances (I blacked out from excitement), I do not recall the events that occurred at this time.

2:10 p.m. I was led to the 10 items or less checkout line by my Target savior. He advised me not to go on Madonna excursions without my licensed gay Madonna sponsor (Hi Joey!) until I had more experience under my belt.
He disappears into the electronics department, leaving a scent of Curious perfume in his wake. I forgive his bad taste in perfume and thanked him.

2:12 p.m. I presented my Target gift card. (thanks San!) The cashier ran it through, bagged my treasure and sent me on my way.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

UNHEALTHY: