Archive for the 'leisure' Category

08
Apr
10

Narcissism Begins At Home

Hee Hee Hee Freaking Hee. Looooove this new Tiger Woods commercial for Nike. It is so creepy, I almost can’t stand it except it’s so amazingly, God-awfully Grrrrrrrrrrrrreat! (Sorry, had to throw in the Tony The Tiger bit, I know, infantile.) Who the hell comes up with this shit? I mean, are his handlers for real? Are they subconsciouly trying to make Tiger look ever more like the soulless alien sociopath he really is? It is just fascinating to me that after all he has been through, having all his inner kinks splayed and exposed to gazillions of people, being crowned Chief Executive Royal Douchebag, Master Asshole Supreme, Sargent McWags-His-Dick…you name it…there really is, truly, no real sense of shame. I mean, I don’t really see it. It all comes off as being way too canned and contrived.

In a scandal where the perpetrator is widely criticized as being stiff and insincere…why in God’s name would you film a commercial that I would imagine is supposed to be some sort of positive pr…that captures the subject in a bizarre catatonic goggle, and in splendidly grim black-and-white no less, with the disturbing disembodied voice of his dead father piped in? What the hell? Did the Art Director whip out his ouija board and channel Hitchcock’s direction from the grave on this one? Maybe Tiger has a secret Polanski fetish…would not be surprising, actually. It just boggles my brain as to why, if you are trying to make the man more family friendly, wholesome, and honorable, would you not perhaps have a commercial with Tiger…and his family! (Quite possibly because they truly can’t stand to be in his presence) Or at least, hey, they’res the Tiger we know and love GOLFING! That’s a novel idea. Or hell, eating a hamburger, kissing a baby, visiting the elderly…doing something normal at least, anything…anything! Anything besides him just standing there like he’s rehearsing for a cameo role in a remake of Invasion Of The Body Snatchers.

You know, I get the angle I think they were really aiming at. I think this was supposed to show a serious, reflective Tiger, ruminating on the words of his father. That would have worked perhaps, if they were able to capture an expression on his face that actually looked like he was thinking about something. Something other than perhaps eating your children.

And I love the voice over they picked! Out of all the sound bites available to them, they picked the one that leaves Tiger most wiiiide open for ridicule. I love it! Loooove it! Nike should just go ahead and fashion a commemorative Tiger Woods pinata for scorned wives everywhere to bash with glee and abandon. Or better yet, a faux Tiger carcass that can be hung in various Albertson’s parking lots across America for wanton stoning and picking apart by the frenzied masses, like Benito Mussolini. Tiger effigies would be pretty cool too. I think I’m going to burn one tonight after dinner.  .

So you hear his dad asking Tiger these questions, and I’d like to fill in the blanks to what I believe was floating around in Tiger’s potentially vacant head.

“I want to know what your thinking was…” (Hookers. Oh yeah, and Me. Money. Golf. Hookers.)

“I want to know what your feelings are…” (Feelings.  Hmm. Not sure what those are. I am a sociopathic android. I feel like I like hookers, money, sex, golf, and myself. Oh, and hot wings. Yeah, I really do like those.”

“And I want to know, what have you learned?” (I have learned to always, always, always! Delete text messages to my hookers, porn stars, blow up dolls, vicodin dealer, etc. etc. Always. And take Elin and the kids out Wednesdays and Friday nights, stay home Monday and watch ‘Dancing With the Stars’. This will create the illusion I love them. Oh, and season passes to theme parks. can’t forget those.)

On a final note, I think that Tiger’s decision to play in this year’s Masters speaks volumes to the truth belying his character. The man has won 4 jackets already. I’m sure he will win many more. What would it hurt for him to take a year off and focus on his family, rather than his public image and bank account? I hear a lot of people-primarily men- rooting for Tiger “to just get back to what he does best, playing golf!” Sure, let Tiger go out and play…after he has taken some time to really try to make things right at home. It’s beyond obvious his wife is not happy about his choice to play, which is why she is in Sweden, while her husband is out trying to reprove to the world just what an incredibly big penis he is. I mean, has. It’s all about the “Wood”, you know?

