Now is the time on Sprockets when We dance

Today is day # 1f my return to my home/new apartment.  Details to follow.  Stay tuned.


Missionary Man

I was born an original sinner.  I was born from original sin.  If I had a dollar bill for all the things I've done, there'd be a mountain of money piled up to my chin! (Eurythmics)  The man who told the World blog is two months old.  Huzzah!  Doesn't it seem like I have been here for ages?  That is the timeless gift of kabuki.  Yours free, just pay a small processing fee.  WITH YOUR BRAIN!!!  Old friends, new friends, a goddess, a nemesis WOW!.  13 followers, I am gobsmacked.  I could almost start a cult.  I am gonna need more kabuki wigs. Love, Love, Love, I want your Love (Lady Gaga).  What does she mean?  Todays' pop starts are so confusing.  Is kabuki one gyroscope dress and some star trek Borg accessories away  from fame as well?  Is this why Felix desires my west coast appearance?  Can Hollywood bus in enough clown white to keep kabuki resplendent?  So many questions.  I had a friend for many years who read the Tarot.  We had a falling out, but that is another story for another day.  When he would read the cards for me - he always said "You are in a state of upheaval.  You are going through changes".   (Ladies - not the change - please don't make me do the 'helicopter' for you.  The men will explain it to you.  Ask one now.)  I figure I have spent 4 decades of upheaval and change.  It is enough to make one upheaval one's lunch.  By the way - tarot reading - nice gig - "major arcana, time of change, things are murky".  Can you read tarot in a feng-shui'ed room while burning buddist incense and sitting on a mission-style futon?  You would think the room would spin.  So many paths to choose.  What if the misssion-style futon threw my reading off.  Suppose the great powers accidentally ended up in Frank Lloyd Wright's home.  How do we know that he never wore a kabuki wig?  Or a blue velvet catsuit?  People - we are making breakthroughs here.  Is it possible that I have influenced the past?  We know I'm all over the future.  The present is murky.  HA!  Psuedo-spiritual humor.  Nobody else is doing it. 
Anyways, thanks for playing along.  What will the future hold for kabuki?  Who the fuck knows?  And will kabuki  be happy?  Who the fuck cares?  Why you do, of course.  And that makes my whole day brighter.  Thanks. A lot.  Really.


