hy did the chicken cross the road?”
OMG! Like I can’t even believe I’m standing here on the Sunset Strip with all my bee-otches talking to The New York Effing Tizz-Imes! Like, Holy Shit, and I mean John Paul porcelain-style Holy!
First of all, I am so not worthy of this. I mean, now that I’m all problemed-out Hollywood-style, it’s queer (not gay) for me to hang out and just talk or whatevs. Wait—hold on—I’m going to Tweety-Tweet like Sylvester is raging!
It’s like, just the other day I was at Pink Dot whistling like my Swedish bro-heims Peter, Bjorn and Whatshisfuckingname! And then my sister from another baby-mama came in all freaky-tweaked-out on the En Vogue reunion rapping “Free Your Mind” and I was all “before you can see me, you gots to learn how to read me” and then I almost wet my pantaloons when Nikki Sixx walked in with the crazy-hot Kat Von D! They are the hottest couple, maybe the best thing since Snack Pack met spoons! I mean, doy!
Suddenly I was all Madonna meets Lenny Kravitz meets Spike Lee doing Wesley and Annabella on a meth binge! You know? Like Michael Bay directing a Slim Jim commercial for the Super Bowl. Like this guy I used to totes be hots for. He was all Listerine mouth-fresh and every time we kissed I always felt like I’d been to the dentist. The sexy dentist. Ya know? For reals. Like “Avengers Assemble!” kinda kisses!
One time I got into a tizz because I golden showered on a plastic thingy and freaked ’cuz it looked all hardcore positive and I mean Minor Threat meets Rae Dawn Chong doing an anti-drug thing before
Anyway, not to get all super-porno on yer asses, but if I had my bee-otches in my hizzy like DMX shooting a King backshot, I would tell you, straight-up and no-shit … that chicken crossed the motherfuckin’ road to get down at Hot Topic for the way-happening Vampire Weekend set at Coachella!
Like, what I mean is that MC5 and Johnny Thunders are GOD and Aerosmith, like any smart-ass chickens, are just trying to get to the other side. Like Alicia Silverstone in Beauty Shop but only if she were fucking Kevin Bacon. Who is rad.
Totally, dog. Now dance like a chicken and everybody cut Footloose! Color me Kenny Loggins but “I’m all-right, don’t nobody worry ’bout me” And watch my show, which is all E.-to-the-T.-Spielberg-sans-Hanks-n’-Cruise kinda sexy.
If ya know what I mean.
Gotta fly. Like R. Kelly. Peace out, bitches. (And by “bitches” I mean not dissing my chicas!) Heh-LO! Where’s my parade?