Bleed For Me

"This sea of writhing bodies had better fucking lead to Kage..." 

You've been hanging round
With an enemy of the state
Come with me to the building
That no one stops to watch


Come on, bleed
Bleed for me


We'll strap you to a pipe
Electrodes on your balls
C'mon scream
C'mon writhe
Face down in a pool of piss


We're well trained by the CIA
With Yankee tax money in Ft. Bragg
The Peace Corps builds up labor camps
When they think they're building schools, ha!


Anytime
Anywhere
Maybe you'll just disappear


~ Dead Kennedys

Soooo...um...hmmmm. Not too much happening in my life right now, what with being stuck in hop-sital and all, but there are a few interesting updates. Pretend you’re interested for a moment, k? Then you can go look at some German porn sites, cuz even I can admit that they’ve got me beat for content and plot at this particular moment.

Update #1. I wrote to Jello Biafra, demanding to know when he would be gracing my city and regaling me with his cape-ed ablutions of the world’s politics. To my absolute shock, someone actually replied. To my utter dismay, it was merely to inform me that Mr. Biafra had no intentions of even gracing my continent anytime in the near future.

Oh, and he also said that Mr. Biafra must respectively decline my offer of some pants-less Jello wrestling. Pooh.

See? I wasn't shtting you, he wears a cape.

Update #2. My relationship with Polski, the dancing octogenarian, has hit a somewhat sticky patch. When he saw me yesterday walking with my dad, he accused me of having another boyfriend. When Dad replied, “Actually, this is my daughter”, Polski asked him how old I was and how much Dad would take for me.

Update #3. I’m looking and feeling a bit better.

Desperately trying to teleport Henry Rollins to my hop-sital
bed by telekinesis....

....but I haven't seen him yet. Fucker.

Update #4. I am very upset with some of the nursing staff right now. I had just perfected how to screech around a corner in a standard issue hop-sital wheelchair and then end the sprint in a flawless triple pirouette when they came and took my toy away from me and told me to go back to bed. My cries of needing to train for the next Olympics Fancy Wheelchair Dancing Event went unheard. Chuh.

Update #5. I’m pining for someone, and for once it’s not Henry Rollins, though of course I am always pining for him. But you know who you are, other person.

Update #6. Speaking of Henry “MyPecsDanceOnlyForKage” Rollins! He has a new book coming out!

"On Tuesday, we will be announcing the pre-sale of my new book called Occupants. We will be getting them before the stores do and worked it out with the publisher so we can get them out there asap. This is the book I have been telling you about, the photo/essay book that took me eight years to complete. If you go to HenryRollins.com, you will see the announcement on our store page. Also on Sunday, I will write about it on my Dispatch page on the site. On Tuesday we release the presale thing. It will be on my site and I will also tweet the address at noonish on Tuesday. I will be signing a limited number of these when they arrive in mid September."      www.henryrollins.com



I encourage you to get this book, but NOT UNTIL I HAVE MINE. He’s gonna sign the first however many of them, and if YOU get a signed one and I DON’T? THERE WILL BE FIRE, and someone is gonna get hurt. I’m not saying who, but it’s gonna be you.

I simply must have one. 

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Henry.



.

Crushed Little Kids Adorn The Boardwalk

"Follow me! It's this way to the beach, kiddies!"

Sunday Sunday at the amusement park

See the fat kids spill their pop

Oh babe! Lots of flags and balloons

But someone sabotaged the roller coaster last night

Ran a turn and then it smashed right down

Through the crowded haunted house below

Oh no! Human hamburger, no.

And it's crushed little kids, crushed little kids

Crushed little kids adorn the boardwalk

See the tourists drop their jaws and cones

See the owners smell a big lawsuit

Oh Police! (call you lawyer first)

Make the witnesses go home 

They'll turn on the t.v. 

And see crushed little kids adorn the boardwalk

~ Dead Kennedys

Hey Kids! Now you can be a retard just like your Auntie Kage! Just follow this very simple step-by-step instruction guide to immediate hop-sitalization. Hooray!

Step One Gently cultivate some third degree burns from falling 

asleep outside one sunny day, like the fucking moron you surely must be.

Yes, those are my bare jahoobies.
This isn't occupied Poland, if I want
to Page Three my tatas, I will. Deal with it, or get out.

       Step Two End up in hop-sital because you have been found 

legally too stupid to care for yourself.

Step Three Enjoy a bit of pampering to regain your strength...

Step Four Once well on your way to recovery, find new and obnoxious 

ways to fuck with the people on your floor. The other patients, nurses, doctors, and defenseless octogenarians are an excellent place to start, but remember; it's your hop-sitalization. Be creative and have fun with it!