Men like Tiger make me vomit in my mouth just a little, because at the end of the day, it really is still all about him, and there is so little true accountability for his actions. While on the surface, there are these lame emotionless apologies cast out like memos designed to cover his metaphorical ass, they are a thin veil that barely covers the bulging (lol I said “bulge”) muffintop that is his ego and sense of entitlement. I’m sorry, I just truly believe that a man who really wants to show his wife and the world he has truly changed, would be channeling his sole focus on his family, not his career, especially since this guy obviously is not feeling too much of the effects of a “tough economy”. (Hell, sales of many of his endorsed items have increased! I’m sure purchased by other men who cheat on their wives in an attempt to create a “band of brothers”, bonded together by mutual douchiness, self-absorbtion, and adultery) Dude can more than afford to take some time off and hang with the wife and kids. You know Tiger, like the kid you say you felt so bad about missing his first birthday because you were in SEX REHAB…hellllloooo…it is NOT NORMAL to miss your child’s FIRST BIRTHDAY because you were in SEX REHAB! Hello, are we casting for VH-1 Celebrity Tool Academy yet? I think we have a winner! And by the way, you know what the name of his rehab facility was? “The Gentle Path”. WTF? Really? The gentle path to what? Why aren’t these places called “Camp Boot Up Your Freaking Ass?” or “Enter Here For 28 Days of Being Socked Upside The Head Repeatedly With A Petrified Nerf Bat”? The only gentle path there needs to be for manturds like Tiger is a gentle path to a good ass-whooping.

So, again, Daddy…why are you not with your son NOW, and instead of being off playing GOLF trying to reprove you are KING OF THE MOFO’ING WORLD?????!!!!! Do you not care that your kid is going to get into kindergarden and be like, “what do you mean your daddy didn’t cheat on mommie with a dozen trampy hobags and then leave for a long time to go into sex rehab and miss your birthday and then make it up to you by taking off to spend time playing a really lame sport with a bunch of elitist codgefarts when he could have been home playing putt-putt with you? Huh? Really? I thought that’s what all celebrity dickhead daddies did!”

Where are your priorities, really? And shame on the men who support his behavior and think, just let the man play golf! Why? Cause you want him to be vindicated and you can vindicate yourselves on some level vicariously through him? It’s really sad. So many men are still so chauvinistic and seem to feel this great sense they are entitled to stuff their man snausage into any and every female orifice they find arousing, and women are just supposed to spread their legs, like it, shut up, and leave politely when they are asked to. Oh, and don’t forget to thank Sir Cocks-A-Lot for the privilege of his time and touching his penis. He did, after all, buy you a dinner or two.

And don’t  dare have any care or feelings for Sir Cocks. No matter he told you how beautiful, wonderful, special, fabulous you were, perhaps bought you gifts or at least a couple of drinks. Why should you take stock in the fact he said he cared about you…as a person. Certainly he cared about you as a person! You are a person with a vagina that is much warmer and more pleasing than a blow-up doll. Plus you are a person that can make him feel special, important, sexy, manly. See! You are very, very useful to these sorts of chaps. You are vital to stroking the penis, stroking the ego. After all, there is only so much of  the aforementioned the man can do himself. Please, be a love, help a fella out! It’s exhausting being the center of the universe! It really is the least you can do. Think of it as a public service, something that all good female citizens must do, kind of like voting! And hey, remember that we are lucky we get to do that!

Ok, I’ll stop now, before I start to sound like Alanis Morrissette. Eew.

19
Mar
10

Further Proof I Am Insane…LeDonna Tunes Into The ENTIRE VMA’s (Originally posted 9/08/08 on MySpace)

Further Proof I Am Insane…LeDonna Tunes Into The ENTIRE VMA’s
Current mood:  cantankerous
Category: Music

Yes, I am crazy AND I have no life. Indeed, I did throw away about three hours of my life I will never be able to get back. I didn’t intend to…it just happened. I was watching Jim Gaffigan on Comedy Central and there was an ad. I didn’t even know they were going to be on! That’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it? In the past, I’d actually PLANNED to watch them.

