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.

Terror on the highway

I have mentioned my upcoming visit to my Doctor, and I know you've been worried sick about it.  Thanks for asking. I was listening to The Marshall Tucker Band and cleaning my toenails with a Bowie knife when I awoke with a shudder!  How did I know The Marshall Tucker Band?  Why would I touch (or for that matter - recognize) a Bowie knife?  Why would my toenails have anything but lavender talcum powder and cashmere fluff on them?  What a hideous way to start the day.  I glanced at the clock 7:58 am. Am I still in the nightmare?  I set the alarm for 10:30, and I never wake-up early.  This day has horror written on it already.  After the three S's (shit shower shave) I dress in loose fitting clothes and set out.  One needs loose clothing because the nurses are always pulling sleeves up and down, pants legs the same.  I always offer to completely undress at the weigh-in scale (we all know they want it) but they pretend to have no interest.  Back to my tale of woe.  I get in the car and head out.  It is a sunny day, but strangely cold.  There is a wicked wind blowing towards me, as if to say 'no kabuki - danger danger - go back home'.  kabuki does not scare easily, so I pay no heed.  I turn on the radio "Hi it's the Electric Cafe.  Who am I speaking to?" Obviously a talkative DJ.  "Hey, its Sonny, I'm working outside in Ashburn, could ya play 'Simple Man' by Lynyrd Skynyrd for me and the guys?" a country boy inquired. "Sure. I'd love to, what are you and the guys doing today?" the nosy lady DJ had to ask.  "Well, we're workin outside and I'm all covered in mud.  It ain't pretty" Sonny answered.  Dear readers, the power window had almost completely closed on my neck before my fingers found Duran Duran playing on another staion.  I was barely 10 minutes outside of my little gated-community and there had already been an attempt on my life!  It was by me - but little details are best ignored in times of crisis - as they will just slow you down.  Now with heightened senses and alert to all possible threats, I made it safely to the Doctors' office.  Relieved to be safely at my destination I headed for the door.  The Doctors' office was packed, like Lady Gaga was giving away jewelery or something.  People everywhere, standing room only.  Was I getting an award?  Did they need me to speak?  I hadn't prepared anything but was ready for a 'these are the times that try mans' soul' impromptu speech.  Probably about 20 minutes.  (Any longer and their little eyes glaze over.)  I was touched by the teary red-eyes and sniffling.  These people were overcome with joy, and I had yet to utter a word.  Someone sneezed and my reality shattered.  These were sick people!  Dozens of them!  In my Doctors' office!  Aren't there laws?  Don't they have any common sense?  Stay home and let the normal people conduct their medical business in safety and private.  As it should be.  I approached the receptionist, I noticed she had masks.  "May I have a mask?" I asked sweetly.  "Are you coughing and sneezing?" She asked back . "Not yet" I answered.  "No" was her icy reply.  "I'll be back as soon as I start coughing" I stated, turned and went to sit down.  I menatally pictured her with phlegm in her hair.  Some contagious invalid offered me their seat and I took it gladly.  Don't want to wear myself out standing and end up like these poor souls.  I looked at the woman next to me.  She had no eyebrows, surely a horrible condition ails her.  I clenched my sphincter and tried to breath little, clean air breaths.  Her cell-phone rang.  sort of.  Her ring-tone was crickets and frogs.  I knew it was a signal to the others.  I tensed, ready to strike first - the receptionist called me up to her counter of germs, and ushered me inside the sterile sanctity of the examination room.  When I finally departed (my doctor takes forever), the waiting room was empty.  Even the receptionist was gone, her desk-of-disease deserted.  Their plot had failed, again, due in no small part to my cunning mind and lightning fast reflexes.  There is a lesson here people, I'm just not sure what it is.  I am pretty sure it has something to door with hygene, or maybe frogs - possibly even eyebrows.  What did the doctor say?  Oh who cares, is that why you came here today?  Really?  Really?

