Imagine a little girl (uh-oh, this is like the Animal Channel where there’s a deer- -impossible!- -on the savanna and you know it’s about to get it) BUT suddenly the author’s hand (that would be mine when i’m not paring my shining black nails Ha Ha Ha– Joyce had sex with Jack the Ripper!!) intercedes like the luminescent hand of God
(in a fanfare of glitter, gauze, Gucci Handbags, and hogs)
BUT, seriously, this is all but an introduction to Freaky Fridays (“ha! it’s not Friday you might say, ignorant of our giant and suave offices and officers in London where, yeah, it is big, drizzling and o-O-O very much Friday—- *clears throat very auspiciously)
so, why these Freaky Fridays?? —- ok, kid, that was super polite, so:
1) we’ve earned it. we’ve worked our asses off since we hard launched back on November 24!!
2) Look at our contributor pages (browse them like the meat section of yr QFC, Kroger, Tesco, Tiendita, blah, blah— maybe the Tiendita is called the “Abejita,” the little bee, and there’s a gorgeous man holding an orange there in the winter sunlight right RIGHT NOW— or maybe not):
yeah, we are a bunch of freaking FREAK FREAK FREAAAAAAKKKKKS xoxoxoxoxo Yeahhhhhh
3) The hedgehogs demand it. The tea baggers. The sugar babes and baggers. The old lady in our Tarot Shoe who knows are country is fucked. Our culture. Our Tea Rooms and our Brittany. All Fucked. Fucked. FUCKED. so, yeah, why not FREAAKKKKKK ?????
*****This is the right and privilege of the fucked and the decadent. Oxygen! Oxygen. Oxyg…..
4) There’s a man, a real man, in the desert. O, really???!!! I don’t give a hairy aunt or uncle or m-m-m- Mackerel about the man in the desert, or a slide-down Shakespeare goat, I mean “boat”– dripping, dripping
5) Fred “i’m off to bed now” Seidel just called to invite me to a languid and purring motorcycle tour of Northern Italy (to eat all the artichokes, smirking, he says). And perhaps we’ll visit some gas chambers. It’s all just human blood, he said sadly, as he conjured Adam and Eve fondling each other under a pear tree. Zipper. Zipper. Yeah, that rhymes with old-man Clipper. And I was tingling. tingling.
But I said no (really, I said no ??? Shhhhhhh). Because I have a moral compass. Blah. Blah. (Freaking Exhausted!)
6) Girls, o Boy, o Boy–just wanna have fun. But we are so much more than girls. We are hedgehogs. And you can and will hear us roar!!! Just as soon as we’ve finished our tea. Our bowling. Our exquisite corpses. Our blah blah—ooooooo, I am feeling a little wobbly.
——>>>This here is a time for plumbs, my friends. Bend me your ears. Eh, two-face, leering. Mwahhhhh!!!
& it all, of course, ends with a dog. And begins with a simmer. Or a hummer. Is your sex-fiend available???
…… I just gargled with Mozart’s DNA. Or maybe it was just an ordinary foot soldier. Or a librarian. Yeah.