This

This is the gentlemen's club that my boss, the Mighty Midget, built.

It is also where I now work.





This is the guy who bought the gentlemen's club from the Mighty Midget. His name is Captain Peanut. He hates to talk and communicates mostly through large signs.







This is the new jello wrestling pit that Captain Peanut installed in the gentlemen's club. He says participation is mandatory.







This is the current Jello Wrestling Champion. I'm scheduled to fight her on Saturday night. Her name is Donna, and she told me she cannot wait to kick my ass.







This is my cool new phone. I'm going to use it to call in sick on Saturday. Unless you have a better suggestion????

A Night in Heaven, A Morning in Hell

What can I say about this past week? It was dull and quiet. I was unable to work since Britinia messed up my knee during her poolside attack. The bitch! I sent her my medical bills and a note suggesting that she pay them. Well actually, here is what the note said:

"Pay up, you bald headed bitch, or I'll let Earl's wife know exactly how you got that job!"


She sent me back this picture.



God, I hate her!

Anyway, like I was saying, it was a dull week. I gimped around on my crutches and watched daytime TV with Tucksworth. Tucks has become very mellow ever since he turned into a pothead. I think watching the Dr. Phil show has helped him as well. He's much more tolerant about letting me play my Grateful Dead CDs, and even lets me listen to Radiohead without breaking dishes or flinging poo. We are getting along so well now, I'm really glad that Delmont didn't take him.

It's nice to laze around sometimes, but by Saturday nite I was thoroughly bored. So when my friends Tequila and Venus invited me to go to a country and western bar with them, I said yes immediately, even though I mostly hate country music. But what are you going to do, I live in Nashville for pete's sake.

So we made ourselves beautiful and headed out to the club. It was packed with the usual mix of true fans and ironic hipsters. The opening band was very Hee-Hawish. I spent most of their set knocking back Mojitos and chatting with the bartender. I was beginning to wish I hadn't bothered coming when it happened: HE sauntered on to the stage and I fell in lust.




One fine piece of man meat. Doesn't he look like a zombified Elvis? As you may know, I spend a lot of time thinking about zombies.


The emcee introduced him as "Unknown Hinson, the King of Country and Western Troubadors" and from the top of his chart toppin' hair to the bottom of his suede shoes, he was very majestic indeed. I felt myself flush all over when he looked me right in the eye and started playing a song called, "Satan in a Thong." By the time he started on the next one, "Fish Camp Woman," I knew I had to have him.

You see, I kinda have this thing for musicians. The thing being that they make me want to get naked. Although I usually prefer the kind that look like Chris Cornell, have no money, and unrealistic musical aspirations. Still, Unknown's talent (not to mention those sideburns and Dracula fangs) drove me wild.




Here's a picture of my friend Tequila with Unknown. She was really pissed off when he went home with me instead of her.



I had a great time with him. We drank some party liquor and he told me about his youth as a sword swallower in traveling carnival. I told him about juggling fire in my pole dancing act, and the next thing I knew he was removing my dress with his tongue.

Oh what a night! I woke up before sunrise, dehydrated but happy, and started writing the delicious details in my diary. Here is what I wrote:

Dear Diary,

I think I finally know what it means to be a woman now. Nothing, not even the magical ten minutes I spent with Glen Danzig in the back of his tour bus, can top this experience. Unknown was a testosterone-crazed beast! I loved the way he....."


But just then I heard a crashing noise very close by. It sounded like it was coming from my driveway. Alarmed, I ran to window and peered out. I could not believe what I saw. Thank goodness I remembered to take pictures for evidence.




Britinia, pounding the crap out of my car with an umbrella.


"What the hell are you doing, Britinia?" I screamed. "Are you insane? Have you gone completely out of your tiny mind?"




Crazy people are strong.




How would you like to see this in your driveway at 5 A.M.?


"That's what you get for ripping my hair off!" she hollared. "And I ain't paying no doctor bills for you. I'ma send you back to that doctor if'n you dare breathe a word to Earl's wife, do you hear me?"

Then my neighbor stuck his head out of the window and piped up, "Christ lady, you've got more mouth than a cows got teets! Shut up, already!"

Britinia turned her rage on him. "You shut your hole, MEATHOLE!" she screamed, and threw the umbrella she'd been using to beat my car at his window. It hit smack in the center and knocked his screen off. She finally left after I told her the cops were on their way.

So now my car is dented and scratched, my neighbors are pissed off, and I probably need to see about getting a restraining order. But at least Saturday night was fun. How was your weekend?





*And if you've never heard of Unknown Hinson (and not enough people have) please check out this video. The guy can tear it up!

Catchy

You must watch this. I am trying to work up a pole dancing routine to the tune take anything you want! right this very minute.

How I Spent Tuesday, 8/14/07

By Prunella Jones



6 A.M.


Rise and shine! I am up with the sun. Mostly because that's when my animals start howling for their food. Except for Tucksworth, of course. He never gets up before noon. This is my new rat, Schnozo 2. He has a very delicate stomach so I must feed him with a sippy cup. Schnozo 1 wasn't this picky, which is probably the reason he is no longer with us. He chewed through the toaster's electrical cord which schmelted him to the counter. Does anyone know how to get the smell of fried rat out of a kitchen? I've tried everything.