Men, Madness and Machines

Have you ever spent the entire day somewhere you knew you weren't  wanted?  Ick!  I should have gotten out of bed, driven to The Watergate Bakery and eaten Napoleons until I fell into a deep sugar coma.  The bakers would say "Leave him, he looks like an angel when he's comatose."  And I bet I do, because sometimes I look like an angel when I am awake.  I digress.  I cast my eyes about my relative's study turned kabuki-warren.  No room for improvement here - it's just me and a few my niceites.  "Why did you bring that?"  my sister-in-law asked every time I walked in from my car.  "It's a box of expensive jewelery, I didn't want to leave it on the side of the road.  I'm just stupid that way." I replied.  I should have brought my broadsword and my mirror-ball collection - that would screw with her head.  But my nice side prevailed.  One day I am going to stomp my nice side into a mud-puddle and leave it for dead.  I remember my favorite bartender, everytime someone dropped a bar glass, he would say "Well I guess we just can't have nice things".   I feel that way about being nice.  I shouldn't have to be nice.  I would like a 'get out of nice' card.  It would have been handy today.  (and everyday)  So anyway - I went to MacDonalds - because it was late, I was rushed, I was cash-deprived, and I wanted a  99cent fish-sandwich, just like they showed on the television.  I hate the local MacDonalds.  It is staffed by idiots, decorated with fake civil war memorabilia, and they keep the temperature a steady 64 degrees - so you don't linger.  Like you would - "Oh Clarisse, take my photo next to Ronald MacDonald and this pile of plastic cannon-balls.  The girls at bingo will pee".  Continuing on.  I asked the young lady at the counter "Do you have the 99cent fish sandwich, like on tv?"  "NO, we don't honor that tv ad.  You have to go to Fredericksburg for that" she snapped.  Like I had asked if I could spit in her hair.  Which is silly, because I wouldn't ask.  "OK, I'll drive the 8 miles to Fredericksburg and get one" I answered and walked out.  I guess most people, who are probably going that way anyway, go ahead and pay the extra $2 dollars.  My plans already scrambled. (I wan't really going that direction) I wanted to get an iced tea at this MacDonalds then stop at the one 30 miles away and pee, then get another iced tea there.  Because kabuki likes some iced tea.  Word!  Ask felix - he knows.  So I go to the MacDonalds 30 miles away, go in and get my iced tea.  And a 99cent fish sandwich.  But I didn't pee.  The next 40 miles of my trip are mountainous and boring.  The occasional vista - but mostly rednecks in cheap cars.  Woowoo - my city-boy is showing, must dial it down.  I turn on the country music station, and put on a ballcap.  THAT IS A TOTAL LIE.  Just seeing if you know the real kabuki - who don't dosi-fucking-doe.  And I have no friends in low places.  I stop at chez moi "The Cathedral", and I don't even go inside.  It will just depress the fuck out of me.  I might just staple myself to the attractive wood-paneling.  I pick up my junk mail, well worth the 90minute trip. The house and my mostly restored bmw 5 series are both still intact.  Off to WalMart to refill a prescription.  Now here is where I become a little bit of a GREAT BIG LIAR AGAIN.  Walmart  does not really mind kabuki.  I kinda brighten up the place.  Notice I didn't save 'liven'.  That is taken care of by the 50 unsupervised latin children dashing in and out of the eldery shoppers.  I don't know why the local latin population doesn't supervise their children - but they do not.  Anywhere.  Ever.  Not a judgement, an observation.  I guess nobody is stealing them.  Because you couldn't pry a white kid loose from his dead mother's hand.  If it came to that.  Which is doesn't.  Because they are in daycare.  And the moms are at work.  I drop off my prescription, tell the nice lady I will wait.  I ask about the pictures of a newborn taped to every square inch of the counter.  In one photo an extremely beefy hairy arm is poking the unattractive infant.  "These are twins, they are from one of our cashiers.  She's not here".  DUH.  "What's with the scary arm frightenening the baby?", I had to ask.  "I don't know, it's just somebody's arm" the cashier replied.  I noticed she was not filling out a MENSA application.  Go figure.  I go and sit at the free blood-pressure machine, mostly to piss off the 4 year that keeps leaping from the back of the chair.  "Stop that" his mother says.  Not only has he been doing it for at least 5 minutes, he has already stopped.  Because I am sitting in the chair.  I smile evilly at the woman and she drags her child off.  pity. maybe she can find another playground in sporting goods.  I check my bloodpressure.  If this is working I am already dead.  What a horror.  The pharmacist would say "Leave him, he looks like an angel when he's dead."   And I bet I do, because sometimes I look like an angel when I am alive.  I go shopping.  I buy two pair of fluffy red socks ($1.50), a pomegranite bath gift set ($1.00) and food for a bunny, two birds, and a crazy-ass chihuahua ($3.42, 3.86. and 1.25).  I look at a valentine orchid plant - which should be blooming in about two weeks from the looks of it - but discard it.  Power shopping involves sacrifice.  I know my 30-day prescription is $8.00 ($4.00 advertised prescriptions are for other people apparently)  Time to checkout.  The cashier I recognize from before.  She tried to give me a bird last time I was in Walmart.  She had rehabilitated a cockatiel rescued from a cat's mouth.  Head slightly chewed.  She had notice my bird seed purchase.  I told her if she was still unable to place it after I moved back, I would care for it.  It was fine, just looked a little bedraggled.  kabuki's bird diet of fresh fruit, veggies, pellets, seed and LOVE has the kabuki flock looking fine.  When I was placing baby lovebirds at the pet store you could tell my birds from across the room.  If only you could cage children, I might have given it a go.  Water under the bridge.  I depart, and decide to stop in at my pet store, just to chat.  It's on the way back.  I pop in.  The owner, his young daughter and her cutie-pie husband are there.  The daughter and cutie-pie love me.  The owner not so much, but I am growing on him.  Not every can fully enjoy the kabuki experience.  I pity them, but only in a small way.  The owner seems extremely not interested in my visit.  The daughter is playing with a sugarglider.  I ask her why she is holding vermin.  She just laughs.  Her husband shows me the glow in the dark aquarium plants.  kooky.  I don't know how I feel about 'glow in the dark' flora.  I make a hasty exit, but I promise to be back soon.  I make way to my 'new abode'.  I stop in downstairs, my extremely overeducated sister has touched her satellite receiver - and now it doesn't work (again).  Her husband is less than thrilled to see me and have no television.  If I stay I will have to fix it (again).  "Just stopped in to say I'm still alive" I say to them.  "Not too many people die from a colonoscopy" grumpy husbands says.  Okey doke, time to drive back to my bed.  In a house with people who don't want me there.  I should arrive just in time to clean up the dinner plates.  (I did).  And not recognize what they had for dinner (I didn't)  And eat leftovers from something I cooked (I did).  And wonder why I spent all day yesterday crying. Sigh.  If spring doesn't show up soon I am going to track it down, plant my foot in its ass, and drag it into my life.  Keep the home fires lit, in case I need somewhere warm to rest.  Adieu


