My shameless attempt to get pharmies

This is a real email that I sent a few weeks ago.  He never responded.  Frowny.

Subject:  So Sorry! (For Partyin')


Dear Dr. XXXXXX,

My name is Blue Velvet and I met you last night at Estelle's in Wicker Park. I'm fairly confident that you remember me, unless you were experiencing a two-hour long blackout. (In which case you are an alcoholic and probably need help.) You told me that you thought I was very beautiful.  I told you that I have a photographic memory and you said that there was a .0000001 percent chance of this being true. Well, I don't have a photographic memory, per say, but my memory is very good, obviously. I remembered your first and last name and where you are doing your residency based on a ten second glance at your hospital ID card. Impressive, no?

Anyway, I am writing to apologize for my drunken behavior last night. I was rude and obnoxious towards you, especially re: your taste in music. I'm not innately such a jerk. Sometimes when I drink too many delicious Lambic Framboises, my brand of humor switches from slightly funny to mildly retarded. (And I don't mean that in the Down Syndrome way. I mean it in like an impaired development way.)  Thanks again for buying me all of those $14 Lambics. ;)

I'd like to possibly continue our conversation that occurred before I alienated you.  You know, the one where you told me that if I came to your hospital and told you the magic words:  "I think I broke a rib.", that you would write me a prescription for 100 Hydrocodone?!?  I am in Chicago a few times per month. I don't really know anyone in town.  By that, I mean that I know no one in town who can legally write prescriptions.  Given that you accept my apology, perhaps we can be friends??? Email me!

Take care,
BV

Advice to Slumming It

Dear Blue Velvet,

I need your help.  In a month's time I've had two group sex parties (one threesome, one foursome).  I went on a date with a guy only to ditch him and leave with a different guy who I ended up sleeping with that night.  A couple of days later I invited (yet another) guy (who I barely know) over to my house and slept with him as well.  All of these events involved heavy drinking and drug use.

The day after the most recent guy, I decided that I should get to know this person so we kind of went on a date.  He told me that he is on government assistance, i.e., food stamps, Section 8 housing, etc.  Learning all of this about someone I already slept with has me quite embarrassed and I consider it a major downgrade from my last boyfriend (who is a millionaire).  What should I do to wash off the shame?!  How do I prevent people from discovering what I've done?  I think he's already told some people.

Please help me!
Slumming It

Dear Slumming It,

Everyone slums.  I think I have addressed this on the blog in the past.  Don't worry about it, unless of course your indiscretions are discovered.  Deny, deny, deny.  Never deviate from your denials, even when there is mounting and unequivocal evidence to the contrary.  In fact, start believing your own lies.  That's even better.

Once I was drunk driving my (now ex) boyfriend's car and was pulled over by the police.  At the time I didn't have a valid driver's license.  The police asked me how many drinks I had and I said "none".  They didn't believe me, so I had to take two field sobriety tests, which I passed somehow.  Then they asked me again and again about the number of drinks I had and I continued to deny, deny, deny drinking.  They claimed that I reeked of alcohols.  I told them that was impossible because I had exactly zero drinks.  They told me to get in my car and drive safe.  They didn't even ask for my non-existent driver's license.  Win.

Another time, I had a secret boyfriend who I denied dating to most of the people I know because I didn't want my ex-boyfriend to discover that I had downgraded.  Sometimes I went so far, to my out of town friends, as to deny his very existence as a person.  There was lots of evidence that he was definitely my boyfriend---we even lived together.  I was very vague about my residence, referred to him as my "roommate" in a bind, pretended to be sad and lonely, etc.  Once someone confronted me, "Are you dating XXXXXXX?"  He was standing within earshot, so I just stood there at first and I kind of walked away and said, "Oh, what did you say?  Oh him?  Oh, no, we're just friends."  Then I guess this person said something to him about it and he asked me if I denied him and I pretended to know nothing of the sort.  Then I convinced him that the person who told him all of this was clearly trying to cause drama in our relationship. 

So, Slumming It, anything and everything can be denied.  Denial works. I hope you win.  By the way, is there any chance the welfare guy is a hipster?  Because if he is, that's kinda punk rock.

