PROPOSITION D.O.Y.

When an jackass accidentally shoots another jackass, we scream: GUN CONTROL!

When an asswipe with a small penis trains a pitbull to be vicious in order to inflate his own shrunken balls, we cry: PUT THE DOG TO SLEEP!

When a dumb bitch spills hot coffee on herself because she DIDN'T KNOW the coffee was hot, we immediately reward her with millions of dollars and dummy proof the cups with a "Coffee Is Hot" warning label.

Is it me or are we catering to the stupid people? Why blame the gun, the dog or the coffee for that matter when its obvious in each and every one of these situations that this was a STUPID person problem? Let's expand on Bill Engvall's "Here's Your Sign" joke and make an actual identification marker for the stupids with my Proposition D.O.Y.

Proposition D.O.Y. would require an IQ test that would be taken right along with your Driver's License or when you obtain your ID Card. Proposition D.O.Y. will assess your intelligence level and let others know, with just one glance at your driver's license or ID card, that, yes, I will donate my organs when I die; however, don't give me any sharp things to play with.

For example, if you score high on the D.O.Y. test, you will have amazing privileges such as being able to drive any car you choose. Score average on the test, its economy car for you, score low on the test and well.. here's some tennis shoes and a bike. Have fun! I know it's harsh and I'm not saying all smart people are reasonable and responsible, but what are the odds that the dimbulb who dried his hair while still in the tub is any more responsible? Do we really want that guy to be driving a 3,000 pound vehicle at 70 miles an hour whilst picking his belly button lint and singing along to his Bon Jovi CD? I think not. And yet, I see it happen everyday.

Proposition D.O.Y. is good for everyone. It limits the stupid people from infringing on the rights of those who read books every once in a while. Other D.O.Y. limits would limit or ban stupid people from:
*owning a gun or a butter knife,
*procreating or babysitting
*owning an animal. Seamonkeys would be okay but they would have to apply for a license.
*voicing their opinions loudly in public, lest it influence tender young minds who have yet to take the D.O.Y. test
* running for office or having their vote count as ONE whole vote (stupid people's vote would only count for half).
* being anywhere near anything that involves fire or heat.

Also, like a driver's license, you must take the D.O.Y test every couple of years to renew your smart status or upgrade your dumbass score and obtain the smart people status. So there is a chance to do some of them thar readin' and rithmitic and better yourself!Proposition D.O.Y. would also apply to celebrities such as Paris Hilton. After scoring low on her test (because really, can you picture her scoring high? yea. me neither.) she would be limited to her inane red carpet posing but NO TALKING is allowed. None. No more "That's Hot!" for you Ms. Hilton. If one word escapes her lips while a camera is pointed at her, she would immediately fined, arrested and put into jail with the likes of Olga and Davida.

So you see? EVERYONE would benefit from Proposition D.O.Y. Intelligent people will be rewarded with actually using their brain and going on with life, whilst the stupid people will just be watched over like toddlers and not get in our way.

"Yes, hot coffee is hot ..oh wait..let me see your license...oooohhh.. I see. Please hand me the cup and step away from the coffee maker."

Another positive outcome from Proposition D.O.Y. would be the decrease in our school's dropout rate. Being smart not only gets you into a good college but it also gives you the right to use non-plastic utensils! Talk about motivation!

Vote for Proposition D.O.Y. The stupid people are depending on you.

*this proposition is funded and supported by those who read books, know that coffee is hot, blow dry their hair AWAY from the tub, do not drink lighter fluid and handle sharp objects with care.

GRAND RE-OPENING: Fan Letter Fridays!!!

Dear Kate,

I distinctly remembered that when you asked for me to teach you my mad midget ninja skillz, you promised that you would use those powers for GOOD! (IE: kick Paris Hilton in the face..and maybe a roundhouse to Star Jones..) Yet here, I see you're doing the patented Short Leg Soy Sauce Chop on paparrazzi! Kate, with great midget skillz comes great responsibility. The Short Leg Soy Sauce Chop looks graceful and highly erotic when done by a midget like myself; however, when done by a feeble, normal height-ed person, its just looks like you're doing a drunken rendition of the Riverdance. I'm happy to see that you stopped while you were ahead and did not move into the deadly Wonton Knee Bite. However, I'm still very disappointed in you Kate. Please come see me in my office.

Love, Me.


Dear Nicole,

It's okay to use Botox girl or hey, go ahead and go full gusto with an actual, surgical face lift. I won't be mad at ya...really. Using a hairclip to give yourself a face lift isn't a good idea. I mean, what if you happen to lose the hairclip or forget it at home? What happens then? I hate to have to use shock tactics such as these, but the hair clip face lift has horrifying side effects like this:

Unclip it WOMAN! UNCLIP it NOW!

Love, Me.



Dear Jodi,

Much like cornrows, baggy pants, Krumping, "iced grills," and using the terms "you go girl" and "fo shizzle", RAPPING, in general, USUALLY goes over very nicely with the African American crowd. In fact, its quite hip and cool when done by an African American. very seldom can Caucasians (or Asians for that matter) rap without sucking the very soul of the lyrics and reducing it into a disturbing limerick. Much worse when done by a woman over 40 during a graduation ceremony. Seriously. This clip is not for the faint of heart. Jodi, I need to see you in my office too. Follow Kate please.

Love, Me.



Dear Sean Preston,

Your poor mom loves you. I'm positive of it. Just because she almost dropped you and didn't spill a drop of her drink does NOT mean your mom doesn't love you. However; no one ever accused her of being a rocket scientist you know? She's not the brightest star in the sky. I know that, had you been able to talk, you could have told her, "Um, hello? Lady with the Cheetohs? I think the directions on the box said the car seat should be facing backward." or "I'm pretty sure I'm not suppose to be sitting on your lap when you drive. I know I was just born and all..but I'm pretty positive having the steering wheel in my face while you go 50 miles an hour is NOT a good idea...call me crazy...and hey, how come you're not wearing any shoes, AGAIN?"
But sadly Sean, I know you haven't mastered your verbal skills yet (your dad is having problems with it too) so in the meantime, hang in there and try to get the guy with the mustache to adopt you. People with mustaches are pretty reliable and look up to Tom Selleck. Who's pretty damn hot for a guy with a mustache...but yeah, that doesn't pertain to you.. never mind...
So, to recap.. guy with mustache is your saviour OR learn to walk quick and then head for the door.

Love, Me.

