Jane (or is it June...I can never remember her name), has asked me to co-author her blog. This is because she has taken to the gin and tonic again. Bless her cotton socks. As I stepped over her to reach this computer, neigh, to reach you, dear reader, I reflected on the past ten months with erm, how shall I put it . . . . reflection. It was a beautiful day when we met. The rehab centre looked so welcoming after we’d been chasing the purple dragon all afternoon….she told me all about her trust fund, her properties peppered around Eurasia and her affairs with Portia DeRossi, Jodie Foster and that bint who was once in Roseanne. Oh, I was a whirling dervish in love!
Prithee, forward to this moment. Here we are. Ten months and technically she remains my (as yet barren) mistress. When you look at the gay divorce statistic next census, I do rather hope you think of me and not of the % that I will become. I am, in this wee blither, filling in for your Jenny…or Juliefer as the press now call us…and, as you have so diligently noted, I truly have nothing of interest to say. I can not stress this enough. For example, for a 15 solid minutes today I gave long, serious and hard thought to whether Lindsay Lohan, was in fact, a Loosey Lesbian. I assessed evidence, sent things to the lab . . . there’s a court case pending. My other thoughts were of Jennifer. I am assured she is of the Sapphic persuasion. Lest, my hands-on experience lead me, to this conclusion. That or she fakes it. For my part, I don’t mind if she is faking it.
In three days we are off to see dead people preserved in plastic or something (Bodyworlds). She thinks this will be informative and enlightening (though, presumably not for the dead people). She thinks this and yet she has seen all the dead plastic people before. I am of an immense sensitive disposition; I cannot abide adverts where food is personified and talks without my hairs standing on end and my world spinning. That, and talking body-parts (new Coke commercial anyone? I whither just thinking upon it). Granted these bodies will be dead and therefore not very talkative however, the very fact I am with the stripped-down-to-nothing-but-their-veins-and-arteries deceased, proves my amour tenfold.
So, after-all that, I suppose I do have something to say, in that I am rather fond of your Ms. Jen. And, while I shall not be writing with great gusto (I have to think more on this pressing Lohan situation after all), I will check in when Jen has one of her ‘episodes’. Of which, I have to cut this short as the divine Jen is now on the balcony singing Rule Britannia in nothing but her pantyhose and bra. For those of you seeing her in Toronto shortly – God speed you lovely lesbians, God speed.
(all persons named in this piece bear no resemblance to anybody living or dead. Except the character of Jennifer, who we all know is a complete lush).
2 comments:
Nice to hear from the mysterious girlfriend who refuses to ditch work and come to Toronto. How are we going to control Jenny if you're not here to handle her? She is a HUGE lush and rents bad movies and makes us watch them. Please don't send her alone. If you came, we could maybe have a more sensible Jenny on our hands... ;)
That you are able to even imagine a more sensible Jenny leaves me with great hope, that I too, could have such on my hands one day. I was rather hoping the S/A/R** household would be like a Betty Ford/Rent Good Movies rehab clinic....
BE STRONG I SAY! BE STRONG!
(**gosh that does not look so great written as that acronym...if big bro is watching us, you should have HAZMET at your door in minutes!)
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