Love,
BV

Updated: BLACK CAT: A One Act Play

BLACK CAT:  A One Act Play

Starring:
Black Cat
White Cat
YZ
Poor Bastard

Opening Scene:
It was a cold, winter night in a small town seeping with Vegetable Zombie Heads.  Black Cat and White Cat have just ingested some pharmies and a fuckload of alcoholic beverages.  They meet up with YZ and Poor Bastard at a local watering hole.  Soon, it is suggested that the group attend an after-party.

--Twenty minutes later at the after-party--

White Cat:  Who wants whiskey?!  (Pours generous servings of whiskey into geese shaped measuring cups and shares them with the group.)

White Cat:  This party is boring.  Black Cat, you should make-out with YZ!

YZ:  I have a girlfriend!

(YZ and Black Cat begin to kiss.)

White Cat:  Who here wants to have a sex party?

Poor Bastard:  (Wakes from the nap he was taking on the couch.)  I should go home.

White Cat:  No.  Go into the bedroom.

(Poor Bastard stumbles into the bedroom, and quickly falls asleep.  Alone. Black Cat, White Cat and YZ go into another room to have a sex party.)

Black Cat:  Wait.  What?  Poor Bastard isn't coming to the sex party?  He's cute.  Oh well, I take what I can get.

(White Cat, Black Cat and YZ disrobe and make-out.)

White Cat (to YZ):  You should fuck Black Cat and let me watch.

(YZ fucks Black Cat and White Cat watches.)

---Fade to Black---

YZ has dressed and, while making his way to the door addresses the cats:  Black Cat, I love you very much.  White Cat, I love you very much, but if either of you tell anyone about any of this I will deny it with every fiber of my being.

White Cat and Black Cat:  (simultaneously waving)  Bye!

--End Scene--

Epilogue

--The next day--

Poor Bastard:  You cats always say that you are going to have sex parties and you never do.  You are really bad at having orgies.

Black Cat and White Cat:  (Giggle simultaneously)

The End.

Dear Diary #20

Hi All.  I feel like DD #20 should be the last diary entry that I post on the blog, for various personal reasons.  Enjoy. We had a good run.  ~BV
4-4-08

Dear Diary,

Today I wished to listen to my first favorite Bob Seger song, "Still The Same", on my second favorite Bob Seger record, "Stranger In Town".  I glided into the dining room and soon found myself standing before our built-in cabinet which houses our vinyl records.  I ran my index finger along the spines of the sleeves of a truly fabulous record collection until I stopped on the "S"es.  The only Bob Seger record I saw was one of The Bob Seger System variety and not of the latter day Bob Seger and The Silver Bullet Band.  Hmmm.  Where could my record be?

I had a suspicion--given Bob Seger and The Silver Bullet Band is not considered to be as tragically hip as The Bob Seger System--that my record was being housed in a location that was not in plain sight.  You know, in the event that someone comes to visit, happens to study the record collection and--gasp!--discovers that Jack isn't cool because he has a Bob Seger record post 1969!  The horror!  I eventually located the record in our version of a cut-out bin, along with a bunch of demos from fledgling bands given to Jack (who would give them to me and say, "Do whatever it is that we do with these.") and a Christmas compilation that contained my favorite Christmas song, "Holly Jolly Christmas", but not sung by Burl Ives so Jack said that I couldn't play it in the house.

I was so excited!  I planned to drink some wine, smoke some cigs and listen to "Still The Same" over and over again.  I would lift the needle, drop the needle, listen and repeat.  I pulled my vinyl goodness out of the slightly tattered sleeve and began to place the black circle on the turntable when I noticed a deep gash etched through the entire first song.  The first song being "Still The Same".  My blood boiled.  My nostrils flared.  My day was ruined.

I projected my voice from the bottom of the stairs, "Jaaaaaccckkk!"

Jack:  (Walks downstairs) What?
Me:   What the fuck happened to my Bob Seger record?
Jack:  (Grins)  Ha!  I did that.
Me:   What?  Why?
Jack:  I hate that song so I took a fork to it while you were at work yesterday.
Me:   A fucking fork?
Jack:  (Cackles wildly)

I hate Jack.

Match the Affidavit!!!!!

Hi Readers!  It's time to play a fun game on SFP!  It's called "Match the Affidavit", and you could possibly win a prize!  It's where you correctly match the arrest affidavit to the defendant.  These are 100% authentic, unedited arrest reports taken from criminal databases across the country.  So please type your guesses in the "Comments" section. 