Dear Madonna,

My drycleaning bill for the pants I soiled on Tuesday comes to $6.00 dollars plus tax. I'll take a check or paypal..whatever. Meanwhile, can add on another $350.00 so I can see you again at the Staples Center? I think its only fair, since I paid for our last date.

Call me.

Love, Me


HAVE A GREAT THREE DAY WEEKEND EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!

Oh and FYI: 300 plus people visited my last blog post, but only two cool ass people de-lurked themselves and gave me a congratulatory pat on the ass for getting close to my idol's crotch. (Thanks Karen and Kat In Da Hat). Jeesh, what's a bitch gotta do to get some luvin' around here??

Sniff.

I heart Mrs. Ritchie.

VICTORY IS MINE!

I am happy to inform all you fine readers that Operation: "Close Enough To Taste Her" is a success. Through sheer determination and midget skillz (trading up for a floor ticket and conveniently NOT sitting at my assigned seat) I have accomplished my mission.

How close was I?

This close:



FYI: at the end of that clip, you can hear me say.."OH my go...." which is midget code for "I think I just pissed myself."

and this close:


and yet..even closer...



I will know go bask in my Post-Madonna glow (pass out) and maybe wash those pants I was wearing last night........

Fan Letter Tuesday will now be...

Fan Letter Fridays!! For several reasons...

1. Dontcha think it just has a better ring to it?

2. Celebrities are starting to catch on about fan letter Tuesdays and have now begun to hold off on their antics until AFTER Tuesday! Those sneaky bastards.

3. The real reason? I'm in Madonna mode right now (SHOCKING!) and can't be bothered with news of Nicole Ritchie actually eating a potato chip and not immediately regurgitating it. It IS big news... but I'm MENTALLY GONE this week. Completely gone. Please be patient with me oh dear readers.. I'll be back on planet Earth soon enough.

Wish me luck tonight!! Do it! Leave a comment! I need it today! :D

Did you really think I'd miss opening night for the Queen?

Of course not!

To be fair, I wasn't planning on going as opening night in Los Angeles is usually full of fake collagen lips, fake bags of saline, and even faker personalities, but a fellow Madonna soldier talked me into going with him.. (by "talked me into it" I mean, he asked me if I wanted to go and I said yes). My fellow Madonna soldier is a successful veteran who has been victorious in the front row battle before, so I was in good respectable company. I was inspired and determined to get front row! Like true soldiers, we braved the streets of Inglewood to fuel ourselves with Jack in The Box before going into battle. We dodged greasy scalpers, held our bladders and later, our bowels, and annoyed the hell out of the box office by asking them for floor seats over and over and over again. Unfortunately, all the fakes decided to show up for the Queen's show and no additional floor seats were released. Not one. By 8:15, it appeared to be a lost cause. I was ready to pack it in and head home. Little did I know that I came with a veteran who was determined to fight. He faked like he was getting information from the booth and discreetly bought tickets for me and him for the concert! I was in awe of his determination and generousity towards a fellow soldier! I momentarily basked in the joy that comes with being at a Madonna concert accompanied by a REAL Madonna nut, much like myself. It makes one want to go into battle again and again! (Although I later learned that what I perceived as"determination" was really just his own version of the pee pee dance. The man needed the toilet stat!). We ended up at a fairly decent seat behind Lisa Rinna (who, oddly enough, looked prettier in person than on T.V. where she pretty much looks like she has a swollen vagina for lips) and her husband Harry Hamlin. It wasn't front row but damn it, it was opening night for the Queen and we were there to witness the magic! I won't even try to describe the show because a Madonna show in indescribable. You just have to be there, nuf said. The cost of the ticket is just a hint of things to come. The woman knows full well she bent you over, sans lube, AND you willingly took it while putting a chunk of change in her pocket. Her concert is a big fat orgy to her fans... her way of saying "thank you" for bending over I suppose. But it hurts SO good.
Only Madonna can blend music,dance, sex,fun controversy, politics, religion and retro into one tasty concert burrito! I inhaled the said burrito people. INHALED it. I would have probably swallowed it whole had it not been for the GHETTO ASS Forum's lack of air conditioning. There was a lot of talk today as to why the LA Forum had transformed into Africa during Madonna's concert. It was hard to keep dancing when it felt like you were sinking into a swampy lagoon. A little bit of A/C would have really had the place going. Poor Madonna tried to get everyone to sing at the end, but the crowd could only muster out a very scratchy rendition of "Hung Up" for a few minutes before crying out for water or slipping on their own sweat. It was a steam room in there! Otherwise, I LOVED IT! It was the most fun I've seen her have during her concert, a little less theatrical and a little more engaging. A refreshing change from her previous concerts. But really folks, I'm biased. She could have stood there and scratched her ass and I would have still been in awe.
..and YES, she does do the crucifix which I know is offensive to some at the very thought that she did it at all. I'm betting that half who are offended wouldn't be as offended if you saw in context with the show. It was thought provoking, very moving, conveyed a message of peace, understanding of one another, etc., it was visually stunning and yes, shocking.
But its Madonna. Hello. its not like you just met her people.

So have I had enough? Did I get my fill? (Yeah, I heard all of you just laugh in unison.)

I'm going into battle again tomorrow.

The mission: FLOOR TICKETS near the end of the catwalk.. it is where she does most of her crawling around and what not.. a perfect opportunity to slip her my number you see.......

Stay tuned!

A Mish Mash O' Crap. ENJOY!

SIX MORE DAYS!!!!!!!!

I think by now you ALL know what I'm talking about, so I won't explain. First, let me start off by thanking Shannon for the coolest photo collage she made for me. I entered it into a contest for Front Row Tickets, unfortunately, it was a no-go, but I definately think I was in the running with this:

click to enlarge..dontcha wish men were that easy??..oh wait, they are...

She's a scrappin' genius. I on the other hand, need to get Photoshop For Dummies because I just can't figure that bitch out. I WILL though damn it! I WILL learn Photoshop! Photoshop is my Everest.

Onto other news...

You know we have to start of with ANTM. It was an awesome episode because Jade was knocked out of the top three! DING DONG! The dimbulb's GONE!!! I was secretly hoping that Miss J. would stand up and jab her jugular with his pointy heeled Blahniks when she went into one of her long winded diatribes during judging again. and what about the "poem" she had at the end folks???... had I been one of the girls that came back to find that load of crap, I would have added my own two cents by wiping my ass with it. So I was all smiles for the rest of the episode because really, I was happy with either girl winning. I was favoring Joanie a little but Danielle just had the catwalk down, she certainly has a presence and despite what the judges say, I think her accent is hilarious. What? You mean, we can't change it to "Covah Guurl?" Why not?????