Well, I hope that helps. Now if you'll excuse me, I made a couple of new boyfriends tonight that I need to check on, make sure they're still alive. One I like to call Polski, on account of the fact that he's from....POLAND. Christ, people. Keep up. Anyhoo, Polski was sitting in the hop-sital corridor when I was doing a few plies and jetes at the nurse's station, waiting in vain to be acknowledged by a nurse before I turned to stone. I heard some hooting behind me and turned around to find Polski staring directly at my butt cheeks.

"I love dancing!" he told them. 

I shook my butt cheeks a little and said in a high pitched voice, "So do we!"

"We should go dancing sometime!" he cried.

"Yes, that would be lovely," my butt cheeks agreed. "What kind of dancing do you like?"

From his padded chair behind me, he crossed his feeble arms over his chest, then huffed and kicked out one leg and then the other.

"Like the Hebrews!" he cried, forced to talk to my face now that I had sat down in the chair beside him.

Another octogenarian just a few feet away overheard this remark, and leaning heavily on his Zimmerframe, he shuffled the few steps over to us, finally arriving just before my 150th birthday. 

He pointed a gnarled finger at us. "Now, you've got to be careful there," he began pedantically, and Polski and I looked up politely. "I used to teach languages, and it is not correct to call Jews Hebrews...."

I can't tell you what he said past that, cuz that's when I passed out from boredom. But it sounds like if both my sexy Lotharios live through the night, there is a good chance they'll be dueling for the right to my hand in marriage tomorrow! Or, in Polski's case, my butt cheeks. 

Regardless, I had better go and wax my bikini line. Ciao.

.

Hyperactive Child

I'm tired of kissin' ass
I can't sit still all day
You know I know your school's a lie
That's why you dragged me here


Drag me to the floor
Pullin' down my pants
Ram a needle up my butt
Put my brain into a trance

"Gather round, kiddies! Today's story is about the first time Kage and I had sex in a Zeppelin over Sydney, Australia. Christ, what a morning! When the first midget jumped overboard by the Parliament building, I knew we were going to jail..."

'No more hyperactive child
Got too much of a mind
Wouldn't you rather be happy?
Now this won't hurt a bit'


Cameras in the halls
No windows, just brick walls
Pledge allegiance to a flag
Now you will obey...


~ Dead Kennedys



When you haven’t blogged in a while, you gotta come back kicking. You can’t be all light and breezy; you need to march right up and deliver something epic. Something profound, something carefully considered and well thought out, that will touch your readers deep inside their hearts and souls. And, if you’re really good, their pants.

After endless soul searching this week, I have finally narrowed it down to one single, powerful composition. May I present to you, for the betterment of your hearts and minds, the most profoundly moving piece of cinematic glory I have encountered in a very long time. Possibly ever.

(um...before the lawsuits start flying, I had better just point out that this particular excerpt of God's good work is definitely not for the faint of heart.)

Enjoy.





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


"Hey! Hey you! Over here! What's up, how are ya? I'm Jude, the cutest, cuddliest, goofiest 11-week-old puppy you will ever hope to meet, and I need a home! If you know anyone who might be able to help me find a new family, please email Kage right away! All of my brothers and sisters have already gone to live with their new parents, and I am terribly lonely here all by myself. Please help me find my new Mum or Dad. Thanks! Woof Woof!"

Well Paid Scientist

"I HATE SPIDERS!"

Pull up to your sterile home
You're drained
Bite the heads off of your kids
Chew them well, they taste like you
Just slam the door 


Assigned here 'cause your company owns the land
All your colleagues live here too
Private guards in golf carts
Keep you safe at home


When 
Will 
You 
Crack?


~Dead Kennedys


I was sitting at my desk today, typing away madly, when suddenly I got a hankering for some oatmeal.

I slid my chair back from my desk and turned to walk away, but something in the middle of my room caught my eye. I stood up from my desk and peered closer.

A small black dot hovered in the middle of my room. Floating in the air, about at eye level, swaying in the breeze created by my air conditioner.

I cocked my head and looked closer. “What the fuck is that?” I whispered, and tiptoed towards it.

I had to get right up close to it, maybe a foot away from the hovering black spot, before my brain finally clued in.

“Oh, it’s a spider,” I breathed, watching the spider sway away from me and then back again on the strength of my spoken words. I backed up and grabbed my swivel chair, never taking my eyes off of my target, then sat down to watch the show.

