More retarded liars in the age of Wikipedia

I had a great time writing that 'liars' blog the other day.
It was something 'That Guy' posted in the comments section (Of my MySpace blog) that made me realize one the world's biggest chronic liars completely slipped my mind. Step up Judine F - you big ole man-faced dyke. Holy shit - what a piece of work this hag was.

Let me start painting this vulgar picture by giving you an image of Judine to look at and vomit over:



Frightening, huh? Did you ever think you'd see a lesbian that looked THAT MUCH like a cartoon character/stereotype? This monumental mess only decided to become friends with me because she wanted to get close to my best friend. (Loser.) However, after spending sufficient time together, she decided she liked me enough to (almost) forget about her original agenda.

She has a deli that also specializes in collectibles and vintage toys from the 1970s. In short, if you need a Vinnie Barbarino pinball machine or a vintage Cher doll, by Mego, you can likely find it there. It's a weird concept but not a bad one.

Since I grew up in the '70s, and paid particular attention to all the kiddie stuff of the time, I was pretty knowledgable. She hired me and we spent countless hours re-arranging the store every month. It was totally unnecessary but I was getting paid so I didn't care. I SHOULD HAVE been paid more, mind you. Judine had a ton of money but she was a notoriously cheap bitch.

Anyhoo, when we first met she claimed Tony Danza was her cousin. She later said Victoria Gotti was also her cousin. I bought the 'Tony Danza is my cousin' story only because I found it hard to believe she'd lie about something so incredibly stupid. Who'd serious brag about Tony Danza being a relative? When she said the same thing about Gotti, I immediately smelt the bullshit. If Victoria Gotti and Tony Danza were distantly related, then I'd have read about that in The Star or The Enquirer before then. I learned, that night, to not believe absolutely everything Spike had to say.

Judine, like most big, scary lesbians is a massive Joan Jett fan. She went so far as to tell me that she was Joan Jett's drummer for a time. I was never a huge fan of Joanie's so I didn't really care to follow up on it... that is, until we fell out of course! LOL! Once again, Wikipedia, and Joan's own homepage, beg to differ with Miss J, Queen Lez of The Vintage Toys and Foot Longs.

Judine claimed that she was drummer for Joan in the late '70s. She is about 47 or 48 years old. This made her Joan Jett's drummer when she was still in high school. The other big hole in the story is that the Blackhearts didn't exist at that time. Joan was in The Runaways. Didn't The Runaways line-up also include LITA FORD? Why no mention of Lita, Judi baby? Oh yeah - Judine went to high school on Long Island, New York. Joan Jett was in Los Angeles in the late '70s.... You were her drummer even though you were 3,000 miles away from each other? OOPS, MESS! OOPS!

The other huge lies Judine told me, that I thoroughly, enjoyed were that she was the head chef at Serendipity in NYC. Serendipity, for those of you that are unaware, specializes in ICE CREAM! Don't think there's much call for a real chef there, Judi-babes.

She was also a regular patron of Studio 54 back in the day. She hung out with Halston, Liza, Andy Warhol and Debbie Harry. REALLY, Mess? When she dropped that bomb, it was 2 o'clock in the morning and I was feeling a little slap happy due to a lack of sleep, but I was still coherent enough to know that NEVER HAPPENED! I had just watched a special about Studio 54 a couple of months prior on VH1. I knew exactly what to ask the dope.

'So Judine,' I asked, 'how old were you when you were hangin' out with Debbie Harry and Cher?''About 22 or 23, I ws really freekin' young dere,' She replied. Don't forget, Judine is now approximately 48 years old. Studio 54's hey-day was when she was about 15 years old. Really, Judine... you were 15 YEARS OLD when you were going to Studio 54? STEVE RUBELL LET YOU THROUGH THE DOOR LOOKING LIKE THE HOT MESS YOU'VE ALWAYS LOOKED LIKE?

I was so tempted to burst her bubble but I opted to stay silent. I knew I'd be ripping her apart later with various mutual friends of ours, so I let her think I was hanging onto every word and believing it when I was jagging a fork in the back of my paw. Then came her pièce de résistance - My best poker face ever. She told me that she went into Studio 54 one night with a girlfriend (always some nameless person who has since died) and that girlfriend complained to her that Grace Jones was trying to pick her up for a red-hot lezzie session.

She said that her girlfriend ran up to her and begged her get rid of the black chick that kept trying to pick her up. 'I'll take care of dat freekin' nigga,' said Judine. She walked up to the woman and, to her surprise, it turned out to be none other than Grace Jones. You know what she said to her? 'Leave my goilfriend alone, ya fat, freekin nigga' or else I'll bust youse in the mouth!'