I really think my original career choice of being a modeling agent was my calling. I haven't been watching ANTM long, but so far my genius midget eye has picked out two of the winners and the ones that haven't won, were at least at the top five. Its enough to make me entertain the thought of getting into it again after Maddy starts going to school, but then of course, I remember the "people" I had to deal with. Hmm, let's think.. work at home in pajamas OR work with walking, talking, shallow pools of bile? Decisions. Decisions. I'm not talking about the models either.. I'm talking about the modeling agents. Sad little nerds who got the perfect job of barking orders at the pretty people who used to pick on them in high school. If you guys have ever seen 8th and Ocean on MTV, you'll see what I mean. So yeah. Nix that idea. I'll just play one on T.V.

I got nuttin' this Thursday so I lets pull out my muse for some inspiration.
(US Magazine biatch. Lifetime Subscription. Recognize.)

Nicole Ritchie says, "Yes, I'm too thin." (After getting her tailbone caught in a lawnchair.)

Chad Michael Murray was banned from his fiancee's prom. (what?!? Should those two words even go together in a sentence???) His new nickname? "Gepphedo....(phile)" ......[cue canned laughter]

On May 15, Oprah presented her Oprah Winfrey's Legends Ball. Quoth Oprah: "I just wanted a night where we can fill each other up with bullshit, bask in how we're so great and so envied and then televise it nationwide...just in case there are people out there who don't already know." (Thanks Oprah...I'll have a creamy ball instead.)

....aaaannnddddd...I'm spent. There's a drought of good shit to write about apparently because, like me, US Magazine's got nuttin' too. But you know who never fails me? Japanese people!!! They're so polite.. even their toothbrushes have great manners:


Hmmm.. that would be a good little slogan to tattoo on Paris Hilton's ass. Ba dum dum. Thank you, thank you.. enjoy the veal, tip your waiter.. I'm on again at 7:00 and 12:00.......

I hope everyone had a great Mother's Day!!!! Brad and I had a picnic at the beach and watched the fruit of our loins run about like a crazy woman holding a toy shovel, with a nose full of sand. Personally, I think nine months of morphing into a beach whale, squeezing out something that looks like a wet St. Bernard out of something the size of a strawberry, and wiping snotty noses, dirty butts and teary eyes deserves AT LEAST a week long celebration, but that's just me........

IT'S FAN LETTER TUESDAY!!!

Be still my heart?!?!?! A weekly thing? Maybe. I don't know. Just shut up and enjoy eh?


Dear Tyra,

Through sheer bad luck and evil forces from the unknown.. I was forced to watch your daytime show. You couldn't just sit back and enjoy the brilliance that is ANTM, oh nooooo, not you Tyra. You done thought you were the next Aaron Spelling.. only taller, with bigger boobs and not white......so behold, the crap that is The Tyra Banks show was born and the world shuddered. But I sat back, willing to give it a chance because A. I can't believe its still on and B. this episode happened to be a thinly veiled informercial about ANTM. So I was actually enjoying myself for a bit.. UNTIL, you proved to me once again why you are so NOT the next Oprah....(you're not even the next Ricki Lake come to think of it) Whilst Oprah builds new orphanages in Africa, you Tyra, oh dimbulb, tugged at our heartstrings by giving a girl with no eyebrows an EYEBROW surgery. .............................................................................................what?!
Seriously Tyra???? You couldn't come up with a better charity case than that????? Okay, if that's how it's going to be, check out this sob story:
"oooh Tyra (sniff, sniff, tearing up), I ....(gulp) ...am only 4'9!!!! (okay, 4'8.. but give a bitch an inch will ya???) [The audience gasps in unison] Yes! yes! It's true! I admit it. When I go to Target, I can't even pay for my items with my ATM without having to stand on my tiptoes to press the buuutttooonssssss on the ATM Thingggyyy!!!! (sobbing uncontrollably). And for the longest time....(sniff sniff)...I can't believe I'm admitting this on national television.. but .. I had to have my husband order for me at Pick Up Stix because I couldn't reach the counter!!! .....WAAAAH!! please Tyra, give me some shin extensions!!!!"

Love, Me.


Dear Britney,

I don't know whether to cry for you, laugh at you or throw you some change. I could have told you not to open thy legs up to a rebound. I could have told you that a guy who cannot pull up his pants and serenades you via "a rap song" is not exactly a good choice. I could have told you to get on the pill, have that fucker put on a condom AND pull out, lest his seed finds your garden...shit, I could have told you NOT to fuck that idiot at all and to just buy a vibrator! But no truer words were spoken when someone said: "You can take the girl out of the trailer park but you sure can't take the trailer park out of the girl." (your picture here)
You cheated on Justin Timberlake and immediately fell for a guy who LEFT HIS PREGNANT GIRLFRIEND for you?? DING DING!!! MARRIAGE MA-TE-RI-AL!!! YEEEHA! Now every picture I see of your poor baby, he has this look of perpetual surprise on his face. He's surprised he was concieved and he's surprised that you're stupid enough to get PREGNANT AGAIN.
What is it? Is it his Caucasian corn rows? His chain smoking? The cute little pot belly that protrudes through his dirty wifebeater? Or his mad rappin' skillz?
Whatever it may be, it's time to leave the trailer park Britney. I know, I know, there's endless amounts of pork rinds and cigarettes to be had there, but it's just not good for you sweetie. Leave. Now. (don't forget to put your shoes on first...they go on your feet...there you gooooo..)

EDIT: Okay, seriously now, someone has to save this poor child from Britney's clutches. Why oh why is the baby FACING FORWARD in his child seat???!!!! OMG, I never knew stupidity of this caliber existed until Britney Spears decided to procreate! Somebody SPADE OR NEUTER HER NOW!
Love, Me


Dear Penelope:

I think it is imperative for you to start a blog. And not just any blog, because I really don't care about your "career," the current movie you're working on, the free shit you get from designers or how for reasons unknown to man, your accent gets worse and worse the longer you live in America....no one cares..(well except that last part. How do you do THAT?) I only care about your boyfriend. What's THAT LIKE?? How does his abs feel? What about his butt? When he kisses you, where does his hands go? Let us live vicariously through you oh Penelope, you lucky bitch. That's the least you could do after scoring such ass.
Please include descriptive details and lots of pictures.. preferably half nude to fully nude ones... of him coming out of the shower.. or walking around the house...or maybe when he's giving you some good lovin'. They have those little prop up cameras nowadays for cheap Penelope, he'd never notice.

Come on.
Please?