Maynard (the spider’s name - I have shamefully few Tool references here, it needed to be done) decided he wanted to head up towards the ceiling, so with a little swivel he turned around and headed back up his web...string. (Whatever). Then he changed his mind, I guess, and dropped down towards the ground by maybe a foot. Then he climbed back up another four inches, before heading to the ground again.

For whatever reason, he changed his mind four more times, causing me to wonder if he was actually a female spider, before he finally jetted all the way down to the floor.

I reached over to my desk to grab a tupperware container, but when I turned back to try and catch him, Maynard was gone. Which means I'll prolly eat him in my sleep.

Despite this, I smiled and shook my head, throwing the plastic container back onto my desk, unused. That was quite possibly the coolest thing I have ever seen.

And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go surf the internet to learn how spiders get that silky thread to fly out of their butts.

.

I Wanna Be A Drug Sniffing Dog

"Bend over a little further, Jello. We still can't find Kage."

I wanna be a drug sniffing dog 
So I can snort coke all day long 
Bite my master when it suits me 
Get off on diminished capacity 



Weh oh, Weh oh ho 
Sure beats Alpo 


It's the life 
It's the stink 
It's the attitude



I wanna be a customs man 
Snoop through your stuff 'cause I can 
Sneaky peaky pry through your private lives 
Stroke your panties, jackin' off at lunch 


It's the life 
It's the stink 
It's the attitude


Choose your masks


~ Jello Biafra w/ Lard

I opened the curtains to my bedroom this afternoon, to let in some much needed sunlight. What I saw made me jump back in shock and give a loud yelp of fright.

A large, colorful monstrosity stood before me, peaking into my window. I screamed again and let go of the blinds, then dropped down to the floor to hide.

Wait a minute, I recognize that, I thought vaguely as I heard the blinds crash back down to the window sill.

Shaking all over, I reached a hesitant hand back up and cracked open two slats of beige plastic so I could peer through.

Is that...is it...

Lord thundering crap! Is that SUMMER?

It's been so dark and lonely stuck in my own anal cavity, drowning in my solipsistic misery, that I actually missed a change in the seasons.

Good Fuck! That can't be good.

So...um...maybe I'll stop fucking doing that.

Yeah, that sounds pretty wise. Otherwise it will be goddamn winter again before I know it, and I won't have any cute boots to wear.

I was so hurt and angry on Friday at the rejection I felt from M's parents, that I was determined to prove them right. I was gonna go out and get the most OxyContin and the most cocaine in the entire world and was gonna smack myself harder than I ever have before and that would show them that I...um...that would show them that  I...uh...

Sigh. That would show them that I was the very fucking retard they suspect me to be.

Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm? Nah.

After long and careful deliberation, I've decided to accept the wise counsel of the lovely and beautiful Jewels, and start getting better again so I can rub it in their smug, judgemental faces. Perhaps not the healthiest of motivations, but sometimes you gotta take what you can get and fucking run with it, then cash it in for something better further down the road.

I've been been dithering in my complacency for months now, never doing more than I absolutely have to in order to get past my shit then wondering stupidly why I'm not getting better. As if I don't know.

Throughout my strange little life I've always somehow been a kickass underdog, sneaking up from behind those that dismiss me as worthless and sinking in my goddamn teeth to prove my point. And I'm gonna do it again.

I am not worthless, you narrow-minded...old...jerkfaces.

Oh! Um, no offense, Mr. and Mrs. C.

Well. Maybe a little.

As we all know, though, talk without action is a luxury I simply cannot afford at the moment. Clearly. So if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go find some help with my terminal fucktardism.

Pissed Script: Thank-you for all your encouraging comments and emails, everybody. Please don't be offended if I don't get back to you right away, I am pretty overwhelmed at the moment with cleaning up the disaster that I have wrought. Please know that I read everything you send me, and I hold it deep in my heart.

Haha! That was so gay.

I better work on that, too.



.

Take Me Back, Or I'll Drown Our Dog

"I swear to God, Kage's boobs are like this big..."

Hey! 
This is how life should be 
So I'll pretend it is 
Happy news 
For happy people 
With happy problems 


(Headlines) 
Tell a person something 
(Good news)
Long enough they'll believe 
(Anything)
What they think is real 
Instead of what they see


~ Tumor Circus w/ Jello Biafra


Wanna hear something gross?

Sure you do.

I let my two smaller dogs stay in the bathroom with me whenever I shower. (That’s not the gross part, pervie). Well, I guess it’s not so much a case of “letting” them stay in the bathroom with me, as much as it is a “Chiclet figured out how to open the goddamn door so I don’t really have any choice” sort of scenario.

