They don't get any more real...

Becky and I need our own reality TV show. NAY - WE DESERVE IT!

What's real about 7 strangers picked to live in a mansion? HA! Don't make me laugh! What is real about two rich kids stumbling around purposely ruining things in scripted scenarios? NOTHING! !

I think the thing that irks me about Paris and Nicole is how unfunny they are. Spouting "That's Hot!" or "Hey bitches" doesn't fill me with belly laughter. Rather it fills my belly with bile and makes me a seething pile of rage!

Becky and I are funny. No really! We are!! John and Jane Q public have paused mid-stream of conciousness riff to tell us, "I didn't mean to listen in, but you guys are hillarious." We have fans! I've seen people giggle as we try on shoes at payless. (They are laughing with us - not at us). Many a store clerk has lit up with gales of laughter at our antics. At parties, people just prop us in the corner and sit before us to hear us riff. It's almost like a build your own TV. They come and watch, and they are entertained.

Our core audience are the drunk and infirm. The infirm especially since they can't out run us. We play well to the sleep deprived too...hell we are at our personal best when we're sleep deprived.

Our lives are down-right sitcomish at times.

I give a prime example:

Miss Becky and Myself are out and about and have to stop at the local Shopko in beautiful St. Cloud Minnesota. I have to relieve my bladder, as does my albino twin. She takes the first stall, and I the second as the third is already occupied. I settle in for a nice uneventful bladder draining, but no - now the hillarity ensues.

There is a small and airy discharge. It comes from the stall to my right - the stranger quadrant. It is not a fart as one may assume, but rather a small burp. As soon as I hear it, I can see in a flash how this going to play out. It's like Nostrodamus has clubed me upside the head...and it ain't gonna be pretty.

I am not ladylike. No one has ever mistaken me for a prissy girl. I have been known to do my fair share of burping - quite a lot. So I know the INSTANT that arrant little air bubble erupts from the stall next to me that Becky will assume it's me, up to my old burpy tricks. I have merely .25 seconds to pray "please don't say anything - please don't say anything, oh Becky for the love of pete - don't say anything".

Apparently because of the nasty fornicatin' life I've lead, God has me on permanant ignore because right on que I hear from the stall to my left - "NICE! Real lady like!"

At this point I have lost it. I am laughing so hard I have the phantom laugh. I get this on occassion when things are too funny for me to handle, no noise comes out. If you listen very carefully you might hear a little weeze but otherwise, my mouth is simply agape and no noise.

I am alone in my stall wheezing, trying to alert my friend that maybe she should zip it since she has just called out some stranger as a nasty no-manner having, slob (which she can say to me anytime, but it's frowned upon to do so to a stranger you have never even seen in the ladies room at Shopko in St. Cloud Minnesota) - but between the phantom laughter that has me doubled over, I can only slightly wheeze/whisper "it wasn't meeee..."

Apparently she didn't hear that little squeak of info.

I pull my pants and myself together as best I can and leave my stall to find my albino twin waiting for me. She must assume since I am still giggling that she has "caught" me - and so continues her tirade.

"I'm so glad I have such an uncouth friend who burps in bathrooms"

"Yeah, about that - we need to talk!"

"Oh?" - confused is written all over her face.

I manage to push her outside and say, "Yeah that wasn't me - it was the lady in the stall next to me."

"We both then fall into massive fits of laughing that could not be quelled for some 15 minutes after the fact. The rest of the afternoon, all either of us had to say was "NICE - Real Lady Like" before we fell into laugher again.

Dear madame - who is probably still in her stall at Shopko in St. Cloud Minnesota, afraid to come out since she has had her miss manners lesson via the bathroom. It's safe to come out now. We're not laughing at you - but rather us.

We're complete tards. And isn't that what we need on TV now - more than anything? A couple of complete tards?!