All posts by Lambchop

rocks and hard places

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Today I have to go to the bank and the dentist. I can’t decide which is worse. Having teeth drilled can actually be less painful than sitting in a cloud of imitation Givenchy and watching those horrible french manicure press-on nails clacking over the keyboard, and tapping on the desk and that becoiffed gold braceleted nightmare still has no idea how to do electronic transfers to the united states. My stomach acid increases just thinking about it. Anyway, I was just at the dentist 10 days ago- she only wants to see me again because she likes me. We sit around and talk about how fine it is to be great looking, we talk about the scene in Marathon Man, she looks at my mouth, admires her handiwork and lets me take a bunch of the shiny metal gumball machine rings that she gives to the kiddies.

Licketysplit used to be a bank teller! I remember well the days when she was darting off to copley in a peach colored suit and gold earrings. She would pass me by as i spent my filthy unemployed hours on the slab on newbury street, sipping iced coffee and waiting for something to happen. She would pop by afterwards and regale us with tales of incompetence that made stuffing the mattress with cash seem like sensible financial planning. Say, Lickety, what was in that suitcase anyway?!

smooch

Heartbreak and Halitosis

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Dear Kitty Winn:

I was sitting home alone worrying last night, wondering what to do, when it occurred to me that what I needed was help from a purveyor of tawdry advice. After all, I have a terribly tawdry problem. I can’t seem to get over my ex-girlfriend. I’m beginning to annoy my friends, and even my therapist, by talking about her constantly. I’ve tried the usual techniques — moving to another town, drinking heavily, sleeping around like a two-bit whore– but none of them work. It just feels like additional betrayal: I’m not staying true to the girl I love, and the rebound girl knows what’s going on because I call out the wrong names. I just can’t achieve, how you say, release, without thinking of my lost love and the taste of her sweet, sweet anus. What can I do to get her off my mind? Also, can you recommend any good breath mints?

— Darren Hungus

Darren Hungus, I feel for you. I have been consumed with giving your problem the proper attention. It was hardly off my mind while I was watching a 60’s go-go film and having a Charleston Chew. You pose a difficult question, but without a doubt, use Fisherman’s Friend to expunge the foulness of your mouth. Those babies pack a wallop! Oh right, and your ex-girlfriend…clearly you have let the girl of your dreams slip through your fingers and will never ever be happy again ever.

Never ever.

You could endeavor to be satisfied with your lot, but Kitty Winn believes in setting things right! You don’t have a shred of existence without this woman, so you must dedicate your life to having her back. Write her, call her, lurk beneath her window- don’t let the girl have five seconds in which thoughts of you do not intrude. Give her no rest from professions of your unabated love! Praise her back door beauty! Erect a shanty in front of her door, where you live, unshaven, eating little snack foods and denied fresh air solely for a daily glimpse of her angry face in passing. No woman can resist such romantic heroism- you will be plumming her annals and hating her stupid laugh again in no time!

Good Luck,

Kitty Winn

party baby yum

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These last few weeks have been a serial hangover. Well, what else is there to do but get drunk after going to see a mike leigh film in which you identify with the besotted strumpet? that mike leigh is the cat’s pajamas.

when i was a young slattern of 14 in Jersey City, i used to hang out on the corner in painfully tight jeans playing handball with delivery boys from the butcher shop. they were cute in their bloodstained aprons.

I hope everyone who was sick yesterday is better today.

smooch

Fabulous Golden Issue

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Dear Kitty Winn,

I am home sick. The doctor said to drink lots of fluids. But I am getting so tired of my soup recipes. Miso soup, alphabet, broth. ugh! While they are making me feel a little better I think i will vomitola if I look at another hot and sour. Can you recommend a new recipe for me, Miss Kitty Winn?? Please keep in mind I would prefer something vegetarian, and something without miso.

Love,

Sick in So

Dear Sick

My Doctor always recommends the consumption of clear and simple foodstuffs when i am ill- so I opt for things like jell-o and vodka, preferably together, followed by a healthy dose of Manchowder. You will be surprised at how soothing to all parties a good release into your larynx of joy juice can be. It beats a Werthers Original. So take it easy and rest upon your knees. I leave it to you to decide whether accepting a man’s fabulous golden issue is a violation of your vegetarian ethics or not. I suppose it depends on how attractive he is.

get well soon,

Kitty Winn

Ask Kitty Winn!

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Your lives are terrible. You’re lonely, you’re poor, and your hair is doing terrible things. Fret not, Kitty Winn has the answers!

Dear Kitty Winn,

I’ve recently inherited a sum of money. It’s not enough to spend the rest of my days drinking champagne from the navels of painted whores or nothing, but it’s enough for either some short term stupidity or a stab at fiscal responsibility. So I ask you, should I give in to my base urges and blow it all on penny whistles and moon pies, or do I save for a (boring) rainy day? Yes, the economy is uncertain, but the native boys aren’t getting any younger!

