TMIT: FIVE BAGS OF POPCORN

i love me some On Cinema. i watch it religiously, on the youtube channel, not online. but then they did those frickin' four-hour-long Oscar specials. i love Gregg & Tim and the Oscars but not even I have the time for all dat mess. the Hobbit stuff you know, you can only be a hobo for so long. i did like the latest one, though, the one clip i saw of it where they had the corporate host in his purple suit talking as if all the Oscar information came from a prepared teleprompter, that was hilarious. slicked-back hair and tan.

1. i can flex my _____ ingrown toenail. it hurts like hell. i tried to use those white plastic circle things in the middle of pizza with the three prongs as a clipper, but i found it worked better as a makeshift staple remover.

2. my neighbor is out of control they tried to stuff my __________ bra. i mean pickles. allow me to explain:

my neighbor really is out of control. i don't know if he's crazy or just really likes me. or if i'm crazy. maybe it's a simple matter of allowing him into my monk meetings, but they're supposed to be solitary so i can pray. maybe i should make him an honorary monk. but an honorary monk is just a priest. whatever the solution we must learn to coexist or we will both be doomed. maybe i should take him to the last Avengers endgame thing. maybe that will be the endgame to our hostilities. the movie is so long he'll fall asleep and i can get in some good meditation.

3. if you are known as a do-it-yourselfer, what is it that you do? i am on the hunt for Carter Oosterhouse to rescue him and bring him back to my tv, what happened to Carter Oosterhouse? the Oost? tryna get the Oost House back, Raise the Roof on that House! clap your hands, people!

i am the exact opposite of the DIYer. i couldn't fix something to save my life. like if i had to fix an EKG machine or my heart would kaput, i'd die. next time i'll get that pocket-EKG that connects magically in the ether to your ipad mini you see on tv ads that you can get over the mail and don't have to pay a doctor an expensive bill ever again. and then i'm gonna get that thing from cable where you can bypass Pay-Per-Views and watch golden title-bout fight boxing for free. thanks Tracy, where my dogs at?

Bob Ross would have kicked all these yong punks nowadays' asses. can you imagine Bob Ross on Home Improvement? that would improved the landscape. the tv landscape. that would have gotten earned non-laugh-track laughs. or Trading Spaces, remember when Trading Spaces was all the rage? Ty Pennington is still hot but he sells insurance over the tv now. not home insurance. Ty still has the record for when TV GUIDE went from digest to big.

i want to see Ty Pennington and Bob Ross in the ring, wrestling on a gigantic painter's palette full of oil colors.

or Full Metal Jacket. not Dull Metal Jacket, i'm sure that's a Mad parody out there somewhere. you know that's why Bob Ross adopted his signature whispery soft style, it was a direct assault on the angry mad loud drill-sergeants he got exposed to and hated.

4. dear god look at the size of those _________ asparagus! when your new lover asks for a "bunch of asparagus", she means ONE bunch of asparagus, not A bunch of asparagus like ALL the asparagus in The Store. thanks Whole Foods. especially the Mill Valley Whole Foods from South Park. poor eggplant emoji, it only wanted to be the emoji for eggplant...

5. my morning ___ is the best.

cum. cos i'm a monk i can only do it in secret under the covers in the morning in my cell while God is sleeping and He can't see me sinning. then everyone wakes up for real and i go about my pray day in deep prayer and God looks at me funny but doesn't suspect a thing. none the wiser. i lost my bible in the rose garden so i go straight to Instagram to get woke. God is in my DMs...

BONUS if you could watch a movie about everything that happened in your life thus far, would you enjoy that movie? how many stars would you give the movie?, 1=terrible, 5=best movie ever

five bags of popcorn.

as a general rule, actors hate watching themselves on screen, they NEVER check the dailies and NEVER read the trade papers on their performances, good or bad, never want to let a critic seep under your ingrown toenail.

but mine would be Lights of New York, 1928. cos it was the first talkie. as one film franchise ends, another one reemerges. a billion dollars in one weekend? i don't get it. i will never understand, why didn't Roma get those numbers? or that film about the two dork smart girls who go hog-wild for a night?

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

CHEF ROGER

notes:

* Roger Federer: hello, wait for applause, hello world, don't worry, i know i'm in the Rolls and everything but this is not the film Wimbledon 2: Roger's Revenge. a horror film directed by Woody Allen.

* Roger: um, can i get another Jag? this Jag is black and this supposedly takes place sometime during the middle of the Sorrento Santorini summer, so...it's gonna start overheating and i won't be abe to turn on the air-conditioning and crack a window and have the roof down all three all at the same time.

* Vanessa Hudgens: is this where the keto bars are being sold illegally? oh, it's not that kind of party? oh, sorry, my bad, i got my instagram dm texts switched. i shall depart now. they're not fat bombs, that's fat-shaming. come on, the Rent thing wasn't my fault. yes i sat on his leg but that was for something else.

* paparazzi: Roger! Roger! when are you gonna win another French Open!? when are you gonna win the Olympic Gold in Singles!?
Roger: fuck you.

* Roger: what's the problem here? this is my favorite type of music: sad trombone.
director: get Rafa…
Roger: okay okay! i was just joshing! isn't there joshing anywhere else but Swissland? jeez, lighten up already, feed a troll Barilla spaghetti every once in a while, be like me, be like Tarantino.

* Roger: what's the problem? you've got blonde twins and a breadstick, i don't know where you're from, but where i am where there's lots of fondue that's a fun night.
Barilla: that's actually the competitor's soggy spaghetti, not a breadstick.

* Roger: i'm out! have been here awhile. did you see? did you see him? Kurt Cobain's here, resurrected from the dead on Easter to join this party, Roger has left the chat, transferring the world into Kurt's capable hands, let him solve this mess with his new album...

* Roger: who are you?
Mikaela Shiffrin: Mikaela Shiffrin. you can call me Shiff, i'm like sweet-n-low sugar in bed.
Roger: WOW! i had no idea who you were! thought you were the missing piece to the blonde triplets. you look COMPLETELY different when you're not in ski gear. have you been dieting in the bathroom? that bedazzled dress is amazing! made of pure Gold Medals i assume? to wrench the knife in my bad back even more?
Mikaela: skiing is a real sport. you can literally die every time you ascend the peak of a mountain. tennis is not a real sport.
Roger: you're thinking of golf. people have died in my sport, remember that tennis player who died right there on the court before the rule change? died from a spasm in his leg, only the BBC kept rolling the tv film. they couldn't stop the match cos it was regarded back then in the rulebook as a lack of conditioning. the guy was writhing in pain, rolling over his ankles all over the service square. Asian fellow i believe. Carlos Ramos was the chair umpire. after that, they changed the rule. hey, this is the first time i haven't noticed your ass. cos you aren't wearing yoga pants.
Mikaela: if i were on a desert island i'd want a...…...house.
Roger: why are they pairing you and i together? like cheap wine and cheese.
Mikaela: Lindsey Vonn couldn't make it, she's still messed-up body-image-wise from dating Tiger Woods. and Picabo Street is starring in the next Avengers.
Roger: hey look, i can do the concerned expression...i'm an actor...of course i haven't had to be concerned much in my career…

* Roger: bow down to the inescapable charm of my James Bond rolling eyebrows.
Famous Chef: i'm a famous chef from...Greece...just go with it. so you're a chef, right, Roger?
Roger: um...…………...sure. why is there Greek music in the background? this is a weird commercial. it doesn't make a lick of sense at all. my agent called me this morning saying i got the part to be Luffy in the new One Piece movie...
Chef: just show the product, buddy boy, strip off your tux if need be. let's get this over with.

* Chef: cooking spaghetti is like twirling a tennis racquet...if you get your fingers caught in the mesh, you're doomed.
band: we'll only play fast if our cymbal guy gets a turn.
Chef: hey. watch it with the long sharp silver knives, these are the ones which slice thin even if you don't intend to. i've heard stories from your exes.
Roger: i don't have any exes.
Chef: purple onions, manly food, this is good for male virility and stamina, sorely lacking in our current culture, that pungent smell, makes a man's nostrils bleed.
Roger: i took one bite and went sterile. cut it sideways or lengthwise?
Chef: cut it like you would volleying the tennis ball in practice.
Roger: i don't volley anymore. my serve is 200mph.
Chef: oh fuck there goes the artistry and religious experience. Roger, whatever you do, never become an ugly American. your worldliness is what's selling this pasta!

* Roger: dice. i mastered that game, too, on the mean streets of Swissland.

* drummer: fuck off! let me drum!
bellboy in blue: those aren't drumsticks. those are breadsticks!

* Chef: pretend ths tomato is the tennis ball and throw it in the ocean.
Roger: that's a basketball analogy.

* Roger: HEY! NOBODY IN MY KITCHEN TILL IT'S DONE AND I'M PREPARED!!! WANT ME TO GO JACK TRIPPER ON YOUR ASSES!

* Roger: as long as Martha Stewart likes it...
Chef: that's Ambassador Wendy Sherman…
Anna Wintour: it's me, Roger! it's me! don't you recognize your best friend!? we were gonna go on tour together!

* Roger: DON'T BRING THE GODDAMN DRUMS IN THE KITCHEN! look at me smell the wafting crest of steam coming off this hot pan.
Chef: sorry, i farted.

* Chef: put the spaghetti in a fucking small little bundle of ball strings on the plate. little pebble of spaghetti. nobody else serves spaghetti like this but we're Europe goddammit.
Gordon Ramsay: it's small enough to be a dog's dinner! eat my bollocks, you French frog!