I stepped out of the shower last Thursday night to discover that the door was wide open, the bathroom was freezing cold, and my dogs were long gone.

“Hey, thanks for closing the door behind you, assholes,” I yelled into the hallway, as I slammed the bathroom door shut.

“What?!” I heard my mum yell in reply, and I grinned. Let her have a think on that one, I thought.

As I walked back to the sink, I felt something squish between my toes, and looked down to see what it was. What on earth would I have left on my bathroom floor that was wet like that? Was that water?

And that’s when I discovered why my fucking dogs had done a runner.

“Shit!” I screamed. “Like, literally! Shit! Fucking shit! You little bastards! Aaaarrrgggggh!”

“Kage!” I heard my mother yell from the hallway. “Stop yelling random swears into the ether! For pity’s sake.”

“I’ve shit between my toes, Mum,” I moaned. “I can swear all I fucking want to.” But she had already walked away again.

I got back in the shower and cleaned off my foot, certain it would have to be amputated. When it was free of dog poo, I tiptoed out of the shower again, and cleaned up the bath mats by picking them up and chucking them out of the back door and into the garden.

There! Clean.

Then I wrapped a bathrobe around myself and shook out my wet hair, and walked out into the hallway.

It was time to get down to the real business at hand. SOMEBODY IN TROUBLE.

“Chiclet, Misha!” I called sweetly. “Come see Mummy, babies! Come on!”

Dumb, innocent and trusting, they came running.

Suckers.

“Come on, into my room,” I sang, and ushered them in. Then I closed the door behind me and spun around wildly, laughing gleefully.

“I’ve got you now, you little fuckers!” I cried. “Which one of you shit on Mummy’s bath mat? Huh? WHO DID IT?”

Chiclet ran excitedly to the end of my room, and came back a moment later with her blue squeaky toy, wound up by all the fuss.

Well, she was no goddamn help.

Misha just sat and wagged her tail. She wasn’t much help, either.

“Don’t wanna talk, huh?” I glared at them. “We’ll see about that.” I reached down and plopped Misha into her doggy bed.

“You’ll talk to Von Teddy!” I declared. “He haz vays ov making you talk!” And I shoved my police bear into Misha’s bed.

Misha, refusing to cooperate with Sturmbannfuhrer Von Teddy.
Even under the spot light.

Nothing.

“Alright, then,” I stood up and turned around. “Chiclet!” And I ran to the end of the room.

Chiclet vociferously defended her innocence, claiming her blue squeaky toy as alibi.

"I didn't do nothing, Copper! You ain't got 
nothing on me, see?"

Could it have been Billy? I wondered, and turned around to ask Von Teddy what he thought.

What I saw shocked and terrified me, and I knew right then that I’d never get my answer. These three, they were professionals. I was way out of my element.

Billy, viciously murdering Sturmbannfuhrer Von Teddy.

I backed slowly out of the room, my hands in the air. "Um...you know what? It doesn't matter, guys. Doesn't matter. Mummy doesn't care anymore."

I turned to flee, but I stepped in something wet and mushy on my way out the door.

Arrrrgghhh. GODDAMN DOGS!


.

Terminal Preppie

"Wanna get wet, Kage?"
"Already there, Jello."

I go to college
That makes me so cool
I live in a dorm
And show off at the pool 


I join the right clubs
Just to build an impression
I block out thinking
It won't get me ahead 


No, I'm not here to learn
I just want to get drunk!
And major in business
And be taught how to fuck


Win! Win!
I always play to win
Wanna fit in like a cog
In the faceless machine 


I'm a terminal 
Terminal 
Terminal preppie 


~ Dead Kennedys


I’ve written a poem for all of you, on this freezing cold Sunday afternoon.

It’s a bit long, but I think it’s quite pretty.

It goes like this.

Snow. Blows.
In my face.
Fuck. You. Snow.

That’s about it, because I hate poetry. But I thought I would try my hand at a different medium today, since I am trapped indoors, and I wanted to make sure that I don’t go stir crazy.

What’s that? Hold on, everyone. Hunter S. Thompson and Elvis are talking to me from heaven.

Ha ha! Elvis says, “Jesus says Hey, and to buy shares in Enron.” Hunter says, “No, buy shares in acid. It’s going to make a huge comeback.”

But at least I’m not going stir crazy.

Because of the wretched snow, school was canceled yesterday morning, which makes the second week in a row with no classes for me. So far, my track record for this class has not been very good. Last weekend I was in jail, this weekend it’s snowing. I’m assuming next weekend I’ll be involved in a drug cartel somewhere in the South Pacific.