Conspiracies and Rumors 2010 edition

There is no truth to the rumor that Felix is actually an 87 year-old norwegian woman named Svenetta.  She does not have a pet cod named 'pluto', and is not allergic to lemon curd. She once worked as a barker for a traveling circus.  She can channel the ghost of Jacque Costeau - and does so at parties. 
MJ does not work for the Mounties.  She does have the Dudley Doo-right outfit - but she only wears it when she goes to sea.  She is an avid sailor and pilots a 37-foot schooner named Bite It.   Her pet beaver consistently wins 'best in show' in the annual Canadian Beaver Club trials.  Her beaver is named Jasper Winston Thurgood IV.  She is one of the Canandian Olympics Judges. Curling 
OZ's avatar is a fake.  He is a dead ringer for Channing Tatum.  His husband is a world-class grand prix driver and they travel they world on a private jet.  He has a black belt in dragon-fist kung fu and can kill you with an altoids tin.  He hates green olives and is immune to scorpion stings.
IVD actually lives in a brownstone in New York city.  He is into stock portfolios and victorian chandeliers.  He once had a hamster named mimi, but a dog ate her.  He now hates all dogs. He has a tattoo of the Mona Lisa on his right buttock, and was once a secret agent, on a part-time basis.  He has been to France 17 times.
NormaDesmond was once a professional bodybuilder.  He owns a string of gyms in the mid-west.  Always steriod-free, he is also a complete vegetarian.  He eats nothing but organic  vegetables - and siamese kittens (szchehuan style).  He has a purple heart from the war but doesn't talk about it.  He is slightly radioactive - but he is not affected by it.  The radiactivity actually helped clear up a unsightly rash.
My name is mob is several people, as stated.  The entire 7th grade english class in a small township in south africa. All children of priviledge- they had their first teacher fed to hippos.  They all have blond hair and blue eyes.  They are very creepy children.
BEAST is a small-set jewish man who lives in upstate New Jersey.  If Mia Farrow and Woody Allen had a child, and did not feed it much - well there you are.  Quiet and withdrawn, he is 132nd in line for the crown in Monaco.  He drives an all-black corvette with 600hp.  Some say he  is a sexual god.  He has 3 nipples.
Donn is canandian, but holds dual citizenship with Italy.  He has fathered 12 children with 9 different women  in Italy.  The children look exactly like him, even the girls.  He is rumored to have perfect genitalia.  It is by posing nude at sculpture classes that he meets most of his ladies.  Paris Hilton has his image painted on the ceiling of her bedroom.  He is being stalked by Random Chick, but is unaware of this.  He once ate 12 hamburgers at a cookout.  He can tell dirty jokes in 7 languages.
RandomChick has been in more asylums than thorazine.  She once thought she was Napoleon Bonaparte.  She is distantly related to him. She worked as an alligator-wrestler at a florida theme-park.  She has been a victoria's secret model.  She loves orange sherbet and has a warm place in her heart for frogs.  She is rumored to have an extensive weapons collection. If you are stranded  on a desert island - you better hope she is with you.  Her survival skills are legendary.
CyperPete is a 47 year old man from Liverpool.  He is the inventor of Snackwells devils food cookies.  Now a multi-millionaire he spends his time golfing, which he hates.  But he is really good at it.  He is considering starting a chain of chicken vindaloo restaurants in Iceland.  He has posed for playgirl.  He has his helicpoter pilots license, and is a raging homosexual.  Some say he has had sex with as many as 5 people.  Total - not at one time.  The man's got his dignity.  They say he is the bastard child of Dame Edna Everage and Tony Blair.  He dyes his hair.
Kabuki is a 53 year old man in virginia.  His grandmother mades bombs for the war.  He father was shot in the Korean war and became a crazed alcoholic.  His mother never said 'i love you'.  He was a gymnast, and still is an excellant dancer.  He has owned 30+ cars.  His favorite was the porsche, but the jag was sweet.  He loves to overdress for any occasion.  He has drank Chateau Lafite Rothschild out of the bottle while driving home from dinner.  He can turn invisible, and his favorite thing is to make people spit a drink out their nose.  It is advisable to abstain while in his presence.  He has called the white house to complain about the government.  He reminded them that he has written software for the president's office - and does not want to be taken lightly.  He recently wore white tights on his head and pretended he was a bunny rabbit - to amuse a white bunny rabbit.  It was only partly successful.
Many people were left out of this first edition of rumor-mongering, and we have yet to touch on any number of conspiracies.  more to follow.

Don't believe it here!

I would like to thank the Doctor who said "this is gonna make you gain just a little weight".  I see her next week.  I plan to hold her down an administer a full body fudge massage.  I know it can be absorbed thru the skin.  I look like the bad guy in a Disney film.  The man who kicks puppies - or something just as evil.  I am actually a sweetheart.  Just ask around.  Now, on to people who bug me. 1. John Walsh  2. Pat Robertson  3.  Jon & Kate 4. Jay Leno 5. Glen Beck   6.  Mel Gibson  7 Octo-mom Unfortunately my list goes on and on.  Can we all say "Crazy white crackers who deserve media blackouts".  There, I feel better. 

Going over decorating plans in my head  for my new apartment.  The large great room will serve both as living and dining areas - as in the more popular homes of the tasteful & stylish.  I thought Retro southwestern for the living room (no pastels) with a japanese black-laquer and silk dining space to spin the visitor right 'round.  Master bedroom will feature early 60's blond wood (tv back chairs, 3-corner table etc)  with fabrics in blues, violets and gold.  Guest room is uncertain, but since I'm using what I have - red oak headboard & nitestand with similar red wood desk and a southwestern loveseat to tie back into the great room.  Kitchen will start with chrome and tempered glass - but I am sure that will not last.  Country french?  maybe.  The bath is fresh with white subway tiles and white marble floor, the existing white fixtures shall serve me fine.  Leaning towards stained glass hung in front of bath window, privacy and jeweltones to spare.  I shall bid farewell to many pieces I have been holding on to, but I don't plan to go larger than 2 bedrooms at any time in the near future.  If more than one person stays over - well someone will get to wake up with the birds.  At sunrise.  When Max starts talking smack.  He is my african grey, and he came crazy so do not blame me.  The stay with relatives this winter has not helped his vocabulary at all (or mine).  He now burbs.coughs, sneezes, farts, meows, barks, tells the other animals to shut-up, and babbles on and on.  If only he had picked up my flair for brevity. Alas.  If anyone wants to contribute to my face-liposuction fund please send precious gems.  They cash out easily, and can be secreted away with costume jewelery.  I am sure Felix will lend me some of his costume jewels, he can't possibly wear them all and still ambulate.  Until anon - you are in my heart, don't try and get in my pants