* Roger: i got my elusive Gold Medal on my chef-jacket sleeve arm. i play in a college band in my spare time making Pink Floyd watery music. i put a bow on my dish. of hardened spaghetti drumsticks, real drumsticks not chicken drumsticks nor actual sticks for a drums set. all of the spaghetti tastes that hard btw. that bowtie pasta is my real bowtie that i wore this evening with my Bond suit. i'm into bondage. buon appetito!

* guest retches.

* Roger: don't drum on the copper pots, you musician bastards! hey get outta my kitchen!
Mikaela: what are these green things in it? tiny olives?
Roger: don't make fun of my cooking, woman, i'm a motherfucking chef.

* Chef: look at my hair, i'm a throwback to '90s skateboard hair. i wanted to be Tony Hawk when i grew up. i have never grown up.

* Eleanor Shellstrop: did i finally make it? is this the Place?

* Roger kisses the air.
Seal: like a kiss from the rose. don't you forget about me, don't you ever forget about me, blood. i'm in the background again cos Heidi moved on but i can still ball. look at my face, i am the eternal gangsta. add some turmeric, it comes form rose petals. and some seal meatballs.
Chef: that kiss was for me! kiss me, you bastard! i feel bad about my hair. i'm gonna steal a kiss from you the way you stole that U.S. Open when you got a few questionable line calls and the hurricane came in just for you so you had a two-day break the other players didn't.
President Bump: bingo. boom, that was me.

* Jim Courier: what'd i miss...?...

CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies, shit now i'm hungry for spaghetti. but i can't have spaghetti for my Saturday Night Fast Food, that slot is reserved for something special: i'm leaning toward the Wendy's Biggie Bag but i've already had all those items before, think i'll put bacon on every McDonald's item that exists, even the sundaes with the chocolate syrup. Clippers in 7?...is this the time?...

THE PURPLE HOURGLASS: DOMINION WARRIOR

the film all the college gals and the Obec Woods forest animals and Llywarch and Laertus under the spicy soapy auspices of Madame Pons watch on the large white sheet projected out back on the lawn of the LUSH is Dominion. the one narrated by Rooney Mara.

a pall comes over everyone's faces, man and beast alike. they are horrified by what they see. yet they can't turn away. any thoughts of lunch forever disappear from bellies. what's left is a supreme case of shock on how wrong humanity has been since humanity's inception a billion years ago. about everything that was supposed to be good and natural and normal.

Laertus: i'm torn. cos i want to fight, despite my skinny body, i need a cause. but my skinny body also needs to eat meat for iron or i can't poo straight.

Llywarch: i had no idea you on that side were doing this to my brethren! well i kinda had an inkling, since everything is transferred to code. but it's unreadable cos it's ll 010001010101 readout. i was an English major, not a math major.

Madame Pons: my sisters! i don't want to overexaggerate things, but this is a crisis that stretches back millennia! we have to fundamentally change how we eat as humans or we will be accused of war crimes every time we slip a chicken nugget in our mouths!

Yoricka the hen looks askance at Pons and clucks.

Madame Pons: believe me, i've struggled with this, too. i know we're a soap shoppe but i don't want this to turn into a soap opera. i want this to be a major crusade for the soul of the world! take up your arms, amazon princesses!

the college students all brandish their long poles and purple poles and pointy poles, spears all fashioned by Eye Luggage in her spare time from marathoning. not binging food. the animals and critters all brandish their sharp teeth and claws and lick them down. they try to growl but it's more out of sadness at all the carnage.

Laertus: you see where i'm coming from here, right? you appreciate my dilemma? i mean if i became a vegetarian, or harder a hardcore vegan, i would actually literally die. what good is a dead soldier?

Llywarch: you can contribute in any way you desire, my friend lover. i know your heart is gold, i've seen inside it. not literally, your heart is actually made of fibers of the Red String of Fate. i will love you either way no matter what.

Laertus: thank you for loving me. but i don't know about this relationship. *hangdog* i mean...you don't want to be with me...long-term...i'm sulky, i'll just let you down...truth is, i'm crazy. not like a fox or your fellow forest animals. like, literally crazy.

Llywarch: i see what you're doing. you're deflecting. and reflecting. i'm actually the one who's crazy---or craycray as you'd put it---for believing the things i do.

Laertus; oh no no. please! you should never feel that way, LL. you old bean. never be ashamed of who you are, don't let the bastards win, don't let anybody ever tell you you don't really exist. cos you do. especially for me.

Llywarch: um, that's not what i meant.

Eye Luggage: okay, finally, a real guest, please welcome to the podcast Roger Fucking Federer!

*canned applause*

Roger Federer: come on, are you that cheap you can't afford real applause? just crack open any window in the world and the world lines up in the streets to cheer my name for me.

Eye: Roger is kind enough to jon us by being let out of his leash by the Collezione Barilla Company. Barilla, better than your pasta at your sad house. making that sell-out money, we're sure to attract followers and benefactors now! i called my lawyer---first time i've ever called a lawyer---and he said i can't use my AA sponsor as a sponsor of the show.

Laertus: Roger, you are on loan and fresh off filming that weird commercial for you and Barilla where you're in a mansion.

Roger: yes, please keep the details hush-hush until Friday. i don't want Chris Evert to know i filmed it with the stunning Mikaela Shiffrin, Chris gets jealous.

Chris Evert: i don't get jealous, you swiss cheesehead! did you fuck her?

Roger: no i made her food. look, we said no secrets, right? well that was the first time i didn't notice Mikaela's ass, that's how stunning that golden bedazzled dress she had on was. one zipper, too!

Chris: you made her food!? that's worse! you can't cook so that's love! you know she likes the Spanish swarthy Mediterranean guys, watch out for ya boy Nadal. or Sampras. i wore that dress first, you know! yeah, check Entertainment Weekly, Babes Of Tennis And Dungeons & Dragons issue from Spring 1979. i've won a gold medal! legitimately! not by shaking my ass. we had to wear skirts back then!

Damian Lillard: bye.

Eye: and that concludes our Red Circle Table portion for this week. brought to you by Costco.

President Bump: Dame is a dime.

Dirg: i hate that guy! it's not fair! the current Jeopardy champ who made the record for the fastest to a million bucks in the shortest games. i mean fewest games, he's short. look at his expression, he's slimy. spiked hair went out in the '90s, dude. but he's also obviously smart, he won the gene lottery! i know that expression, i've been that expression, or tried to be. he's only winning cos he figured out a way to game the system. he's like that Press Your Luck contestant but less Death of a Salesman-y. he wears tunics. Ken Jennings was a nice, humble, fun-loving comic-book-reading geek.

Jo's ex: i hate that guy. if i only had money like him…

Dirg: i mean i want to be this guy. why can't i be this guy? i mean i'm smart, too! he's what's wrong with this current culture, everyone getting away with it! he's all the worst impulses of greed rolled into one pilly cardigan. he's like all those stupid babyfaced frat boys you went to college with, the ones with the large cheekbones who went on to become Elon Musk.

Laertus: he's contributing to hospitals.

Dirg: don't try to make me feel bad. he should contribute to the only hospital which matters: Alex's cure.

Laertus: we could talk about less fun-loving things...

Dirg: Sri Lanka. i told you that was revenge for New Zealand, i had that first.

Laertus: you will always be too soon. we are not discussing the latest Power Rangers episode. ever again.

Roger: so, Wimbledon. the film, not my illustrious history there. where do we begin? it's a fabulous movie, it's my perfect movie, it combines my favorite sport with my favorite Woody-Allen-indie-style tendencies. and i loved how it stayed indie, it never made it to the mainstream despite some heavyhitters, it remains an intimate gem which must be fished out by digging the French Open soil.

Laertus: well put, my man. you get the golden green ball. this is exactly how i saw the film going. you're right, the quiet moments are done quite well, you can quote me on that, very snug, that soul-searching speech at the abandoned city-blight grey tennis court from Kirsten Dunst, her peppy pep-talk radio-announcer pantomime…

Eye: let's call her American Sharapova from now on...or Sharapova From The American South...

Laertus: ...and Paul Bettany, the towhead, not racist, i hear he's a nice chap.

Dirg: married to the girl from that Mazda commercial with the red Pennywise balloon. what was up with that tame opening scene?! it was supposed to be Kirsten Dunst completely buck-naked getting out of the shower. when all else fails, when you don't have a script, just have a totally-nude naked woman full-frontal at the center of your screen, can't fail. whether she's walking across painted spackled desert landscapes or getting out of the rainfall-showerhead, it doesn't matter. that's what Antonioni taught us all in The Other Side of the Wind.

Eye: so she doesn't have to be hot? just naked? gotta say, i give Kirsten all the props. that's pretty badass bold how she refused and willed it for the script to change so she could keep her power. and clothes on. clothes make the woman. never dig into the dignity of a woman.

Laertus: what's the deal with the brother, though? it feels they had a bigger role for him in the script but abandoned it. i mean he was a yellow jersey in the frickin' Tour de France! he was this bicyclist in the background that no one talked about.

Dirg: he was the badboy charmer casanova. he knew how to ride bikes, nuff said. and he was a gambler with a wild streak. ladies love the gamblin' men with cowboy hats and chicken-stained greybeards.

Eye: the Raging Bull Durham formula has been done before, but never with a tennis ball. the you-gotta-have-sex-the-night-before-a-big-game trope to win the game thing.