10:30 A.M.


Well thanks to my little run in with Britinia the other day, my knee is completely messed up. I can't work, and have to hobble around on crutches for a week. It's really pissing me off! I think I'll pray about it. Dear Jesus, why did you let Britinia wreck my knee? It's not fair! Please make ten pounds of cellulite appear on her ass. And also, could you kill that asshole doctor who refused to write me a prescription for Oxycontin like I asked, but gave me Motrin instead? You can't get high from Motrin!! Oh and I'd really, really like it if you could please smite all those bastards at my insurance company as well. $500 deductable, my ass! Thank you, Lord, amen. PS - thank you for making me a hottie.



3:15 P.M.


I really hate it when my internet connection goes down. How much longer am I going to have to wait to get on-line? I've already called the cable company three times and I keep getting the same message that they are "working on it." Liars! What did I do with my time before I got that Geek Squad guy to slip me a free computer and started blogging? Oh yeah, I watched Jerry Springer. Where's the remote?



7:45 P.M.

That's a good girl, Shirley! Go do your poopy on the neighbor's lawn. Right by the front door so he can see it and possibly step in it first thing, when he leaves in the morning. That's right.....good girl! Mommy is going to cook you up some homemade dog biscuits right after I finish watching Josie and the Pussycats on TV Links.



10 P.M.


Time for bed. What a long, boring day, but at least I looked fabulous as always. Wow, I'm really loving this new Creme de la Mer firming night cream. It was expensive but worth it. It's really firming my skin right up!.....but....wait a minute, it's too firm. I can't move my face......not even to blink! Did Tucksworth put Superglue in my face cream again? I'm going to kill that monkey!!!!!

Karma

Why is it that whenever I try to have the least little bit of fun, karma has a way of making me pay for it immediately? All of you guys who warned me that there would be repercussions for teasing my mom were so right. I just wasn't expecting it to happen so soon. Why can't karma leave me alone for five minutes and go find OJ Simpson?

This weekend started off pretty good. I was in a great mood because I had finally found someone to take Tucksworth off of my hands. You remember my alcoholic monkey, Tucksworth? Well anyway, my cousin Delmont thought Tucks would make a great pet for his faternity house, so he drove down to pick him up this weekend. Delmont had never been to Nashville before so I showed him a few of the sights, but then I had to trudge off to my horrible new job at The Boobie Barn. I gave Delmont a key to the house and told him to go out and have fun. Tucksworth was sullenly watching Animal Planet and gave me the finger as I left. He's been in a foul mood ever since the vet put him on Antabuse.

So anyway, I went to work and it was a nightmare. (I'll do a special post on it later.) I crawled home at 2 A.M. wanting nothing more than to take a quick swim in my pool and relax with a glass of wine.

But there would be no relaxation that night. I could hear crappy techno music blasting from the patio as soon as I drove up. My beagle, Shirley, was baying loudly, like she always does when she's distressed. I figured Delmont was doing a little entertaining in my pool, so I marched back there to let him know the party was over. I wasn't angry or anything, since I used to be a college kid myself, but I didn't want my snooty neighbors calling the cops on me again.

I went out to the pool and snapped off the music. "Hey guys, it's time to...." I began, but stopped mid-sentence because I couldn't believe what I was seeing.




Delmont and Britney Sue, skanking up my pool.


Do you remember Britney Sue, the brilliant "dancer" who made me lose my job as the star of Classy Earl's House of Class and Tits? There she was in MY pool, humping MY cousin, and wearing MY new Prada sunglasses!




Yes, Delmont is good looking. The Jones side of the family are all hot. Unfortunately most of them are dumb as cement.



"Hey, cuz," Delmont greeted me with his usual cluelessness. "Come on, join the party!"

Britney Sue glared at me. She was no happier to see me than I was to see her. From all the bubbles in the water that surrounded her, I could tell she was farting in my pool. I was furious!

"Bitch," I hissed. "You get your country ass out of that pool and give me back those sunglasses!"

"Excuse me," she said coolly, "But my name ain't bitch, it's Britinia. I jes' changed it since I'm a star and all now. And I ain't going nowhere. Delmont done tol me this is his house!"

I scowled at Delmont, who gave me a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that, Pru," he said, while climbing out of the pool. "Come on, Britinia, we've got to go."

"Where the hell is Tucksworth?" I asked. I couldn't believe he wasn't out there flinging poo at Britinia, as I had trained him specifically to do that. Then the unmistakable smell of pot smoke hit my nostrils.



They let Tucksworth smoke my entire bag of weed!



"Delmont, how could you?" I shrieked. "You know, he's in AA!"

"Well we had to give him somethin," Britinia smirked. "The vodka was makin him puke. You don't know much about takin care of animals, do you?"

Just then my neighbor poked his head of his bedroom window. "All of you shut the hell up or I'm calling the cops! And I'm reporting this to the neighborhood association, Jones. We want you out!"

Goddamn, I hate that neighborhood association! I'd had enough. "Get the hell out of my pool, Britinia!"

"Make me," she taunted.

You know how in stories people will say they "saw red" to describe getting angry? Well, that actually happened to me. At that moment I was so mad I literally saw everything washed in a red haze. I think a blood vessel popped in my eye.