However, I must preface that alarming disclaimer by footnoting that I planned to watch prior VMA’s 1) In the presence and company of my daughter (primarily to provide parental guidance and proper censorship, NOT just a cheap pathetic attempt at bonding, as some might think. I assure you, it was not. That was when we watched American Idol.) and 2) If Justin Timberlake was performing.

DON’T JUDGE ME!!! “Justified” was an awesome musical force of nature. (OK, not really, but it was a dance-tastic cheese-a-rrific rock-you-body-good time. You know it was.)

Plus, this was the 25th Anniversary of the VMA’s! Surely, there were to be classic performances, favorite stars making impromptu appearances, montages highlighting great moments in VMA history…like stuff from back in the day when MTV actually broadcasted music…so I was kinda excited. Again, I hadn’t seen any of the hype or advertising in the weeks prior, so I honestly didn’t know what I was in for.

Wow, I wish I had. I would have added at least 3 hours to my sleep life.

There was nothing. It was a complete yawn fest. No drunken Britney. No Justin. No exciting suprise performances by the likes of old school faves like Madonna (a la ‘Vogue’-still hands down all time pinnacle of  VMA perfection), KISS, Fat Axl Rose, Van Halen reunion…nothing. Just motherfucking JONAS BROTHERS!!!!

Like Nancy Kerrigan wailed after her knee was pulverized by that guy with the weird name I can’t remember who was bangin TonyaHarding…”WHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?!” is exactly what I was screetching as I clutched my head in bewilderment.

Confusing me more was the inclusion of  Kid Rock. I am sorry, I am so perplexed over this one. MTV could have picked one of 1000’s of veteran badasses to step in for a song. Especially for the 25th Anniversary???? I guess maybe Madonna was busy with A-Rod, and Bono was out ending poverty again. What about Pearl Jam? Or REM? I’m not even huge fans, but it would make more sense than fucking KID ROCK!!!! What about Duran Duran?? Vintage MTV goodness. I just saw them on Ellen 2 days ago! they would totally be up for it! “Hungry Like The Wolf” is on Rock Band 2!! It just makes sense!

The Cure…Depeche Mode…Radiohead…Bueller…

Bueller…

F@ck…I mean, what about Def Leppard?!  VH1 loves them! MTV, you made them! I’m sure they would gladly give up a date on the casino circuit to play for you. Motley Crue! Prince! Michael Jackson! He certainly could use the money!  I can think of about 10,000 other acts I’d rather see than Kid Rock, and much more fitting for a 25th Anniversary special.  Just another good reason why MTV as a whole just needs to be obliterated. Tool Of The Devil, that’s all it is.

Kid Rock…uggh,so heinous! So much so, I refuse to call ‘Kid Rock’. I’d rather refer to you as ‘Baby Pebbles’. I find that more fitting. You make one- maybe two- white trash anthems…and bang Pam Anderson for 10 minutes…and now you’re a rock legend???? You may be king of the doublewide, but you ain’t no cowboy, much less a painful memory of a bad flash in the pan. Dude looks like a catfish! I actually saw him in Webster’s next to the entry for “BottomFeeder”. Seriously, I hear he swims around in a stagnant pool of water feeding off algae and his own poop.

His hair is thinner than mine!

Please, stop. You peaked with your cameo in “Joe Dirt”. ‘Nuff said.

Truthfully, although it was painful, I’m glad I tuned into the VMA’s as I ended up with a smorgasborg of great nonsense to make fun of and sound off about. So much so, it will take many entries to do so. I am going to subdivide my commentary based on topic, providing ease of reference for my beloved readers. All 3 of you. Unless I get bored and forget.

XOXO,

LeDonna
Your Favorite VMA Commentator EVER.

17
Mar
10

Happy St. Patty’s day!

You know, I think it’s sad most people limit celebrating St. Patrick’s Day by wearing green and getting drunk. This year I am creating a new tradition. I am only speaking Gaelic today and surprising folks with spontaneous bursts of Riverdancing.