This teacher is going to be a hard one to win over. Especially since I can't cleavage my way to an A, what with her being a chick and all. God damn it.

And my Wednesday afternoon class isn't going so well, either. I was so distracted by Henry Rollins during my first day of classes last week, all I managed to accomplish that day was to make a complete ass of myself.

“Kage?” asked Barbara, in her lovely, mumsy British accent. “What did you write about our character, Geoffrey?”

“What?” I glanced up from my MacBook, and saw that the whole table of students was looking at me expectantly. “Oh, um. Haha! Sorry,” I bit my lip and looked blankly at my computer screen.” I, ah... I wasn’t doing the assignment,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Well, you were tapping away quite furiously there,” she exclaimed. “What were you writing?”

“I was writing...um..." I couldn't think of anything clever to say; I was so busted. I sighed. "I was writing a letter to Henry Rollins, ” I finally muttered.

Silence.

Then, “Okaaaaay,” from Barbara, and she moved on to the next person beside me, who gave Geoffrey a glowing background, from childhood to university.

Fucking Geoffrey. What an asshole. I mean, who is more important? Some imaginary character in my writing class? Or the imaginary relationship I'm having with a real person?

Yeah. THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT.

Moving on. Let’s talk about my sexy little buddy, Sugar Free, and the massive amount of work that biatch has created for me.

A few weeks ago, Sugar Free got this award, which she so richly deserves:

If you can tell me what it says after 'Award', I'll give you my first-born child.
You know, since I don't want the little git.

Just after I posted Get Your Gunn, Sugar Free passed this award onto me, after she had made this comment on my blog:

"Dammit Kage!! Stop trying to hypnotize me into being your bitch slave with your crazy MJ albino eyes!!


(I would totally be your bitch slave without the hypnotizing part... just sayin')"

Suddenly all became clear. It was a bribe!  Sugar Free was offering this award on the grounds that I make her my bitch!

Naughty girl! To abuse your power in such a way! To use this award as leverage to get something that you want! I have only one thing to say to you, you wicked, wicked child...

THAT'S MY GIRL! SO proud of you. You may have anything you want, whenever you want it. Just take it.

On a serious note, though, thank-you, Sugar Free. You are one of my favorite bloggers, and a lovely new friend. It is an honor to receive an award from you :)

Bleh. Mushy time over.

I have to give it to someone else now, and I find this very difficult to do. I think I will just draw a name from a hat, so that I am not riddled with guilt for the next however-many sleepless nights.

Coming soon to a blog near you.

Forward To Death

Oh, Jello! You made me a cake for my birthday?! 
That's fantastic, darling, thank-you!
NOW LET'S SMEAR IT ALL OVER EACH OTHER.

I don't need your way of life
I can't stand your attitudes
I can do without your strife
I don't need this fucking world
I don't need this fucking world


It seems so unreal to me
So much hate and so much pity
I can't take another day
It's such a bore
It gets me really sore
I don't need this fucking world
I don't need this fucking world


This world brings me down
Gag with every breath
This world brings me down
I'm looking forward to death
I'm looking forward to death


~ Dead Kennedys
(cheerful birthday lyrics)


Here’s some funny and NOT-so-funny shit that has happened on my birthday!

The funny thing is that I have discovered that my sweet little blog here will actually come up FIRST on a Google search! Haha! Isn’t that awesome? I discovered this from Feedjit, when the most random country that I have Never even heard of (and can’t actually pronounce) showed up, and I thought I’d look them up and see what could possibly have brought them to my blog.

And that’s when I discovered the one phrase in the WORLD that will bring up my blog FIRST in a Google search.

That phrase, ladies, gentleman, fags and their hags (I miss being your fag hag, Klint; the Posh to your Becks), is...

”Marine Fuck A Donkey”.

Beautiful, isn’t it? *sob* I’ve never been so proud. And that includes the time that I missed the pole, and fell off the stage.

I am an ARTISTE, BITCHES.

Thank-you, thank-you, everyone, for this honor. Muah! Muah! Gosh, I don't know what to say!

Oh no, wait, yes I do. I'd like to thank everyone who contributed to fucking me in the head throughout my life, making me into the complete lunatic that I am today. I hate you all.

The NOT-so-funny  thing that happened today (SOMEBODY in trouble) was over coffee this morning, as M and I were looking at my blog before he had to leave for work. When we came across the picture I had posted last night, of my ‘Angry Barbie Face', M put out his hand and stopped me from scrolling down any further.

“Hey, what happened in that picture?” he asked.