Dr. Love (only he fills my prescription)

Is my head dissolving?  What have they done to me?

I am at my in-laws recuperating from my ordeal.  All went as well  as could be expected - sort of.  We await biopsy results.  As I went to a teaching hospital - if I charged admission to my room the procedures would have paid for themselves with enough left over to send nurse #3 back to IV class. (nuff said).  I arrived at my destination early, hunger gnawing at the root of my being.  Information directed me to the hallway next to the CAFETERIA, those bastards!  Looking back, it was probably a smart decision to house Digestive Health at that location.  I entered the waiting room, leather chairs in green & purple.  (That's probably why they don't let you eat.  naseua)  The waiting room looked like a bruise.  Flat screen televisions on opposing walls blared.  It was 6:30am.  Left wall tv - Good Morning America.  Right wall tv - a movie channel.  What movie? I don't know.  A man and women screeching at each other like howler monkeys, then a lot of moaning. (I think she stabbed him, I would have).  Waiting Room - devoid of life.  Eventually a lady sat at the reception desk.  I handed her my paperwork, she handed it back.  She then handed me blank forms to fill out.  (They were very similar to the forms I handed her, the forms I had been instructed to bring with me.)  Schadenfreude.  My brother (my driver), disappeared to smoke a ciggy.  He had to go miles away, I wished him well. 
  They eventually took me in a backroom, removed my garments, gave me a gown large enough to cover a buick, and footies.  Actually I demanded the footies - they were darling!  (the little things mean so much)   A barrage of doctor/students, doctor/teachers, nurse/sadists, nurse/comedians and too many other people to list paraded through.  I noticed someone came in the next room with a police escort.  A rather large police escort.  How extremely inappropriate.  There were no paparazzi, they would have been dogging kabuki anyway.  Safely esconced in an amazingly uncomfortable bed - they wheeled me into my procedure room. 
  While all this madness was going on, people kept asking me why I was there.  Like it was a seance. "Tell us why you are here?  Give us a sign!"  I would tell them about my two procedures - they would say no, only one procedure.  I would say "OK", they would ask why I thought I was having two procedures.  I would say "Because that is what my Doctor told me".  They would ask me if i 'wanted?' the second procedure and I would say 'not particularly'  and then they would go away.  I finally told the last person who asked me that I was there for a little liposuction and a cheeseburger.  It must be the long hours, the medical community has no discernible sense of humor.  kabuki is a very funny person in the flesh. (I believe this has been covered in chapter 1.)
 Doctor/Student and Doctor/Teacher were in the procedure room, as well as several nurses I had not seen before.  I told each nurse in turn 'You look beautiful today."  Then I asked her to marry me.  One nurse said "We're not the ones operating the scope".  I informed her I was going to flatter everyone in the room regardless of their role.  (the little people so often go overlooked, and a blanket "I would like to thank the academy" just is not enough.  Sharing - look it up)  Doctor/Student came over, refused my marriage proposal, and said "Looking at your chart, it seems you are scheduled for two procedures".  "Imagine that" I said not so sweetly.  Hunger was rapidly damaging my cheery disposition.  That and stupid Doctor/student people.  "Your choice" doctor/student said.  "I am here, I am naked, I haven't eaten anything in 36 hours, lets do this thing"  I stated.  "OK", she replied, and nurse put the good stuff in my IV.
  I was supposed to go 'twilight' for the butt-camera, and 'dark' for the throat-camera, but I have no more memory.  I am pretty sure they tortured me.  "Beauty Secrets, tell us your beauty secrets" they probably demanded.  I know my ninja mind-training held up.  If only they would just read my blog.  It would be a kinder, gentler world if only they would read my blog. 
  I awoke back in my little back room, brother and nurse #3 were there.  Probably conspiring - I have my suspicions.  "Oh nurse, I thought I was going 'twilight'?  Why do I not remember a damn thing?"  I inquired.  "Oh, the 'twilight' drug causes amnesia" she replied all medically-like.  "What you talkin bout Willis?" I tossed out.  She stared into space.  "No one mentioned this to me, and I have spoken to half the staff" I offered up.  "Oh" she said, and that was that.  "By the way, we only did the one procedure.  The Doctor ran out of time"  she informed me.  Was this a new game show?  'Beat the Operating Room Clock' a merv griffin production.  Maybe Doctor/teacher had a luncheon appointment?  Maybe he could not stand Doctor/student another minute.  I can't say - because I have amnesia.  I feel like a soap opera episode (or three).  "Doctor, will kabuki ever walk the tightrope again?  Will the amnesia make him forget his love of spelunking?"  Stay tuned.
  It does appear I will recover.  Procedure two will be another exciting adventure.  I should write it down.  Oh yeah. Nevermind.  Thanks to my well-wishers, your good wishes were felt by my heart.  It did lift my spirits to know I had people pulling for me.  just remember - kabuki got your back.  peace.