15
Mar
10

VMA Soundoff- My Intense Hatred For Katy Perry *Originally posted 2/10/2008 via MySpace

VMA Soundoff- My Intense Hatred For Katy Perry
Current mood:  pure
Category: Pets

***** ALERT! ALERT! What you are about to read HAS BAD WORDS IN IT. I REFERENCE BEASTIALITY AND OTHER  SEXUAL ACTS OF A (SOMEWHAT) PERVERTED NATURE.  NOT INTENDED FOR MY DAUGHTER OR ANY OF HER FRIENDS, CURRENT WORK COLLEAGUES AND ASSOCIATES, FUTURE POTENTIAL EMPLOYERS OF DEAD END JOBS, MY PASTOR, THOSE WHO UNFORTUNATELY ENJOY THE MUSIC OF KATY PERRY, THE LUGE COMMUNITY, AND SUFFERERS OF CHROHN’S DISEASE. YOUNG CHILDREN AND THE ELDERLY SHOULD VIEW ONLY UNDER THE SUPERVISION OF A PARENT OR AN INATTENTIVE TEEN WHO IS UNER THE INFLUENCE OF MIND ALTERING SUBSTANCES. YOU MAY EXPERIENCE NAUSEA OR SUDDEN BURSTS OF IDIOPATHIC DIARRHEA. THOSE WITH TEMPORAL LOBE DAMAGE OR ABNORMALITIES MAY EXPERIENCE SEIZURES OR UNCONTROLLABLE SPASMS OF THE BLADDER. YOU MAY FALL DOWN AND NOT BE ABLE TO GET BACK UP. CERTAIN RESTRICTIONS MAY APPLY> OKAY, I’M DONE NOW.

So you kissed a girl.
Well woohoo, good for you, Miss Katy Perry, you talentless bucket of lusciously long-legged cow dung. I’m glad you pioneered this revolution, because certainly no one else would have ever, ever, figured it out.

I so very much cannot stand Katy Perry. No, not cause she’s prettier than me or anything. Huff. I’m not THAT shallow and insecure. I am perfectly comfortable waddling around in my rapidly-aging skin. You guys should know me better than to just assume I dismiss any hot young vixen I feel remotely threatened by.

Hey, I rock my elderliness. And again, I’m learning that maternity pants have many fun fashionable functions, even when you are not with child. I like elastic panels and stretch denim. Really handy when I make my 10th trip to the starch bar at Old Country Buffet.

No, I hate Katy Perry because HER SONG IS RETARDED!!!!!!!!

A couple days before she was on the VMA’s I saw her on the TODAY show, and I’ll tell ya, I’m not sure which was the most uncomfortable…the 9-year-old girls bouncing together in unison, chanting every lyric, undoubted primed to make out all together on the way home hiding in the back compartment of mom’s mini van…

Slumber parties will never be the same!

“Hey guys, after we eat this pizza let’s make out like Katy Perry and those skanky girls on dad’s “Girls Gone Wild” DVD! Yay! Then we can play Barbies and do each others hair!!! Yay! Hey mom, you wanna play too?!”

But even MORE creepy was Hoda Kotb, who’s like in her 50’s, and Natalie Morales, who’s 36 and preggers…were arm-in-arm, bopping around singing like it was…I dunno…maybe Bon Jovi or something. LOL! I wonder if they looked at each other, in that certain way…and silently communicated…”Yeah Hot Stuff. You. Me. Kathie Lee. In the Green Room…NOW!”

However, the Creep-O-The-Week Award went to a very apparently aroused Matt Lauer and Al Roker, who were saliviating like she was a pork chop and making these weird wet stains in their trousers. Eeww. (I have more to say on this topic, but that’s another blog)

Then she turns up on the VMA’s, singing a really bad cover of “Like A Virgin”, followed up by her catchy little lesbo ditty. I just realized, I had had enough.

And why? Not because I feel like she’s encouraging young girls to try out lipstick lesbianism…with all the bump ‘n grind ass action prevalent in todays media…we all get plenty of exposure to that. And whatever, if you want to kiss girls, cool, that’s your choice. I don’t think it should be particularly peddled to young girls, but that’s not the root of what gets me.

What gets me is girls with marginal talent making risque songs and using them to launch themselves to fame.

I mean, you saw it a bit with Madonna…let’s face it, she is obviously less talent than she motivation. But she was sort of the pioneer of embracing one’s sexuality (“Inner Slut” as I like to call it) and profiteering from it. Had there been no “Like A Virgin” just at the right time, and just more “Holidays” and “Borderlines”…would she really have broken out the way she did? Hmm. I think not. At least not until she put out that book of hers where she got nekkid with Vanilla Ice. (Eeww.)