I grabbed Britinia by the hair to haul her out of the pool. She didn't budge but I heard a ripping sound and the next thing I knew I was on my ass, holding her weave in my hands. She was totally bald! Holy shit!

"Bitch, I'ma kill you," she screamed. "I jes paid $30 dollars for that weave!" She jumped out of the pool and was on me in a flash. Now I am in decent shape and know jujitsu, but Britinia outweighs me by a good twenty pounds. She quickly knocked me to the ground and started banging my head on the patio tile. Delmont took his time rescuing me. He told me later it was because he was hoping we'd start ripping each others clothes off and kissing. Once he finally figured out that wasn't going to happen, he grabbed Britinia and hustled her out of there. As she was leaving she swore she'd make me pay for ruining her hair.

Her exact words were, "I'ma get you good!"

Now here I sit on Sunday morning. My monkey is stoned and I'm out of weed, my pool needs to be drained and fumigated, my neighbors are out to get me, and I think I have whiplash. My mom, who was out on a date with the nice man from church, missed the whole thing. From the smile on her face, it looked like she had a pretty good time. That's why I don't understand why I am being punished so terribly for the little bit of teasing I gave her.

But on the plus side, my blog got a very nice review from So Many Blogs, So Little Time>. I'm thrilled because these chicks have excellent taste, and they are really funny. Go here to check out what they said about me and to find out how to get your blog reviewed.

My Mom has Jungle Fever

So my mom, who has been staying with me for the past couple of weeks, asked me an interesting question this morning. I was sitting at the kitchen table at 6 a.m. guzzling coffee and trying to wake up when she wandered in and handed me a book. It was called Nice Girls Do.

"Have you ever read this book?" she asked.

I gave it a hazy glance. "No."

"Well you should," she said. "It's very informative. For instance, have you ever ejaculated during during one of your orgasms?"

I spit coffee all over table.

"Because I never have, I never even heard of such a thing," she went on, after handing me a paper towel, "but this book says they are quite common. It's called a maxi orgasm, and it's when liquid squirts out of the vagina."

Here's the thing, I love my mom a lot and I enjoy her company, but we don't usually talk about sex. Ever. And I like it this way. But since my dad kicked the bucket a few years ago, my mom has been dating up a storm. I guess she's been screwing around a bit, which is cool. She married my dad when she was nineteen so she never got to experiment much. And I can't imagine that my dad ever gave it to her good. (Gahhhh, just typing these words is making the bile rise up in my throat.)

Anyway, I'm happy that she's having a good time, but like I said, I really don't want to discuss these things with her. I feel bad about it though. Since most of her friends are churchy types, she needs someone to give her some good advice.

So I sat her down at the computer and made her watch a few videos by my favorite sexual guru, Alexyss Tylor, the host of a public access show called "Vagina Power."



If you have never seen this video, I urge you to watch it. You won't be disappointed. Although it might not be safe for work as there is quite a bit of talk about the penis and vagina.

My favorite quote: "This man won't even buy you a plate of shrimp from Long John Silvers...and that's, what, $2.99?...but he can give you a mouth full of sperm and a rectum full of sperm."

I thought my mom would get a few laughs out of this, but it made her more curious than ever. Now she wants me to take her to a sex shop so she can examine the Jack Rabbits. And she asked me, "Do you think it's easier for black men to hit the vagina walls because they are said to have bigger penises?"

Well, I couldn't resist teasing her. "Those rumors are true, Mom. All black men are hung like elephants."

"Really?" she turned a bit pink. "How big would that be...in inches?"

"Oh at least 12 or 13 inches," I said, with my best straight face. "But some are even bigger."

"You know, there is a very handsome black man at my church," she mused. "He just lost his wife not too long ago..."

So I've been singing..... "she's got jungle fever! Ow!" to her all morning.



She keeps protesting, "Oh you hush, you are so silly. I do not."

She totally does. I can't wait to see what happens next.

THE PRUNELLA JONES STORY starring Mary Kate Olsen

The Prunella Jones Story is the true modern day Cinderella tale of Prunella Jones, the smokin hot freelance writer who overcame both OCD and a deprived childhood in the Inland Empire, by using her incredible body to become a Hollywood IT girl. Mary KAte Olsen stars in this uplifting story of a plucky gal who refused to give up, even after she developed a serious drug/alcohol problem, gambled away her fortune, got dumped by both Johnny Depp and Jake Gyllenhaal, AND lost her alien baby, Ozzie Danzig, to the Scientologists. (see the May 15th episode for clarification)

In today's episode, Pru has just been released from the psychiatric hospital.




"What are you looking at? You never saw a crazy lady before?"




"Damn, everything sucks. I have no money and nothing but the clothes on my back and a few ciggies. What am I going to do? I'm not going back to Riverside, hell no! I'll have to find some sort of job."




Pru: "Well at least I'm skinnier than I've ever been in my life. Oh and look, there's half of an ecstacy tablet left in my purse. Sweet! Just what I needed. Now I feel like dancing!"

Random Guy: "Hey there honey, you look good. How much for a date?"

Pru: "Fuck off, freak!"




"Oh God, just when I think my life can't get any worse, now I'm being mistaken for a prostitute? Why would he think that? Just because I'm walking the streets in high heels and lingerie? This nightgown cost $500 at La Perla!