kabuki gets the jitters

It is Sunday night, 11pm.  I smell like gingerbread bubble-bath and pantene.  I have consumed one cup of chicken broth in the last 24 hours.  The gallon of solution I drank to cleanse my innerds tasted like watered down paint thinner.  (Modern medicine really pisses kabuki off. )  I shall undergo two procedures in about 8 hours.  I am unusually nervous about them.  Everytime I pass out of sight of my parrot he shrieks, completely out of character.  He held my hand and threw-up on me.  What a sweetheart.  A simple "what's in my water?" would have sufficed.   My sister-in-law managed to make the entire house smell like food most of the day.  What a cunt.  I shall leave this hell this week, one way or another.  My brother called to wish me luck, and argue about my upcoming move.  Earlier this week my brother-in-law tried to delay my move into the apartment above his home.  This winter has been one large cluster-fuck.  I learned long ago not to second guess myself, doubt my intuition, or let people talk me into doing something I knew was wrong.  Drugs, illness, momentary lapse-of-reason - whatever, I let it happen.  I was cajoled into my current situation.  What an ass am I. 
  One of the problems with single life is that you are always in charge.  I grow weary of that responsibility.  At work, at home, in a restuarant, social gatherings, it can be overwhelming.  If only for 30 minutes, let somebody else deal with it.  kabuki would like to rest.  Can't anybody else make a fucking decision?  What I meant to say is 'can't someone with my best interests in mind make a fucking decision?'  I am surrounded by people that try and make decisions for me.  My brothers, sister, sister-in-law, doctors, lawyers, goverment, insurance company - I'm sure I left some people out.  Please forgive me.   And do feel free to suck it.
  A beam of light has been the communication with the real world I enjoy in this blogosphere.  Wit, wisdom, kindness - I have dispensed them all.  OOPS  I mean I have basked in the glow of your magnificence.  Each and every one of you (except YOU - and you know who you are).  I would hug you all, but I really did just wash my hair.  There.  I have managed to blog my way out of both my depression and my anger.  Please submit your bill, and I will put it in a very special place.  Best of luck to us all.  Especially me - I feel like I need it.  Ciao, kabuki zero 


