Category Archives: Uncategorized

Ask Kitty Winn!

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Your lives are terrible. You’re lonely, you’re poor, and your hair is doing terrible things. Fret not, Kitty Winn has the answers!

Dear Kitty Winn,

I’ve recently inherited a sum of money. It’s not enough to spend the rest of my days drinking champagne from the navels of painted whores or nothing, but it’s enough for either some short term stupidity or a stab at fiscal responsibility. So I ask you, should I give in to my base urges and blow it all on penny whistles and moon pies, or do I save for a (boring) rainy day? Yes, the economy is uncertain, but the native boys aren’t getting any younger!

Love,

-feckless in rhode island

Dear Feckless,

You are overlooking the obvious. You can do something fun that will also ensure you a lucrative future- Breast Implants! There is nothing like a little unnecessary surgery to provide a girl with frivolous joy. And think of all the fun and career opportunites you will have with a great swinging set of hooters! Yes, fabulous breasts will line your pockets with cash and keep you knee deep in casual sex. Go for the whompin’ ‘taters!

-Kitty Winn

Pin the tail on the Continent

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The prodigal Lambchop has ants in the pants. I used to have that game, springing the colored plastic bits into the blue bucket overalls. Now there’s a way to spur the imagination of a young girl! Between that and my Cooties set, I was braced for My First STDs by the age of 9. Anyway, what does that have to do with anything? Absolutely nothing! What I really mean is I am ready to blow this pop stand. Pack up the makeup case and the bunny and pull up anchor. Lickety, I can count on you to slaughter the fattened calf! and some of those little finger sandwiches you like so much.

Alright stick a pin in that little thought balloon- I have to get some work done.

But to all of those who attended the candlight vigil beneath the window of Lickety’s sick chamber, I thank you. And it is my pleasure to announce to all in that she has not only NOT died, but we managed to save the leg as well! Thank the stars for our friends and consumers of detritus, the maggots! You should have seen hope alight in our young patient’s face as we packed the wound with larvae and watched them munch their way through the poisoners of her flesh.

smooch

A pox upon the House of Vomitola

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Wave the incense and wooden crosses! Hurl a dead cat over your left shoulder! Poor Lickety has the Plague. She has swollen nodes and blackened gills. She is feverish and her lungs are covered in pustules. Her lips are cracked and blasted as she draws in choking final breaths.

But she is most pleased to be home from work.

Doctor Lambchop will be coming round to see her soon with a case filled with leeches, stomach lances and unguents. Please send lots of mylar balloons and little stuffed animals because she just loooves all that tacky crap. And a person ought to die happy, if they possibly can.

smooch

Lambchop wants to Know!

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So I am into medical accessories these days. My newest painting contains what looks like a Liv Tyler fairy on her way to be martyred in a back brace. Which is not a bad idea, really. Anyway, kiddies, your humble servant Lambchop does love realism and is taking a break from the studio hunched over this keyboard with ribs wrapped excruciatingly tightly in bandages. I feel like I am under 6 feet of mud. My advice to you- never break anything if you can help it.

But it’s not all about me me me. I have also been hard at work on an investigation that will benefit you, Dear Readers as well. I have composed the following letter to that all knowing sexpert, Dan Savage . It reads:

Dear Dan

My friend wants to put me in an empty bathtub and pour bottle after bottle of champagne over me. To which I would happily consent, but I fear injury to my tender bits when sitting in all that alcohol. And though I hate to repeat unsubstantiated lore, I even heard *somewhere* that Natalie Wood ended up in a hospital after springing into just such a cocktail.

So, Dan, help a young floozy out- is this risky business or can we pop our corks and have at it?

-drink me

I am chewing on my pencil waiting for his snappy reply. In the meantime, if any of our Dear Sweet Adorable-as-a-Puppy Readers have some relevant input, please feel free to share. You will remain anonymous unless otherwise specified, much like the dockworkers Lickety and I sell favors to on weekends.

O incompetence

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You’re all in luck, I am pretty freaking incoherent today. A heady blend of dayquil and giant starbucks latte is coursing through my veins. My eyes are glassy, I can barely hear a damn thing save a dull roaring, which could be my monitor or possibly the voices screwing with me. It would be easy to sneak up on me and scare me if anyone were so inclined. And what do I have to do today? Lots of busy work. Print shit out. On the scary big “tabloid” sized paper. Use a 3-hole puncher. I should probably swear off using the paper cutter. Yes, normally I do fairly complimicated technical work, but these days I am the secretary. Secreting everywhere. And it’s not even like I have James Spader for a boss!

Speaking of amputation, it is my fondest wish to have my little toes removed. They serve no purpose, and they make it hard to wear fashionable shoes! I’m not talking about any kind of accident, I want full anesthesia, a reputable cosmetic surgeon, and a prescription for some top-notch drugs for my extensive recovery period. Yes, I want it to look like they were never even there. Tootsies as smooth and gleaming as other parts of my anatomy.

Lambchop, I have set out a bolt of the finest burlap, and it is my fervent hope that the gnomes will scurry out and whip up a flouncy frock for you! I’ve called several bridal supply stores, and they were a bit brusque as they informed me they did not carry any live animals, nor do they have any truck with burlap. I guess we’re going to have to do this ourselves.

In other news, my sister is being stalked by a crazed Saved By the Bell fan! Godspeed, li’l tofu boots!

xxoo

O Canada!

