 |
|
Costume Party
Enemies List favorite Mara Marini. I created another of my delightful Facebook cover photos this week, this one depicting me as a virginal Victorian heroine being tied to the railroad tracks by a top hat-wearing villain (in the guise of Jonny Award-winner Jesse Merlin) as an oncoming train is on the verge of making me a grease spot on the tracks while my beloved pug Winston snores his ass off nearby. My only hope is Ms. Marini, who is poised to spring into action to save me clad as a "sexy"member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. When she saw the picture, she exclaimed that the costume I had Photoshopped her in was actually hanging in her closet, along with her schoolgirl, dominatrix, and cheerleader outfits. It occurred to me that if I only had .jpgs of Ms. Marini in her fantasy wardrobe that it would save me hours of Photoshopping time, so I suggested that she send me an array of images of her in various poses while wearing her illusory attire. In fact, to sweeten the deal, I'll come over to her house with my fantasy costumes and we can share a fun evening changing for each other and taking pictures in our erotic ensembles. Ms. Marini can look forward to seeing me decked out in my Star Fleet uniform, my Santa Claus outfit that I use to try and get women to sit on my lap during the Yuletide, and my over-sized baby costume that I wear during my psychoanalysis to try and relive the traumas of my infancy. On top of that, I'll bring Winston along to model his adorable Hot Dog and canine Superman get-ups. The only drawback is that with all the changing going on, Ms. Marini and I are bound to see each other in an intimate state, but she needn't worry about that. I've already spent hours of Photoshopping time making pictures of that same scenario, so it won't be anything I haven't seen before.
Tom Ashworth, who posted on the social network "L.A. Deviants, Decadents, Deadheads, and Jon Mullich, go to the Mike Kelley exhibit at the Temporary Contemporary downtown...fascinating, very very sexual."It frankly concerns me that Mr. Ashworth chose to single me out for something that he terms "very very sexual,"and I will strive to have my butt fixed firmly against a wall whenever I speak to him in the future. It also concerns me that Mr. Kelley (the artist whose work makes up the exhibition that Mr. Ashworth finds so kinky) took his own life in 2012, which makes me wonder what kind of morbid shit Mr. Ashworth is into. I was intrigued enough to look up Mr. Kelley's work online and liked what I saw, but I didn't always understand the point of what is described as his "clusterfuck aesthetics."Perhaps I'll take Mr. Ashworth to the exhibit and have him explain it to me. As long as he doesn't mind if I keep my butt fixed against the wall while he does.
Stephanie Fredricks, who shared a romantic getaway with her husband in a cabana on Mandalay Beach but complained that they arrived just in time to watch a big cloud roll in, making it too cold to do anything. When I suggested that a man and a woman trying to keep warm while confined to a cozy beach cabana could probably find some activity to while away the time (preferably one that required the use of whipped cream), she replied "there's actually not much privacy with the way the wind blows the curtains when you try to close them."What Ms. Fredricks doesn't realize is that that's a big part of the thrill. For instance, whenever I kill some time by glumly masturbating to Internet porn, I always make sure to do it in view of my pug Winston as a flaunting of my sexual power. It makes it all the more exciting for me and it lets Winston share in my ecstasy. So my advice to Mr. and Mrs. Fredricks is to thumb their noses at propriety, open the curtain wide and make passionate whoopee without a care as to who might be watching. All that I ask is that they wait about two hours before getting started, because that's about how long it will take me to drive to Mandalay Beach. |
 |
Jonny Award winner Jesse Merlin, who commented on my Facebook wall "I want to share with you my profound joy at plugging in a brand new diamond needle. And it sounds sublime on jbl 4311s, too."Mr. Merlin illustrated his profound joy by including a video of the needle in action, playing a record made by my musical nemesis Yoko Ono in which she was screeching a kind of sound which is typically only classified as "music"by archaeologists studying war chants of tribes in the most remote regions of Africa. Mr. Merlin is a classically trained singer specializing in 19th century comic operettas, so I fail to understand his fascination with Ms. Ono's caterwauling or his obsessive need to inflict it upon me. I suppose it could be worse, though. Mr. Merlin could always combine his musical interests in an attempt to destroy me. With his ingenuity, I could see him unearthing a recording of Ms. Ono performing I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major General in her high-pitched scream of a singing voice. She already broke up The Beatles. Maybe it's not too late for her to break up Gilbert & Sullivan. 
Jeebus Burbano, who told me that the penthouse apartment of the condominium she lives in is for sale for a cool $2 million. It's a nice place: two bedrooms, classic cottage cheese ceilings, and a lovely scenic view of the sewage waste plant that the building overlooks. In short, if the realtor who set the price thinks that anyone is going to pay anywhere close to two million dollars for it, I'd like to take a puff off of the herbal cigarettes he's smoking. But maybe I'm too quick to judge. After all, it only takes a single nimrod with a trust fund bursting at the seams to pay too much for something and set up the poorer but more intellectually agile people he's doing business with for life. So I've decided to have the ramshackle shed deep within the woods that I take coeds who hitchhike in my windowless van to put on the market for a million dollars. True, it only cost me about fifty bucks in materials to build and its walls are haunted with the screams of hundreds of desperate young women who have lost all hope and want only death to rescue them from my twisted perversions, but it might make a nice weekend getaway for some dot com tycoon with money to burn. And it's a real treat for people with dogs because there are bones buried everywhere, although they'll need to be pretty clever to find them. The police have been looking for months. 