Olympic Observations

I have been watching the 2010 Winter Olympics, except for women's hockey.  I just cannot feature that.  You can do it, but I am not going to watch it.  The two man bobsledding is on currently.  The second guy looks like a linebacker.  He runs real fast, then jumps into the sled and ducks in tight behind the driver.  That would annoy me.  "Little room here, I am trying to drive" I can here myself saying.  Lurking around, I know SOMEONE who would probably be good at that. (xl)  I'm just saying.  The color commentator just said the driver has been involved in the sport since he was two weeks old.  I am sure that is illegal everywhere.  Damn european bloc countries.  Medals Medals Medals - they're not that functional really.  Wear it to a club, spin around, clock your date upside the head.  Anybody got any ribbon cleaner?  Maybe woolite will work.  Haven't been solid gold for decades.  They call that 'costume jewelry' where I am from.  You can get it on the shopping channel.  "A lovely gold vermeil medallion on a gross-grain ribbon.  Two payments of 24.99, and it ships today." Miss Shopping Lady says things like the at all the time.  
  Apparently there are carbon fiber noses on the bobsleds.  That would come in handy on the skeletons they were careening towards death on yesterday. They are made out of coat hangers.  I admire the drivers.  When careening towards death, going 90 miles an hour head-first in a skin-tight catsuit is the way to go.  Scare the dickens out of St. Peter as you crash into those pearly gates.  And steering.  Let's discuss.  Luge, skeleton, bobsled - all events have 'steering'.  Hogwash!  I would rather go down that run on a trashcan lid with a spaghetti fork as a rudder.   Like those little sticks they give the skiers.  Everybody knows those sticks are to stab at the bears as they chase after you.  That is why cross-country skiing has lost favor.  Bears ate most of them.  (Little known Olympic trivia)  Why do you think some of them carry guns?  To be fair those little pop guns wouldn't scare off a titmouse.  Probably piss the bear off.  I'd use it as a cudgel. 
   Ice skating.  Felix mentioned the feathered accessories of the gold medal men's ice skater.  He thought they were a tad effete.  Really?  The sequined vest and tie of the silver medal winner didn't seem as feminine to him.  Two words Felix.  FA SHION!  (feathers are HOT HOT  HOT!) Ice dancing.  I enjoyed it more than I thought I would.  The tango was a good choice.  I have been mad for tango since last spring.  One note: Did anyone else notice that the compulsory pattern skated by the competitors resembled crop circles?  Pay attention people, this is how conspiracies are born. Speed Skating.  How do I get one of those little metal tipped gloves?  I can't believe Rihanna isn't wearing one.  She must not be following the races.  A quick word about ski-wear.  If I can see your little soldier through your suit, it probably is cold.  Put some drawers on, you are representing your whole country, Bode Miller.  Also, why have Ralph Lauren design fabulous olympic duds if one has to don a see-through paint-splattered vest over the outfit?  Canada, your jealousy is showing.  (I am sure some famous canadian designer would run up a few snow suits if you asked nicely.)  Snowboarding.  Honestly, I have no idea what they are doing.  It all involves spinning and twisting while grabbing at your snowboard like there is money on it.  Dangerous, yes.  Entertaining, not so much.  Skiing.  If they would move those little poles a little further apart maybe so many people would not smack into them.  Again, I look to Canada.  Do your homework Canada, you had weeks to prepare.  A word about ski-jumping.  Boring.  Now the skiing up a ramp, twisting and spinning and landing.  I like that.  But to be fair - if that many people are going to do face plants, there should be points awarded.  Not for a medal, but maybe a consolation prize.  I'm sure something isn't selling in the souvenir shop.  Hand those out.  Give those people a little diginty.  OK, i am going to watch some women's Super G.  I wonder what it could be.  Wait, one more word.  If a german man with a french coach is representing greenland in an event - does anybody else find that silly?  