Dirg: i always thought you keep your sperm in your balls or you give away your potent energy to the other guy enemy, ask any MMAer or Filipino boxer or Ronda Rousey. don't get me started on drinking your own pee. but it's a cruel way to operate life, right? you're just using people to advance up a tournament.

Laertus: hey, everyone has an agenda to advance. everyone uses sex on people to advance up the tournament of Life. not the cereal. stepping on heads and towheads alike. Sam Neill has done some fine work, but he'll always be the Jurassic Park guy. Christchurch Forever Strong.

Dirg: i love how the arrogant Ugly Pretty American Andy Roddick character gets his ass beaten in in the elevator. this movie is such a time capsule, it speaks to what was hot in tennis at the time. they are talking up Tommy Haas, Tim Henman they think will be what Andy Murray became. they thought at that time that Roddick would be what Sampras was.

Laertus: you gotta admit, Mary Carillo proves in this film that she missed her calling, she was meant to be an actress.

Dirg: the guy was portrayed as this dark hack washed-up hasbeen, but you knew he would eventually climb up the standings and win unseeded cos he still drove a Rolls everywhere, even to the public toilet in the park. hard to feel sorry for him. he gets to fuck Kirsten Dunst, NO WAY an unseeded schlub could pull that in real life, they would be too busy learning masturbation from their father-manager, that's a direct line from the script. offensive that that role was given to the Indian. and of course, inevitably, every tennis romantic comedy must employ the word love.

Laertus: the mother and father trying to rekindle their anal sex despite being old, those scenes were reminiscent of the townsfolk all outside hearing the Great Boxing Fight over the radio in Sweden in My Life as a Dog. another dead sport.

Federer: you have to understand, this was not my experience at Wimbledon. or as a tennis player. this film came right at the cusp of before the new generation, my generation. the producers called my agent to ask to loan me for an interview on my knowledge of tennis research, i thought it was a bluff and canceled. the protagonist is a take on Goran Ivanisevic when we won Wimbledon unseeded. i do love how the film delves into the inner thoughts of the man, it's very psychological, his musings on death and retirement, all tennis players are psychopaths cos they're left out on that court alone. if he misses the line, he's dead, no car, no fuck. if just a pebble of dusty chalk flies up, if he just barely hits the line, if the overhead stays in, he gets the girl and the backwards-blondeing and the model and the life. the game of life is a game of pure chance. once again i apologize for ruining the world's dreams by defeating and dethroning Sampras, everyone thought Sampras would play forever and still be playing now, so many more Grand Slams and Denny's Grand Slam breakfasts and so long in the years and Greek tooth that he'd eventually vote Green Party. but eventually the world came around to liking and Insta-liking and Pence-beatifying me that now i'm just another Sampras. and the ending. that ending. tennis is not that knit, folks America. i mean it's a rushed ending if i ever saw one, out on the Brooklyn grey court, basketball court abandoned. suddenly he has two kids with this blonde woman, one for each Grand Slam she won despite being jealous of him, nothing of this is shown, only told by the God director. it's like, "okay, sure, whatever you say."

Eye and Laertus: this by-the-numbers precious little film written and directed by Woody Allen (right?) was a joy to watch, we loved and enjoyed it! we thank Roger for coming in today tonight with his film expertise!

Laertus: i shall take up the dead sport of tennis cos that's what guys like me do!

at the Mercury Hot Springs. on Mercury. the planet Mercury:

Gladyce: mercy! you didn't have to travel all this way on broom for me, dear.

Doryce: the broom flies faster in space. and phatter. but not fatter, the stars add five pounds. look at all the stars, like a big bowl of alphabet soup. well, we're here, lose your kit, love, take off your black swimming trunks, get naked. for the first time. i've never seen you naked before, clothed sex seems kinky but it really isn't after a while.

*SPLASH*

Gladyce: it's burning my skin! it's like lava! but this is good for me and my skin, it's stretching out my wrinkles! and my spells prevent me from getting burned or really hurt, except burned from your insults.

Doryce: get in, the water's fine! hey babe, i FINALLY discovered how to cook the french fries so i don't have to use the oven and burn my spell fingers. simply cook the french fries in a pan with poured oil underneath and voila! like you would cook cubed hash browns. 16 fries to a batch. i can't believe i never thought of this before now. now all the variety of that freezer section at Costco has opened up to me: all manner of potato: mashed, krinkle, large hollow boat-shaped steak fries, and skinny fries. and potato used to record youtube videos. there's nothing like when a grease-soaked krinkle fry first hits your lips. krinkle fries bathed in melted bacon and melted cheese, wrapped in a red-oily fast-food-joint brown napkin. i'm making a batch as we swim, i poured the oil into our spring here and am cooking them alongside us, those aren't pool noodles.

Gladyce: about that bacon…

at the Hearing, the black man in charge is mad. with good reason. they are defying all the subpoenas.

Chairman: you want me to go Mao on your ass! fess up! don't deflect!

Tom Arnold: i have a new thing...imma replace Roseanne...

Michael Cohen: i will keep trickling out drip by drip of information i keep close to my Italian vest i mean the chest, mafia-style, until you have no choice but to exonerate me fully and give me no jail time for good community service.

SUDDENLY the courtroom erupts into a batch of noise! the lights flicker on and off into darkness sending the courthouse spectator crowd audience into a dizzying fizzying panicked hush of screams. Rosenstein gets on and fits his hips into his little spaceship which is a toy spaceship rocker you see in front of grocery stores chained to the bread aisle and lifts up the heat shield. he fires his lasers all over the space of the room, accidentally hitting Mueller in the shoulderpad (or was it accidental?). loud sirens wail incessantly. a rainbow and purple of lights flash up down and all around.

Mueller: it's Star Wars in this bitch!

Ron Paul: IT'S HAPPENING!!!!!!!!!

President Bump: what the fuck is going on?

Comey: the noise? that's just to let Congress know they have to do their job and do something, it's a reminder like an alarm clock and powers explanation. please, Bob Mueller, PLEASE make me the Sergeant at Arms of the Congress! i have the hair for it. make me the SAA and send me to the Cream House to collect the papers!

Mueller: my Report is the greatest nonfiction book of all time! it reads like Infinite Jest but it's for girls, too!

Bump: big deal, all you have to do is say you wrote 500 pages and nobody will ever read it. you can write LITERALLY ANYTHING in those 500 pages and because it is 500 pages that immediately makes me culpable. let's get on to the stuff that matters or i'm fucked. the fucking crazy bullshit, let's discuss the last Game of Thrones.

Luke Skywalker: what is "Guilty for 200", Alex.

Eye: let's NOT! that episode was forced as fuck! why is everyone so arya-stark-raving-mad about this damn show!? cos each episode costs a small nation's GDP to produce? like Switzerland? the writing? the writing of illegal sex scenes? the deepfake dragon fire? the sets? when you boil it all down in the blacksmith's furnace, what this show is is just another Medieval reality show.

Dirg: come on, you know you have the limited-edition Tickle Me In Dothraki Elmo puppet on the knob of your bed in your bedroom. you put it on top of your Harley Hammer head covering it like a Medieval condom when you two married persons fuck each other.

Eye: that is a LIE! i'm always on top directing traffic!!!

Ariana Grande: *on her only phone*: my phone is unique. diamond-encrusted with pearls. new phone who dis.

Jim Carrey: Jim Carrey. the dude with the monk beard, i'm spiritual after suicide.

Ariana Grande: Jim, just wanted to let you know you mean the world to me. that advice on persuasion on depression you gave me was a lifesaver. literally. i've been feeling down, after Notre Dame i can't perform anymore.

Jim: oh you performed last night, that was the best sex i've ever had, i didn't know you could bunny-hop like that. you created your own wind from that vortex you formed with your lower legs. i ended up wearing the heels which was weird. it's gonna take me a lifetime to recover from that lovin'...

Ariana: yeah sorry about having you do the voices and impressions and the upside-down head and having you wear green facepaint in bed that wasn't my green facemask facial but i need that stuff to get off, i have a squeaking voice myself in real life. you're my bucket list, i've had a crush on you since i was on Nick. not depressed but deep rest, that's brilliant!

Jim: yeah your body needs to deeply rest after all the time you pretend to be a fake character, it takes a toll portraying this role in society, this accumulating avatar that's not the real soul-you. you need to deep-rest your depressed sometimes awhile. take a cue from Amanda Bynes. Ask Amanda, send her a Nickelodeon letter. join a conservatorship like Britney, rest, let Sting take the Vegas residency reins awhile. you need residency in a residential facility. do what Britney does on her day-passes, get some ice cream. on my day-passes i got day-passes to Universal Studios and i've regretted it ever since, never lived it down, i should have gone with the lime ice cream instead. i went AWOL but the wall was just a set for a shark tank. i didn't come up with that, another OG did. you mad?

Ariana: naw, i get that all the time. yeah that's what i was trying to do with the strong nookie custard on you, i needed greatly to sleep for a long time to rest my body and spirit so i figured everyone falls asleep after sex, right? i mean i need to hibernate like a bunny rabbit. us as a couple, are we not gangbusters!? this is the greatest revenge i mean counterpoint i could have pulled as a response to Pete after his Beckinsale thing. cheap sale. 32 years, that is some hot age-gap sex we delivered!

Jim: as Jack from Lord of the Flies always says: Allllllllllllllllllllrighty then.

Eye: late-night podcasts. like Baywatch Nights. only possible through our sponsor: HBO For Kids.