Love, Me


Dear Japanese people,

I love you guys.

Why yes, I will have a creamy ball.

Love, Me

TAG DAT ASS!

I LOVE when I get blog-tagged. Especially when I have nothing to write about and this happens to be one of those days. I bent over and requested to be tagged by the all mighty Laurie. And since I basically do whatever Laurie and CP says (they're secret midget pimps), I have no other choice but to do it.

Basically Laurie assigns me a letter and you have to put down the first ten words that come to mind and what that word means to you. Laurie gave me an "M' for OBVIOUS reasons, so on with the show...

Mug: from which I drink the hot sweet nectar that is coffee every morning.

Mashed Potatoes: make a sculpture, have a bite, or drown it in gravy. Either way, its the perfect carb-filled delight.

Maxim: I'm totally convinced that the publisher of this magazine has A.D.D. Open up a copy, you'll get whiplash reading the billion tiny articles they jam pack into one page. But that's what I get for "reading the articles" huh?

Mensies: A cute word for a disgusting monthly friend.

Million: dollars. Ya got any? This "working for a living and being a grown-up" is highly overrated.

Madelaine: who's behind me "combing" my hair. Thanks girl, even though Mommy told you never to climb on her office chair ...I'll let it go this time..because I think you're catching on that Mommy doesn't know what the hell she's talking about.

Marshmallows: are fun when stuff them in front of your mouth and pretend to be a boxer. Wait? what? who does that?

Moley: moley moley moley!!!!

Mariah: You know that bitch's real name is Maria Vasquez Gonzalez and she's from West Covina or some shit like that. Mari-AH my ass.

MADONNA: 12 more days my love. TWELVE. MORE. DAYS.

Phew! That was good. I need a cigarette .....or something close to it that smells suspiciously sweet.

************************************************************************************
other random thoughts for a Friday morn....

* If Jade from America's Next Top Model wins the competition, I will personally hand deliver a can of whoop ass to Tyra Banks that will be so devastating that the vibration of my midget fist connecting onto her knee caps will be felt round' the world. VIVA NAIMA!

* Attention all guys (or girls from France). Look under your arm. Does it look like POWs can hide in there? Does it look like you have Buckwheat in a headlock? Then DO NOT WEAR a tank top. I think I've address this issue before but with summer coming up, I feel the need to address it again since nothing is more bile inducing than a sweaty fucker, neck deep in armpit hair wearing a tank top. The same goes for hairy feet and flip flops. Sonuvabi......RAZORS. SHAVE. DO IT. or wear some SHOES. I don't care how hot you are, when you come into my line of sight please note that at that point, it's all about ME. Thank you. This has a been a public service announcement.

* Can people please oh please stop bitching about the Da Vinci Code? Oh look! look! It's under FICTION! As in "made up," from "ones imagination," falling under the category of Unicorns and K-Fed's successful rap career. Why don't we call attention to the REAL controversy? Tom Hanks' hair. Whoa. Seriously, who knew a little hair on that guy would officially make him mayor of Fuglyville?


*.. and finally, Coffee makes me poop, so I gotta go lest I have an unfortunate accident.

Have a great weekend everybody and HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!
(Dads/Kids, let mom sleep in and upon waking up, have some coffee, a fattening breakfast and a foot massage awaitin'. )

Fan Letters...kind of.. sort of....okay, not really.

Dear Denise,
Girl you had me. I was SO on your side. I had my little Charlie Sheen voodoo doll and poked it in certain regions that only drag queens know about. But then, you had to pull the the universal "OH NO SHE DIDUNN'T" move. You're dating your best friend's ex-husband. Did you not get the memo when God blessed you with your vagina? YOU DO NOT date your best friend's ex- ANYTHING! Ex-boyfriend, ex-husband, ex-dog, ex-donkey from Tijuana..NOTHING. And to top it off, it's Richie Sambora. Girl. Come on. He was only "mildly" cool back in the 80's when he was Bon Jovi's girlfriend...now I can barely look at him without having to choke down some of last night's cordon bleu. I could probably stomach it better if you had an affair with Heather Locklear herself. Yeah, sure she's had her skin pulled back so many times that a penis is bound to pop up at some point, but damn, anything is better than Richie Samhorrah. Please place your vagina and estrogen on the table and step away. It's been revoked. You're officially something that rhymes with "bunt".. check the next letter after "b" girl.. there you gooooo... yeah, that's you.

Love, Me.


Dear Tom,
Please let Katie go. Look at her. You changed her name to Kate, her nursing bra is showing for all the papparazzi to see and she's wearing flats to make you tall. She's done Tom. That horse has been ridden and beat DOWN. It's time to replace her and I am here to say that I will gladly take her place. Unlike Kate, I will happily put on that beard and strap-on dildo without a flinch. I'll be your Daddy and spank that little million dollar tushie of yours hard, because I know that's how you roll Mr. Cruise... you like your womens to be a bit rough....and scraggly.... with a bit of a mustache to tickle your jigglers... and well.. you actually like your womens to be mens, but I know that's not going to fly on your celeb status. So just send Katie back home and kindly hand me those buttbeads. I'll do the honors Mr. Cruise.

Love, Me.






Dear Usher,
Newsflash: You nasty DAWG. And by DAWG, I mean DOG. woof! Woof! You know.. the kind that Filipinos eat? Yeah. That kind of dog. Ugly bastard.

Love, Me.
















Dear Star Jones,
On paper it probably DID sound like a GREAT idea to go get some gastric bypass surgery and a boob job to up your hotness level huh? I mean, let's face it, as far as hotness goes, you were running neck and neck with Shamu.. and Shamu had the upper hand with all those cute little tricks that she does. But NOW, well well, lookit YOU..you lost you some weight, got some fake boobs.........and yet....somehow....and I don't exactly know how this happened....you turned into the ugliest thing alive. Yeah you're not fat and your boobs are pointing in the right direction but OH MY GOD. What is up with your FACE??? Did all that weight somehow transfer to your EYEBALLS? You're freaking me out Star. At least when you were fat, we could just give you a Ding Dong and you'd shut up for about three seconds while you choked it downed with a cup bacon grease, but now.. I don't know what to make of you. You're a blabby ass bitch and you've turned into E.T's freaky looking aunt. I never thought I'd say this, but please go have a big helping of something fried with cheese on it. Get fat again so those eyeballs will go back into your useless head. It's giving me nightmares.
Oh and your husband's gay.
Tom told me.

Love, Me.