With that Grace Jones high tailed it out of there like she never high tailed it out of there.

Sure Judine, you called Grace Jones 'a nigger,' threated her with violence in the middle of Studio 54, in 1977, and NOTHING HAPPENED TO YOU!

Ok, WHERE TO BEGIN!?!.... first of all that shit definitely would have made the news. Secondly, do you think Grace Jones would take that shit from some loud mouthed 15 year old dyke lying down? Oh, HELLZ NO! Judine would have left Studio 54 with a big-ass spiked heel sticking out of her forehead that night had she even dared to say such a thing to Miss Grace. She'd have had a whole lot of Grace up in her face!

Looking back I have seriously mixed feelings about the whole scenario. I sort of feel offended that she thought I was that stupid to buy her lies, but I also feel sorry for her that she thought she had to tell me those lies in order for me to like being around her. It had the reverse effect. Not only did I grow to NOT like her very much, I dodn't trust her either. She had these two other friends, Theresa and Kit, and whenever I got a fresh plate of bullshit from Judine, I'd immediately run over to them and tell them everything. We'd laugh our asses off and call her the World's Biggest Douchebag. We still get a ton of milage out of it.

Not only was Judine a huge liar - she also said some of the grossest things I ever heard come out of anyone's mouth. I always found the humor in it though. One night when we were knee deep in various variations of Wizard of Oz dolls, Natalie Merchant came on the radio. I passed the comment that it was great to hear (whatever song it was) on the radio, because I hadn't heard it in years. Her reply you ask?

'I love her. I'd eat her out all night.'

How do you follow up to that? You can't!

I told Allie that story some years later and she almost fell out of the chair laughing. After we howled for a couple of minutes, I tried to explain my thoughts. I never hung out with hardcore lesbians before so I assumed that sort of conversation was normal. After all, I've heard plenty of men say stuff like that.

'NO,' said Allie, 'Real women don't say things like that, EVER!'

'So are you saying Judine's not a real woman.'

'NO SHE'S NOT!'We still text each other 'I'd eat her out all night' on occasion.

OK, I'm done talking about liars, gorillas and big scary lesbians!

Lies that stupid people tell you in the age of Wikipedia

Happy Easter to those of you that celebrate it.

Not a big deal to me, Easter. Hasn't been since the discovery of no Easter Bunny. That was even more disappointing to me than Santa Claus for some reason. I remember being really bummed out when I was 7 years old when I found this out.

I was collecting rocks on a North Shore Beach early this morning. They're for Soo's backyard. I got 4 buckets full of them. I slightly wondered if I was engaging in illegal activites and wondered what I was going to say if a cop passed by.

"What're you doing?" The cop would implore. I could tell the truth and hope against hope that the cop would know who the person was I was rock collecting for and let me off with a slap on the wrist. Then I started thinking up creative lies to tell and started laughing like a hyaena. Good job no other fucker was there to take note. I cannot imagine what I'd have looked like out there doubled over in fits of laughter collecting up a bunch of rocks. The best stories I thought up were that I was collecting rocks for my brand new cave I was moving into. I was going to go to some 'dumb country' and pass them off as money. I was going to bring the 'Pet Rock' fad back big time and then rattle off some names. I was going to whip 'em at Dale Bozio the next time she comes back to The Crazy Donkey. Yep. I kill me.

While those lies were mildly amusing (to me) and served a purpose, it got me thinking about all of the stupid hideous liars I've known over the course of time and I narrowed it down to 2 idiots.

Step up William S - liar number one. The first time I met this doofus he told me that he attended the in-store signing at Tower Records in NYC in 1985 for Kate Bush. He said he never did get to meet her. 'Why not?' I asked. 'Because the fans were so over-excited that they tipped her limosine over and she didn't bother to sign anything.

'NEVER. HAPPENED. BECAUSE. I. WAS. THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh man! I so wanted to call him out on his bull shit, but I didn't. Well, I did two years later, but I'm digressing. Kate Bush arrived and signed hundreds, perhaps thousands, of items for people who came from as far away as Virginia. She was wearing a blue blazer, red bow around her neck as a tie, a white blouse and white courdoroys. She looked gorgeous. My friend, Allyson Howlett, brought her camera and got tons of great pics of her signing. The best pic was a pic taken just as Kate was getting out of the white limo. I had copies of those for years, but they got lost through one too many moves. 'The box that held everything' is how I refer to anything that went missing on my last move. But yeah - tipped the limo over.

Did he ever THINK he might run into someone who'd know he was full of shit? ESPECIALLY IN NEW YORK CITY?!?!

His face melted when I called him on it that summer of 1999.

