ZZ Top was coming to town. A bunch of our Harley Owner's Group (HOG) decided to go as a group. A week or so before the concert the promoters called a couple Harley dealerships and asked if the HOG people would come down early on the day of the concert for a promotional contest. I don't know why they wanted Harley people but the contest involved...OMG...Dressing Up! Pansy went into a freakin' tizzy and got extremely loaded. When she sobered up she got seriously loaded for bear. That is some kind of saying that is so old even Pansy does not know what it means but it is supposed to connote something along the lines of: "you are going down, sucka." Pansy so fucking OWNS Dressing up. Everyone knows Dressing Up is HER turf. We did not know what the "categories" were going to be but since when do facts deter Pansy? I truly did not know what the categories were going to be but I guessed (because I have Superior Instincts For Nonsense) they would involve ZZ Top song titles. Contest Category Winners were to be determined by "audience applause o-meter."
Finally Day of Contest/Concert arrives. What is up for grabs are "upgraded" concert tickets for each of the winners of 3 categories (ding, ding, ding!): Sharp Dressed Man (male); Legs (women); Tush (men for some stupid flatassed reason). Please note 2 of the 3 categories were for men. Fuck that. Pansy is Manned Up beyond even manly HOG dudes so this was going to totally be a no-brainer.
First Event: Sharp Dressed Man
OH, please. The dickwads are prancing around in their "best" vests/leg leathers. What about "Sharp" and "Dressed" do they not understand? Maybe they couldn't figure it out what with them having their heads up their asses and all. I take off my Harley leather outer jacket and levis/leg leathers. What I am wearing under the jacket and over the levis/leathers---because Layer Your Clothing is a Pansy credo---is a really FINE woman's suit: a down-to-my-knees Zoot suit kinda jacket on top that is showing cleavage down to There and a long, mid-calf skirt slit up to There. All black and white with black/white patent leather 4" high heels that are styled to look like men's dress shoes with spats. Plus a big black straw sunhat suitable for Kentucky Derby Day with lovely short white First Lady style gloves. Way fucking Sharp and Dressed. I get Set One of upgrade tickets.
Second Event: Legs
For women only. The contest people tried to tell me I can't win "twice." I said "Watch me." Of course, I wasn't going to take the winnings AGAIN but for fucking cryin' out loud....the other bitches are mincing around in JEANS! Oh, sure, some had embroidered jeans. I commanded some men to hold my hair back while I barfed from boredom. Then I got up on the stage and took off my long jacket and long skirt to reveal that underneath I was wearing a lovely strapless, backless, black lace bustier type bra and a seriously short black leather miniskirt--also slit, but this time slit all the Way Up To THERE. How else can anyone choose the winning legs if you ain't showing 'em? I give my second set of upgrade tickets to Second Place Woman.
Third Event: Tush
The men's buns are supposed to be judged for something. I have no idea what the poor audience is supposed to applaud for since the men are all wearing dumpy jeans and leathers. Onstage I go again despite the contest organizers' pleas and somewhat pathetic attempts to physically restrain me. I guess by now they realized I might do ANYTHING and they weren't sure they had enough liability insurance. Well, if you want to win a Best Buns contest......what's a Pansy to do? She pulled off her short leather miniskirt to reveal a Very Vivid Bright Blue Harley thong and black lace-top thigh high stockings. She did keep her lacy bra/bustier thing on. But the outfit did not seem "complete". And Pansy is psychotic about "completeness." So she magically found in her thong/panties (gasp!) a long, long, long Pearl Necklace. Which she wrapped around her throat while extolling its warmness. Score Set #3 of upgraded concert tickets. Which I gave to the only male who had not fainted dead away.
It was a pleasant concert.
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9 comments:
Pansy, can this farce be confirmed with photographic evidence or is this another one of those "Texas Regional Spelling Bee Champ" stories? I'm pretty sure I recall reading this before in the unabridged and unexpurgated version of Homer's Iliad (i vaguely recall something about Ajax getting his fairy Greek ass buggered then kicked by Billy Gibbons), and I'm fairly certain Pansy & Homer were in the same class at Athens High, so it's quite possible this is plagiarism. My favorite kind of plagiarism, titillating and funny, but just the same ...
Hey anonymous, what part of "Git Ready Fer Some Tall Tales Told Texas Gal Style" don't you understand? You want brutal honesty, go to church and wait for them to pass the plate. You want to be inspired, go listen to a politician speechify. But if you want reality so bare-assed it has to be true, then you come to Pansy's Place and you BELIEVE.
Pictures wouldn't hurt, of course.
1. Anonymous is dead to Pansy.
2. Pansy's Cage Fighting Name is "THE TRUTH".
3. Anonymous cannot handle THE TRUTH. Howard is pretending he can.
4. The first word of The Iliad is the Greek word for "Rage" / "Wrath"
5. The level of Ominous Rage and Wrath emanating from Pansy toward Anonymous is inconceivably scary.
6. No one is to think, speak, write, breathe the word "plaigiarism" around Pansy...ever.
7. Of course there are photos. However, Pansy is otherwise occupied at the moment with raging and wrathing.
8. It bears repeating: Anonymous is dead to Pansy. All doubters will be wounded.
Damn! I wish I could find that stinkin' password so i don't have to log in as 'anonymous'. I really think you should kick that REAL 'anonymous' dude's ass, Pansy. The guy's a total bumwad.
Oh, Pansy will most definitely kick Ano's anus. Cuz she's all anal about keeping her promises.
Perhaps Ano should be a bit nervous come the end of July...
Pansy cannot help it that "Anonymous" and "Howard" are abusing HER blog by coyly sending "coded messages" to each other.
Will you two not-nearly-closeted-enough, cross-dressing, gay tranny fisting freak queens please take it somewhere else? And get better fucking (excuse the pun) wigs to cover up your skinhead scalps.
Oh, and Hope To See Ya This Summer, You Sweet Thangs!
Criminetly, Howard. Talk about "kiss & tell".
Bitch.
At least I'm not the tranny, freak!
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