Dirg: yeah i mean that's how i got into deepfake i mean first saw it online. in the first place. the first one they did was Daisy Ridley. i realized pretty quickly soon after clicking that this wasn't the new Star Wars trailer. but it was good advertisement nonetheless. and then next was Emma Watson of course cos Emma Watson is always in there involved in these things. everytime she makes another UN speech it's too irresistible to those guys, they must frame her, they relish always making her second.

Laertus: you need a deep rest from it. you trouble me, my friend.

Madame Pons is wearing her hair in a beehive now, a beehive held in place with spackles of real organic honey from real organic bees harvested humanely and organically.

Madame Pons: thank you for having me, we will use your podcasts as our disseminations. of information, don't look at me dirty, young man over there. consider our tweets official sanctioned statements from our office. of operations. we will not let them win! we will get every sniveling Plum alt-right Boy with the Undercut who infests our beloved campus! they will rue the day they first thought of deepfaking us! we are hungry cos none of us have eaten well. nobody is having fun here. but it's this hunger which sustains us and our rage. we fill our stomachs with revenge instead of rice. revenge for the revenge porn. from now on, it is animal versus beast, we are the noble animal, they are the frustrated peabrained beasts who believe in a god not a goddess. from now on, the war is on. we will sic our animals on them---these precious animals we spared by not eating them. they can't hide, they can't crawl, cannot slither their way back to their snake nests on their protected territory frat on school grounds, their caliphate is yellow lines, small c. god all this battle talk is making me hungry, anybody want a ton of grease-soaked krinkle French fries?

TMIT: AT MCDONALD'S

1. what is it about a woman or a man that would drive you crazy?

crazy in love: a naked woman on screen. when all else fails, have a sturdy steady beautiful buxom completely bare and stark woman of few words and an ethnic mysterious look about her in the eyes walk slowly across painted desert landscapes. that was the mandate in film schools in the '70s, that's what The Other Side of the Wind was spoofing with his take on Antonioni. and of course it helps if that woman is Orson Welles's secret Palm Springs (Festival) Indio Indian paramour...

driving: since i cannot drive cos i'm deathly afraid of cars and the pursuit of cars and being in cars as cars pursue, i've developed a fetish for taxicabs. but i swear i wouldn't do anything illegal with tokens which would land me on the inside of an SDNY speaking-tour as a tourist stop, i use tokens strictly for hometown arcades. my perfect woman is the protagonist of the video game Crazy Taxi cos i'm crazy. i got a thing for Sandra Bullock in the film Speed, which is where the world first took notice of her but where i first took notice of her for a different reason.

2. if your employer offered an "afternoon delight break" where you leave work for an hour to go have sex, would you take that break?

why is it that whenever my cyberbrain envisions afternoon delight i think of Will Ferrell in mustache and business suit and red tie under a golden-leafed tree in the park eating a PayDay bar? and getting the crumbs on this his mustache?

so that is what i'd do: i'd do Will Ferrell in this very scenario and setting. maybe with a jaguar in the background.

3. on your afternoon delight break would you most often have sex with (pick one):
a) yourself
b) a stranger (app hookup, sex worker...)
c) your significant other

question: what if a, b, and c are the same person?

question: what if your Grindr date and your eHarmony date are the same person?

i'm wary of apps. in general. life shouldn't be this easy. sex at the push of a button...you know what else can happen at the push of a button? i'm thinking about trying Bang Your Friends...mostly cos i have no friends and need to get some and meet some new people...by banging them...but this always seems the quickest way to lose them again...this is the new "hello" of our times

4. what is the best way of sustaining an erection? for me it's McDonald's. i slide and sit in the corner by the large green-fern plant, at the cream-colored booth out of the way of the public and just stare at those fries in that mesh steel basket as they go in and dip and enter the grease bath...they use vegetable oil now instead of beef tallow but it's still hot...McDonald's should offer sizzling no-splatter greasy steak fries...

5. tell us the top two sexual things you hate to do:

putting the clothes back on again, it's such a pain to find my hat which is also my spaceship

cleaning up the mess, my nightstand mirror always gets stained with spackle

BONUS: what embarrasses you the most? i don't like to talk about myself, what i'm interested in, it limits me, on Grindr and eHarmony and WhatsApp. i mean how can i get a match if i'm described as a "pique fellow who dresses up as famous eunuchs like Grey Worm and likes to read medical journals on baldness cures by eating McDonald's fries and Parkinson's cures by walking and walking sticks made of cane sugar and if it's possible to someday have medical-marijuana salt-water taffy..."

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

WETLOOK

notes:

* kid: you're tall!
carnie: all carnies are tall.
mom: is this safe?
carnie: look at my cream shirt! it says FUN FUN FUN! three times!
kid: LET ME OUT!!!
carnie: you must say the magic word three times: Cardarople, Cardarople, Cardarople!
mom: when did you construct this ride?
carnie: last night...uh. hey, wait! something's fishy here, busteress! look, you see the turtle and the pizza?, that means it's kid-friendly.
kid: TMNT was originally a dark comic meant for adults.
carnie: don't sass me, kid, i'm the sassy one on Stranger Things.
kid: my mom won't let me watch Stranger Things.
carnie: good mom.
kid: why are your eyes always squinty?
carnie: that's racist, kid. this is my LOOK. this is how i get jobs in Hollywood. it's like Napoleon Dynamite but i came up with Napoleon Dynamite first, in my garage in 1979 when i was born. i HATE THE OSCARS! i had to wear this pizza in my hand to the Oscars in my Oscars tux or they wouldn't let me past the velvet rope. it's the only way they see me as an entity, it hurts my hand after four hours carrying the pizza slice, i blame THEM for my limp wrist, i hate show biz.
kid: what happens when something bad happens?
carnie: something bad or strange will always happen, that's life. don't you watch Stranger Things? if we get into any liability for misplaced deaths or tot accidents, we simply move to the next town, where there are no lawyers. only country lawyers.
mom: why aren't you moving? Reno's no Las Vegas.
carnie: the next town is Deadwood City...

* don't let the bent red car fool you, this is gonna have a happy ending

* those newfangled keys are troublesome, my mom got a new car. you have to UNLOCK ALL before you can open the trunk. you lock all the doors, but if you immediately touch the driver's-side door it immediately unlocks...

* hi, i'm Reinhart...not the CW Reinhart...Stranger Things generation...

* do not attenmpt or replicate...unless you have a magic red balloon...

* carnie: Stranger Things and It, i always get those two confused.
Pennywise: me, too.
carnie: what are you doing here?
Pennywise: some broad stole my balloon......believe me, i'm more scared of you than you are of me...carnies are terrifying...

* woman: the Old West, Rockies snow, Heartland train, Connecticut tunnel: i feel i've traveled all the back of the cards of playing card decks my father gave me as birthday gifts before he switched sides. i've saved a ton of dough! no Trivago for this girl!

* that's meant to be a feature, not a bent chassis

* the Mazda will even drive on water, but only if the glacial mountains come alive, form faces, and so state.

* Dolores O'Riordan would have been proud. what a freak-accident-way to go. but i guess it's the ultimate rock-star way to go: bathtub and a bottle of booze. R.I.P.

* this is the car for REAL people.
Pennywise: hey, i'm real under all this clown makeup. i'm even handsome.

* "calloused hands and elbow grease": masturbation

* The Promised Neverland neck-serial-number on the trim of that truck...

* America can't move till that one railroad banister/baluster is put in place...or is that a railing?

* getting to work and getting to work: you can't get to work unless you get TO work. even if you have to walk, cos eventually all flights will be grounded. hey! what are you planning to do with that hay!? sleep on it? lazy.

* late nights: soldier: if we don't have light, we can't save at night---think about it. put on your thinking cap, which is a hardhat with a cute little tiny light on it.

* all this purple-grey mud reminds me of that opening scene of Post Tenebras Lux. which reminds me, i need to see the latest Reygadas...but the full movie ain't out on dailymotion yet...at least not the subtitled version...here we go again…

* date nights: man: honey, what are you doing with that remote control in your hand?
woman: it's a reflex, i've had a remote in my hand my whole life, i've never left my bedroom, this is my first time outside, i'm changing the channel of the screen of stars, i want new stars...
man: the black hole makes this impossible, forever fade to black.

* boy: mommy! why are you fighting on the front lines and dad is home with me cooking Barilla spaghetti?
mommy soldier in green fatigues: it's complicated. like Facebook.
boy: daddy says Facebook is evil.
mommy: i'm fatigued. let's livestream somewhere else besides an airport...
daddy: your son has taken up parade rainbow-flag-flying. you happy? this is cos you were never home.

* Sam Shepard: i always get confused with Sam Ellliott. i've never been a cowboy narrator in my life, i'm my own narrator. seriously, has anybody in the intelligentsia or literati or both EVER read one of my plays? from beginning to end?

CLICK HERE

THEN HERE

AND THEN HERE

happy weekend, my babies. Weekend Outside Fast-Food Choice? prolly not pizza...…….is there something happening this weekend?...…………...oh yeah...……….

THE PURPLE HOURGLASS: BREXIT FIXIT

Llywarch and Laertus huddle together on the heath. they have become closer these weeks as Dirg is off doing devil-knows-what and not caring where Laertus is, Laertus is studying his ass off and needs a break, and Llywarch is always there, always there on that field marsh, whenever Laertus seeks him. they hug as a matter of course now.

Laertus: *quietly* i'm whispering cos i don't want Dirg to hear. even cyberspacially. but...i love you...

Llywarch: *laughing smilingly silently* heehee, yeah, i love you, too, my friend, not like that, i mean more. but why should we keep this hidden and suspicious? isn't it perfectly reasonable our love?