I was recently in a record shop (somewhere) and a Kate Bush picture disc caught my eye. I looked at it and had a serious giggle to myself because one side featured a piccie of her, from that fateful day at that Tower in-store appearance. I thought to myself: 'Oh, I thought she never made it because her LIMO WAS TIPPED OVER!!!'

BWAH HA HA!

Liar number two? Gloria 'The Gorilla' Roberts. Never, in my life, have I known someone to spin such utter nonsense and bull shit for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Usually there's a reason for telling a little white lie here and there. To spare someone's feelings for example. This dumb bitch, the first night I met her, told me her 70-something year old mother was a gang member in The Crips. Yep, you read that correctly. The Crips. I was a little too tired to really question it so I let her dig that hole as deep as she was willing to go.

'Uh, yeah, my momma, she had a friend who invited her to his club in Harlem and that's how you got into those gangs back in those days... yeah!'

Well, Wikipedia begs to differ. Here's the opening line of 'history' of The Crips:

Stanley "Tookie" Williams met Raymond Lee Washington in 1969, and the two decided to unite their local gang members from the west and east sides of South Central Los Angeles in order to battle neighboring street gangs. Most of the members were seventeen years old.

Gloria is a 50 year old hag. I somehow doubt her momma was running around with a bunch of 17 year olds when she was a 40-something frau. Who the hell was watching 12 year old Gloria when Momma was out in L.A. threatenin' to CUTCHA BEE-OTCH!?!


The other big lie I caught the cunt in is when she claimed to see the case of Mark Fontes, in Tucson, Arizona, profiled on Unsolved Mysteries. I immediately smelt bullshit on that one. In short, Mark was whacked in the back of the head in early 2004 while out at a bar in Tucson. It was reported as a 'gay bashing,' however, according to Tucsonian police, it was widely speculated that it was a crime of passion committed by the psycho ex-boyfriend. Mark, himself, even told me this.

Anyhoo, I'm digressing... Mark had a VHS tape of the local news reporting it. We watched it. When it was over, Gloria The Gorilla exclaimed, 'Oh Marky, I saw dat profiled on America's Unsolved Mysteries an' after I sat there an' watched it; I cried. Yeah! Yes I did!'

I almost broke my neck rushing home that night to google Unsolved Mysteries. I got home and found their official site. Guess what? That show went OUT OF PRODUCTION in 2002!!! Wiffle Ball Head was attacked in 2004! I'd love to know what episode of Unsolved Mysteries that dumb bitch was watching if she REALLY DID see that televised. I don't know how Mark held his tongue either.

For Unsolved Mysteries to have picked that up, they certainly would have contacted him. He's a total attention whore on top of that - so had that happened, I KNOW he'd have told me he was profiled on that show. Christ, he'd likely have had it tattooed on his fucking forehead!

Not to diminish the dynamic of his story but it was only a local Tucson story anyway. I have a friend in Phoenix. He'd never even heard of the case, and Phoenix is a 90 minute drive from Tucson.

Honestly, I guess liars are naturally stupid. I feel like this: If I'm your friend, then you never ever have to lie to me. And if you really feel the need to make up stories to make yourself seem that much more interesting, then at least do some fucking research to back your bullshit up. Has to be said though - I love busting big fucking liars when they start spinning their shit.

Eyes Through The Letterbox.

So I thought I'd get back on track with some of the weird premonitions and ghost stories I have up my sleeve.

Picture it: Blackburn, Scotland. 1983.

I was 13 and my mother and I were back for a 3 week trip to visit family. One of the things I most remember about this visit was that my mother had several parties at my Grandmother's house that would go well into the very early morning.
It was a standard council house, built approximately 10 years after the war, and Gran was the first person to ever live there. She told me when the houses were being built on those fields she said "I'm going to have that first house on the corner, right there." Another fine example of a fact that came from a thought. But I'm digressing.

I always hated that house. There was a very unsettling feeling over it and some nights I was too terrified to get to sleep. It had 3 bedrooms and a massive hall closet upstairs. You'd have to go downstairs for the bathroom. Many a night I would wait until morning before I'd go down there again. I was to find out, many years later, that my mother and cousin, Annette also felt this way.

But back to that summer night in 1983. Everyone had gone home except my mother's childhood friend George. They were having a good natter and they saw no need to end it just because everyone else went home so they continued. For some reason, before he left, I got this crazy notion of eyes looking at me through the letter box on the front door.

My mother was relentless in ridiculing me for that. She walked George out the door and peered through the box and I ran upstairs screaming like a giant girl over it.