All correct respondents will be added to a drawing for a chance to win 0-2 Raconteurs' 7" vinyl records.  These records were pressed before one had to break the record before listening, are not edible, are only one color and do not contain a golden ticket to visit a glorified merch booth.  In other words, they are super rare, but probably not valuable.  Good luck!!!  (It's ultra easy, considering I was too lazy to change the pronouns and all.)

Defendant A

Defendant B (on the Left)

Defendant C

Affidavit A
The Defendant was stopped for speeding (40 MPH in a 30 MPH zone, citation #J-216065). As I was attempting to stop him I noticed that he was slow to stop and when he did stop, partially in the parking lot of Rainbow Fashions, he stopped with the left side of his vehicle on the fog line. I approached the passenger side of the vehicle and explained to him why I had stopped him and asked him for his Driver License and Proof of Insurance. As I spoke to him I noticed that his eyes were bloodshot and his speech was slurred. I asked him if he had been drinking and he advised me that he "had a couple of drinks". I then asked him to step out of the vehicle and step over into the parking lot. I then performed the Horizontal Gaze Nystagmus on him. He showed the maximum number of clues in each eye. I then gave him the instructions for the Walk and Turn. After I finished he stated "just give me the breath test" and began to walk away toward my vehicle. I then advised him that he was under arrest for Driving Under the Influence. He consented to a breath test and registered .14% B.A.C.

Affidavit B
Police initially observed the Defendant walking southbound on 16th St toward Woodland St. He stumbled into the street several times seemed to be unable to walk in a straight path. He was stopped at 16th and Woodland after he was observed stumbling into a building located at the intersection. When police approached, it was observed the Defendant had an extreme odor of alcoholic beverage from his person, so strong it could be detected from 3 feet away. The Defendant had red and watery eyes and was very unsteady on his feet. As police spoke with him, he was very rude and uncooperative. He was asked where he had been drinking and he stated, “At your house.” He was then asked how many drinks he had consumed and he stated, “0 to 2.” It was apparent his level of intoxication was so high that he was a danger to himself and was too impaired to be left on his own.

Affidavit C
The Defendant was a passenger in a car where the driver was arrested for Driving Under the Influence.  I asked the defendant to step out of the car and show identification.  I observed the heavy odor of alcohol on and about her person.   I asked her how the vehicle she was a passenger in was wrecked and she said, "I did it!"  I asked her how many drinks she had and she stated "Zero".  She then focused her attention to the driver of the car who was about to submit to the Breathalyzer.  She yelled, "Don't do it! Don't take the test!" and began to interfere with a police investigation.  I advised her that she would be put under arrest if she continued to behave in a disorderly manner.  She responded with, "Arrest me! Arrest me!"  I placed the defendant under arrest and she continued to yell and scream and argue with police.  She stated, "You can't arrest me!  I am a juror!  I serve on jury duty and we try cases like this.  This is a violation of my civil liberties!"  

Advice to Paunch

Dear Blue Velvet,

I think I might be chubby.  I'm not really overweight, but I could stand to lose about ten pounds.  I like to drink and party.  Do you have any dieting tips for me?

Thanks,
Paunch

Dear Paunch,

I assume that you've heard of consuming less calories than you burn, right?  That really works.  Nowadays, I usually fluctuate between 105-115 pounds.  However, during my teenage years through about age 22, I weighed 90 pounds. I attributed my teeny, tiny, nearly unattainable frame to exclusively consuming either soup broth or one ounce of Special K cereal per day, relentlessly exercising and smoking copious amounts of pot.  Smoking pot?  Yes.  I'll explain how weed kept me waif-ish. 

In the beginning, being a stoner was great.  I was relaxed, giggly, I understood what the fuck Rene Descartes was trying to say when he said, "I think, therefore I am." I never made drunk dials or woke up with a hangover or worse.  Best of all:  I rarely consumed--save for the very occasional case of late night munchies--extraneous calories, such as those contained in alcohols.  The end result, was a thin, thin me.  I was convinced that I would be a lifer, and perhaps even grow my own one day.  Then it happened:  Paranoia.