(sigh) What am I going to do? It's hopeless! I should just go throw myself off of a bridge!"




"Hey, Prunella. Don't talk like that, baby."




"Wow, Joey Ramone? I love you! I'm glad to see you went to heaven, Joey. But what's up with the Dr. Martens boots? Who wears those past high school?




"Yeah, I know. I prefer Converse myself, but what are ya gonna do? They were issued to me with the robe. Anyhow, I don't wanna hear anymore talk about offin yerself, all right? You just need a job. Promise me you'll take the first job that comes along, okay?"




"I sure will. Thanks Joey, you rock! Well, how about that? Things are looking up."





"Excuse me, did I hear you say you were looking for a job? What a coincidence! I happen to have an opening for a personal assistant. What a lucky day for you."





"Um.....Joey? This wasn't exactly what I had in mind.....Joey?"



Should Pru take the job as Naomi Campbell's personal assistant? Can she avoid getting beaned by Naomi's diamond studded cell phone? Will she be able to maintain a size 00? Find out in the next episode of The Prunella Jones Story

I Know Who Killed Me: A Review

I have a confession to make. As much as I enjoy cracking on the Firecrotch, I've never actually seen a Lindsay Lohan film. Nope, not even Mean Girls. But I enjoy a good stripper movie, so I thought I'd check out Lindsay's new offering. It's supposed to be about a girl who gets kidnapped by a serial killer, and then thinks she's her own twin sister who might be a stripper. At least that's the impression I got from the trailer. I've been hearing that it is so awful, it's actually good in a "Showgirls" kind of way. I wouldn't waste my money going to the theater to see it though, it's really easy to find online. Here are my notes.



Minute 3:00 -- It starts with Lindsay sliding around a stripper pole in slow motion. She's not naked.

3:23 -- Lindsay is a high school student named Aubrey. She has the raspy, cigarette voice of a 50 year old truck stop waitress.

5:08 -- Her piano teacher looks a bit like Elton John. He's wearing a big blue ring.

6:07 --She has a hairless cat, just like Dr. Evil. What are those cats called?

6:31 -- I'm bored.

7:32 -- Pricks finger on a blue rose. Ooo scary music.

7:56 -- Annoying, raspy scream.

11:35 -- Some boring stuff happens at a school. Then there is shot of Lindsay getting out of a car in tight clothes making eyes at a gardner. He takes off his shirt and gives her a come-hither stare. She gives him the finger. Oh boy, I guess this is who they want us to think is the killer?

12:00 -- Now she's at a football game. For some reason, this scene is suddenly in black and white with touches of bright blue everywhere. WTF?

14:00 -- There is some dialog about a serial killer on the loose. I didn't really catch it all since I was busy returning emails.

15:00 -- Oh noes! Aubrey is missing! There is a blue rose in her car. What's up with all the blue?

16:00 -- She's tied up with a blue gag over her mouth. Blue latex gloves hold her face. Blue torture instruments on a table. This blue crap is really starting to get on my nerves.

18:00 -- God, now the cops are wearing bright blue latex gloves. Enough already with the blue!

20ish minutes -- A gross torture scene. Yuck. I'm not watching that. I go make myself some toast.

28:00 -- Aubrey has been found! She's in the hospital missing a hand and a leg. Oh and she thinks her name is Dakota Moss. And she's a tough little cookie who was raised by a crack addict mom. You can tell she's tough because she says "fuck" a lot. And she refers to policemen as "fuzz." Do the kids still say fuzz? I thought that was a term from the 70's, last heard on episodes of "Chico and the Man."

33:00 -- Julia Ormand is playing Lindsay's mom. What? She looks more like Lindsay's younger sister.

38:00 -- Dakota is having a flashback to her stripping days. Lot's of slow motion shots of her wiggling her ass around a pole. Apparently she is the only stripper in the club who is allowed to keep her clothes on.

45:00 -- Blah, blah, dialog. I read a few blogs. When I looked up, there was a picture of Lindsay on the screen with the word "delusional" scrawled across it. Finally, something in this movie makes sense.

52:00 -- A very unhot sex scene. Dakota is fucking Aubrey's boyfriend. She now has a robotic arm? How did I miss that? Oh yeah, because this movie is so dull I'm practically falling asleep.

1 hr. -- Finally something cool! Art Bell has a cameo. I used to love his radio show. He looks exactly as I pictured him, kind of like a weirder Stephen King.

There is a shot of wilting blue flowers and running water over dramatic music. This is like a poorly done Lifetime movie. Why is Lindsay considered a good actress? She's so boring to watch. Melissa Gilbert would've sold it.

1 hr 15ish minutes -- Lindsay confronts the killer. She kills him with something. I think it's her bionic fake arm. Then she starts digging a hole. Is it a grave? No, it's......wait, WHAT?


THE END flashes on the screen.

This is possibly the dumbest, most boring movie I've ever seen. "Ernest Goes to Camp" had a better plot, not to mention a sexier star. I may have lost brain cells from watching this and it's not like I have a lot to spare, you know? I'm not going to link this piece of crap. If you want an interesting movie to watch check out Loose Change a film which asks a lot of tough questions about what really happened on 9/11. You may not like the information that is presented, but it will definitely give you something to think about.

