Hi. How you all doing? Its been a minute, I know. How's the family and the weather and work and your health and every other factor it is mandatory I inquire about so as to come across that I give a fuck? I hope all is well.
I know what you're all thinking... 'Is he back? He's back!' Well you're wrong! I'm not back, I'm just stretching the fingers. Doing a bit of mental flexing. Seeing if the mind is still unhealthy. So, for the record, this one doesn't count.
I said I was going to find inspiration, and in all fairness, a couple of new things have happened. My identity has been compromised so many times now, I'm considering just putting up my real name and details. I've met at least 3 of my readers, and wouldn't you know it, they're all pretty girls. One was kind enough to give me a large piece of marijuana soaked cake, one was generous enough to let me into her private area (you sick sick bastards, I meant her room), and one is just a big sweetheart. I'm blowing a big kiss to the 3 of you, my dopeman, my reverse cow girl and the sweetest thing I know. Thank you darlings.
These ladies, though sexier than Beyonce looking at Alicia and thinking 'look at that ass', have absolutely refused to play squirrel and nuts with me, thus they are not the inspiration for this post. No, the reason I'm writing this is far from it. I need some clarification on a matter which upset me on saturday night.
I do not like going out. That is probably as obvious a statement as they come. Yes I love getting drinks with my peoples. I love going to see a movie or two. Fuck it, I'll even hit a club if the stars are aligned properly and the balls are hanging extra loose. But randomly going out is not my thing. However, on saturday, Teeto Cmos had a performance at a birthday party and I was kidnapped from my house, stripped of my pyjamas, dressed up in the most presentable clothing I possess, sprayed with perfume, handcuffed to a car and forced to accompany my celebrity friend to said birthday party. My pleas, bribes and even offers of homosexual acts fell on deaf ears and I was advised to shut the fuck up or else.
Now, none of this is important. Its just a build-up. This is the drink, movie and pretence of interest in conversation before she finally gives up the goods.
Granted, I'm a grump. Grouchy and anti-social are descriptions that come to mind. However, I've seen on many a phone and computer a wallpaper which states 'Vodka. Connecting People' and my good friends must have understood this intricately. They pulled a literal 'carrot on a stick', showed me the booze and coaxed me out of the car and into the venue.
It was all bearable too. I was slowly and surely getting drunk enough to slip out of the conscious and into my sub-conscious. I might have made it through the night and not gotten upset at anyone or anything. But then I saw him. Or her. Or it. I don't know what the fuck to call the reject. I'm all for freedom of expression and what not, but for fucks sakes!
How is it that society has become so 'modern', it allows a full grown man to come out in public wearing women's clothing?! And not ordinary women's clothing either. I mean I might have preferred it if he/she/it was wearing a pretty frock and pumps. That way I'd have just been like 'fuck it. He's/She's/It's a fag, but at least he/she/it has good taste in clothing'. But no, this muthafucka strutting around wearing tight red trousers and biker boots and an elephant's pubic hair as a wig?! It/She/He looked like a fucking designer toilet brush. Some sort of feather duster for the criminally homosexual.
I'm a 'live and let live' sort of guy. Do you, I do me, everybody stays the fuck out of everybody else's way. But I can't help this. I must protest. Am I not cultured enough? Are my beliefs of my open-mindedness merely figments of my imagination? Am I not the modern, renaissance man I so value myself to be? Cos apparently, dressing up like one of Queen Elizabeth's make-up brushes is completely acceptable nowadays. Or maybe its because of where I grew up. This party was in Victoria Island, I grew up and still currently reside far away from there. And where I'm from, you dress up like a toilet brush, muthafuckas will use you to clean toilets. Literally.
At a point, I got so upset, I grabbed the vodka and went to hide behind a television. Frankly, I blame each and everyone who shook that bastard's hand that night. Giving daps and hugs and shit. Bumping fists with him/her/it. Fuck knuckle-tapping and use your knuckles in a manner that'll set him/her/it straight. Knock the sonofabich out cold. How can you, in all your right senses and facilities not bitch smack him/her/it?! Do you really think you're doing him/her/it any favours by accepting him/her/it for what he/she/it is or wants to be?! That might be someone's father/mother/pet parrot someday. Tell him/her/it the truth.... 'Dude/Babe/Whatever the fuck you are, stop it. Its not funny, its not sexy and its not cool. Its downright insulting to all human beings/aliens everywhere and I individually swear on my right and left testicles, if I ever have enough money to put a price on your head, I will.
Its not monday, wednesday or friday. I have no idea right now when I'll release this post as I type it, but I had to vent.
Please don't misunderstand gentlefolk, I do miss you all.
I am Womilee.