Also…you got Alanis Morrissette, going down on Uncle Joey from “Full House” (Another massive “Eeww”) in her menstrual angst fest “You Outta Know”.

(Sidebar on that note- Here is a PSA from me to all mens out there…Please, if you have to date Alanis Morrissette…although, I cannot see why you’d want to, she looks kinda like a bonafide American Saddlebred….but hey, maybe that’s what you’re into…please, please, please, do not break up with her. Especially if she has gone down on you in a theatre, and for God’s sake, don’t dump her for Scarlett Johannson. You will have a very angry and hard to listen to record made to avenge your infidelity. Tread lightly, my friend. Tread lightly.)

Then you got the likes of Peaches, going on about father fucking and fucking the pain away…and she was nothing more than a low-rent neuvo Karen Finley, who with her “Tales Of Taboo”…well, as an ’80’s club kid, that was just about as explicit as you could get.

The example that really kills me though is Liz Phair and her “Exile In Guyville” back in 1991. Holy Shit, did guys get off on that one. Here is this really rather plain girl, kinda scrawny, with an average at best voice…who just happened to make a rather amaturish record detailing her love of fucking and blow jobs. Combined with some saucy pics of her half-naked with a guitar, or in a fur coat and bikini…and blammo! A star is born!

I remember certain guys would be so into her, and I would say, “Dude, it’s kinda alright..but it’s not all that!”

“But she gives BLOW JOBS!” was the usual retort.

Really? Wow! What are those? Are they like Charms Blow Pops? I sure do like those!

Really? She gives blow jobs? Really? You mean, just like me and every other twentysomething girl in America?????? Amazing!

Have you never had one?

Were you really fat, and girls just didn’t like you? Really, I just could never get it, the fascination with her and all of lame ass oral sex references.

Are you Amish?

Or did you just suffer from really bad acne as a teenager?
But, then I soon learned…I am a girl. I don’t particularly want to hear songs about other girls giving head. But I also have to say, I would be kinda creeped out by a song blatantly stating that a guy was gonna eat me out like he was at his favorite sushi bar.
(I’m sure there is a song out there somewhere, it just gratefully escapes my mind.)

You know, if I would have known all it would take to make me famous is write some raunchy, tongue-in-cheek songs about getting laid and sucking guys off, I would have released the anthology of coming-of-age classics I had been working on for The Time Life Library. The idea was is you would subscribe, and every month you would receive an exciting new title in the “Man. Does LeDonna LOVE To FUCK!!!!!” collection.

With easy monthly installments of only $9.99, every month, arriving in your mailbox, was your own personal treasury of gems like:

* 20 Cock-Sucking Classics
* 20 More Great Love Songs To Suck Cock By
* I Love Cock N’ Balls (Inspired by Joan Jett)
* Wow, I Love To Fuck
* Boy, Do I Love Balls
* Hey- Random Dude! Do You have A Cock! Well, I’d Like To Suck It!
* Once You Go Black
* Do You Really Want To Nut Me? 20 Great New Wave Classics To Get Pregnant By
* Did I Mention I Like To Fuck? 20 More Songs To Remind You In Case You Forgot
* Sure, Group Sex Is Kewl
* I Love It In The Ass
* I Dig Dildos, But Cock Is So Much Better
* Oh, OK, I Guess I’ll Eat You Out Too
* My Oh My…Please Come In My Eye

…And many, many more! It was great, with your first payment you were supposed to receive my special LeDonnatron Vibe-O-Matic 2000, a pair of Ben-Wa Balls, and a full set of steak knives.

Then, I had Alex. Got married. Had to put my passion for writing great fuck songs aside, and focus on family.

However, In light of this whole Katy Perry thing, I feel like I need to step up and get my 15-minutes of fuck-induced fame. But now, we’re all so jaded. We’ve had the blow-job songs. We’re kissing girls. And anal sex…well, that’s just so yesterday.