Laertus: well, not really, not yet in my world. i'm sure yours is far-superior cos it's been accelerated by the one-touch of a simple button.

Llywarch: uh, something like that.

Laertus: i think the omg-fall-in-love moment came for me when you declared that you would dedicate your life to activism. i fell in love with your civil civics. and your ears. you don't know how anathema that is to Dirg, he holds it as a sign of weakness.

Llywarch: well i do have three lives......that was a joke.

Laertus: you are a noble beast, in both ways. are you ready for tonight? there's gonna be a big freedom rally at LUSH. you gather all the animals of the forest who are your friends, and i got just me but i'm brimming with spirit! all of us---soldiers, friends, reporters, and allies---will turn back the tide of this salty scourge on the Earth of revenge porn. scorched can only get so hot.

Llywarch: i'm not exactly sure how to conceptualize these horrible images of which you speak in my mind, seeing as all of your images are taken from my land. but i agree with you that it must stop. you've been spending a whole lotta time here, are you sure you're not slacking off on your studies?

Laertus: i'm good as long as i don't sleep and don't sleep in the dorms and eat only coffee for meals. don't worry, i'm still really into and have time for my slacktivism.

Llywarch: hardly, most of the computers i know don't care like you do.

Laertus: i'll be there! we'll be there together!

Barr steps up to the microphone:

Barr: remember rainbows? i'm not telling you what to think, i'm thinking you what to tell. okay so i'm gonna keep it all to myself. the Report. it's just so interesting, i read an unredacted portion of it to myself every night right before i go to sleep to keep me awake. it's more lorey and magical than the best of Tolkien and more action-packed than Goodnight, Moon. come on, the President's a good guy, he's doing a good job. so i'm never gonna release it, it's better this way. easier for the country, let's everyone just move on. this isn't a scuttle, this is about the true definition of asylum. okay? thank you, bye. oh...here's the principal conclusions of what i just said: Fuck you, world, hands off, it's mine! 

Wolf: you got that, Cuomo? the handsome curly anchor, not the ugly flat-haired governor.

Chris Cuomo: no. i don't care about that stuff. what we're gonna do on my show is for the next year we're gonna dissect the Notre Dame fire. front to back pew. the nave, the candles, and those apostles with their heads cut off. both the statues and the real people. come on, people! where's your faith!? aren't you more upset by this? this is why Catholicism is dead. you can't have two Popes! you can't have one pope strangely in the corner like a quiet mouse who pops his head out for cheese and whiskers every two years. it died in the Crusades, it's just nobody ever recovered the Body. the Church is the Body, not a building...except THIS building! my idea: the Pope celebrates Easter-Sunday Mass at the site of the Notre Dame burn, that would be a powerful symbol of Renewal and the Resurrection.

The Pope: yeah i was planning to...if it had been a large pile of black ruinous dust. but as it is, as it stands today, and as it stands, i think imma gonna skip Easter Mass. got some frequents to Fiji i've been thinking about using, i need to get out more, use my miles. and mileage. yeah i'm gonna be missing this Sunday on vacation.

a large red double-decker bus screeches onto the grey stone cobbles in front of Parliament and the Tower and the Palace. a confab has been assembled, all the brightest minds from all over the world, to solve this Brexit thing once and for all:

Jeanie Buss: everybody get on the BUSS! MY buss!!! all aboard! this is more romantic than a train.

a radio program is being conducted while the bus drives around corners. the famous Naked Girl with BREXIT spraypainted on her chest by Banksy is carrying on as all Brits are trying to do with their lives but getting a million followers a minute, more than the fledgling station has ever seen. they especially like it when she wears the headphones with the snake-coils and sits on the radio seat completely stark-naked and the GOT throne trolls make that known in the live-comments.

Dirg: you can't choose your followers...

Jo from Real World: San Francisco and her ex are on opposite sides between glass in the non-soundproof room both with mics countering each of the Naked Girl's points for their own side's benefit:

Jo: as we all know Brexit Is Impossible. i love your fashion sense, love, but i'm afraid the listeners aren't listening very well to your cogent points. you are for...some things and against others.

ex: no, I love her fashion sense! that is owned by me! the proof is in the callers. I have a cause. I am the eaglehead of a revolution!

Jo: oh shut up! you're nothing but a loser! and you're taking the country down with your loserness ever since you declared for Brit citizenship.

ex: what can is say? i love British telly.

Jo: just sign up for BritBox in the States! stop ruining everything you touch! it's all cos of you! we had the votes, i voted Remain in the 100th general election---the one to break the stalemate---and it was looking good, the country was up by one, then you had to come along and cast your secret ballot which was livestreamed on Facebook and you voted Leave and it was a god-save-the-queen-damned tie again!!!

ex: okay i'll make you an offer deal: you sleep with me again one more time, and i'll break the tie and vote Stay, like that song with the girl in glasses. watch out for those feminazi girls with glasses.

Jo: in the summary words of Barr: fuck you.

Jim Hill: hey, family, keep the faith.

Chris Cuomo, microphone up everyone's nose: i like you, Jim Hill.

Julian Assange is dragged out of his home and is nearly run-over by a stray double-decker bus. a home a place he treated like a hotel room, trashed it like an undeserving rock star. he is muttering gibberish that only online trolls can hear.

later at the bobby box, he's telling the police and Doctor Who all about it:

Assange: i will assuage you. want some nuts? nevermind, you millennials will never get a Michael Keaton joke.

Officer Pete Davidson: SNL is the arbiter of pop culture. officers can be firemen, too. so what's the deal with you and Pamela Anderson?

Pamela Anderson in a red blouse: i honestly thought he was Santa. i mean Santa is the ultimate fuck for a girl.

Avenatti: let the record show, i do not sound like Telly Savalas...

Assange: i'll tell you everything if you promise not to tell Pammy this: well i kinda vaccinated her without her knowing, just to prove a point and my theory. that explains her balloon boobs. they didn't pop with the introduction of the needle so that's a good start.

Pete: come on, you can do better than that, you're a conspiracy-theorist for satan sake, your stories are better than the reporters'! don't YOU tell ME, i know who did 9/11 personally.

Assange: what i provide is 100% truth, and it's also 100% illegal. truth is illegal. look, truth is, i'm trying to get out of a jam. i looked up to Tony Hawk and always wanted to be a skateboarder. unfortunately that drew a lot of young fans to me and my various hostels. so i jumped at the chance to have THE Pam Anderson teach me extreme sports! to do with water i gathered. she was more into surfing and bodyboarding and the like, and i'm deathly afraid of water, i won't even drink the water in my diplomatic shack.

Tiger Woods has entered the chat and the world and takes off his red shirt, throwing it down on the meadow as it forms into a red circle which provides the Red Table.

Tiger: *on his Nike phone bugged by Avenatti* Roger? those back exercises you lent me were fantastic! i DID it!

Federer is at the mountain receiving the holy robe from Zion. Chris Evert is by Rog's side looking at him beatifically and zombie like Pence looks at Bump.

Roger: and now, my dear, it's time to make the Collezione spaghetti! with Giant Meatball!

Evert: oh, it's really food. i thought that was a euphemism. after munch, let's go check out this 4-hour-long tennis anime i unearthed from French Open soil while accidentally pushing the wrong button on twitter...we'll have to travel to Machu Picchu...all mountains are connected...

Federer: i look forward to next week when i'll join The Breakfast Club at the Red Circle Table to discuss my red logo and hats and that famous tennis movie. i'm happy for you, my friend. what are you gonna do now?

Tiger: i'm never gonna give up and imma continue my yoga with pancake-house waitresses! Jack? is that you on the other line?

Jack Bauer: i'm kinda busy...coming up with a new idea...

Tiger: no, not you, Nicklaus. hi-yo Jacko! how do you feel now, old man?

Nicklaus: come on, Tiger, i praised you, i congratulated you from the heart of the desert. i'm genuinely happy for you. but here is where this ends. you've had your moment, now don't you come any closer to 18 or there will be trouble. i'm warning you. you wouldn't like me when i'm angry. you wouldn't like me when i haven't had my Arnold Palmer drink at 6AM. old man, i'll show YOU old man! you want to end up like your old man, Tiger? and what's with that weak fish-kiss to your girlfriend?! come on, give her a real man's kiss like i will!

Bump: i was offended by what Obama said. i'm a divorced dad, you know, all my voters are.

Tiger: you're shaking in your loafers, Jack. hit the road. there's bourbon in your Arnold Palmer, not iced tea.

Jack Nicklaus turns into a huge golden bear and eats the clubhouse until it turns into a huge 19th hole.

President Bump: Tiger, can i...?

Tiger: no, sir. you see the difference between you and me is i make my crazy dreams come true for good.

Bump: you should be grateful to be here, Tiger. where you are. i provided the hurricane which delayed that Sunday up for you to win.

Tiger: what up, Russ?

Russell Wilson is filming himself naked in bed with a naked Ciara. as per his new exciting announcement. he twitters that spicy vertical vid out into the world.

Molly Q: Rus already won by locking down Ciara. whooo-eeee! well that's hot. that's intimate in the good way. why don't we ever do that, Max?

Max: Molly, are you EVER gonna visit my boxing show? it'll get canceled before you come.

Molly Q: i am known as a late-comer. i will be there, son, maybe next week...

Nipsey Hussle is inbetween the two lovers in blue hologram:

Nipsey: ahhhh. knew it. hustle to nip it in the bud. now i can just lean my arms back, build another foster-care home in the clouds, and rap to the God of Lazor Wulf.