Dear Madonna,
Listen, I know you're mad that I didn't come sniff your crotch at the Coachella concert. It wasn't my fault, I swear. I was standing on my BACKPACK trying to reach you, but alas, it was not meant to be that night. But listen, I had to file for bankruptcy because I'm going to TWO, yes TWO of your concerts and I'm about as close to you as middle class can fuckin' afford okay? I'll be there. So keep your panties on. Meanwhile, can you please have some beers with me after the show? Yeah, I know, I don't drink beer, but I will down a cup of chew spit if I could get you drunk and take advantage of you. Oh I hear you, "Oh but Laine, you're married. Don't you claim to be straight? what about the age difference? What about the restraining order? blah blah blah"
Can't you see I've gone cuckoo for your cone bras?
I love you, you old hag you, with your sinewy muscles and wrinkly hands....
ROWR.

Spank, Me.

***EDIT: Madonna was looking for me........(currently crying and snotting all over myself.....)

Shock And Awe

If this is for real......the ASS WHOOPAGE I would be throwin' down on this game will be talked about and studied for years to come.

I AM the Accordion Hero.

You best be recognizin'.

Hollah.

Coachella Hell and WHY MY HUSBAND ROCKS DA HOUSE!!

High Hopes. I had high high hopes for Coachella. It was probably my only chance to be that close to my idol but sadly, dear readers, this did not happen. It was a combination of many things, but to break it all down, I did not get there on time in order to get a wristband to be in the pit. I waited all day by the tent hoping with all my midgety might that they would pass out more wristbands. They didn't. They had JUST ran out of pit wristbands a half hour before I got there. So I was kicking myself in the ass the entire time. I should have been there earlier like a true Madonna soldier. I should have went alone so I could have left at 6:00 am without dragging anybody into the madness, I should've, would've, could've, etc. I was in a depression yesterday for missing such a golden opportunity. I didn't even get a good spot outside of the pit because the geniuses at Coachella thought, "hey Madonna is playing in a tiny little tent, maybe we shouldn't have anyone else on at the same time so that 60,000 plus people could jam pack the place! Good IDEA!!! " I saw a blip of my queen while standing on my backpack, as resourceful midgets do. Meanwhile, I had non-Madonna fans all around me, standing there like a bunch of idiots, not screaming, not yelling, not dancing, just standing there. Why the fuck are you here steamin' up my tail then?? Go have another piece of granola and NOT take a shower somewhere else, so I can have more room!!!! As much as these psuedo-hippies bitched about Madonna being at Coachella, they sure came in droves when it was time for her to perform! Oh and did I mention I got puked on, TWICE..one splashing "oh so conveniently" by my leg? Did I mention the other sweaty people who fainted on top of me? Did I mention all the superficial, botoxed bitches who got to go into the pit and didn't even CARE that Madonna was performing?? As they were too busy walking around the pit, primping, flirting with security and getting drinks at the bar. Fucking faked tittied WHORES I tell ya!! If looks could kill, so many OC bitches would have been twitchin' on the desert floor that night, with blood dribbling from their incision scars. But alas, my powers have not reached to that level yet.. (I still have to pay more money at my local Scientology Centre to attain Cruise-like Powers such as those). I went home defeated. So close, yet SO FAR.

Curses!!!

Then, just when I thought my husband couldn't get any cooler, he went into complete arctic cool. He was so distraught at my missed opportunity that he told me yesterday to go ahead and log onto Ticketmaster and see what kind of seats I could get for her show that had just been added to the Staples Center. They were having a presale for Madonna fan club members (yes, I'm a member.... okay...I'll wait for the laughter to subside.......wipe your tears..... get a grip on yourself), so I halfheartedly checked, figuring I would just get the same type of seats that I had at the LA Forum. I tried three times to get floor tickets and lo and behold this is what I got on my third click:

Section: Floor 1, Row 26, Seat 1. in other words....OH. My. GOD.

The Staples Center hasn't released the official seating chart yet, but this is what the set up is thought to be. I could possibly be even closer to the left catwalk.

So the good ol' hubby gave me the go ahead to buy it!! So TWO, I'm going to TWO of her concerts with awesome awesome seats. Yeah sure, we're broke and probably have to live out in our truck for a while but hey, that's just campin' right? Who cares about a lil campin' in the vehicle when I get to be up close to Miss Madge's crotch!

My husband gave me the gift of Madonna's crotch. Thank you, oh dear husband of mine. The General sure is getting a purple heart for this one.. and by "General" and "Purple Heart" I'm talking about....this IS a family blog after all..

The Coachella Fiasco

Madonna was hot.

I was hot.

But bringing someone else, not getting there on time and having NO wristband was not.

I'm tired yo. I will post my Coachella nightmare and missing out on meeting my idol later tonight.

Meanwhile, enjoy this clip from Coachella of my main bitch asking the audience if she should take her pants off. and singing Ray of Light.

Viva La Queen Madge!!

MISSING: One Eyeball. Reward If Found.

Yeah, two posts in one day.
I've gone MAD I tell YA!! MAD!! (insert snooty British accent here)

Anyways....on with the show...

Everyday, this is what I think about..

...which damn bills do I have to bend over for today?
.....didn't I JUST WASH those clothes and/or dishes!? How come they've turned into Mount Everest again? ..wait...is that a mountain goat climbing on my colander and/or underwear?!"
... check my email to see if I have work and have this inner argument with myself:

Lazy Laine:"Please don't let there be work.. please oh please oh please...." Uptight Ass Laine:"Don't say that! You need the hours and the money!"
Lazy Laine: "I KNOW.. MOM. sheesh. a bitch can't say nuttin' round here..." (lazy laine is kind of ghetto..)
Uptight Ass Laine: "Well I'm just sayin'.... you bitch when there's work and you bitch when there's no work!"
Lazy Laine: "Because.. the money should just come in the mail because I'm an awesome awesome person."
Uptight Ass Laine: "Getting checks because you're an awesome person? That's only like one check a month, we'd still need more money than that..."
Lazy Laine: "Piss off."

So the usual crap as you can see. BUT (you KNEW there was a but, don't act so surprised) also on a daily basis, I often wonder...

"What would I do if my eyeball popped out?"

Seriously.