If I want to get famous writing something raunchy, I have to break new territory. So, after much thought, I took some inspiration from my little dog Trixie and the excited way she humps my leg…or arm…neck…whatever…and decided to “touch” on the theme of beastiality, but in a fun, playful way, not in some sick horse or goat fucking way. (Eeww.)

I am doing a cute little parody of Ms. Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl”…but instead focusing on my dog. Keep the tune in mind. It’s raw, edgy…I think you’ll like it.

It goes something like this…(imagine italics, I’m on a mac and don’t have a compatible text editor)

** I kissed my dog/and I liked it
The taste of her Iams diet
I kissed my dog /you should try it
Don’t worry she don’t bi-yi-et

It felt so good
It felt so right
It’s 2008 don’t be so damn uptight
Her hair jet black
Ears perked upright
Guess who’ll be my bitch tonight **

Whatdya think? I think I’ve got a hit. Katy Perry, look out…

30
Apr
08

Great New Quick Fix Meal Idea!

Where have you been all my life!???!!

CHEESEBURGER-IN-A-CAN!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!

Yes, the bun,cheese and the condiments are included.

Too busy to grill up a hearty cheeseburger meal for the family, or even swing by the local fast food joint to pick up something pre-made? No worries, mi amigo. Convenience and portability have reached new all-time highs thanks to the ingenuity and culinary prowess of out German compadres. Yes, the same folks who brought us the trusted taste treats of sauerkraut, leberwurst (liver sausage) and schwarzsauer (blood soup), have managed to take the perfection of their homeland creation the Hamburg Steak, top it with cheese and a bunch of other savory accoutrements, and wait-the fun doesn’t just stop there- OH NO! Those crazy yodelin’ lederhosen-heads went off and figured out how to keep the great taste of a cheeseburger alive forever, or at least 5-7 years with the current average shelf-life expectancy. How? By cramming that sucker into a tin can, that’s how! Now you can take a whole bushel of cheeseburgers with you wherever you go! Toss ’em in your backpack! Keep ’em in the trunk of your car and have em ready the next time you break down, have a flat, or need to feed that young chinese boy you just abducted before you rape, torture and mutilate him. Of course you want your victims to have a delicious and nutritious last meal! If you’re lucky, you just might taste a hint of that cheeseburger yourself when you sit down to eat him. Yum! Double Deelite!

Cheeseburger-In-A-Can also makes a great gift! I use it as a stocking stuffer. Alex just loves it.

Cheeseburger-In-A-Can is quick and easy to prepare! Simply pop open the can and steam it using a double-boiler method. No double boiler? No worries, just try sticking it in the bathroom sink and let it warm up while you take a shower, or hold your iron up over the top of it and keep pressing the steam button. In about 30-45 minutes, your tasty cheeseburger should be at least lukewarm enough to keep yourself from gagging it up while you cram it down your maw. Now, how exactly do I know it’s ready you ask?  You’ll know Cheeseburger-In-A-Can is at it’s peak flavor profile when it looks like this:

Note the patty will be a uniform shade of greenish-grey. All Cheeseburgers-In-A-Can are precooked to a temperature of 165 degrees to ensure the prevention of nasty food-bourne illnesses. No sorry, no medium rare special orders here! Cheeseburger-In-A-Can wants you taste healthy goodness in every chewy, slimy bite, not the taste of bacterium and parasites! Yuk-O!

Don’t try to microwave Cheeseburger-In-A-Can, it just doesn’t work as well. Instead of a soggy glop of yeasty gump, your bun will magically petrify into a tooth-crushing magnesium-limeshale crust which is just murder on those fillings in your molars.

Cheeseburger-In-A-Can unfortunately is not readily available in stores, but you can order it pretty easily on line. The cost and the wait are well worth it. I’ve enjoyed Cheeseburger-In-A-Can so much I’ve ordered their new side dishes Taters-In-A-Can and Chicken Caesar-In-A-Jar. MMMnnnn! I can’t wait!

29
Apr
08

Will YOU Please Go To Wild Waves With Me? *please*

I know it’s not quite warm enough yet, but it will be soon. And I really, really, really want to go to Wild Waves. I saw a commercial today for this new casino with this kick-ass waterpark, and it just got me all excited for summertime again. And since I really shouldn’t be going to casinos-not because of the gambling, but because it’s on an indian reservation, and no doubt it’d spark a drinking binge for me-the next best thing is our sooper-cool Six Flags ThemePark Enchanted Village/Wild Waves!!!