My Terrible Weekend

Oh my God, I am so hungover today. I drank way too much red wine last night and my head is throbbing. It feels like my brain is throwing itself around my skull, trying to escape. Ugh, this is all Big Earl's fault! The only reason I got drunk was to try and blot out the events of this weekend. And to get rid of the urge to kill Earl. It didn't work in either case.

You see, ever since the whole Tucksworth incident, I have been Earl's whipping girl. He's been punishing me by making Deelishus Diamond the Friday night headliner, while I have to work the unpopular Thursday afternoon shift. We all dread Thursdays because that's when the bus from the retirement home comes by. Those grouchy old men always complain about everything. You know, the food is bad, the drinks are too expensive, the girls were much sexier in their day, blah, blah, blah. Plus it's not exactly lucrative. After three hours of dancing, all I had to show for it was ten dollars in quarters and nickles, which streched my thong to my knees.

Then Earl told me he'd found a replacement for Tucksworth. I wasn't real enthused since I don't want just anyone throwing knives at me. "Is she a professional?" I asked.

"She's a great talent," he growled. "She's been dancing for years, but she's never worked the pole before. Get your ass in here early tommorrow and show her the ropes."

Well that wasn't very inspiring news. Pole dancing is an art, you can't learn it just one afternoon, but I figured it couldn't be too bad if she was already a good dancer.
Oh how wrong I was!

My heart sank the moment I saw her. "Hey, y'all! My name is Britney Sue," she said, while chomping gum, smoking, and guzzling a Red Bull at the same time. "That's sure a cute outfit you're wearing. Want to trade clothes?"


The new girl.


"Um...no," I said, taking a long look at her ripped up fishnets and grubby leather bustier. She smelled like she hadn't bathed in weeks. I glanced back at Earl, not believing he expected me to dance with this. He gave me an evil little smirk.

"Work up an act," he ordered. "Make it a sexy!"

Britney Sue let out a loud belch. "No problemo," she said with a big smile, "I can do sexy in my sleep!"

"Okay," I sighed. "Show me a few of your moves." I wanted to see what I had to work with. It turned out to be even worse than I expected.


First she ran around the pole in circles. WTF?



Then she did sort of a funky chicken type move, complete with arm flapping.



And then she kind of just stood there and pretended to hump the pole.



When she slid to the floor in a big finish, I distinctly heard her fart.


I was speechless! This was a great dancer? All of the other girls were snickering and the bartender laughed so hard he nearly threw up. I cut my eyes over to Earl, expecting him to be livid. Instead, he was gazing up at her with awe. "She's fantastic!" he whispered.



Earl, watching Britney Sue's performance.


Earl was so impressed with Britney Sue that he decided she didn't need me. In fact, he demoted me to a waitress, so I quit. How dare he treat me this way! I marched right across the street to Earl's biggest competition, "The Boobie Barn" and got hired on the spot. It's okay, I made some decent tips but I don't know if I'll be able to stand my new boss. His name is Tom and he's even weirder than Big Earl if that's possible. You won't believe the kind of freaky stuff he's into. Here's a picture of him.


My new boss. He likes to be saluted.

That nazi stuff creeps me out! But the good news is that he's only about five feet tall and all the girls say he's gay so I won't have to worry about him pawing me. But I'm still angry about the Britney Sue situation. And the very worst part is that she apparently sold out the house on Saturday night. That's right! "Fans" came from miles around just to watch her "dance" and lip sync to some awful 90's tunes. What is wrong with people?

Books

Yesterday while I was engaged in the hopeless task of straightening up my home office, it occured to me that I have way too many books. My two bookcases are crammed full, and there are also little piles of paperbacks scattered everywhere. Most of them are from thrift stores and bargain tables, and I've probably only read about half of them. Or maybe less than that. I tend to be a hoarder when it comes to books, though I'm too ADD to read them all the way through. Plus I like having plenty to choose from. But in the interest of cleaning out this stuffy, little room, I decided to sort them out and make a pile to get rid of. Good grief, I have some weird stuff! Here are a few books from my collection:


1. Rats and Lice and History by Hans Zinsser



What it's about

Rats, lice, typhus, the Roman Empire, hideous plagues, etc.


Why I bought it

Come on, who could resist a book about vermin? Besides it was only fifty cents.


How much did I read?

A few pages here and there. It's very dry and academic. But certain passages (like the gross details of just what plague does to a person) will definately burn themselves into your brain.


Random Excerpt

The louse was not always the dependant, parasitic creature that cannot live away from it's host. There were once free and liberty loving-lice, who could look other insects in their multifaceted eyes and bid them smile when they called them louse."


2. The Gaylord Hauser Cookbook


What it's about

Healthy cookbook written in 1946.


Why I bought it

For the section titled, "How to Serve Brains Attractively." And for the lima bean pudding recipe. Yum!


How much did I read?

The whole thing, baby! But I have never made any of the recipes.


Random excerpt

"Minute Prune Sauce- Fletcherize together 1 cup of unsweetened grapefruit juice, 1 cup of soaked dried prunes, and honey if desired."



3. Car Living Your Way by A.J. Heim


What it's about

A how to guide for people who want to (or have to) live in their cars.