the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune

I was in Gdańsk with Lucrezia Borgia and Solomon Grundy.  We were there for a teleconference with a Dutch Conglomerate.  It seems that the chocolate trends were not pleasing.  Once again kabuki zero donned the 'genius hat' and formed a focus group.  Do not question kabuki's methods!  I bring results, and that is what kabuki gets the coin for.  "Canape?" asked Lucrezia sweetly.  "Oh I'm sorry Luce, I had canapes for lunch" I replied.  She swung the tray towards Solomon as I flashed 'danger eyes' at him.  "Thursday" was all he said as he took several.  The big screen came to life, and the meeting began.  "Hallo gentlemen" I began "How are my ideas working out?" I inquired sweetly, because kabuki is very sweet in 'business mode'.  Like a cobra dipped in honey.  "We had a little trouble with the directors" the chairman began.  I cut him off.  "Let me guess, there are no hot chocolate stands in the Olympic Village.  There are no foil covered chocolate medals for the visitors."  I relied icily.  "Hot chocolate" said Lucrezia as she sprang towards the kitchenette.  "Sit down Lucrezia", I barked.  "This meeting is over, call me when you are serious" I added as I walked over and turned off the television.  These guys are as bad as the Diamond consortium I thought as I sent the others packing.  "Ideas" they pleaded "We need fresh ideas".  "Send me a small bagfull for inspiration" I suggested. "Half-carat SI2 okay?" they inquired.  "Half-carat is doo-doo!  SI2? What ideas can I possibly gather with junk?"  I Screeched at them.  "Maybe you can sell diamonds to the visually impaired- please feel free.  But if you want my help - you know how to reach me" I ended the meeting by politely flipping the room off as I made my exit.  How do I waste a day in Luxembourg?  Maybe grilled cheese sandwiches with the Grand Duke of Luxembourg.  He is simply mad for my grilled cheese.  (sprinkle garlic powder over the cheese).  Try one today.  Maybe with some champagne.  Thats how the Dukester and I roll.  No 'Grand Duke of Luxembourg' for kabuki.  It is kaboo and the Dukester - havin grilled cheese in the palace.  Watching 'The Banana Splits Show".  We both adore 'Danger Island'.  And that is quite enough.  You have seen into my private affairs, do keep it to yourselves. Äddi.


Only love can break your heart

Now witness the power of this fully armed and operational battle avatar! 

 Back in the day, when kabuki dabbled in the affairs of man, kabuki was DUMPED on valentine's day.  Bastard kept the candy too.  One year of chasing, one year of dating, pissed away.  It was the 90's and apparently it was appropriate to take someones heart and stomp that sucker flat.  The culprit was ostracised from polite society, nicked 'The Ice Queen' and sent to live with savages.  (philadelphia)  I refer to it as 'the other valentine's day massacre'.  But wait - does that mean kabuki has been loveless for almost 20 years?  Damn skippy.  kabuki has only loved a handful of times.  There was the crazy man, the whore, the lying whore, and the military lying whore.  A pattern seemed to be developing.  An associate once asked 'Did you ever think that maybe you were too attractive?'.  I replied 'Did you ever think you drink too much?'  And although I know that sometimes Alcohol is the answer, it was not in his case.   Nor mine.  Neither were fine dining, fast cars, expensive jewelry, nice clothes, beautiful homes, travelling, volunteer work, bartending, ad nauseum.  There just does not appear to be a substitue for love.  My dearly departed mother told me her greatest fear was that I would grow old alone.  Thanks for putting that in my head woman!  As you may remember from earlier blog entries, kabuki does not fear.  Pretty much ran out of fear.  And no thanks, don't need any of yours.  I'm good.  (it is important to remind the readers that all blog entries should be read.  this allows a timeline to be established)  And yet I still manage to drag my ass out of bed, speak rudely to the nonexistent help and share my innermost thoughts with you - the stranger in the dark.  Turn on a light, you'll ruin your eyes.  Why do you have to be all creepy like that?  eww.  Now before you rush off to fix me up (we both know you want that honor), let us establish ground rules.  This is especially important for the heterosexual women in the audience.  (Single girls say 'hey').  kabuki favors a tallish, lumbering stack of beef.  Why the ladies always say "I know the perfect guy, he's just like you"  First - thanks for the insult, kabuki is unique.  Second - if you put two similar kabuki-ish type superstars in the same room the results would be catastrophic.  Think earthquake with volcanic aftertones.  Sounds exciting - doesn't it.  Well it is not.  Stop wishing for evil and destruction.  Go rent 'G.I. Joe' for heaven's sake.  What I am trying to say here - if love was simple and easy its value would be lowered.  It is a truly magical and wondrous thing.  Do not take it lightly, don't assume it will tend itself.  Spend time in the moment, deserve the love you receive.  Because the ones who go without would gladly take your place.  Now - where the hell is my box of Godiva?  I am waiting. These blogs do not write themselves people.  Don't make me embarass you in front of the children. 