I know what to do when someone is choking or if someone cuts off a finger, even if someone swallowed some toxic window cleaner ...(Point and Laugh. DUH.)...
But what would you do if, OOPS! Something jams your eyeball "just right" and bam, you're playing hacky sack with that bitch? A fun game sure, but after playing around with your dangly eye, at some point, you're gonna have to smoosh that baby back up in your head. So what's the eyeball protocol? If you hold your eyeball all the way to the hospital, it's gonna pick up some lint and then DRY OUT on the way there. It would turn into a shriveled thing that the doctor will gape at, but since he doesn't want anyone to think he's incompetent, he shoves it back in there and calls it good. Then (gasp) tragedies of all tragedies, you'd be dubbed "raisin eye" much to the guffaw of your friends and family AND you have a giant eyeball surgery bill that you can't pay for. SO, you end up going to the court t0 sue that bastard doctor for your shriveled eye. He claims you're totally faking the funk for the money and your eye is in better shape than it ever was! You try to plead your case, but the judge, jury and lawyers are all laughing their asses off because your raisin eye keeps falling out of the socket everytime you get worked up. You attempt to have a sidebar with the judge but your eye falls out again and you step on it like a dirty roach. So there you have it. You ruined your chances of ever recouping your eye and lose the case because hey, lets face it, you just stepped on the evidence.

No eyeball. Still stuck with a giant bill.

I really want to avoid this.

I'll stop......I'm kind of scaring myself.
Maybe posting twice in one day was a mistake.
I'm gonna go sniff my Madonna ticket now.

Carry on.

CHECK IT OUUUTTTT!!

I'm SO THERE!

AND

Coachella is on Sunday.

Can't...write....too...excited...........

(Stay tuned for Coachella pictures on Monday!)

Meanwhile, check out my UBER' Talented brother's sketch blog and congratulate him on the new job he got in San Diego that comes with his very own fancy schmanzy office! (if you check out his sketches you'll see why he's being treated like a pimp)
He's movin' on up like George and Wheezy!!!

I Shore Do Love Them The Crazies!!!

I'm in love with Tom Cruise.

I was as disturbed by this revelation as much as you oh dear reader. I don't know how it happened but I can tell you that it all started when I watched this.......

(And the love affair began.....)

As everyone laughed at Tom while he jumped on Oprah's couch, I felt a stirrin' in me loins that only increased as time went on.....(my loins are super tired)

Then he told Brooke Shields where to stick her uterus after intelligently informing her that you don't need drugs for postpartum depression! There IS NO postpartum depression. Yeah bitch. Just work up a sweat and pop some Flintstone vitamins wench! Listen to Xenu WOMAN! I mean Tom.....sorry..


Then he flexed his midgety, yet delicious biceps, at Matt Lauer on morning television. His crazy, vibrating eyeballs and twitchy demeanor only made me want this man more.

As Tom grew crazier and crazier, my love for him only deepened. I fantasized about Tom jumping on my kitchen table in papal robes, calling me a glib and declaring that I was infested with alien seed before scurrying under my bed to hiss at me. I confess that it was a fantasy that I gave into almost every day when Brad refused to don papal robes (I had some in the closet) and gave me a weak argument about being "too big" to jump onto the kitchen table. "NONSENSE!" I screached at him. "TOM isn't too big! TOM could do it!!!" It was then I knew I had hit rock bottom.


I began to wish that I was the one that he had taken hostage. I wished that he had impregnated ME with holy Cruise Juice and made ME an adult pacifier to GNAW on while I gave a "silent birth" to his super Dianetics baby. WHY NOT ME TOM? Why oh why??. Please purge me of the evil that Xenu has spurned upon my body and the body of millions of earthlings!

They do not know.

They are glib.

I love you.

Last but not least, Tom, please know that I mean it when I say......

" bleep bleep boop di di di di grugh goooghr, needlenose banana pants."

That's just between him and I oh dear readers. It's a Xenu Thing. You wouldn't understand....

*it should be noted that my computer FROZE up THREE TIMES while trying to post this. At one point, I couldn't find the saved draft on Blogger! Coincidence???????
Behold The Power Of TOM.

It's A Brand New DAY!

* Brad and I were in the kitchen last night, (him cooking, me on the computer..DUH. Know your place woman!) Our little muddle bug was zipping in and out of the kitchen doing her usual mom and dad conversation/one-woman show:

Her: "Hi guys!"
Us: "Hi baby!"

Then usually she does a quote from Charlie and Lola (her FAVORITE cartoon) in her best faux British accent, enough to rival Madonna's. (sniff.. I'm so proud.) or do a little song and dance to make us laugh. But last night she came into the kitchen and sang this new ditty:

Our girl: "Is a braaan nuuu daaay!" (little butt shake thrown in)
Brad to me: "What song is that?"
Me: "I don't know. I never heard that one before."

Usually, I can guess what she's trying to sing just by the sound, even if I don't understand the words. But this one had me stumped. She kept singing it all throughout dinner.
"Is a braan nuuu day!" (buttshake)
We laughed, we ate and afterwards, we went into the livingroom so I can get my daily dose of Friend's reruns. During the commercials, we finally figured out what Maddy was singing. A commerical came on and she jumped up and started singing with the t.v.
"Is a braaan nuu day!"
Much to our horror, our little two year old was singing......the Herpes Jingle!! You know the Valtrex pill commerical that helps with genital warts and herpes 'outbreak'? Their little jingle goes: "Its a braaaand new day!" or in two year old speak: "is a braaan nuuu day!"
My daughter knows the Herpes Song.
That's right.
Mother of the Year Award here I come.

* I do apologize for not blogging too much these last few weeks. You all know why. And thy name is Madonna. (Fizz, don't act like you don't own a pair of cone bras mister).

*Open Letter to my friend Elisa, who I haven't heard hide nor pubic hair from...

"Hi Elisa. Did you fall off the face of the earth after you got married? I was your MAID OF HONOR . No general mass email Christmas letter? Nothing? You don't see me in your wedding pictures and go "damn my maid of honor was fine. I should call her!" You're not mad because I did my "jazz hands" in all of them did you? And yeah, so I grabbed my crotch more than you should at a wedding, but it livened things up, yes? And what's the limit on crotch grabbing at weddings? No one tells you. I didn't get a damn wedding Syllabus. Jeesh, didn't know that would get your panties in a bunch for THIS long."

