Tag Archives: Lady GaGa

Ten of Life’s Little Disappointments


As much as I’d like to say that every day is a Zippity-Doo-Dah one, there are just a few small trials we all must suffer through that cause a person to cry “Ay me!”

1. After consuming a particularly scrumptious McDonald’s meal, you reach into the bag from which such foody decadence has emerged and realize that there are no squishy, almost-cold bag fries to complete your meal.

2. When trying on clothes in your preferred department store, you realize that your butt is too large to fit in that pair of jeans you found on clearance, or your belly is in the way of zipping them up, or your boobs refuse to be contained in that adorable top you found, or your boobs are not sufficiently ample to fill out that fashionable frock you discovered. This experience is only made worse when you force yourself into said garments, and after discovering they don’t fit, you cannot remove them from your bloated body because your tits are too big and you are forced to call the shopgirl for assistance.

3. When you are daydreaming all day at work of feasting on a delicious bowl of Lucky Charms when you arrive home, only to notice that the milk is expired when you pull it out of the fridge.

4. When you go out for a nice dinner, and are excited to find that there are many hot and attractive female servers on duty, but you are gifted with the one gay guy as your host for the evening.

5. When you work and slave 60 hours a week, only to receive a check that is $200 less than you expected because those fuckers FICA dipped into it.

6. When you drink a lot of whiskey, or rum, or vodka, and have a thrilling and  quite amusing time, until you realize that a lot of whiskey, or rum, or vodka was actually too much, and you spend the rest of the night laying in front of the toilet.

7. When you find out Lady Gaga is finally bringing her tour to town, but the tickets are $160 for nosebleed seats.

8. When you get on the scale.

9. When your alarm clock goes off.

10. When you motion over that stripper that looks so hot on that guy’s lap over there, but as she gets closer, you realize she has a butterface and buck teeth.

Have a nice day.

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How Lady GaGa Ended Up in My Mouth


Lady GaGa is amazing.

Anyone who will wear a meat dress to an awards show and can still show their face in public after is a hero in my book.

I am well aware of Gaga’s more-than-creepy decisions such as wearing prosthetic pointy shoulders and trying to entice Britney Spears into kissing her on live T.V., and while I do not support doing things people have already done (like Britney Spears), I fully admire someone who refers to her fans as Little Monsters, and continues to wear intricately-constructed costumes despite being labeled more of a freak after every one.

My Rockstar and I have an ongoing disagreement about the musical stylings of Miss GaGa. He endearingly refers to her as Lady GagGag; even though he cannot deny the entertainment quality of the lyrics, “I want to take a ride on your disco stick.” As I have pointed out to him, Madonna only increased her fan base after wearing a conical boob holder and not singing to the height of her ability, so in reality, GaGa is the young generation’s Madonna.

You may be wondering where this post of GaGa originated. I shall tell you.

The other day, my coworker and I scrambled across the busy street next to work to procure a going away card for a fellow manager. As we entered the sliding doors of Walgreens (which are not motion-sensitive to my 175 lb. body for some irritating reason), I slipped into sensory overload upon observing the many aisles of makeup and useless crap that can fill a drug store. We made our way to the card aisle and were excited and appalled to realize they had an entire endcap filled with Justin Beiber cards. Of course one of these hideous creations was our choice for a farewell greeting for our beloved friend. After choosing the intended product of our journey, we prowled down the candy aisle and then came upon the As Seen on T.V. section.

As you all know, As Seen on T.V. merchandise is amazing because it has received enoug advertisement to fool you into believing that whatever it is is the greatest invention on earth. In this specific case, that fact certainly is true.

There, amongst the belly-flattening wraps and those hooks you poke into the wall that hold 60+ lbs, I found a singing toothbrush. While a toothbrush that sings is, in itself, a wonderful invention, the fact that this one played Lady GaGa only increased its value. To $9.99. As my coworker shook her head at my seemingly waste of money purchase, I assured her of the many hours of happiness that would occur because I would have “Born This Way” and “Bad Romance” playing from my mouth while I deplaqued my teeth. She then understood my enthusiasm. My toothbrush even came complete with a shiny gold handle, so that I feel like a pop star.

I must point out that my Rockstar is not at all happy to aurally observe my mouth cleansings, but that matters not- I just smile and say, “Baby, I was born this way.” 🙂

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The Hangover


Well, my Lovelys, my brain is completely devoid today of all the fabulous ideas for posts I came up with last night when I was drunk. Piss me right off. This may be due to the fact that I started drinking 99 Blackberries when the sun was not yet setting. I figured out that I imbibed approximately 297 Blackberries altogether before running out and switching to Brandy. So, in the hope that I will magically remember the post ideas that have slipped my mind, I will retrace my steps…

I decided to have a drink a few minutes before my Rockstar got home from work. Of course, some unknown being ended up drinking the whole thing when I wasn’t looking. I don’t understand how that happened. So I had to get up and refill my glass.