Love,

-feckless in rhode island

Dear Feckless,

You are overlooking the obvious. You can do something fun that will also ensure you a lucrative future- Breast Implants! There is nothing like a little unnecessary surgery to provide a girl with frivolous joy. And think of all the fun and career opportunites you will have with a great swinging set of hooters! Yes, fabulous breasts will line your pockets with cash and keep you knee deep in casual sex. Go for the whompin’ ‘taters!

-Kitty Winn

Pin the tail on the Continent

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The prodigal Lambchop has ants in the pants. I used to have that game, springing the colored plastic bits into the blue bucket overalls. Now there’s a way to spur the imagination of a young girl! Between that and my Cooties set, I was braced for My First STDs by the age of 9. Anyway, what does that have to do with anything? Absolutely nothing! What I really mean is I am ready to blow this pop stand. Pack up the makeup case and the bunny and pull up anchor. Lickety, I can count on you to slaughter the fattened calf! and some of those little finger sandwiches you like so much.

Alright stick a pin in that little thought balloon- I have to get some work done.

But to all of those who attended the candlight vigil beneath the window of Lickety’s sick chamber, I thank you. And it is my pleasure to announce to all in that she has not only NOT died, but we managed to save the leg as well! Thank the stars for our friends and consumers of detritus, the maggots! You should have seen hope alight in our young patient’s face as we packed the wound with larvae and watched them munch their way through the poisoners of her flesh.

smooch

A pox upon the House of Vomitola

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Wave the incense and wooden crosses! Hurl a dead cat over your left shoulder! Poor Lickety has the Plague. She has swollen nodes and blackened gills. She is feverish and her lungs are covered in pustules. Her lips are cracked and blasted as she draws in choking final breaths.

But she is most pleased to be home from work.

Doctor Lambchop will be coming round to see her soon with a case filled with leeches, stomach lances and unguents. Please send lots of mylar balloons and little stuffed animals because she just loooves all that tacky crap. And a person ought to die happy, if they possibly can.

smooch

Lambchop wants to Know!

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So I am into medical accessories these days. My newest painting contains what looks like a Liv Tyler fairy on her way to be martyred in a back brace. Which is not a bad idea, really. Anyway, kiddies, your humble servant Lambchop does love realism and is taking a break from the studio hunched over this keyboard with ribs wrapped excruciatingly tightly in bandages. I feel like I am under 6 feet of mud. My advice to you- never break anything if you can help it.

But it’s not all about me me me. I have also been hard at work on an investigation that will benefit you, Dear Readers as well. I have composed the following letter to that all knowing sexpert, Dan Savage . It reads:

Dear Dan

My friend wants to put me in an empty bathtub and pour bottle after bottle of champagne over me. To which I would happily consent, but I fear injury to my tender bits when sitting in all that alcohol. And though I hate to repeat unsubstantiated lore, I even heard *somewhere* that Natalie Wood ended up in a hospital after springing into just such a cocktail.

So, Dan, help a young floozy out- is this risky business or can we pop our corks and have at it?

-drink me

I am chewing on my pencil waiting for his snappy reply. In the meantime, if any of our Dear Sweet Adorable-as-a-Puppy Readers have some relevant input, please feel free to share. You will remain anonymous unless otherwise specified, much like the dockworkers Lickety and I sell favors to on weekends.

O Canada!

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No, as benign and Narnian as Canada may be, you are not the first one who wants to live there. Who would have thought?

I did not see the State of the Monkeyshines Address, as it aired here at the hour when all good Germans are out drinking. My evening was informed at the cabaret by a trippy breakdancer who looked like Mr. Clean, some handstand acrobatics, and the swallowing of many ping pong balls. (not by me- all I managed to swallow were several glasses of beer. If I had been more ambitious, I would not tell you about it, anyway.)

Anyway, all is right with the universe because Mr. Nick Cave is releasing a new album. I can’t wait to listen to it while I try on my bridesmaid’s dress made of dyed peach goose feather and black dog’s nose pumps!

smooch

Ahh, weddings!

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So what if you have to arrange for hundreds of people to have an irksome time, all the while dressed like a cake decoration? Check dignity at the door and force all of your acquaintance to form a Conga line! Anyway, you will be so dizzy and pitter patter with loveliciousness, that you won’t notice any of it. I, on the other hand, as your Lambchop of honor, have to wobble around in something deliberately calculated to be more hideous than that froth you are coated in, and in front of a date. Must I do the Achey Breaky in front of someone I hope wants to sleep with me?! Can’t we just take some acid on a beach, anoint your two precious heads with oil and call it a day?

No? Didn’t think so. Well, I hope you go for something with a bustle!

Speaking of bustle, I am having another entirely uneventful day. Although, when i tried to coax some cash out of the ATM, i could swear I heard tinkly laughter before it thrust my card back at me. Oh I also finished my newest painting. Its about strange friendship. Lets be other people, eh clyde? Maybe my next picture will include a figure in a white veil. With a flesh colored eyepatch- a waxen faced cyclopean bride!

smooch