The Goddess of beauty & love - and Venus was her name

Mr. Peenee and MJ have opened my eyes to a conspiracy of the darkest and most foul nature.  I probably knew deep inside, but it is my nature to always see the best in people.  Felix will back me up on this.  I really am a people person.  That is why I am alone.  It allows me to share with everyone and not just a select few.  I am sure if we knew who they were  (my adoring fans) they would show their appreciation.  On to the conspiracy then, shall we?
As you well know I have been subject to any number of medical tests recently, with more to follow.  I am sure half of them are fake.  The Doctor says " We need to check your hemogremlin and your humogoblin count.  Fast for 36 hours and then go to the diagnostic center."  They take lots of your blood (23 vials) and that is the end of that.  The next time you see the Doctor you may ask "How are my humobuttons?"  "All your test results are nominal" they reply.   They did not test squat.  This is blood letting pure and simple.  The vials of blood are thrown into the ocean, rising sea levels dramatically. (that is because even kabuki's blood is dramatic.)  Medical science is still in the dark ages.  Do you know why you cannot see or hear inside a MRI machine?  It is because they are playing parcheesi.  And laughing behind our backs.  Any way, I have become more pro-active regarding my health care.  That is how I came  to know about the conspiracy. (thought i forgot, didn't you?)  The medical community is trying to discover kabuki's beauty secrets.  They are prepared to go to great lengths in this endeavor.  Proof, you ask?  Later this month kabuki will have an endoscopy and colonoscopy AT THE SAME TIME.  Cameras will be inserted from both ends, they will meet in the middle, and the whole thing is going straight to DVD in 3-D, no less.  Not content to poke and pry kabuki's exterior - their nefarious quest for my beauty secrets shall venture into my nether regions.  There is only one way to stop the madness.  I will tell my beauty secrets to the world.  Once everyone knows - the medical community will be foiled.  Once again kabuki heads off disaster by giving.  Feel free to sob at my magnanimity, i may join you later.  A good cry is so cathartic.  We begin.
It was 1986.  kabuki was poolside at a Residence Inn in Lincoln, Nebraska.  There were two other people at the pool.  A young mother resting on a lounge chair in a one-piece bathing suit, and her young daughter frolicking in the pool.  The girl was approximately 7 or 8 years old.  She was in the middle of the shallow end of the pool, and probably in the same place in the gene pool (ha ha!).  The little girl would jump up spin around and delcare "I am the prettiest ballerina in the world!".  Everytime she said this her mother would reply "Yes you are dear".  It went on for hours, young girls have no sense of decorum.  By now it was getting cloudy out.  I was going to leave when a voice inside my head said "You should be 'the prettiest ballerina in the world'  She has no business wearing that crown."  The clouds parted as a sunbeam liked to knock me senseless.  I understood at once.  I was granted permission to be 'the prettiest ballerina in the world' by no less than 'the prettiest ballerin in the heavens'. 
It is a test of one's character to have greatness thrust upon them.  Their reaction can range from most sublime to tedious.  I decided that the young girl could also be 'the prettiest ballerina in the world'.  And now so can you.  As you desire.  No one can steal something you have already given away.