Eye Lugagge: i love that show. slightly less than Wolf's Rain. i love how the wolves talk then stop talking and their tongue comes out of their mouth and drops right after.

Nipsey: i'm naked cos i'm an angel. this is my eternal reward.

Aisha Moodie-Mills and her wife are also in this bed made of redwood, both naked.

Aisha: straight from the Golden Bear of Berkeley.

Ciara: don't get any ideas, baby.

Russell: that's crazy. i thought that other Moodie-Mills on tv was your sister! but here you are the both of you!

Bump: i had no idea, either. Aisha, dark darling, what a waste for us men!

everyone: get out!

Bump: okay i'll leave the sheets, tho. no i just meant her as an in into the black community, that's all. to learn her ways. in the bedroom, for political purposes.

Russell: this is crazy! have you seen me in the new EA football video game? i look so realistic...TOO realistic. i mean the lines and dots in me are not vectors anymore, they're pores and freckles! when i blink with my game-me's eyes, real human glass is stained with tears. there's an air of disquiet when i play myself, during the silent moments when the crowd in the game isn't cheering in the back.

Ciara: *eating cereal in bed* i honestly couldn't tell you apart, your character in the game looked MORE real than you do right now staring me in the face (and head) in this bed next to me and my sexy eyes.

Eye Luggage: okay i don't get all this Game of Thrones hysteria! why is it such a dire situation? i mean except for those cute wolves. why are there guitars and RISK board games being made of this show? i don't give a fuck about Game of Thrones. i don't give a fuck who wins! who the fuck cares?!

Dirg: is that why your screen name is Dragon Keeper?

Eye: hey how'd you know about that? watch it, buster. no that was for before. that was when i was kid and had a crush on Dragon magazine and Tom Cruise. none of that iron beats the iron in my Harley Hammer. and fuck Opening Day! who cares about baseball anymore? that bat will NEVER compare to my Harley Hammer. but my Harley Hammer DOES give me wood.

the crones ride their brooms to Ronnie's Sex Shop after making a wrong turn at Colesburg in Cape Province, Doryce thought she was tracking down a Nat King Cole she resurrected with her spell.

Doryce: thought it would be providential.

Gladyce: you know better than all that malarkey, dear.

Ronnie is there dusty and with a toothache. he directs the ladies to their usual rooms, large beige-colored sandpaper/sandstone rounded interior desert huts that look like Star Wars. or Burning Man.

Ronnie: *with a peculiar accent* have you vrous been here before? i don't remember, i can't tell. want our Blockbuster's Video lifetime-membership card good for any Ronnie's around the world?

Gladyce: there's only one, that's why we come.

Doryce: oh sure, love, we come here all the time, i think. now get on the bed and hatch out a dozen eggs through your anus-hole. come on, hurry, it's Easter! you'll miss it! that's how you lot celebrate, right? i don't want to know how you color them. here, see? even the bed is hay so it looks like a straw basket. or nest if you like.

Gladyce snatches 4 of Ronnie's forced eggs and eats them whole.

Gladyce: *burp* sorry. missed breakfast.

Doryce: FOUR EGGS!!? who eats FOUR EGGS for breakfast!!? what a waste! i'm never talking to you again, Gladyce! fuck off and you! stuff it! stuff your straw!

Gladyce: i tried to think of the brown as chocolate, not poo. they were good.

Doryce storms out.

Gladyce is left with a hangdog look. so is Ronnie on all fours.

Gladyce: *sigh* huh, i guess she's still mad about the meatball, and me.

Ronnie: don't blame yourself. i created this sex shoppe to help women, it wasn't a man thing, i wanted women to bloom and flourish and nature-noble and be sexually free. there are still good men out there in this world, you know, with nothing to gain and everything to lose. how may i help?

Gladyce: i know, love. know any good world-famous buffets?

Ronnie: there's the Wicked Spoon buffet court. in Vegas, i think.

Gladyce: no, no more to do with Boston accents.

Ronnie: Cocoputt in the off Cook Islands.

Gladyce: that's better. she needs to work on her golf game. a tad. and her cooking. and her chocolate-eating. and the isles still fall under Her Majesty's stewardship, old witch blood. i plan to go next week. for next week's adventure.

next week happens now.

at the world-famous Cocoputt Buffet, the carpets are diamonds and the gold squares are filled from above with all manner of food...that has been replaced with nothing but dozens and dozens of eggs not from Costco cases...per Gladyce's spell. this makes Doryce smile through her teeth and she eats ALL the eggs.

Gladyce: all of these eggs you see before you came from my butt.

at LUSH the meeting is about to begin, there is an air of political-naughtiness in its spark. the white sheet is draped over the how-low-can-you-go pole outside on the back-lawn.

Madame Pons: the film is about to begin. this isn't a summer blockbuster with superheroes, this is an important film which every sentient being MUST see. it will change the calculus of how we nourish ourselves forever. mind body spirit suds interconnectedness and multiculturalism with animals. nothing regressive about dying for food, Americans without left thumbs do it all the time.

all the forest animals from Obec Woods and neighboring Wythenshawe and the young female college-students with bows are gathered side by side each other, some squatting, some standing up to watch it together. Llywarch's hen Yoricka acts as a kind of Green Day Ernie puppet crowdsurfing on top of the crowd.

Madame Pons: this will be our battle cry. this will unify us, make us a collective, stick us all to the cause with celestial and ceramic Fixodent-and-forget-it glue.

Llywarch and Laertus arrive fashionably late but no one notices cos this is serious.

Laertus: sorry, traffic on the information superhighway. what'd we miss?

Pons: hey, guys. oh, you can have the leftover food in those pink boxes over there. some justified desserts i picked up at Beard Papa's. cream puffs.

Llywarch: for us cream puffs.

Pons: these puffs seemed friendly enough, they were smiling at me under glass at the store. i mean Beard Papa is revered as Santa in Japan.

Laertus: there is no Christmas in Japan.

Pons: or, like, Beard Papa is Julian Assange to them then. you know, a folk hero either way.

Llywarch: can you more deeply explain deepfake, Madame Pons? i saw it online as i looked up at the sky on the way over here.

Pons: a virulent form of revenge porn we must extinguish from society. i've received threats from them mailed to my place of worship---my place of work, i worship the soaps here at LUSH---with pictures of college students i've counseled here at the University, young newbie women new to the adult world, freshmen and sophs wading into the world, trying out being sexually-free for the first time. it's not all pleasure and proactive pain, it can be daunting and danger. threats about taking their virginity not the way they want or exposing them as sluts when clearly they are not. the pictures have my girls performing the disgustingest of lewd pornographic sex acts on and in video but it's not them, it's their faces photoshopped onto other bodies but it looks so realistic---hyperrealistic---that you cannot tell the difference. in fact it looks MORE real than if the actual person was filmed doing these things. they tried this first with celebrities but moved quickly on to civilians. we must put a stop to this shock shop slop.

everyone waits in the crisp night air bottoming on their temples. with trepidation in their hearts and trepidation in the tumbler waiting for the movie to catch fire all staring at the sheet screen.

Pons turns on the reel, which turns slowly. spark of rebellion. which will lead to fire across the sky. she uses the turning light from her tiny tv below the counter, as the light turns...

TMIT: OUR SINS

yes that's Jack Nicklaus after receiving the Tiger news...from Annette Funicello…

1. would you rather get a spanking in front of your family or do a striptease at your workplace? you know my cousin recounted to me on the phone (i'm doing a newspaper interview on a secret subject for my column) that when he was a kid he would get spanked by his mom or dad or sometimes tagteam in front of the family as a deterrent for next time, the reasoning being the humiliation would stop him, this was the family meeting, the family was strong, the family unit held, and then afterwards the fam would go out to Chuck E Cheese like nothing ever happened. but it turns out the effect had the opposite result: my cousin grew up to love BDSM. he now works at a large Walmart-like place where there are hundreds of aisles of too-bright light to perform a striptease for customers. i tell him he's an actor and on that NBC show Superstore but he's not buying it. you know that's a set they use for Superstore, one person has to arrange all the cans and bottles on all the aisles, must take weeks for one shot.

2. you are a sexy_______

motherfucker...…...not literally…

3. hey baby tonight ___ me

i'm easy, i just want a lemonade. with maybe some poppyseeds, you know? sprinkle in a few three or four poppyseeds in there in the lemonade

4. would you rather have a rewind button or a pause button for your life?

i'd rather have the famous RESET button from the grey-box Nintendo video-game system back in the day in the '80s, that got me out of so many jams: i mean imagine if you were in a precarious situation in your life, like you're hanging for dear life by your scratching fingertips off a cliff, dangling in the wind, or you loved the wrong woman---you were supposed to love a man or something---all you have to do is RESET and you're safe snuggly back in your bed. it was all a dream. life is a dream, you know...

5. would you rather have noisy sex neighbors or nosy neighbors?

definitely noisy nosy sex neighbors. i mean if they're gonna be a pain you might as well be entertained. i want Megan Mullally and Nick Offerman to be my neighbors, i want to keep my evening blinds WIDE OPEN as i see them slinging all into the night. my Comcast is on the fritz again---even with no rain---so i'm thinking about entering the slinging lifestyle. you know Nick Offerman is contractually obligated to provide the voice of Santa in EVERY SINGLE cartoon ever made.

