Dusty, is that you?
Dusty Mama, (affectionately known as the Dust Mop) and I are are long time friends by keyboard. We have never met in person, which is probably a good thing since neither of us has that kind of bail money. I was tickled she won the Name that Winged Rodent contest, because that means I get to devote an entire blog entry to roasting her alive.
You might think that as friends, I’d post a glowing report about what a wonderful person she is. You might think wrong. Now hand me the tongs and the barbeque sauce!
I don’t believe in sugar coating anything, so let’s get right to it. For you, dear blog readers, I’m going to divulge Dusty’s biggest secret. The one Dusty DOESN’T Want You to Know. I’m only gonna say it once, so listen up. Are you ready?
Dusty used to be a man. And a good looking man at that. She was a promising young actor by the name of James. (Although he preferred to be known as Jimmy.)
I am sooo putting on a dress after this photo shoot.
Alas–fame and fortune proved to be too stressful for our high strung hero. After a string of failed relationships, (all with Mel Brooks, but you didn’t hear it from me) Jimmy knew he had to get out of the limelight. After faking his own death, Jimmy dropped out of sight by changing careers.
Enter the food industry. Jimmy rose in the ranks from dishwasher to busboy to meat packer in no time. They said no one could stuff a sausage casing like Jimmy, and no one ever will. In the fudge meat packer industry, he was King.
For a number of years he was happy in his meat mashing world; but sadly, fame found him yet again. Reporters and cameramen hounded his every move as Jimmy’s venture grew into a sausage empire.
Damn you, sausage patties, DAMN YOU!
Zesty goodness packed in a plastic sheath.
This brasierre is killing me.
Unable to dodge the paparazzi, hounded by sausage lovers everywhere, Jimmy packed his bags and moved under cover of darkness–the only clues left behind were his personal meat grinder and the lingering aroma of slaughterhouse. Once more Jimmy was gone, and his adoring public mourned for the loss of their beloved Sausage King.
Meanwhile, Jimmy had a plan. He grew his hair and legally changed his name to Dusty. With this new found private life, Dusty lived out the next few decades in style, marrying half a dozen three or four times (the Sean Penn incident was never quite proven) and having a family ala Michael Jackson. (Or was that with Michael Jackson? I forget just now.)
Dusty now leads a quiet life in rural Wisconsin, where (s)he can be heard referring to (him)herself in the third person on occasion, making such comments as, “Jimmy is SUCH a pain in the ass, but I love him anyway.” Most notably to her friend Shellie, who mistakenly believes she’s Dusty’s sister in law.
Oy. That family.
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Ok, ok. In all seriousness, Dus is a shoot-from-the-hip kinda gal who speaks her mind. She’s a dear friend and a fun blog read. So go read, already! From my Front Porch (Dusty’s Family blog), I’m Not a Bitch, Just Giftedly Outspoken! (Take no prisoners and eat the wounded!)
You’re very strange.
Oh, and I have a gift for you on my blog today.
You’ve just NOW figured this out?
Cool! Is it a good looking man in a dress?
Quite the ode to Dusty. How long HAVE you known each other “by keyboard?”
Gosh Kween, I’m not entirely sure. 6 or 7 years, anyway.
Do you know how long it’s been, Dus?
Bahahhahahahaha! You DORK! Bahahahahaha! Thank you, thank you very much my dear! Your day is coming! Sooner than you think!
I think it was 2000 when we stumbled into each other.
Ah thank ya, ah thank ya. I’ll be here all week. Don’t forget to tip your waitress and try the veal.
Haha- “Damn you, sausage patties!” Now there’s a classic line.
Girl you ain’t right lol