(Actually, the Enchanted Village part is really gimpy. It’s more like those cheesy portable rodeo carnivals with the ancient rickety rides you’re sure are going to collapse and fall apart on you, crushing you to death in a smoking heap of rust of cracked plastic) But the Wild Waves part really is hella fun and sooper kewl. I’m designing my own waterslide that I hope the Six Flags people will buy from me, I think it would be a runaway smash sensation with both kids and parents and even old folks alike. It would be called the LeDonna Lee Lightening Locomotive (TM) Liquid Luge (and FunTime Silicone Lubricant wading Pool). It would look something like this:

Now I know what you’re thinking, it LOOKS like it would just be any other regular old waterslide, but oh no, this one is different. Rather than cascading down the twisted mountain of loops, curves and swerves on water, (so yesterday!) you and your friends will be gliding along a lightweight film of AstroLube, splashing down into an luxuriously exhilarating lagoon of cherry-flavored cellulose carbohydrate personal lubricant! (Banana flavor is available every Wednesday and the third Friday night of the month) Since it’s 99.3% water, it’s easily hosed off by our onsite Personal Powerwash SuperShower! And if you’re liking what you’re feeling, you can just continue the fun down at the LD Lover’s Lounge where you can frolic in the Hasbro(TM) Twister Tank, pin’ em down down at the MMA Brazilian Jujitsu Oil Wrestling Arena,or just turn down the lights and up the love in the LD Orgymatic Freelovin’ Nub Hut (maximum capacity 458 ) brought to you by Budweiser and our friends at Durex. Oh, and mark your calendars-next summer I hope to add on the bodacious LeDonnarama Disko Bootie Barn and Anal LuvHut. See you all there!

I’m really sad, because my boyfriend refuses to go to Wild Waves with me. He says swimming in public pools is unsanitary, and he picked up the ringworm one time when he went to a waterpark as a kid. Personally, I think he just doesn’t want to admit he probably got it from himself. {I know what a secret poop-picker upper he was when he was a kid. Ooops, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that.} Sorry, hun. Besides, I’m not afraid of anybody’s funky old ringworm! I have my own chiggers and body lice, that’ll scare any old puss-ass ringworm away! Shoo!

I think this deep-seeded desire for aquatastic beachtime summer fun stems from a deficit from my childhood. As a young adolescent, I was overweight and abhorrently pale, and would rather endure the flames of a thousand fires than expose the world to my obscene fleshiness in a bathing suit or shorts.As a result I rarely spent much time in the sun (which lead to the vicious circle of continuous pastiness and obesity, as one generally cannot get a tan if their skin is never exposed to the sun, and one cannot shed pounds if their lard ass refuses to move). There was one time that I gathered up enough nerve to go to Waterworld with a few of my other calorically-challenged friends. Here we are posing for the camera in an effort to appear happy, footloose and fancy-free:

Of course, I’m the one one the right, the redhead. (I always made sure I was the runt of the litter, subversively choosing my friends that made me look thinner. I know, I know, it’s a self-esteem issue)

Also, I remember I was always trying to get my parents to take me out to a waterpark, or even to a neighborhood swimming pool. But they never really had the time, they were always busy working at the store. Finally, Mama caved in and got me this thing here to shut me up:

I’m not sure what that was, I think she emptied out one of her old plastic shoe bins. It was fun and all, but somehow, it just didn’t quite do the trick. My heart still yearned for just a little something more.

So please, would you please, accompany me to Wild Waves this summer! We can get a Season Pass, or maybe cash in some Pepsi Cans and get $5 off an EarlyBird admission. It’ll be fun. We’ll get matching sunburns, drink $6 fountain pops, and maybe even come out of it with an ear infection!! Yay!!! Thank you so much, you’re the best! I can’t wait! Woo Hoo! Yay!!!!! I’m goin’ to Wild Waves! I’m goin’to Wild Waves! (Insert “Happy Dance” here)




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