My theory is that my pot induced paranoia started to creep in after a rendezvous with some bad acid.  The details of the trip that transpired from this particular hit of acid cannot and should not be explained on this blog.  It was so horrific that when I finally stopped tripping--I'm talking days here--I called my motherfucking drug dealer and demanded a fucking refund. Surprisingly, he gave me one.  He must have received a lot of complaints from that batch.  (Side bar:  Let's pour some out for Jamie, the refund granting drug dealer, for recently he became dead and gone.  My second former drug dealer, the first being Fat Matt, to have perished in the past five years.  Yes, attending the funeral of a man you only know through street drugs, yet somehow know well, is rather strange.)

The end result of all of the literal madness was that I could no longer physically or emotionally handle being a pot aficionado.  I began to weird out all of my friends.  I quit cold turkey*. I decided to start drinking beer as an alternative, which really packed on the pounds in terms of its own calories and the additional calories from late night trips to White Castle for french fries and cheese sticks.  In a matter of months I went from a less than zero to a two and sometimes even the dreaded four.  "The buzz must go on!" I reasoned, "I cannot face life as a sober person!"  Inevitably, I started to research ways to drink and stay thin.  As a steady size two, I will share these tips with you, Paunch.

1.  Watch "The Karen Carpenter Story".  Take notes. 
2.  Count your calories.  If your desired weight is 110lbs, find out what the calorie allotment is to maintain a weight of 110lbs and subtract all of the alcohol calories you plan to consume from your daily ration.  For example, if you can have 1400 calories per day, but you want to get wasted that night, you should probably only have a bowl of soup and a cracker as your one meal for the day.  I strongly suggest that you leave a cushion of at least 300 calories for incidentals such as shots or french fries.
3.  If you fuck up and overeat or imbibe, go to your local drug store and pick up some Syrup of Ipecac.  I'm not going to lie, this magic elixir and friend to all bulimics will fuck you up for a few days.  It is to only be used in cases of extreme weakness. 
4.  Maintain a baseline of being at least mildly depressed most of the time.  If you start to feel happy or hopeful, remind yourself that the world is a terrible place and everyone is out to ruin you.  Repeat as necessary.
5.  Tape this quote to your refrigerator:  "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels" ~Kate Moss

Try these tips, Paunch, and keep me abreast of your progress.  Always remember:  Nobody likes fat people.  Nobody.

Love,
BV
*After many years, I am finally able to sometimes take bong rips or puff on a spliff.

Brokeass Matchmaker: Results Driven

Hello Readers.

It's been a week or so since I've started the wildly popular "Brokeass Matchmaker" service on the blog, and it's already garnered the attention of a reader called "Chen".  In the mysterious email, Chen simply stated, "I have a proposal for you."  That's it.  So....

Chen, if you are out there and reading, please resubmit your email with more specific information.  Are you a non-racist racist?  A tough guy looking to get punched in the face by a Kuntry dominatrix? Androgynous with luxurious hair and young, supple skin? Please reveal yourself and your intentions to Lisa, Kathy and Kelli--our single ladies looking for free stuff love--post haste.  Let's make this happen.

While I suppose it is possible, but highly unlikely, that the email from Chen is spam, it would make my holiday season complete to see these lovely and well endowed ladies get some kisses under the mistletoe.  (Even if one of them is Jewish and the other two are halfsies.)  We can all dream that magical Christmas dream!

And finally, I am feeling extra generous lately and will start another free service on the blog:  Tarho readings from Mademoiselle de Teacup.  Mademoiselle is a renowned clairvoyant with superior insights to the human condition.  She also has a drinking problem, but it usually doesn't interfere with her work.  If you would like a free reading, please submit your name, date of birth, and a question to bluevelvetsfp@gmail.com.  Select readings will be posted on the blog.

Love,
BV

Brokeass Matchmaker Profile #3: Kuntry girl seeks tough guys for drunken and violent good times

Do as I say.  That's all.

A freak on the street and a lady on your face.