BONUS: would you rather mentally or physically never age? why?

oooh, i like this, very Twilight-Zone-Jordan-Peele-era. i guess i want the best of both worlds: i want to always physically look like John Huston in his older Santa days (voice not provided by Nick Offerman) but always with a mind sharp like a trap like David Foster Wallace's voice on tape, have a vault of quad tape reels finally opened in Italy after a long drawn-out court battle. i want to remain 12 years old mentally and watch cartoons as an adult...wait...and look like a celebrity no matter how old i am...so i can do celebrity-lookalike contests at adult birthday parties in Reseda. i don't mind being mentally-ill as long as i can cope with it...i want a day where being 100-percent mentally-ill is just another thing humans are, like their eye color, it's a trait.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

PROM? PROM!

notes:

* girl: OMG here it comes, girls! the promposal!
geek: hello, may i offer you XFINITY today, ma'am? it's like Comcast but more expensive since the California fires. hey, watch the bowling trophies, don't all girls watch SVU?
girl: the fuck? why are you using a skateboard? you're not a skater!
geek: quiet, your dad is in the other room. so will you?
girl: will you what? why are you using all my birthday candles? you're gonna give us an expensive lighting bill. the bill went up ever since PG&E went down.

* dude: what's with the powder-blue prom tux, my man?
powder blue: my Kurt Cobain look. like his guitar. i'm too tall to play Cobain in the Lifetime Movie. but the NBA took one look at me and decided i was more suited for ping pong. this is the Honda random acts of help.
dude: in this neighborhood those aren't the random acts. before we go further i'm not buying a Honda, dude, Hondas are wimpy, i'm buying a monster truck. you need to be in a monster truck on the freeway so you don't die when you get in an accident Virgin Mary forbid. her name's Odalis.
powder blue: Idalys? like the MTV veejay? hello?
ride-or-die: hello? get the fuck off the porch, we don't want what you're selling, we're gonna vote next time.
powder blue: no, this is for Neeto. Neeto's promposal . Neeto is a neat guy.
ride-or-die: i know. intimately.
powder blue: um, you're alone here in this big house at 3PM on a school afternoon? you should be watching Disney Afternoon. where's your grandmother?
ride-or-die: she's doing a stint up the river. she's an Olympic synchronized-swimmer.
powder blue: who's that?
ride-or-die: the maid.
powder blue: the tux's not a rental but the van is, hurry up and bump, kids. and the balloons are rented, too, rented from my blow. you want the tux?
dude: i think i'll pass. i got this sweatshirt on, so...
ride-or-die: my gram's in the back of your van, sir, you betta watch out! for YOUR safety.

* me: this one's gonna make me cry.
son: dad, i need your help asking Jessica to prom.
dad: what's a prom, son? what's a Jessica?
son: it was heartwarming that you called me son. what's that, dad?
dad: a newspaper, son, the only place you can still do a Sudoku.
son: that's a sex act you don't want me trying at my first prom, right?
dad: wait, this is your first date, too? that's pretty heavy to have your first date be the prom. if that happened to me, you wouldn't be here i mean i wouldn't have met your mom.

* dad: love is like the ocean...
son: not the type of help i need, dad. what are you reading? Shakespeare's Sonnets?
dad: some Dungeons & Dragons manual from 1979. don't inhale the lacquer fumes, son, i know they're tempting but they're too heavy for your budding nostrils. take it from me, you sniff enough of that stuff and you're stuck in 1979 wondering how people had imaginations enough to sustain D&D back then.
son: my father is my Cyrano but he's supposed to stay hidden in the bushes. will you go to prom with me?
neighbor: get off my lawn, intruder! they're coming for us with large bright lights, firecrackers and missiles in the streets! bunker down, it's happening!!!
Jessica: yes! yes i will go to the prom with you! but only cos your bowtie is purple and i'm still not over Prince.
dad: okay so don't mean to be a wet blanket but you're gonna have to choose me chaperoning you in mom's car that night or all of us paying for your braces as a family.
son: prom! i don't need my teeth.
Jessica: you will need your teeth to work eventually. i'm adopted, too.
dad: i know. every kid on this block is. leave no child behind, that was the social experiment. i pray to God every night.
kids: you mean Rod Serling?
me: this commercial is so sweet.

* i never went to prom so doing this post was hard on me...physically hard for me to type it...

* R.I.P. Ian Cognito. every artist wants to go out like that, on the very stage he loved and planted his toil his entire existence. you never made it big like Bill Hicks but that's cos there's no British Tool to put you on their cover. that's like the perfect spy alias.

CLICK HERE

AND HERE

AND THEN HERE

happy weekend, my babies. someone inform Daym Drops that the Olive Garden Giant Meatball is ready, he is the only way i'm ever gonna experience the Giant Meatball.

THE PURPLE HOURGLASS: 16 FIGURES

Jim Nantz: hello, friends.

Dirg: hello, Nancy-boy. you still a beacon of lighthouse after the Hannah Storm?

Laertus: excuse my friend as always.

President Bump: i caused that storm, i cause all the storms. this is a nice pastoral place. i was just up from visiting Mount Vernon. you know what Vern looked like? he looked like Ernest. Varney Vernon. check that cough, Jim, it's more than a cough, and it's not cos of the cold chill of the storm. opioids up in smoke. anyway, George Washington was my father and i can't understand for the lives of me why a golf course wasn't built here, it's untreated pastoral land. it would have killed in the ratings. why didn't George think of his brand? you only leave a legacy unless you have a physical structure on top of your grave with your name and a hat on it.

Laertus: tricorner hat. i believe China invented golf, not Scotland.

Bump: no my ancestors did, that's a Chinese conspiracy, they were playing games even then, they were playing Game Seven, but not golf games. and don't get me started on how wind is cancerous to your golf game.

Llywarch: what a wretched beast! Sir Jim, how are you enjoying the environs?

Dirg: hey, can i have an in with Charles Barkley? i want to console him. i want his tiara. you got him, Spike, and SLJ all together in one commercial spot, that can't be a coincidence.

Nantz: look yonder! in mellow tones, there he is NOW!

Charles Barkley ascends the mountain. he cries the whole way there, partly because he now dons the monk robe from Zion and is the most popular person on the planet, partly the burn of the Auburn loss which was a win if there were no wind in the whistle.

Laertus: i am greatly troubled by the wind. there is something in the air, something evil. have you seen Victor and Valentino?

Dirg: Valentina sauce? no i'd rather just eat a real churro. but i did see porn of the show even before it showed. porn of...you don't want to know...

Laertus: society, now fully culled and conquered by the internet, is hanging by its own rope and gleefully thinking it's a fun Tarzan swing.

the wind has taken the magic away from this world. it has also taken Magic Johnson away from the Lakers Facility:

Jeanie Buss wears one Stevie Nicks enchantress gold large hoop earring on her ear and contemplates living her best life. she stands in heels on the famed Lakers golden basketball court newly-sex-waxed with the three-point line in bloody Red-Circle-Table red.

Stephen A Smith: i've heard from my sources that Jeanie Buss has her back up.

Molly Q: *with tabbed nails* *whistles* oooh weee and what a sweet back it is! sa whish. ALMOST competes with mine.

Jeanie: i'm just here wondering why the hell didn't i become The Pope!? i heard she gets so much sex from around the world she doesn't know where to put it! in the backpocket of her vestment?

Gannon: The Pope sucks you know. not like that, i mean for real. she's bringing Western Civilization down i mean civilization.

Jeanie: you're just sore that you're ugly and she wouldn't give you the time of day. the only place where Time still exists in this black-hole universe is the huge Watch overlooking and blocking the tourists of St. Peter's Square. Jim Hill! you look the same as way back when i met you in the '80s when i owned tennis with Sampras---who looked back then like the same old Greek man he looks like today---and a baby Federer, 10 years old. when there was still tennis teams that mattered like NBA teams. you're still rough and ruggedly handsome and look like OJ, Jim!

Laertus: Herman Munster Jr., a swarthy fellow. the broad meaning of swarthy.

Dirg: hey. lay off Sampras, he's a good Republican.

Jim Hill in a three-piece jim gray suit: thank you. i think. you know i couldn't stay away from you, girl.

Jeanie: you are the hill i will die on, Jim.

Jim: and your two hills are where i lay my head.

Jeanie: one for you, one for Magic, that's why you two guys are such good tight friends, right? where was it that you first became attracted to and enamored of me? my Playboy spread? au-naturel bush was in voge in the late late '70s.

Jim: no, your Twitter profile pic. the two basketball breaststststs. i'm a young hip oldhead.

Jeanie: oh right, i should have become an actress but that would have been TOO L.A., you know? it was already too much that i went to USC in this hot climate. currently, hot climes here.

Jim Hill: i can't stay away from you! rub my nose in it, please! twitch your nose and make my nose bleed, you seductive witch. you are addictive like the purest meth! i should know, i'm an investigative reporter, i cover these things. well i see these things. you are the sexiest woman who has ever been born and graced this Earth! we now know in modern times, we have an example in you of what Cleopatra or Helen of Troy must have been like! when you combine your good looks with the older-woman thing with your charisma, you are Human TNT!!!

Barkley: John Mayer rejoined twitter, to the betterment of all mankind.

Magic Johnson enters Staples Center fumbling over his words as if his mouth has been stapled shut. he has been crying.

Magic: Jeanie i can't do this in your office!

Jeanie, who starts crying as well: then let's do it here on court!

Magic: oh. um. well, this ain't sister-love! you know how i feel towards you.