* Crapnoodle o mally! How fucking pissed was I when I realized I MISSED the first few episodes of America's Next Top Model! I didn't even KNOW it began! Is it too much to ask for a memo on this shit!? Who am I screaming at? I don't know.. Anyways, I caught up this week and sadly, I am not impressed. Usually at least one girl stands out for me from the very beginning. Please note that I do have a keen eye on who can make it as a walking talking clothes hanger. Seriously. Don't make me bust out the resume bitch. TALENT AGENT ASSISTANT. That's right. I feel your jealousy. I could cuss out a model for not showing up to an appointment, fax AND fetch the actual talent agent some coffee. Skillz baby. SKILLZZZ......
Moving along, yeah, not impressed with this "cycle." If I HAD to pick, I think it would be Jade, Joanie and Nneenah. However, I can see myself tuning out of the show this year. I know. I'm such a sorry excuse for a fag hag. Not keeping up with ANTM. I am MAD indeed! OH and can we please just throw out the bitches who cry about how "stressful" it is? Seriously. Throw them out the minute a tear DARES to form in their eye. Bags packed. Get the fuck out. This is BARELY a competition. Someone does your hair and make up, you live rent free in an awesome house, you're gonna be on t.v. and your "challenges" are posing in front of a camera and walking. Suck it up hanger and have another celery.

*A few people have asked me, "when did you know you were ready to have a baby?" It really wasn't romantic nor was it some kind of "revelation" we both had. The conversation literally went like this:
"You wanna?"
"Think we can handle it?"
"Sure."
"OH hell, let's give it a go."
We got our shit together (finances, work, got my fat ass in tip top fighting shape) and then "gave it a go."
wam bam.
FIRST. TRY.
I wasted my cash on FOUR pee sticks not knowing that it would only take one to make me faint dead on the spot and have Brad do his naked "whoo hoo, I'm having a baby" pee pee wiggle dance.

*Remember the guy that made sex noises at our yoga classes? Remember I couldn't hold my Asian Fried Noodle pose because he kept making sounds like he was getting fucked in the butt and liking it? Remember that? Remember when I chose to go commando under my workout shorts, caught some air "up there" during my Green Bean Casserole pose then it decided to come out during my Tuck up Smell Butt crunch pose with a long and loud..bhrrrr. bur bur bur.......and everyone thought sex noises guy farted??? remember that?? that was cool.

Sorry, I blacked out and thought I was talking to my friend Casey for a minute. Speaking of which... Casey! where the hell are YOU?

Peesh Out.

This Blog Post Has A.D.D.

After having several small heart attacks and "sleep Vogue-ing" in the middle of the night, my psychiatr..er.. I mean... "doctor" has advised me to buy Madonna tickets as soon as possible and call him in the morning. So I did just that. I gave in. I could NOT hold out until the day of the concert in "hopes" that I get a floor seat and most of all, I COULD NOT stand NOT having tickets in my possesion within minutes of the box office opening. For her Drowned World Tour, I got tickets within two minutes of the box office opening and for her Reinvention Tour, I got tickets in literally seconds. Having NO ticket DAYS after the box office opened caused a mild rupture in my brain which resulted in some uncontrollable drooling and spontaneous barking at strangers.

Not attractive.

SO after the second date for Los Angeles was announced, I snatched up my ticket and got a note from my doctor that I was safe enough to go out into the general public once again. I got VERY LUCKY with my ticket too. ..I did not get floor seats but I got the risers right above the floor, which is good for a midget like myself. For Reinvention Tour, I got Loge 9, which was super CLOSE to the stage. I am even closer this year AND she has a runway running on either end of the stage. Holy cow! I'm so excited I think I might re-injure myself!

I also looked on Ebay for tickets and prices are going from the ridiculous to the completely insane for seats that are WORSE than mine! I mean, I LOVE Madonna but paying THIS much for a front row ticket is NUTS. And that's coming from ME...( cuckoo! cuckoo!)
I wouldn't pay that even if Madonna and Guy Ritchie provided "special favors" for me after the show!!! I mean, I would certainly pause and think about it sure.....
AND Coachella is in less than 3 WEEKS!!!! YAAAAAAAYYYYYYAAAAAYYYY!!! Me and Madonna in a small tent!!!

I think I just soiled myself.

In other news... (I'll change my pants later) .....show of hands how many people thought that this kiss:




















Looked at lot like this kiss:











You too huh!? At first I thought it was Michael and Ryan kissing, which, oddly enough, was easier to wrap my brain around than Ryan actually kissing a WOMAN.

on other, other news....

It seems like there is nothing on television these days but new reality shows coming out of the woodwork.. I gave a few of them a try and most of them were dead on arrival. Top Chef was one that I just couldn't vibe with. Although it had the lure of food, it also had bitchy chefs. Making food and being an ass is like eating a Cinnabon while you're taking a shit. It just doesn't go. I don't want a cupful of your anger with a side of chip on the shoulder. Thanks. Top Chef should be a cast of fat, cherub like folk, who smile, laugh and make awesome food. Food and drama just don't mix. Another one that got my panties in a bunch was "The Real Housewives of The OC," or something like that. Listen, I'm the first to admit that I'm amused by the antics of rich stupid folks... I watch Laguna Beach for goodness sakes'. But there is a GIANT difference between teenagers who are being teenagers..(except they have money) and ADULTS who are being teenagers, with money AND WITH kids. I could barely make it through the show without throwing my remote at the television. Things, things things, these things will make me who I AM. If I get a nip, tuck, injections, boob job, hair extensions, etc. etc. I will be more worthy. And HEY, while I'm at it, it will show the kids that what they possess and what they look like, is what makes them who they are! Great fucking parenting asswipes. I swear, the Laguna Beach teenagers seem more civil that these sad ass, "grown women" who "have it all." If THAT is "having it all," then no thanks, I'll keep my postage sized condo, in my so so neighborhood, my comfortable, no brand clothes from Target, (wha wha! God I love Target), my six year old truck and my NATURAL boobies that stay up with a little help from a bra and nothing else, just as long as my daughter grows up knowing that in our house, you're celebrated and rewarded for ideas and THINKING and not for "things" and the brand name on your ass! Sorry..I don't mean to get preachy but that show really chapped my hide! I mean, seriously, its nice to have good stuff, its nice to laugh and point at celebrities but to fashion yourself, your life and your KIDS purely through material things is disturbing and CPS should be called on yo ass! And it's not just on television, if you live in L.A. you know this is REAL and its sad. (I guess its happening in Arizona too.. check out Debi's blog about Trendy Parents. ) SCAWY.

Oh and just in case you were wondering...my hair has now reached The David Cassidy Stage:



Please someone give me a kick in the ass the next time I get decide to cut all my hair off please.

This post blows. So let's wrap this up before it gets ugly.

So in summary, I got Madonna tickets, blah blah blah blah, david cassidy hair, blah blah blah,
I GOT MADONNA TICKETS, blah blah blah, I see Madonna in less than three weeks, blah blah, Madonna. The end.

Forgive me.