I was reading The Dirt, which is a bio of Motley Crue, and I remember wondering when I finally start our band, if my Rockstar would be willing to wear red leather lace-up pants during our shows. I had a perfect chance to ask him this very question, since he walked in the door at that very moment. Sadly, I do not know what his answer was, because my 99 berries had started seeping into my bloodstream at that point, and my brain had already moved on to another subject.

I fixed my Rockstar a purpley Brandy drink while he mixed together some Leini beer that smelled like butt and some V8. (Gross) We then ended up listening to some music- which led to a discussion about the validity of Madonna’s talent. It seems my Rockstar likes Madonna simply because she pushed the boundaries of  societies approval while having next to no talent. (The same reason why he likes Motley Crue). I then informed him of my very strong opinion that he should greatly admire Lady GaGa , since she has essentially done the same thing.

Lady GaGa came up because we were listening to a fantastical new band we found called Semi-Precious Weapons, which consists of a bunch of dudes dressed like women. It turns out that Lady GaGa helped these dudes to get there start. I am not quite certain of their actual musical talent; however, one of there songs begins with the lyrics, “I can’t pay my rent but I’m fuckin’ gorgeous”, and since thes lyrics apply to me, I was instantly hooked.

The conversation then turned to David Bowie, and his utter sensuality despite the fact that he dressed like Ziggy Stardust and can clothes-swap with his wife without looking like a dork. I will admit, if I was to see David on the street, I would willingly take my clothes off and jump his bones if he asked me to.

My Rockstar decided at that point that he was tiring of watching men dressed as women pretend to play guitar, so we turned on some lubetube. For those of you that may not know it, lubetube is just like youtube, except the people in the videos are naked and having sex. In other words, porn. Wooo!

My Rockstar prefers for me to find the appropriately provacative videos, but is very adamant about changing them when they don’t appeal. He seems to like the blonde girls with no boobies, which is the complete opposite of what I look for, so he is the one who ends up picking the videos. He surprisingly found a very fun video of a gorgeous girl with orangey hair. After I sat on his naked lap and wiggled around alot, we decided to eat pizza.

Sidenote: I must tell you, this reminiscing is not getting me any closer to remembering the wonderful post ideas I am trying to think of.

I had brought a beautiful pizza home that I made at work the other night, and we were going to warm it up. There then happened to be a discussion over who’s side was who’s, since mine had yum yum onions on it and his consisted of ham and pepperoni. The discussion grew heated when we were unable to tell, since much extra cheese was sprinkled over the defining toppings. In the end, I said I was too drunk to care to just heat the damn pizza up already.

Last night’s TV featured the American Country Awards, which, when I think about it, kinda sucked ass. The upside is that Trace Adkins hosted. Trace is a sexy, successful version of a pot-smoking ex-uncle-in-law that I used to have, and his deep rumbly voice and long long hairs make my panties bunch (in a good way). The Band Perry sang (with my accompaniment) while my Rockstar pointed out that they should be renamed A Girl and Two Fairies (he means this in the most amiable way possible) since we are convinced the lead singer’s two brothers are completely and beautifully gay. After my obeservation that Blake Shelton’s eyes are creepily buggy, to my delight, Alabama performed.

Now, perhaps if I were to hear them for the first time today, I would not be as fascinated with Alabama as I am, but of all the music my momma listend to when I was a wee child, Alabama and Kenny Rogers are the only two singer/ bands that I remember. This has given them a special place in my heart, and I squealed with drunken excitement to find out that they will be touring again. I stated to my Rockstar that we must most definitely go see them live, and then I got distracted by his lap and started to grind on him. We decided we had seen enough country western singers for the night.

After more naked fun time, it was time for sleep. Apparently though, 99 Blackberries is infused with a Red-Bull-like substance, and sleep evaded me. I spent the rest of the night getting a glass of water EVERY HOUR, since I was to tired to do anything else. I also happened to drink a liter of pop when water lost it’s appeal.

Well, I guess there’s nothing more to say, except that was a completely unsuccessful way for me to figure out what I was going to write about today.

P.S. I got bitten in the ass and have finger print bruises on my thigh, so apparently the sex was even better than I remember….

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