Jeanie: i know, Earvin, you want your Vern, everyone wants their Vern. but see, i want to get back with Phil, i want to get my back into Phil again, we have history. the orgies were fun but they were also a bit too L.A., you know!? i mean the palm trees would lower to take us to the mansions on wind. it's not an L.A. race gang thing, i like Phil Jackson cos he's tall and has a bad back, together we have matching backs, i should have been a masseuse-therapist. i will always admire your strength, Magic. i mean emotionally.

Magic: it's safe and i'm a human being who will never live again. okay, fine, but can i at least fire Rob Lowe please!? he has no business running a team, he's friends with Peyton Manning a notorious coach-killer.

Rob Lowe: hey! watch the alkaline aspersions! i'm especially sensitive about my mouth, got sensitive teeth. i'm not serious like Kobe is all the time, i'm silly. look into my mesmerizing eyes, imma samurai now! a silly samurai. i can take a joke, my West Wing debut consisted of my character mistakenly hooking up with a prostitute, i can poke fun not a gun at myself. i did it cos it was Sorkin.

Jeanie: you did it cos it was Cuddy. i heard Cuddy cuddles well. but she needs curdled cottage cheese. to keep her thighs toned.

Dirk Nowitzki: hey, want a brat?

Dirg: i am a brat. oh. are you sure you're not Dirg Nowitzki? so what are you gonna do now, big fella? close The Store down? open up a soul-sucking maple-sucking factory with Steve Nash? and Sara Bareilles? i always thought Sara Bareilles was Canadian. and continue to date outside of your master race?

Dirk: i'm gonna announce the retirement of Dwayne Wade one more time, at a gas station, see if Gabrielle Union joins a garage union with the three of us. Dwayne hasn't gotten his due all year, i'm going on tour. alone.

Gabrielle Union: still got my drank.

Maria LaRosa from L.A. stomps her old stomping grounds. literally. with her huge feet at The Weather Channel.

Maria: you know the best part of the job was early weekend mornings when we'd get our Instagram DMs flooded with weather porn of these videos of ordinary Americans shitting and fucking and cursing and bitching on over their vid clips of treacherous hurricanes, water spouts, and volcanos.

Bump: Marianne Williamson? Zion's mom?

The Mooch: sure, boss, we'll go with that.

Bump: Buttigieg? he looks like a butt. not a gay slur, i mean he's so small he's literally the size of a butt.

Bump: i'm big in the black and gay communities, you know, those are my two best constituents. hello? Don Lemon? Don Lemondrop? where's my invite to your wedding? i was expecting something with frilly fringes on the edges of the card. i'll bring the cake! i know how to bake wedding cakes, especially Christian cakes. i took a community-college class while everyone else was at Vietnam.

Don Lemon: *irises red* tell me exactly the same thing again not over the phone but on twitter, i'll meet you over there...

Eye Luggage: so...……………………..go

Dirg: just make Wet City a full adult-swim series, adult swim! this is My decree! I will like it if...it meets MY standards...My demands...you're gonna hear from me if I don't like it...Wet City isn't a porn btw...

Laertus: it's like if Waterworld were good.

Dirg: Kevin Costner should have introduced his new black bodyguard wife into the bloodstream of that group of survivors, they would have survived then. good swimmers.

Laertus: Hunter x Hunter finally explaining to us that a politician's very job IS to lie and manipulate facts to win at all costs, very relevant. British cats like on JoJo are better, The Red String of Fate is actually a cat like on Black Clover! that explains my two cats and the fact that i can't get a date with a redhead. i can't understand MHA anymore, and rape should never be a recurring theme year after year cour after cour. cours are for apple cores and series with French heart. i can't unbleach my eyes.

Dirg: and that was the censored version. i got the uncensored version in my van.

Laertus: bro, look into my eyes as i tell you this: it's not meant to get you off. it's not meant to get ratings.

Eye: omg that Family Guy episode! that was crazy! the one with the commentary over the episode. i swear i thought they were doing an old episode overlain with the new commentary, so i paid attention only to the commentary. i find out later that the episode itself was new and i missed it! i swear i thought i saw that Jesus Satan church pew thing before, and the Middle of the Stairs MOR Muppet song. i swear i hope they must include that episode without the commentary on the bluray DVD.

Dirg: on that, i'm gonna nod to you like Branski nods. there will never be another underrated show like Hot Streets ever again. Chubbie Webbers will be a plush doll bigger than Bart Simpson ushering in the '90s some day, that dog was the breakout star, not Soo.

Laertus: how does one come by the name Chubbie Webbers? "why are things the way they are?", that was the philosophical posit posted by this show which will last forever unsolved and unresolved till the last black hole.

Dirg: Vienna sausages, has to be.

a disheveled Chinese woman raggedy-andie-bounces her way up the clear wall into the backyard of Bump's Mount Vernon estate, Bump Cream South. she carries with her a thumb drive and flash drive and is appropriated by Congress customs. and customs agents.

Bump: see? the Chinese are all over! and sneaky. what do you want, lady? tennis shoes?

lady: flashing you! just kidding, you don't want to see that. especially after exposing my Kraft. i am chinese crafty. want my thumb drive up your bum? look, Nintendo was having all the fun and success, i just wanted tech so the Chinese could have their own Nintendo.

Bump: harmless, let her go. with a warning and some Michigan socks. and some competition.

Putin: can i call you a faggot? i mean to my domestic audience on state tv. it will go over well in my home country who own one tv the screen made out of a vodka bottle.

Mueller: whatever you need to make yourself look tough in your potato heart, you're just sore that i got Chelsea Handler and she thinks you're a hobbit. game over, i win.

Putin: that's just cos of the Wendy Williams connection. i thought Chelsea and i had the banned-from-Instagram connection. or is that Clinton? Chelsea Clinton i should pursue romantically? yeah, i'll say you thought your chest was the Matterhorn but you got the Mickey Mouse, that works, right?

the tournament is starting again on a lawn outside of the Hobbit Hideaway.

Jim Nantz: this week is the greatest week in sports, the Championchip is on Monday and just three days later the Masters begins.

Doryce: shhhh, quiet, man! i'm trying to concentrate on this putt. you see me wiggling my ass?

Jim: i see a mistress, i mean that respectfully.

Gladyce: witches must train their minds to concentrate at all times. or else our spells turn to jelly.

the Masters course this year is marked by strange almost-alien-like markings in the ground as the holes. 16 of them, not 18 and a club soda. all diamond-shaped and in strange patterns.

Doryce: where do you put the ball? i want my ball!

Gladyce: dear, don't go near those! that's geomancy! that's forbidden to us witches, that's like taking cocaine right before you golf. it's cheating and evil cheating and cheating evil! you have to learn spells the right not-quick way.

Doryce: i dig up holes like truffles. i want a nice patch of soil to plant my meatball tree. i want that HUGE meatball from Olive Garden! THAT's a real pastoral garden! i've been craving that monster boulder meatball for ages but my broom is in the shop and i don't want to travel all the way to Salinas on those country roads! that's 1000 miles! straight down to the center of the Earth! to its apple core.

Gladyce: Obec Woods is a minefield. but it's full of apple trees. that's where the Costco is at, right? sorry, love, my broom's broke, too. i can't take you. only on the wind of a prayer.

Doryce: fuck that! i'm gonna use whatever magic is necessary and illicit to get my way! at least i'm not one of those geode nerds.

dangerously picking up her not-yet-mended broom from the garage, Doryce travels on her new-yet-not-good-as-new stick to the palace place on the hill to get her BigBall of Meat. she runs into traffic many times swerving and almost dying.

Doryce: outta the way, i'm old! bad-as-new broom. fucking GrubHub delivery of this thing would have been 300 dollars, catering to large boat parties only, ridiculous!

she eats the big meatball with her knife fork and wand, all of it, and it makes her sick.

Doryce: *pink-and-green-faced* ugh, too much meatball, not enough spaghetti. too much meat, too much sour meat. too much worms, not enough sour worms, not enough seasonings.

Madame Pons sets up at LUSH as always, she rubs together a few rumballs as her latest offer of holistic soap. no radio. she unplugged it.

Pons: i trust the company will be pleased by my latest creation for them. now for the important stuff. the stuff which will really make us feel good. i've set up the sheet in my store's backyard. for the next film fest. my spirit is ready. even though my stomach is burning hungry, but i have the fortitude, i need this diet. for justice. i can make it, i can live off only Beard Papa's cream puffs. a bag of these is my whole month's allowance splurged in one pop but they are so good! especially the herbal green-tea-filling one. i resisted the savory mouthwatering Carl's Jr. Truffle Burger on tv. i just kept thinking in my head running circles that poor pig using his cloved hoof to clutch the mini-shovel working backbreakingly hot French unshaded summer days digging that soil for my measly paltry burger till it was ready for till. it's not like the truffles are big and juicy and lain over the burger like mushrooms, they are bits in the white sauce. from now on, only chocolate truffles for me.

she goes into the backyard and drops Llywarch's hen Yoricka out of her pocket to the grass.

Pons: go on, girl! write poetry in your own language, go recruit other animals of your kind! amass the army! i will do the same on my end! this will be our breeding and training and meeting ground! for the new kind of social justine warrior.

she reenters the shop to find a white receipt dropped at the counter but no one around. she inspects the back of the receipt to find a very-thin peeling-like-cheese flash thumb drive.

Pons: this is so small it could rightly be called a thumbtack-drive.

Pons finds a slit and inserts it into the tiny tv below the counter to the horror of what's on it. she is so sick she doubles-over in disgust and pain.

Pons: *welling and red-cateared* NO! don't show the screen! or the scream! to no one! it's worse! i thought the threat was to my family but it's to my family, too! it's not just my sister, it's my girls as well!