It's Sunday and that means it must be time for...
You fucking people disappoint me. Last Sunday I put up my spiffy new grab button on the sidebar, a Mr. Linky and invited you all to join me in my bathtub.
NOT ONE, NOT ONE OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS JOINED ME IN THE TUB. WHAT. THE. FUCK.
After consoling myself with a vast amount of alcohol, (and a brand new Mustang Convertible because you fuckers made me question my cool status), I asked The Duke what his thoughts were.
Without missing a beat, he says, "Babe, it's the Bush. The SOS pad convention you are hosting near your crotch scares the hell out of everyone."
So fine, asshats. Since my mad nip twirling skillz, boxed wine and drunken rambling doesn't impress you, I succumbed to a Brazilian wax yesterday.
Now? My goddamn pussy is so swollen it looks like I'm hiding Mick fucking Jagger inside of my twat, except there was no room for his fucking lips.
I am not a happy Dutchess. No Mr. Linky for YOU this week!
Speaking of unhappy, I have a bone to pick with this ever growing Royal Family.
Someone better start coordinating days off. Since CB left, most of you are fucking slacking. I drove past many empty street corners this weekend. That shit just isn't acceptable.
I don't fucking care if you are mourning the loss of CB . Get back to your corner.
I don't care if you got stuck in the moat. Climb the goddamn wall and get back to your corner.
I don't fucking care if your goddamn shoe broke. Duct tape that mother back together and get back to your corner.
I don't fucking care if you have double vision. Strap on an eye patch and pretend you're a goddamn ass pirate. (BTW we charge double for that.)
I don't care if you have the fucking clap. Get a shot penicillin, squeegee your pussy, and get back to your corner.
I don't care if you think you need fucking rehab since becoming part of the Royal Family. Take another Xanax, shut the fuck up, and get back to your damn corner.
We have on staff:
A Countess yet to be named,
A Security Peon,
A Security Zombie,
A Personal Security Person,
A Royal Bartender and A Royal Vet
There is no reason for empty fucking street corners. The Queen and I may be shit faced drunk, stoned, seeing double and hearing voices, but we have been running this business for a long time. Make no mistake, we notice when you are not there. Don't think you can get away with this missing in action shit.
Not everyone is a slacker. Some of you are on your regular corner giving ass and taking names. But, some of you? Not so fucking much.
If you are slacking, here is your warning...
Unless you cleared a day off with the Queen or myself, your ass better be on duty next time I drive by in my new fucking Mustang.
Now that we have that all straightened out, I must finish watching Denver get the shit kicked out of them. Where is Elway when you need him.