Cold, cold heart

Boring, loser, non-hoodrat types need not apply

Name:  Kathy
Interested in: Tall, arrogant, selfish men who respect that I am arrogant and selfish

Height: 5' 6"
Weight: Some cushion/not total fatty--can totally can run a mile
Bewbz: Very Famous (DD)
Profession: Painting, Partyin', odd jobs to pay for Painting and Partyin'

Likes: Kentucky, doing hood rat stuff, climbing/dancing on furniture, attention, people who can take a punch, tough guys, drunk dials/texts, general insanity, drugs, drunk spelling bees, drinking in the alley, serenades, James Brown dance parties

Dislikes: passive agressive creepers, crybabies, children, sober people, the government, art snobs, women, when people act like dicks because I don't eat cheese, television, people who act like dicks because I don't like television

Looking for: A tough guy who is actually tough and not a pussy baby on the inside. I tell the truth and expect the same. Must be a good dancer.



If you or anyone you know is interested in a hot and violent date with Kathy, email bluevelvetsfp@gmail.com.  Please include a recent photo and a few lines about yourself.

Brokeass Matchmaker Profile #2: Gingers Need Not Apply

Analog Bloggin'

Neck down!

Money Shot

Vacationing

Cornrows for Christ

Name:  Kelli
Interested in: Effeminate males with luxurious hair

Height: 5'4"
Weight: Mild eating disorder
Bewbz: Famous
Profession: Wordsmith. World Traveler. Entertainer.
Claim to fame:  Was featured in skateboarding magazines in the '90s for being hot
Family background:  Dysfunctional
Best attributes:  Small hand, good leg (according to her nail tech)

Likes: Precious monies, mansions, vacationing, playing practical jokes, mind games, board games, The Real Housewives of Atlanta, David Lynch, shopping at the mall, kitty cats, black people stuff, french fries, smoking cigarettes, the touch of the younger kind

Dislikes: Unrefined table manners, fast and sloppy eaters, receding hairlines, wrinkle factories, fatties, performing fellatio, sunbathing, dogs, men who wear open toed shoes, poor people, selfishness, Indian food, bad skin, crybabies, gingers

If you are interested in a hot date with Kelli, please respond to bluevelvetsfp@gmail.com.  Please include your full name, a recent photo and a few lines about yourself.

Brokeass Matchmaker Profile #1: Single Girl ISO Non-Racist Racist

Very Famous Bewbs!

Boxwine needs not a glass

MELONS!

More MELONS!

Name:  Lisa

Interested in: Men, but will accept women if drunk


Height: 5'4"

Weight: Average build with enough cushion for any and all pushin needs

Bewbz: Very Famous

Profession: Scientist

Likes: Having large sums of monies spent on me, watching TV for a million hours, science talk (as long as you're not smarter than me), people who are racist on purpose but still like black people, whiskey, skittles

Dislikes: Spending large sums of monies on you, "going to the gym", science fiction talk (of any variety), when people are so for reals racist that they don't even know they're being racist, children, fruit

If you, or anyone you know, is interested in a hot date with Lisa, please contact me at bluevelvetsfp@gmail.com.  Include your full name, a photo and a brief description of yourself.

Brokeass Matchmaker

In the year or so that I've been giving advice on the blog, I've received countless inquiries from readers about love and relationships.  I assume, since I haven't received any hate mail from those I've given advice, that my offerings have been successful.  Given my penchant for spot on insights on human behavior, I've decided to take things to the next level.  Beginning immediately, I am offering my services as a matchmaker for lonely souls.  No, I am not a madame or performing slut-slinging.   The women in my family stopped that nonsense in the 70s, or so I'm told.  Apparently my great-grandmother had a mansion, a new Cadillac every year, and sent all of her grandchildren to private boarding school, but never seemed to have any explanation as to the origin of all the precious monies.  Hmmm, maybe madame-ing isn't such a despicable profession after all.  Madames don't really have to do any whore stuff, right?  Hoodrat stuff I'm okay with---whore stuff, not so much.

This is how it works.  First, you send me a photo or two of yourself.  Along with the photo, I will need the following:  Your basic physical attributes (approx height/weight, build, etc), Profession, Interests/Hobbies, Pet Peeves, Qualities of your ideal mate, etc.  I will then post your profile on the blog in the hopes that a potential mate will express interest.  This is open to all--males, females, gays, lesbian, transgenders.   I will not publish your contact information (or real name).   Any interested party will need to email me to get your personal information.  Of course, everyone will be screened by me personally.  Inevitably, you will be perfectly matched in no time!

If you are lonely, lovelorn, and cannot fathom another dateless Saturday night, I implore you to email me at Click here for email.

Ellie and Kellie Funn Day!

Today was a fun day.