Why I bought it

Hey, you never know. I like to be prepared.


How much did I read?

I've skimmed through it. Although I did read the entire section on "Feng Shui for the Car."

Random Excerpt

"I favor peeing in a wide mouthed jar, and having a simple bag in which these jars are conceled for carrying purposes," explains Joanne Baek. "If glass, I favor a sock pulled over the jar to decrease the chances of accidental breakage if bumped. Dirty undies can go in the same bag, and if the jars are appropriate, one can dump the pee in the toilet, rinse the jar, then half fill it with water, add the dirty panties, and shakey, shakey for a daily mini-washing-machine thing."


4. Rolling Away: My Agony with Ecstacy by Lynn Marie Smith



What it's about

Some chick who couldn't handle her drugs.


Why I bought it

It was on the bargain table. And I have fond memories of the anti-drug books, "Go Ask Alice" and "Christiane F." because they piqued my curiousity more than they warned me off. Eat it, Nancy Reagan!

How much did I read?

About 3/4's of it before I threw it against a wall. This bitch really got on my nerves. What a whiney baby! Just because she couldn't hang she has naturally decided that ecstacy is the devil for everyone. And her poetry sucks ass.

Random Excerpt

"I watched the paper soak up my teardrops. I folded it and put back in my bag. I wiped my eyes as the bus began to move. Mason was the only person who understood me in this world. He knew me at my worst, and still loved me. Now I had to work on loving myself."


5. Moby Dick by Herman Melville



What it's about

You know, big whale, obsessed captain.


Why I bought it

I've been trying to read this book for the last two years. It's a classic, I can relate to tales about obsession, and I enjoyed the movie. Plus "Pequod" used to be my password for nearly everything.


How much did I read?

I'm still trying to get through chapter one! It's not exactly ADD friendly. In fact, I'm ashamed to admit that I mostly haul it out whenever I have trouble sleeping. It works better than Sominex for me.


Random Excerpt

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and..............zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Poor Tucksworth

Do you ever notice how as soon as you get rid of one problem, abother one pops up to take its place? Now that the weather has improved slightly here in Nashville, I'm having a problem with my pet monkey, Tucksworth. You may recall me mentioning Tucksworth once or twice. He's the trained helper monkey who throws the knives I catch in my teeth, as I hang upside down on a pole for my burlesque act down at "Earl's House of Class and Tits." He also sits on my shoulder while I give lap dances, to make sure the customers don't get too grabby. He's very good at his job and everybody loves him. Well, everyone that is except for my boss, Big Earl.

Big Earl has had it in for my monkey ever since Tucksworth snatched Earl's toupee off of his head and threw it at the buffet table. It landed in a pot of Egg Drop soup and was ruined. Big Earl was really pissed. He nearly fired me, but the girls had been bugging him to go get a lace front weave anyway, so everything worked out.



Here is a pic of Big Earl with his new weave. Notice the picture of him painted in the background? Those are all over the club. He's very vain.


Anyway, even though Earl loves his new hair, he still dislikes Tucksworth. And Tucksworth hates him too. You see, Tucksworth is a bit of a diva. He got his start playing the "Sprockets" monkey on SNL, and feels like he should be treated like the star that he is. Earl is constantly calling him names like, "shithead" and "turd flinger." I've asked him not to many times, as it upsets Tucksworth and the last thing I need is angry monkey throwing knives at me, but he just sneers. He's such a jerk! I knew something bad was going to happen.

Things finally came to a head last week. I was sitting at the makeup table, drawing on my eyebrows when Earl walked in to the dressing room.

"Get your ass in gear, Prunella," he barked. "You and your ugly, disease ridden little varmint are on in ten minutes."

Well I guess Tucksworth couldn't take it anymore. He gnashed his teeth, unleashed the loudest monkey scream I'd ever heard from him, and flung poo at Earl's head.

"Okay, that's it!" Earl yelled, his face the color of a boiled lobster. He was so mad, the vein in his forehead was pulsating like a drum skin. He grabbed the monkey by the neck and tried to strangle him. He very nearly succeeded, until Tucksworth managed to bite Earl's hand hard enough to make him let go. Those sharp little simian teeth nearly severed a fingertip!



Tucksworth has always been a bit of a boozehound. He especially loves martinis.

Earl said the only way I could keep my job was to get rid of Tucksworth. Since I owe thousands in credit card bills and student loans, I have sadly decided to leave him at home. He's gotten very depressed and has been drinking everyday. It probably hasn't helped matters that I've been going through a hippie phase larely and have been playing my Grateful Dead CDs over and over. I can't help it. I love "American Beauty."

Tucksworth hates jam bands. He prefers rap, and club music like The Black-Eyed Peas. (He does an amazing Fergie impression. Really he can look just like her!) But nothing, not even listening to "My Humps" can cheer him. All he wants to do is drink, and watch Animal Planet all day until he passes out. I'm really getting worried about him. I've tried hiding the booze, but it makes him go crazy. He runs wildly around the house, hooting, and throwing dishes, and spitting in my hair, until I hand over the Gin bottle. (Monkey spit is really hard on the weave.)