“What do you mean, ‘what happened’?” I asked him, surprised.

“Well, you look...you look kinda...” he trailed off.

“I look kinda mean and tough?” I prompted. “I look angry and not-to-be-fucked-with?”

“No,” he said sheepishly. “You look like Joan Rivers, with a hundred bee stings in her lips.”

“What?!” I exclaimed. “I do not, I look mean and tough! You’re scared of me! Terrified!”

“Mmmm,” he agreed, and snuggled into my neck.

“You ARE,” I wailed.

“Yes, I AM, muffin,” he said, in his best ‘humor the retard’ voice, and got up to get dressed.

“Yeah, that’s right, buddy,” I muttered gruffly as he walked away. “Keep walking.”

Grrrrrr, I sulked, as he walked over to his dresser and started rummaging through his drawers. Nice bum, I reconsidered a moment later, as I watched him pull on his jeans.

Anyway, I thought I would come on here and let everyone know that bees have NOT, in fact, stung me viciously in the lips. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

So, you know. If you have sent some sort of emergency medical attention, please call them off.

Unless they’re HOT.

It IS my birthday, after all.

Me, looking normal...ish.
As close as I get.

This Could Be Anywhere (This Could Be Everywhere)

Get out of YOUR bed, and into MINE, Kage!
Jesus Christ.

Kids at school are taking sides
Along color and uniform lines
My dad's gone and bought a gun
He says he's fed up
With crime in this town
This could be anywhere
This could be everywhere
 I hope I'm gone before it explodes
I linger late at night
Waiting for the bus
No amount of neon jazz
Could hide the oozing vibes of death
My dad's a vigilante now
He's bringing home these weird-ass friends
Like the guy who fires blanks at his TV
When Kojak's on
Or the guy who shows off his submachine gun
To his sixteen-year-old daughter's friends
Whose sense of pride and hope
Is being in the police reserve
This could be anywhere
This could be everywhere
Everywhere


~ Dead Kennedys


Great FUCK but I’m bored.

My parents dragged me up to Small Mountain Town, where they have a nice quiet condo on the snowed-out golf course, because they didn’t think they could trust me to be at home alone for four days. They were right.

I have spent the past three days lying in bed, listening to Dead Kennedys, forgetting how to type, and wondering where the fuck my life is going.

Ker-ist.

The fact that Facebook just sent me a message, letting me know that my own-self-under-my-fake-name, Victoria Beckons, will be turning 32 this week, has only compounded my desire to never leave my bed again. Fucking Facebook. How the fuck am I supposed to lie about my age when you FUCKING TELL EVERYONE, ASSHOLE?

At times like this I really want to pull a Hunter S. Thompson. Thank Christ the ‘rents didn’t let me drive my own car up here.

Um...I mean, happy new year, everyone.

The dogs and I are going back to bed.

Rambozo The Clown

Ultrasound pic of Jello's and my first child!
<sob!> We're so proud.

To draft-age kids
It sure looks like fun
"Kill them all
And let God sort 'em out." 
Like video games-no mess
Just fuel for a mass lapse of common sense
You can be Don Quixote
We'll dice you with our windmill blades 


Brawn over brain
Means a happy ending
G.I. Joe in the cereal bowl
Grey shrapnel-flavored chewing gum
Mass murder ain't just painless
Now we've made it cute


Rambozo
Rambozo
Rambozo the clown


Be a wolverine. You'll rule the hills
Just get some guns and Cheerios
Any kid can conquer Libya
Just steal a fighter plane 


Look who came home in a wheelchair
V.A. Hospital, they don't care
"We're the machine
You're just a tool."
Who fell for the myth of Rambozo the Clown 


~ Dead Kennedys


I’m back!

Or, more importantly, Jello Biafra pics are back. Hooray! Charge up your masturbatory aids!

Camp Horizon went amazingly well. For those who don’t know, as I myself didn’t until I read about it in the newspaper, Easter Seals’ Camp Horizon is a camp for adults with cognitive and physical disabilities. Easter Seals runs several camps throughout the year, and regular ol’ people like you and I can go out there and volunteer, instead of spending Christmas alone, wishing we had lives and/or perpetual access to Jello Biafra’s lower extremities.

I, of course, was scared shitless the first day I got there. What the fuck was I thinking?!?! I kept wondering frantically, as the group leaders reviewed how to remove paraplegics and quadriplegics from their wheelchairs, and what to do if someone stopped breathing. I just wanted to help serve meals, or hand out Christmas presents, I kept thinking - I did NOT want to be responsible for someone else’s safety! Fuck!