My Nose Hair Hurts

I swear I had all this clever shit to say on today's post since I'm taking a break from my Madonna Ticket War. Seriously. I was gonna write about various crap that was going to make you laugh, cry, piss yourself and make you want to drink heavily. (Like you need another excuse for THAT)

Until my dog farted.

Holy Maria, Mother of Juan! I don't know what that fucker ate but the stank is lingering in the living room like it's some kind of screwed up, oil based Yankee Fart candle. I'm surprised there's not a green cloud hovering over the fucking couch. Goddamn, I'm ready to call the pound. No human being should be subjected to this kind of tortu....

Holy crap...

the dog farted AGAIN!!!!

It is a miracle I'm alive at all and that my nose is still intact. I can't even believe I'm still typing in the midst of all this stench. Now the hubby is spraying some kind of Apple Cinnamon spray ....mmmm... annnddd NOW it smells like a dogshit cinnamon roll.

Thanks Honey.

The dog fart completely made my brain circuits crash. I got nothin but dog shit on my brain. If the dog keeps this up, I might have to revert to old skool Filipino tradition and makes some Lumpia and Adobo with his stanky ass. THIS is why I wanted a small dog (small butt, small farts, small shit) or at least a dog that doesn't move much (bassett hound, practically in a coma, so his farts pretty much stay in one designated area) But NOOOO, the hubby had to get the strongest, dumbest, sweetest, most hyper doofus dog you can possibly get. If my dog turned human, he would be Lenny from that book "Of Mice And Men." His name is Gunter but my genius daughter calls him "Dong-ger." Which is such a better name for him. Absolutely nothing going on in that empty head but obviously a whole lotta crap going on in the other end. Literally.

Christ my dog stinks. He hotboxed my brains. Sorry.

All I can offer you is two new blogs I've fallen in love with this past week...(and planning to blogroll if I my website on Explorer didn't look so screwed up.. I don't want to go to my template and touch ANYTHING lest I screw it up even more....Mozilla Firefox people. My blog looks great there).

I gotta catch up on this girl's previous posts, she's HILARIOUS. And she's met Madonna! Gotta love that......Certifiable Princess

This guy takes awesome pictures! Check out the pics from when he and his wife went to Japan! So purty...and he obviously loves his wife a lot. I'm a sucker for mushy crap like that.
Check him out....Lost In California

That's it ya'll. Good vibes on the Madonna tickets is always good. I'm pretty sure that she's announcing more dates come Monday. Write to Oprah and tell her some 29 year old, stay at home mom is slowly becoming delusional and dying to have beers with Madonna and can she PUHLEEESE hook a bitch up? (run on sentence like damn huh?) I swear that woman will hook some guy up who wants to meet The Temptations,????? (I didn't even know they were still ALIVE.. I thought Oprah was going to do a seance' for that guy) yet, Ms. Winfrey can't give me a shake or her magick stick? Its wrong I tell ya.....

Have a great weekend everybody!

The Mission: FLOOR SEATS. Section A, Row One.

So Madonna Pre-Sale tickets came and went.

Did I get one?

NO.

I'm currently still in the trenches.
So NO. There is no time to be berating my friend's ex-boyfriends, or having you sneak a peek at my secret (sick) desires. (*but as you can tell, I totally have time to link you back to those blogs just in case you missed the brilliance...)

This is war people.

I don't want to just "go" to the concert after all.. getting my little paws on the best possible seat to witness the Queen in action IS the GOAL. I practically worked the corner and turned tricks so I could afford these tickets. I'm not gonna have Ticketmaster shove me on the "LOGE" area, row X, seat 112, (ie: close enough to see the other fuckers who got better seats than me.) I've been to two Madonna concerts and although I've gotten close, I have NEVER gotten a floor seat. This year will be different. The tickets I was planning on purchasing today also happened to be opening night. Opening night pretty much means that the front rows will be jam packed with William Morris Agents, metrosexuals, their gay boyfriends and a handful of celebrities. I'm waiting for more dates to be announced. And they will be. Because Madonna never plays LA for just one night.

Point being...

This is my year.

FLOOR SEATS. SECTION A. ROW ONE.

That bitch is MINE.

*************************************************************************************

PLANS OF ATTACK

Mission One: Coachella
Where: Indio, California at the Sahara Tent
Overview: Arrive at destination point prior to gates opening. Upon gates opening, push, scratch, bitch slap any able bodies obstructing the destination zone. Secure destination zone upon arrival. Be on the lookout for platforms, leather vests, men wearing daisy dukes, wanna-be Madonna fans who "like her old stuff better,"and enemies posing as friends in order to infiltrate secured area. Should any of the above attempt to enter secured area, execute a quick, but lethal, two finger "Curly" eye gouge.

SAHARA TENT/COACHELLA

Mission Two: Concert
*note: Plan A for mission two aborted due to date of attack and financial overview (broke).
Plan B pending initiation upon announcement of new attack dates. Currently Holding.
Where: TBD/either The Forum in Los Angeles or The Pond in Anaheim
Overview: Obtain secret passcode to access ticket Presales site. Access presale ticket site within 10 minutes of presale site opening so YOU CAN BE FIRST to order. Upon entering site, obtain a floor seat for the LAST DATE of LA or Anaheim Venue. Prior to attending the concert on the date given on the ticket, arrive at the concert before given date and attempt to obtain a BETTER floor seat. If mission is accomplished, sell ticket that was obtained via the internet to desperate saps on Ebay.

LA FORUM/STAGE SET UP

and yes Shannon, please light a candle for me as these are dark days indeed.........

This Blog Is Experiencing Technical Difficulties...

....we will be returning to our regularly scheduled blog in just a moment......

(BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP, URRRRGGH, BEEEP. URGH.... URGH... URGH..BEEEEEP)

The author of this blog has officially gone to

THE BAD PLACE.

In less than 30 days, she will be within a couple feet of Madonna sweat and wrinkles at Coachella. In addition, Madonna's tour has recently been announced and pre-sale tickets will be on sale tomorrow at the butt crack of dawn. At this moment, the author of this blog has donned a pair of camoflauge pants, a dirty shirt, smeared some unknown brown substance on her face. She is poised over her computer, hand on mouse and ARMED (with her special "Madonna fan club" code), ready to buy tickets that she'll probably have to finance.

We advise that no one come near her for at least 24 to 48 hours, as she is prone to biting, snarling and throwing feces with no warning. (*Should there be a cancellation of a concert date, bad seat assignment by ticket master or freakishly strong tranny steal her spot at Coachella....we extend this warning to a RED ALERT. )

We apologize for the inconvenience.

(BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP>>>>>>>)