So what should I do? Send him to rehab? I don't think he would go. He thinks rehab is for quitters. Would any of you bloggers out there like to take this alcoholic monkey off my hands? When not depressed he has a good personality and as you can see from his photos, he's very cute. He gets along well with other pets and he's quite talented at throwing knives.

Anybody????

Sweet Zombie Jesus it's hot!

I'm so tired of summer. It was 96 degrees today in NAshville, with about a million percent humidity. The air is like soup. I can't eat. I can't think. My brain has melted and been replaced with kudzu. I have no energy to do anything except watch this dramatic chipmunk over and over.


Don't make him use the force!


All I want to do is laze around in a chair and nap. I've drunk tankfuls of caffeine and taken an Adderall today, but nothing seems to get rid of this languid feeling. No wonder the characters in Erskine Caldwell's novels stayed poor. This here ain't working weather, it's much suited to having sweaty sex with albinos and stealing turnips. Gah! What's a girl from Riverside, California to do? I'm used to desert heat!

My New Favorite Song

I hardly ever listen to the radio anymore. Well except for NPR. I mostly prefer CDs or my IPOD. But during my long, looooong, drive to the convention last week I found myself flipping the radio dial around compulsively. It's so funny how classic rock stations sound exactly the same no matter where you go. They usually have an annoying British DJ and tend to play "Hotel California" over and over. I found plenty of stations broadcasting sermons (mostly while driving through North Carolina) and tons of country stations. I listened to my beloved NPR for quite a while until "A Prairie Home Companion" came on. For some reason I can't stand listening to Garrison Keillor's breathing while he talks. It's so loud and whistling that it drives me crazy.

So I flipped the dial some more until I found one of those top 40ish, Ryan Seacrest type programs. And that's where I heard it. Possibly the most brilliant song I've ever heard in my life.




Really listen closely to these lyrics. They hold the secret to life!


You know how every once in a while a song comes a long that makes you question everything you've ever been taught? I remember hearing The Clash as a kid and getting all excited. They made me want to know more about what was going on in the world outside of my hideous little middle school. The first time I heard The Pretenders Chrissy Hyde growling, "I'm gonna make you, make you notice," I started thinking about the sexual power women have over men. And as I drove through the mountains last week listening to Lil Mama, I suddenly realized something important.

MY LIP GLOSS WAS NOT POPPIN! NOT AT ALL!

In fact, I wasn't even wearing lip gloss. Instead, I had on some Burt's Bees Honey Lip Balm. I caught a glimpse of my lips in the rear view mirror and frowned. What did I know about me? I now knew my lip gloss was cheap! No wonder I'm not a big success!

After I found this video on youtube everything became even more clear. I was hideously unpopular in high school, but did my mother ever give me lip gloss advice? Hell no! The woman only wore cheap Avon lipstick, dabbed on once a week before church. She was no help. No wonder the boys were not jockin. No wonder they didn't chase me after school! If only I had known.

So I wasted no time in heading down to the Mac counter at the mall. And I can now safely report that my lip gloss is finally "poppin". And I do indeed, be lovin it! Thank you Lil Mama for sharing your wisdom with the masses.

Whew, I'm finally back from Stripfest 2007! I had a good time, but it was very exhausting. We had a good group of people this year and they all wanted to party nonstop after the classes. I am still trying to recover.

My lectures went well. I was a little nervous at first since I'm not much of a public speaker, but everyone was so enthusiastic and nice that I relaxed pretty quickly. Well, after the valium kicked in anyway. I have a couple of pictures for you.



Here I am demonstrating the proper way to lick a pole.



This Britney Spears look-alike got very drunk and puked all over the dance floor, just like the real Britney. We all laughed at her.



This guy showed us how to make dancing in tennis shoes and socks sexy. He pointed out that socks are a great place to hold tips. I'm going to try it sometime. Let's face it, 8 inch acrylic heels just aren't comfortable.



My nemesis, trying to work a Ver-sayce dress. As if!

Do you recognize this chick? Her name is Deelicious Diamond and she thinks she's famous or something. I consider her my arch enemy. You see, I am the star dancer at "Classy Earl's House of Class and Tits" and I've worked my ass off to get where I am. This bitch just got hired a few months ago and she's been trying to steal my spot ever since. Why, just last month she tried to push me down the stairs when I was getting ready to go onstage! Luckily I've studied Brazilian ju-jitsu for several years so I have reflexes like a cat. She ended up falling instead. I was really hoping she'd break an ankle or something but she landed on her butt implants and wasn't hurt at all.

I was all, "Nice try, whore!" (For some reason she goes nuts everytime someone calls her a whore.) She shook her fist at me and said she'd get me sooner or later. Now I'm constantly having to watch my back. God, there's always someone younger and hungrier coming down the stairs after you!!

I'm leaving today for my annual stripper's convention. I can't wait. I'm leading my first seminar this year. My topics will include:

How to Keep Extremely Large Implants from Sagging, aka Preventing the Tara Reid Syndrome.

and

50 Ways to Prevent and Deal With Pole Chafing.


Yikes, I hope I do a good job. See you Monday!

Paris Answers Your Theological Questions

Paris Hilton is a changed woman. During her recent 23 day incarceration in an LA county jail, the beautiful heiress suffered great agony from claustrophobia and ADD. Not since Jesus spent 40 days fasting in the desert has a person been so tested. But instead of whining, she used this time to really study her bible. As a result, PAris has become something of a biblical scholar and she is happy to share her newfound knowlege with each and every one of you. Bring on the questions!


