LEAPIN' LORDS !

This is my Christmas card for 2009.  Unfortunately my holidays were ruined, and I was unable to post it to my many loved ones (three).  As part of my green christmas pact I printed this on postcard stock.   Stick it on the fridge.  If kabuki won't keep you from snacking, last year's tree certainly should.  How gauche.  This year I used the same tree (green christmas - remember) but I used mostly silver balls(matte, gloss etc)  with silver beadchain for garland and white lights.  Just a few small balls in shades of purple to honor my dear mother.  So don't start, and that leopard print fur jacket screams holiday.  Well it screams.  How many of you matched your wig to your christmas balls (look at tree).  Isn't it funny there is never a Jehovahs' Witness knocking at the door when you are primed?  I would have showed them heaven, by cracky!

I go on.  I was destailing my latest film idea to Felix.  I know he won't steal my ideas - because I would fill his lingerie drawer with scorpions.  Nothing says pissed like a drawer full of scorpions.  A basket of snakes is cute - albeit a tad overdone. I go on.  A young man runs away from home.  To punish his parents he decides to become a devil worshipper.  While headed to the local satanic-devil worshipping niteclub he makes a wrong turn and ends up in a drag bar.  The drag mother tells him that devil worship is nice but if he wants to twist his parents' nipples he should consider putting on a dress.  You can bet he does, and a legend is born.  Working title 'HAIL SATIN'.  Are you smellin what I'm cookin?  I go on.  Is hollwood ready for the creative beacon that is me?  Of course not - true genius is rarely recognised in its own time.  And that is why I am planning on living forever.  Eternal life - once again on my christmas list - once again denied.  If you are not going to get what you ask for you might as well shoot the moon.  I am sure you agree.  My relatives wouldn't even know where to shop to get me something nice.  My very dear lesbian friend asked me 'Just how many cashmere sweaters do you need?  I was not expecting a pop quiz so I was not prepared.  Certainly more than she has, because that would be none.  I go on.  In a thrift store in Virginia the cashier rung up my purchase - a steel blue v-neck cashmere sweater made in scotland.  It was $5.00 and she stage whispered to me that I could get a brand new sweater at Old Navy for about the same price.  I told her the sweater in my hand (green shopping) was certainly a couple of hundred dollars new.  She told me she did not own a couple of hundred dollars worth of clothes.  Like it was a good thing.  I almost cried the entire way home, but instead I just clutched my prize to my bosom.  And that is what Christmas means to me.  I think.  So in the full spirit of giving, I go on no more lest one of us gets a headache.

Spiritually bosom clutching - kabuki

Another year can bite Kabuki’s snow white ass re-post (may 2008)

hello kittens. kabuki had another freakin' birthday. Time has NO hold on kabuki, although gravity is an evil taskmaster. My two bestest friends came up to chez mois, and we partaked of this fair citys entertainment meccas. Of course, first we went to goodwill - with a carfull of delicious gifts for the poor and tired. Dropped the goods off in the back, then swing around to the front for SHOPPING. I bought a hideous silver-plated shrimp platter. I had to buy it, because I already had one. Where a hideous shrimp dish is tacky, two are sublime. Figure it out on your own time. After successfull shopping (somebody else paid), I returned to the Cathedral (my ancestral mobile home), borrowed a big-ass truck(Ford f-250 superduty) and filled it with belongings which no longer pleased me. And off to the dump. I had never been to a dump before, and I dare say I won't dash back. Absolutely nothing going on. I mean a couple of people were throwing things away, but it's not like I was going to leave the dump with their stuff. Because people will talk. And then they would have to die. And I have seen entirely to much prison on CNBC (their schedule is predator, predator, prison, prison, prison and repeat). So if I killed all those people whose talked about me (and it would be LOTS of people - because I am popular), I would have to flee the country - and hide out abroad. Which would never work. I always have a 32 oz glass filled with ice, and a beverage of choice. And what country would be able to supply kabuki's ice requirements? Monaco maybe, and even then only temporarily. Kuala Lumpur? Not even. So here lies the predicament. You can't even kill the people that talk about you. Bad karma. But you can imagine them in uncomfortable situations, they can't take that from you. Often I cast my gaze around the food court of my local mall, and the song in my head is 'heat rash, cold sore, hangnail'. And while I may later regret such imaginations (i won't), no harm was done. At least to me. On my birthday. Like a card would have killed you. If you suffer bad hair do not blame me, because I did not go there. But I will go to my happy place, and send much hot sexy love your way. So go wait by the mailbox.

  surely not any wiser  kabuki zero