I couldn’t sleep my first night there. My head was filled with visions of some poor disabled camper slipping from their wheelchair while under my supervision and care, and dying from a brain hemorrhage or something, due to my lack of experience and total fucking incompetence.

The next morning, I sat with my team, Pluto, and waited for our campers to arrive with my heart in my mouth. I wished I hadn’t signed up for this. This was WAY too much responsibility for me. Everyone else had previous experience and medical training. I was just some stupid stripper who had wandered in off the street, looking to volunteer cuz she didn’t want to spend Christmas alone. This was quickly turning into an unmitigated fucking disaster.

I was just wondering how I could bow out gracefully, and instead go spend the holidays with my old pal, Herr "Ich bin eine Katastrophe absehbar" Goldschlaeger, when our first camper showed up.

Jewels Russo.

I fell in love with her upon hearing her first exchange with Devon, one of the camp counselors, as she walked through the front door and into the main hall.

Devon: Jewels! You’re smoking? Tsk. You shouldn’t be smoking.
Jewel Russo: Ah, blow it out your ass, sunshine.

That one’s mine! I wanted to yell. Sure enough, over the next four days, Jewels and I developed a wikked rapport, and she became my absolute favorite camper.

There’s lots to tell, but I think I will just go over the highlights of my favorite bits - otherwise, we will be here all fucking night. And we have some Jello Biafra pictures to look at and tickle ourselves to! Am I right, people?

Shut up. I am right.

So, here are the highlights of my Christmas Camp with Eater Seals:

- Absolutely everything about Jewels Russo. From watching her wandering around, telling the male counselors that they were ‘sexy’ and ‘hot stuff’, to asking me if she was beautiful when I did her make-up for the Christmas party. When I told her she was, she went around telling everyone that Kage said she was a ‘sexy bitch’. I didn’t bother to correct her, even when she stopped the camp coordinator and told her that, too.

- The wikked dance stylin’s of Danny Smooth. I heard about his skills on the dance floor from the moment he arrived at camp, but seeing it live was a whole other story. In black dress pants and a white dress shirt, Danny Smooth popped his collar and cut a rug so smooth he made John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever look like an amateur. It was fucking awesome.

- In the Arts and Crafts room, we were all making candied marshmallow men. I was standing by Jonathan, when suddenly  Gerard piped up, ‘Hey Jonathan! You and Kage should get married!’ Jonathan got all flustered and said, ‘She would never marry me.” Gerard snorted and yelled, ‘She would if you shaved, you hippy!’ I had to shove an entire marshmallow man in my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

- My sneaky little buddy Ramona, who is allergic to everything under the sun - she is celiac (allergic to gluten), lactose intolerant, AND diabetic. This chick kept me on my toes the entire camp! At mealtimes, the MOMENT another camper would say anything to me and I would turn my head, she would be GONE. I would run after her and find her face down in a bowl of fruit punch, simultaneously stuffing cookies into her coat pockets and socks while inhaling the fruit punch’s sugary goodness. She was fucking FAST for an old lady, too.

- At the beginning of camp, I was flummoxed by one camper named Annie. Annie was able to commandeer her own wheelchair, but was unable to talk, and I would watch in disbelief as the counselors would somehow have actual conversations with her. What the fuck? thought I, and just decided to avoid her, rather than to hurt her feelings by not being able to comprehend her grunts and moans. I would never have thought it could happen, but by the end of Christmas camp, Annie and I were gossiping in the corner of the main hall like a couple of old salts. I was especially proud of her when she got Jonathan’s phone number!

- At the Christmas party, there was actually a couple of fights over who got to dance with me! Haha! Hilarious! When the other counselors and volunteers teased me about it later, I was all ‘Yeah, that’s how EVERY dance is when you’re a baller’, but it actually felt really good that the campers liked me, and that they wanted to dance with me.

- Doing the girls’ make-up for the party was an absolute blast. Everyone was so fucking excited! The best part was that I absolutely suck at doing other people’s make-up, but these girls didn’t mind - the crazier the make-up, the better. They went nuts for the sparkles, which I kinda anticipated would happen, so I brought what I thought would be lots, but which still wasn’t enough. The saddest part about doing their make-up, though, was how pathetically grateful a lot of them were for the help and the attention. A couple of them cried, and told me that no one had ever done their make-up, or touched their face so softly, or been so nice to them, etc. It would have broken my heart, had I ever been stupid enough to acquire one.

- Being told by the camp coordinator that I did a good job, and what was I doing in March? And in May? And in June? And in July? And next Christmas? That felt really good.

