Shot in the ass!

Now listen here kids, I don’t have but a damn minute before I’ve got to hit the road to get to that place that helps keeps me living in my gated and fortified casa high in the hills above Hollywood. I don’t want to hear a damn word coming from any of ya’ll about the lack of content about today’s bit of writing. I don’t have time for silliness like such…so, as Bosoms Galore loves to say “shut your pie whole!”

Speaking of Bosoms Galore, it’s really her damn fault that I don’t have but a minute to sit here and whack this little bit of genius out. For reasons unknown to me (it certainly can’t be my charming personality), she rang my trusty iPhone and invited me for dinner and some Idol watching at the penthouse she shares with the only two people on the planet who are allowed to suckle those tata’s she so proudly puts on display. And let me tell you, there ain’t nothing like trying to eat your damn dinner of a lovely baked salmon filet when a one year old is beggin for the teet. But lawd, I love that child and envy her dad (who also joined us at the well laid out table). Also joining us at the table as we looked out at the breathtaking view of all of the City of Angles, spread out like a damn carpet beneath us, were the Rednecks who brought Bosoms Galore into this here world. And lawd, weren’t those two a hot mess! I would sit and watch this damn show every night of the week with those two if given the opportunity. In fact, I have personally extended an open-ended invitation to my casa high in the hills above Hollywood, for the two of them to come on over at any time to share the wisdom only growing up in the sticks of Ala-somewhere can bestow upon you!

But listen here kids, you’ve already got me side-tracked and befuddled (which isn’t all that hard given the copious amounts of wine I drank), and we haven’t even discussed those frauds and fraudettes who took the stage to woo our hearts and cause us to get calluses on our perfectly manicured fingers dialing one hundred and fifty times for our favorite (Lil Rounds…hands down). Not that we did any such thing, but I know that DC Vodkalips must surely have as we tried to ring her on several occasions only to receive a busy signal. A what? In this day and age…the nerve!

Now listen, there’s not much I can say about the disasters that flitted across the big ass teevee that Bosoms Galore’s marital partner has installed on the wall in their penthouse high over of this City of Angles – the kind that projects a crystal clear image and costs more than your damn house. In fact, about the only damn thing I can say to Alex, Arriana and Taylor is buh-bye, c-ya later, thanks for playin, we’ve got a lovely parting gift in the damn back for ya!

We also would like to wave a fond farewell to Kristen who Mr. Redneck said would be perfect laid out in his latest edition of that naughty, nudie rag Playboy. Joining Kristen exiting stage left, but not please, oh please on the pages of that naughty, nudie rag Playboy, are Kendall, Nathaniel, Von and Felecia. Although I will say we liked little Miss Felecia and were just tickled pink when we found out that she was being brought back to fill the spot of that disgraced, and rumor has it sleeping with a producer, fraud that was unceremoniously dumped following Hollywood week.

Now listen kids, there was one we loved and whooped and hollered over as she pranced around that damn stage. And then there were a couple of boys that we liked, maybe even well enough to have put them through. Bet you wanna know who! Ok, even as my brain is swimming from the liquification spawned from last night’s episode of Drunk Paula and my driver is blowing his damn horn, I really must finish this up!

Loved that child so oddly named Lil Rounds. We found ourselves liking, quite a bit, that too much information sharing Ju’Not! Lawd y’all, I nearly fell off the damn sofa when he so casually mentioned having someone stick a needle in his ass to help him sing better…lawd kids, that child should go through just for that one damn comment cuz you know, he’s liable to say any damn thing that pops into his fool head and wouldn’t that just be a hoot! We also were rather enamored with that bug-eyed, big-toothed boy from Puerto Rico…Jorge Something-or-Other. He just might provide competition for Ju’Not for that third spot. Then there was the blind boy…although truth be told, Mr. Redneck thought he was just playing blind and was a bit taken back when Mrs. Redneck called him a “pecker-head who needs to open your damn eyes!” Now lawd kids, you just don’t hear that kind of honest talk coming from most people these days. What a pleasure!

Now listen, I need to scoot on out the door before that fool driver sends the damn National Guard in after my ass. If he don’t stop blowing that horn I’mma have a little somethin to say that won’t be all that polite. Now I already know who Bosoms Galore and Mr./Mrs. Redneck liked…who you think’s stickin around? Puh-leeze take the poll!

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