Tag Archives: Kitty Dukakis

You Can Pin and Mount Me, Like a Butterfly

While Licketysplit is filling buckets, buckets full of love, I am covering the phones here. It reminds me of when we had a Sunday radio show. We were doing lesbian kisses before they invented them for TV. But that was only because we were hoping it might offend someone. Anyway, one time after the usual 4-hits-of-acid-saturday-wake-up-go-to-taco-bell-sunday, we arrived at the station and wolfed down some burritos. I played “the Choke” and “Lunchbox” while ol’ Skanky LaRue was off puking. Get well soon darling!

I am celebrating Valentines Day in a lofty fashion- by eating an enormous onion bagel with melted cheese and tomato. I assure you, it is a most romantic sandwich.

If I lack spirit today, it is because I threw a Valentine Ball at my house this weekend. We had a fog machine, a dazzling array of baked sweets, and a glass punch bowl filled with tequila. The walls were covered in construction paper hearts, heart tinsel, and red paper lantern lights. It was really beautifully done, thanks to the help of my roommates, and an opinionated six year old. Me and Echo hung hearts and decorated cupcakes in hot pink sugar and tiny red candy lips. The party itself was a whirl of dancing and cherry filled Kitty Dukkake. I am pretty sure I had a good time, for I recall delighted faces, dancing to “Xanadu”. I am also pretty sure I didn’t get into any fights, fall down the stairs, or start stroking my roommates’ chest hair and calling them “papi”.

Yesterday I was not awake for very long. Mainly long enough to watch Footloose, which I had never seen before. It has probably been a while for most of you, so let me remind you: Footloose is inexpressibly painful in its dorkiness. And while I love dancing movies, the one part of the body that I don’t want to see “loose” are the feet. Or that musical theater thing where people bow their legs, knees knocking back and forth. I must have a chat with you, 1980’s, and find out just what the hell we were all thinking. One interesting factoid about this film is that nearly all the cast went on to successful careers afterward. Mysterious. Since the film I am currently making is approximately 50 times as awful as Footloose, perhaps its release will catapult me into untold riches.

My future finances thus secured, I bought two import box sets of Morrissey singles, spanning decades of Morrissey. It is the age of Morrissey. All Morrissey, all day. Which is very fitting for Valentines Day. I think i will kick off the next hour with “Unloveable”. We’ll be right back after Licketysplit is done yodeling her groceries.


Here Come Cowboys

Me and my pal Violet went to see the Psychedelic Furs last night. And what else can I say but it was Captain Awesome. We were right up front, kissing distance from the legendary band, and they sounded great!

The assembled fans, on the other hand, were a hideous nightmare of wattles and male pattern baldness, and lousy haircuts. People just don’t take a cue from their idols anymore. They are content to shuffle about, mouth-breathing and unkempt, watching Richard Butler slink around in slim trousers. You can’t help it if you are old and decrepit. But you can help looking it. Surely there is something better than an old man sweater lurking in your closet. I consider it an affront to show up to a rock show looking like a substitute teacher, and a poor way of paying tribute to a band that you love.

Where, oh where have all the Beautiful People gone? These halls always used to be filled with such sullen and pretty faces. Tonight I am going to stay in with Jarvis Cocker and Kitty Dukakis.

Kitty Dukakii, Karaoke, and Bukkake

I am so sure you are all following along at home our adventures with a brand new drink, sickness the Ktty Dukakis. This weekend we unleashed Kitty on an unsuspecting crowd at my house. They smelled her perfume and the glow of her cherries, treatment and were lulled into guileless drunken bliss. Which explains the impassioned duet of Careless Whispers I did with my roomie. Or it explains my adventure in the broom closet, I know not which.


The hours

Tonight we celebrate a birthday!

So far I have managed to buy myself presents instead of buying them for the birthday boy. I just don’t think he would enjoy a polka dotted umbrella as much as Lambchop and I do. I did get an extra bottle of wodka for the making of many rounds of the Kitty Dukakis. Perhaps we should just fill the bathtub?

In other news, my sister is staying with me until some shadowy future point. Yesterday we went shopping, and today I made her go to the grocery store. I was seized with a craving for Chewy Chips Ahoy!, and this reminded us of all the horrible crap my mother used to let us eat for breakfast. We could have anything, as long as we “had it with milk.” I guess milk redeems even Little Debbie snacks or Entenmann’s cupcakes. This is a far cry from early childhood, where we suffered through home-grown vegetable stews and TVP (textured vegetable protein) and weren’t allowed store-bought cereals. A breakdown obviously took place by the time we started having fast food roast beef sandwiches every night. Five for one dollar! From Hardee’s.

In still more loosely connected news, I joined a gym. It has a pool, so the thought of being seen in a swimming costume will ensure that I either go all the time, or never go at all.


Valentine’s Day Round Up (on President’s Day)

Valentine’s Day is indeed our new favorite holiday- it has all the perfume and red fur you can ask for. The trick to avoiding any nauseatingly contrived sentiment is to celebrate it like we used to in the third grade, with little cards and candies for our friends (plus that doughy kid with the big ears our mom wouldn’t let us exclude). So there were hugs and little gifts and red stillettos all weekend for me and Clammy, and all our pals. (Note: if you invite me to your house anytime ever, make sure you keep some martini glasses on ice, so I can fix myself a Kitty Dukakis.)

I feel a bit holiday’d out from Friday the 13th- President’s Day. But it got us all to thinking about the special meaning of friendship and sharing as we dove into our chocolate raviolis on Vday. And me and Clammy realized just how lucky we are to have such swell pals and lovely profiles. We could not help but take a moment to feel for our less attractive brethren, who sit friendless and in need of a skin peel on this Valentine’s Day. And we thought, “why, there must be a holiday for the these people…a chance for us to give something back to nature!” Hence, “Have Sex With An Ugly Person Day” was born. Come April 5th, when for us the warmth of spring generates excitement for summer parties and flirtations, we must think of those less fortunate. And have sex with one of them.

I don’t get into Presidents Day at all. I don’t even have a driver’s license!


Love is in the air

I hereby declare it officially spring. It doesn’t matter that it’s still freezing. From this day forward, I shall dress in the colors of the sherbert rainbow: lemon, lime, raspberry, and orange. Of course “raspberry” is controversial. In the sno-cone universe, it’s blue, but I am going to be a purist and interpret this as pink. Onward, it is time for ballet flats and hair ribbons! Moisturize as ye have never moisturized before!

We at Vomitola headquarters are fresh off a whirlwind St. Valentine’s Day. It is our new favorite holiday, and the table behind me is still strewn with pink petals and red tinsel hearts. Gentle Lambchop stirred up a fine new cocktail, the Kitty Dukakis. It tastes like a raspberry lemonade and smells of perfumed love letters and heaving bosoms. We have also come up with a plan of outreach, of tender ministry, so that all may enjoy a sip from the loving cup. I leave it to Lambchop to explain this proposition in a bit. Umbrellas aloft!