A couple of nights later my Gran went downstairs to use the bathroom. It was some time after midnight she later recalled. She heard noises coming from outside. She went into the kitchen, got a knife out of the drawer and went back into the hallway to peer outside the letter box to see if someone was there. She opened it with the knife and looked outside. She said she saw someone standing there and they bent down and stared right back at her.

"GET OOT OF THERE!" She screamed. Whoever it was left.

"I nearly shit ma'self when I saw two een peerin' back at me." I remember Gran saying. What did my bitch troll of mother do? More fodder for her. She told me all about it barely able to contain herself.

Clearly, I put that out into the Universe and the Universe sent it back. I'm glad that it wasn't me that actually had to experience something that unexpected and unwanted though. Even though it happened 26 years ago it still makes my hairs stand up on end.

But Gran's house. Hellish place. I could never stay there alone and, if I did, I'd have to be upstairs and in bed before it got dark outside. It was a corner house, as I previously mentioned, and it's front door was actually on the side. All of the other houses had their doors in front. There was a massive side yard that no one else had and Gran never put anything there. You'd walk into the hallway and the stairs were to your right. She whitewashed it every year so it was very bright and cheery looking. After the stairs was the hall closet, then there was the living room kitchen and bathroom. They all centred around the hallway entrance. The front door had a window on it but when it was dark in that hallway, at night time, you couldn't even see your hand in front of your face. The window had frosted glass on it but shadows frequently appeared for no reason and it was usually very startling.

Years after Gran died, my uncle inherited the house. He built a garage for his car directly in front of it and changed the door to a full glass door that you could clearly see through. It made no sense to me. Why change the door for this good view up the street, then stick a great big wall in front of it?

It really made matters worse for me when I stayed there. I was 21, and an adult, but my mind would really get the better of me. I'd start thinking how there's someone behind there waiting to murder me. One night I sat in the living room, well into the evening with a really good book. I felt I was finished at around 2am and wanted to go upstairs to bed. Could. Not. Do. It. I stayed on the couch until morning, unable to sleep. I finished the book. (Annie Lennox by Lucy O'Brian for all you Lennox folks!)

Years later, when I spoke about the house to Finnegan, he told me of a friend who might be able to tell me a thing or 2 about the house's past (or rather) what might have happened there prior to its existence. I had my own theories in my head but I really wanted to speak to this psychic/empath person to see what he'd say.

We spoke by phone. I told him the above stories and about my general creepy feelings about the place. He said, as I was speaking of the house and the dreadful feelings I had, he had visions of a well that poured out seemingly endless buckets of blood. This did not fill me with confidence, however, it confirmed my original thoughts.

I told the psychic that I felt the land held very horrid memories from the Druid time period of Britain. My mother often dreamt of a hooded figure by the foot of her bed when she was a child. In that house. She would also wait to use the bathroom until morning and would not go downstairs unless it was dire.

Those of you that don't know - Druids sacrificed young people to their Gods.
(Google 'Druidism' or go to Wikipedia with it.) I think the land, all around the area of Blackburn (Scotland) probably holds that memory. Can you imagine the terror going through the minds of children on a sacrificial alter? Harrowing.

I think it goes even further. I believe years later, during the period in Britain where Catholics were being slaughtered in the 1600s, Catholics were brought to that general area for their mass executions. Those houses were only just built in the late 1940s, early 1950s. Prior to that they were just fields. For centuries. Who knows what was going on there in all of time.

The general area has a creepy, foreboding atmosphere. Blackburn was, generally, always a safe place at night, but I absolutely hated walking home alone. You always had dark closes to walk through followed by vast emptiness in the dark. There was also this path that you could cut through to get to the cross. (Where you caught the bus to Glasgow.) That was surrounded by trees that hung down low enough to touch the top of your head. Try walking through that at 2 o'clock in the morning. It doesn't half make your imagination run away with itself.

Anyhoo, there's my story about eyes through the letter box and a crash course in Druid times. (Those of you that googled it.) next I'll tell you about the ghost of my uncle paying me a visit.
3Ds
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Nena - 26 years I missed out on.

So chances are, if you're not from Germany, the only song you know from Nena is 99 Red Balloons. Little did I know that Nena was this huge star in her own country that has been cranking out fabulous music since 1983. Not that that was a great surprise - I just never gave it much thought.

For years I loved 99 Red Balloons (99 Luft Balloons to you die-hards) but never ventured further than that due to the fact that nothing else was made available state side or in the UK. Sad. She's fabulous. As a musician, myself, this is the sort of music I envisioned myself playing, writing and singing. Except I'd be singing it in English, of course.