The last highlight came on the drive home, where I finally noticed and made use of my Christmas present from my parents. I’ve had it for a few weeks now, but driving home on the highway yesterday, I really took note of it.

My present from my parents this year was a bunch of repairs to Trent the Tracker, to prop the poor boy up  and keep him alive for another year. Apart from the inner repairs, one of my prezzies was a brand new driver’s-side side-view mirror!

I didn’t realize until yesterday that, even though it has been back on for a few weeks, I haven’t actually bothered to look at it. I just got used to working without it, I guess. But merging on the highway, I was suddenly able to see the traffic behind me, and I thought, Oh! That’s quite lovely.

I’ve ripped that sucker off my car twice in the ten years that I’ve owned Trent the Tracker. Which I think is remarkably reserved and restrained of me, all things considered. The most recent time was around this time last year. I was driving on the highway during a blizzard, slightly high, when I tried to pull off into a truck stop. I was going too fast to stop on the ice, and sideswiped a semi before ricocheting into the ditch. Actually, I wrote about it briefly in a miserable post, back in December 2009 (The Worst Week, Like, Ever).

Now, I say I was driving high casually, but let me just be clear...I do not endorse getting high, driving high, or putting your car on cruise control so you can snort a rail of the cleavage of your passenger. Anymore. It was something stupid that I did in my former life, and really, I am lucky I didn’t get hurt or killed.

Anyway! It was nice to drive with a side-view mirror again, and it’s good to be home. Though strangely, I find that I am missing some of the campers from Easter Seals.

I wonder what the fuck's up with THAT.

Did you really think I wasn't gonna post one?

Merry Fucking Commercialism

Hallo Everyone,

I am volunteering at an Easter Seals camp over the holidays, which means no drunken gossip for you for the next five days.

I know. I'm sad too.

But the worst part...

I won't be able to post any more pictures of Jello Biafra until I get back.

I can hear you sobbing, and it's okay. I know how you feel.

My heart is breaking too. Mostly because I was too stupid to download the 398,293 pics of have of him onto my FUCKING IPOD BEFORE I LEFT.

Anyhoo, see you in five days.

Merry Fucking Commercialism, Everyone :)

California Uber Alles

"Ah, goddamnit! I dropped my fucking monocle!!!
And where the FUCK IS KAGE?!?!"

Welcome to 1984
Are you ready for the third world war?!?
You too will meet the secret police
They'll draft you and they'll jail your niece 


You'll go quietly to boot camp
They'll shoot you dead, make you a man
Don't you worry, it's for a cause
Feeding global corporations' claws 


Die on our brand new poison gas
El Salvador or Afghanistan
Making money for President Reagan
And all the friends of President Reagan 


California Uber alles
Uber alles California


~ Dead Kennedys



Oh my Gawd, oh my Gawd, oh my Gawd.


Check this out.

Suzy Soro, from Seinfeld, emailed me. Emailed ME. I met Suzy Soro! From SEINFELD.

Ssssssssssssssssoro!!!!!!

Isn’t that fucking wikked? I met a TV star. 

Now, I suppose it’s true, that I myself have managed to land my ass on t.v. a couple of times (Confessions Of A Bad Movie). But that was more a scenario where the producers cast my tits for a part, and I just happened to be attached, so they had to let me come, too.

But THIS, this is REAL, because:
    a) we are talking about Seinfeld, and
    b) we are talking about SEINFELD.

Ha ha! How bout that for cookies? I know Somebody Famous.

Ergo...I AM NOW FAMOUS.

Please! Form an orderly queue behind my bespectacled publicist, pictured below. Thank-you.

"This is animal abuse."

Also, please don't look directly at me. It upsets my feng shui. I mean, my chakras. I mean, my whatevers. Just stop looking at me. 

Now then. NOW THEN. I am pretty fucking sure we all know the first thing I am going to do with my new found fame.

Don’t we? 

Isn’t it fucking obvious?!?!

DUH. 

Being famous has now brought me one step closer to marrying, throwing a hump at, meeting, getting arrested for stalking (that's the one) Jello Biafra.

WHOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOO!

I LOVE BEING FAMOUS!

Right then! I'm off to find myself a ghettoblaster, or a "boombox", as the kids say these days. 

I plan to stand under Jello Biafra's window, and serenade him by warbling along sexily to his own lyrics. 

And the kicker? 

I'll be standing in a kiddie pool full of Jello.

Ha ha! BONGO! Sold, done, mine! Fait accompli!

I mean, who in their right mind could resist THAT shit?!?!

No one, that's who.



.