Dear Paris,

I know being on television is kind of nerve racking, which is why I figure you couldn't name a favorite bible passage. So I was just wondering if you might have thought of one now? I'd love to hear it.

Signed,
Curious


Dear Curious,

Ummm yeah. I like that one about Jesus. You know, when he built the big ship with all the animals? That was hot. I love dogs.



Paris on her way to the baptismal pond.



Dear Paris,

One part of the bible that has always freaked me out was when Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. It's so weird how he'd been dead for four days and was "stinking of the grave" but then Jesus says "Lazarus, come forth" and he rises up pulling off the linen strips he'd been wrapped in. I picture him looking like The Mummy. It's so creepy! And then the bible never goes into detail of what happened afterward. It seems like people just said, "Cool beans, Jesus!" and started partying. No one got disturbed that Lazarus is basically a zombie or asks him what it was like being dead. Did he still stink or did that disappear? My Sunday school teachers always got annoyed with me for bringing it up. What do you think?

Signed,
Scared of Zombies


Dear Scared,

Maybe you watch too many horror movies? I was in a horror movie called "House of Wax." Did you see it? It was sooo cool. I died in the movie, but I didn't stink or anything. It was like, not real or anything. My strip scene was really hawt.



Dear PAris,

I've always felt that the Old Testament and the New Testament were so radically different that they didn't belong together in one book. For instance, the Old Testament is all about anger and revenge. God seems to have no problem with violence, often ordering his people to go smite their enemies and getting pissed off if they don't follow his orders to the letter (see Lot's wife). There is tons of rape, incest, whoring, and murder, which God seems to be fine with. But the New Testament is all about loving your neighbor. In fact, Jesus' message contradicts nearly everything in the Old Testament. So is it "an eye for an eye", or "turn the other cheek?"

Signed,
Confused


Dear Confused,

Um.... why are you wondering about that stuff? What does it matter? The bible must be a good book because if you carry it around and tell people you are reading it, then they like you better.




The next time she gets locked up, Paris vows to read the Koran.


Dear Paris,

Do you know who wrote The Book of Revelation? Whenever I read it, those crazy visions remind of nothing so much as a bad acid trip.

Signed,
Trippy


Dear Trippy,

I don't know. I've never tried drugs. Not even once!

Lock Up Your Daughters, America!

Bill O'Reily is so insane. Although it shames me to turn the channel over to the Fox Network, I do occasionally watch his show for the LOLs. In this clip he is worrying about the lesbian gangs that are apparently rampaging through our cities, beating and robbing hapless men and turning our children into raging homosexuals. They are rumored to carry pink pistols. BEWARE!

This sounds like the plot of a John Waters movie. He should really consider it for his next film. It could be called "Dykes Taking Over" and the plot could involve the stylish chicks terrorizing some misogynistic, Islamic extremist terrorists. If only Divine were still alive to star in it, as the leader of the DTO's. Although, now that I think about it, a bald headed Britney does resemble Divine. I think it could be an amazing star turn for her.



"Let's kill all the men, y'all!"

Wow, just think of the killer soundtrack this movie could have. Lots of great "angry woman" songs from Alanis Morrisette, a little "girl power" from The Spice Girls, and some Lilith Fair stuff.

Yes, this is the movie I'd like to see. Not Spiderman 4. Not Shrek 12. Not Die Hard with a Colostomy Bag. I wish those lesbian gangs would go beat the shit out of whoever greenlighted all of these boring films.

Pete!

What is Pete Doherty doing?

A) Signing copies of his new book The Books of Albion- The Collected Writings of Peter Doherty.

B) Wetting his pants.

C) Trying to remember where he left his crack pipe.

D) Sweating like a cub scout at Neverland.

E) Wondering where he is.

F) All of the above.

As you may know, I'm pretty fond of poetry. So, of course I had to read his new book. I find Pete's work very lyrically rich and brimming with mystery. He can really delve deeply into the connections between humans and natural experience - poetry that touches both soul and bones, if you will. Here is just one fine example:


Crack is not Whack
it makes me a cool cat
and extra good in the sack.
If you don't believe me ask Kate.
She's over there, with that cop who wants to take me back to rehab.
Bloody Wanker!
Oh Kate
stop procrastinating and be my mate.
And we shall marry in a shower
of the finest, white, Columbian powder.
It will be so great!
Tasty, like a Whiskey Sour.

His sharp images really resonate, don't they? Here is another:

Well once upon a time
I was walking down the street
I was was walking down the street and looked down at me feet
I gave them both names-- one's Nigel, one's Lew
so I stepped on Nigel, who then stepped on Lew
and then I fell
Bloody, bloody, fookin hell!
What the fook are you lookin at, wanker?


Sometimes it gets on my nerves that unlike most people (i.e., me), celebrities have no problem getting their writing published. Even their shittiest, most half-assed projects become instant best sellers. But Pete is obviously an artist. I've heard that most of the poems were originally written in his own blood. That's pretty deep. No wonder KAte Moss can't resist him! He has officially replaced KFed as my new favorite poet.