2 things happened recently. First one - an old Nena song, from 1984, was rearranged, updated and made into a duet in the year 2004. The song 'Anyplace, Anywhere, Anytime' (or Irgendwie, Irgendwo, Irgendwann as it was originally titled) was brand new to me, even though it was 20 years old, but the catch (for me) was that it featured Kim Wilde singing her part of the song in English. This meant I'd get to hear it. Woah! Great song. Fell in love within the first few notes. I immediately burned a 'Kim Wilde' mix CD with that song on it.

Next thing that happens is I reconnect with my best friend from high school after 17 long years. She lived in Germany for a while, got married there, then brought her German husband back to the states with her. He introduced me to Nena's back catalogue and, as much as I enjoyed the music (and didn't give a shit that I had no idea what she was singing about,) I felt a little left out. All these songs were clearly revered classics in Germany much like 'Karma Chameleon' and 'Hungry Like The Wolf' are classics here. Germans had a lifetime with these songs. I only just discovered them. Very 'glass is half empty' of me, yes, I know, but I am Capricorn moon and rising. Can't be helped. This is also where I found out the kick ass Kim Wilde duet was originally a Nena classic re-worked and re-vamped for a modern German Nu-wave scene. A scene that was nutured and allowed to grow in Germany, unlike the States, where the shit-bag Nirvana thing killed everything melodic, creative and inspiring in its path.

When I left my friend's house that day I had a burned Nena CD (with other various German Nu-Wave related geniuses) and I listened to it a handful of times. My high school friend's husband made me a fabulous CD.

So on Saturday, I took my mother into the city and we caught a street fair. I made a bee-line to the nearest CD seller and, as I looked through the classic New-Wave/1980s collections, I got the shock of my life and found a CD entitled 'Nena: Definitive Collection.' Only $5. Sold. So mine. So glad I bought it too. More songs I've never heard before and an extended version of Irgendwie, Irgendwo, Irgendwann. Pure German Nu-Wave Heaven. Listening to it now. The Malibu, Heartbeat, Paris, 007 and Spize were good, but they were never this good!

I<3 Nena!
3Ds
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Some of them want to use you.

Some of them want to use you. Truer words never spoken. Enter Mark Fontes. Our whole relationship was built on a monumental lie. He only made me a part of his life because he thought it would get him closer to my best friend. My best friend is a local, and well loved celebrity. I really didn't want to believe that at first but there it was. I accept it. I can move on. It didn't kill me. It made me stronger. This is the 3rd time this has happened to me. It will NEVER. HAPPEN. AGAIN.

I refuse to let it bother me anymore. I'm talking about a person who is still on friendly terms with a person he thinks smashed him in the head with a baseball bat and almost killed him. LUNACY! One of my dear friends, after hearing this story, christened Mark 'Whiffle Ball Head.' Yes, it's cruel, but trust me, it's deadly accurate and he's a viper, so he deserves it fully.

But back to Mark, AKA Whiffle Ball Head... He's also friends with a fat, ugly, gorilla faced bitch called Gloria. Gloria is a VERY unattractive 50 year old hag, that wears a cheap-ass blue wig, and is in love with Mark. A 26 year old GAY MAN! Mark, personally, said to me, 'Nothing is ever going to happen between me and Gloria The Gorilla.' Pity she isn't aware of this.

So sad the way she cleans his apartment and does his laundry... Meanwhile her sick and aged mother, with dementia, sits at home in a filthy apartment that reeks of urine. She also has a 70 year old uncle who is HIV+ that she could be doing things for, but does she? Oh no. She's a selfish lowlife piece of trash with a head that looks like a Brillo pad.

Mark, because of the brain injury, needs to have counselors, from New York State, come visit him twice a week. Neither of them want Gloria there because they say she is detrimental to his well-being. Well 'DUH!' Gloria refers to the counselors as 'those cunts' and thinks that they want to keep her away from Mark because they want to have sex with him. Let's take a look at Mark, shall we?

Mark looks like a cross between Don Knotts and Eddie Munster. He has ears that rival Prince Charles's in their size, he has huge dark circles under his beady, sneaky little eyes, he has the brain injury, and he smokes a ton of pot a day and is totally out of it because of that. He has a caved in chest and love handles that make his shape look womanly. Yeah, he's a real catch all right! Well, for Gloria he might be if he weren't A BIG OLE HOMO!

Where am I going with this? Right, Whiffle Ball Head - no good, stupid piece of shit that needs to drop dead because all he'll ever amount to is a huge burden to the state of New York. Send the bitch back out to Tucson in a body bag and let the vultures feed of his scraggy, worthless carcass. Done with him.

Send Gloria out there too. The vultures will feed off of those ginormous, sagging breasts for months to come.

3Ds
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