Last night I couldn't stop shaking without having something to eat so I went to a barbeque joint and chowed down. Food is the best nerve tonic there ever was and it worked it's siren magic on me. I felt much better by the time I ate a plate of ribs, fried apples, mac n cheese, tater salad, rolls and other assorted sides.
One of the waitresses started telling me that Rick Springfield of "Jesse's Girl" fame was playing down the street tonight and out I went to get me a ticket. I remember Rick from the early 70s Tiger Beat and 16 magazines. He's been oen of the hot guys papered on my early teenage wall in those years, starred in a million masturbation fantasies and owned my nights. Squeeeeeeeeeeal! Only Adam Lambert or Danny Gokey appearing would make me more excitered!
At the auditorium there were already a ton of skeleton whores all fighting to be right up front squished against the stage. I was not about to allow some dyed hair upitty cunt blonde wearing leopard print with her tiny wrinkly boobies hanging out or other skeleton whores in too tight jeans to stand in my way. Turns out they were easy-peasy to push out of my way as long as I ignored the crys of 'Hey!' and 'Who do you think you are?' and I ended up center front right up against the stage. It was lucky that I'd worn my new purple and black Wal Mart muu muu and my sparkly black crocs because I was looking smokin' hot yet classy and swanky.
Rick rocked my world. He kept loooking down at me like he could hardly believe his eyes during the songs. He looked good enough to lick up one side and down the other like the world's hottest man-cicle! He played all his hits, all looking at me and I just knew we were supposed to be together. Every time an uppity skeleton whore tried to horn in on where I was standing I just trod one of my crocs on her skankty high heeled foot and she'd back off. Towards the end of the night I wriggled out of my Wal Mart satin big girl panties, wrapped one of my hotel room keys in it and tossed it at Rick's feet. The wonder on his face as he picked up my drawers was a might thing to see.
Rushed back to the Super 8 to wait for Rick. He never showed up! Boo hoo! Now I can't get out of bed I'm so heartbroken plus I think I picked up some sorta 4th of July fungus or disease in my lady-parts. I keep crying and scratching and I didn't get a wink of sleep last night waiting for Rick. I'm so sad I can't even order a pizza.
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