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No, as benign and Narnian as Canada may be, you are not the first one who wants to live there. Who would have thought?

I did not see the State of the Monkeyshines Address, as it aired here at the hour when all good Germans are out drinking. My evening was informed at the cabaret by a trippy breakdancer who looked like Mr. Clean, some handstand acrobatics, and the swallowing of many ping pong balls. (not by me- all I managed to swallow were several glasses of beer. If I had been more ambitious, I would not tell you about it, anyway.)

Anyway, all is right with the universe because Mr. Nick Cave is releasing a new album. I can’t wait to listen to it while I try on my bridesmaid’s dress made of dyed peach goose feather and black dog’s nose pumps!

smooch

tuna walls?

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I got take out sushi from Shino Express on Newbury today. On the wall there is a painting of a silhouette of a woman, sort of a teal color, looking very much like a Duran Duran album cover. Her lips are bright pink, and she’s hosting a hefty piece of tekka on her chopsticks. And swirling teal letters read: Tuna as fresh as your lips.

Needless to say, that set me off but good! I walked back to work humming “lips like tuna/tuna kisses…” My friend S speculated that this was a translation from Japanese that was actually more meaningful than the orginal thought. Infused with a hearty significance.

Anyway, life is sheer dada at this point. I’ve decided to solve the wedding problem by hiring a stand-in. I am picking out Lambchop’s dress….it’s going to be a good one! Can’t wait to see you tooling around the floor doing the chicken dance!

Last night I watched the State of the Union address. Of course I really set out expecting American Idol to be on, but alas and alack, there was my least favorite winged monkey, in full becufflink’d regalia. I shouted lustily at the screen for the first fifteen minutes, then I feel asleep. And when I woke up, the Democrats had trotted out a God-honest Chinaman to give their rebuttal! I expect this was to counter all the tight shots of the one female Reublican and the one Black Republican in the audience. Anyway, Governor Locke managed not to start frothing at the mouth with rage (which is what the Democrats probably SHOULD do for a change), and he navigated the moderate waters valiantly and even concluded with a rousing “God bless America!” Oy. The subtext of the whole affair seemed to be “at least we all agree we are not down with Allah.” And before I feel asleep, the Shrub had managed to tout a Hydrogen Car and condemn abortion and any research involving cloning. I think I conked out right after faith-based initiatives. The human mind can only withstand so much torment! What a sense of defeat. I’ve voted my bleeding heart liberal conscience in every election since I turned 18. But what good does it seem to do? There’s all those states in the middle of the country to contend with!

I think my only hope is to move to Canada. I’m going to call up the Prime Minister, whatshisname, and see if I can come for a visit. Surely they’ve never encountered the situation of someone WANTING to move to Canada before? This could be one for the history books!

xxoo

Ahh, weddings!

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So what if you have to arrange for hundreds of people to have an irksome time, all the while dressed like a cake decoration? Check dignity at the door and force all of your acquaintance to form a Conga line! Anyway, you will be so dizzy and pitter patter with loveliciousness, that you won’t notice any of it. I, on the other hand, as your Lambchop of honor, have to wobble around in something deliberately calculated to be more hideous than that froth you are coated in, and in front of a date. Must I do the Achey Breaky in front of someone I hope wants to sleep with me?! Can’t we just take some acid on a beach, anoint your two precious heads with oil and call it a day?

No? Didn’t think so. Well, I hope you go for something with a bustle!

Speaking of bustle, I am having another entirely uneventful day. Although, when i tried to coax some cash out of the ATM, i could swear I heard tinkly laughter before it thrust my card back at me. Oh I also finished my newest painting. Its about strange friendship. Lets be other people, eh clyde? Maybe my next picture will include a figure in a white veil. With a flesh colored eyepatch- a waxen faced cyclopean bride!

smooch

drop a boulder on me, lord, or whatever method your might prefer

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Ok, this is not a typical rant, but I need to vent. I’m planning a motherfucking wedding, and I’m awash in a bilious sea of taffeta and shrimp puffs. $120 per person to feed Uncle Burt, Aunt Henrietta, and Big Fat Cousin Susie and her own unruly brood? I haven’t seen these people since New Year’s Eve 1986 (I’m not even kidding). I really see why women freak out (who watched Bridezillas last night on FOX? Admit it!) when confronted with all of these horrendous options for commemorating your nuptials. Today I’m at the point where I realized I just don’t care anymore, I want to hire a wedding coordinator, give them a budget, and we’ll just show up on the right day, stinking drunk. So I go Googling for Boston wedding coordinators, and I find…drumroll please….Klasi Events of Attleboro, MA….Dorna Love’s Wedding Daze of Lynn, and most notably Phat Katt Productions. Holy Fucking Shit. Not only do they cater to the big fat bride, they remind you that a basket of ladies toiletries in the restroom is a must for one’s guests!

Yes, you can’t throw a wedding without handiwipes. Now I don’t think I’m asking for much…an outdoor location in September for 75 people that will allow us to bring our own booze and have bar-b-q catered by Redbones. So if anyone out there has a palatial backyard they feel like renting out, let me know! Believe me, I’ve already lobbied for Vegas. Shot down. We are destined to have some unholy jamboree. Stay tuned as I unravel mentally over the next few months.

Oh, and yes, I’ve been to Indie Bride. Didn’t help! Feh. A pox on wedding bullshit.