Barbie, Cat Eyed
Let's Gossip Barbie, 2
Oh, you ARE listening? I didn't know that you could multitask, tweet and listen at the same time. I thought that you could not even walk and chew gum at the same time. (Paris Helvetica is looking a little better, her eyes are clearing up, I think that the tequila is helping her monstrous hangover. Where are her style team? She needs help before the paparazzi find her.)
Sitting at the Holyhell Starbucks, Paris Pissy and I scanned the area for celebrities. OMG I eat, sleep, and drink celebrities, 24/7. Where would we be without these celestial deities brightening our dull lives with their colorful divorces and their flaunted bikini bodies. I am so excited to be sitting with Princess Hellion that I am wetting my pants. Thank goodness I wore my Dior diaper, advertised by no less than The Fonz. You do remember Henry Winkler, don't you dahlin'?
The first shot of the real true reality show that beamed to my 555 inch HD screen, was set in the immaculate conception room of Lucy and Dizzy's 333 room humble abode. Cameras #1, 2 and 3, recorded the guests grazing on organic palm hearts and gold plated carrots.
From the kitchen cam feed, I saw Lucy and Desi throwing dishes at each other and screeching like zombies. It was amazing, her frothy strawberry updoo stayed perfectly in place as she wound up to hurl a Wedgwood turkey platter.
No, Poufy, it IS a REALITY show. There are no writers. Lucy really is dizzy and Desi really is loose, they are not acting. Do you think that they would call it reality if there was a script? Duh.
To help the guest in the party room ignore the ruckus from the angry Arnezes, The Rolling Stones turned up the volume. Mick Jagger strutted like a monkey on Mountain Dew.
Dahlinn absolutely all the most celebrated, inebriated, torticulated dolls attended. Barbie's gorgeous gown of pink Uranus worm silk was so short that it was just a belt. Ken was just the perfect escort, lovely eye candy. GI Joe dressed out in fatigues, but sported a samurai sword as a bow to the formality of the occasion. Hovering around the bar Dirty Harry squinted at Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Abraham Lincoln pontificated with Bill Clinton while Monica Lewenski batted her lashes at honest Abe. Absolutely every doll who is any doll was preening and posturing at that party. I spotted Yoda (he is adorable, do you think that he is too old to have sex?). Over by the champagne fountain Mama Dearest, the Talking Car danced dirty with the double ought seven Daniel Craig.
Pitty Patty Halibutt, listen up, I am getting to the good part. The kitchen cam zoomed in on Lucy and Dazy throwing butcher knives, both were bleeding, I guess that it was reality blood.
On the stage Keith Richards, looking as usual like chic death warmed over, threw an original Keith Haring canvas at Mick. OMG, Mick turned into a red devil, and OMG flames engulfed the stage. No shit, his eyes turned Tabasco red and those 'I can eat the world lips' turned summer saults. You know, (I whisper,) he is a shockaholic. That devil frightened me so much that I laughed. But, Prissy Hellion, the most interesting activity happened in the shadows, behind the bar, where the EavesDropKam was focused. I zoomed in and enhanced the contrast of the screen.
Picture this, Bauble and Kane were sitting on the red velvet love seat. There was such a free for all, what with the guest heaving furniture at each other, and the sound of bombs bursting in the kitchen, that they thought no one was watching them. They did not see the EavesDropKam survey them with x ray vision from behind the flaming stage. I have eyes like Sherlock Holmes (who could not attend because he is trying to solve the Wikiwhistle narcolepsy case). In the shadows I saw Barbie serve Ken a tall Kahlua and a yummy kannabis brownie.
The screen shifted back to kitchen cam where Lucy wrenched the sink off the wall (she is stronger than she looks) and threw it at Daisy, who countered with the Chiefs Food Fantasia Oven. If they were flesh and not plastic they would be dead. Nine inch dolls are immortal.
On stage Keith Richards unsheathed his laser sword and twirled that scathing scimitar 180x3 degrees. Jagger Devil was a flaming hell dragon and strutted like a Clydesdale at a Mardi Gras parade. The stage was alight with a combustion that did not consume.
By the sofa, Mae West performed falafel on Superman.
Angelina and Brad bellyed up to the bar and toasted New Orleans.
Mila Kunis demonstrated her talents with a banana.
Audrey Hepburn swan necked under the most flattering lamp light. She, and she alone was elegantly composed. Like the eye of Katrina.
In the shadows, Bauble gave Ken three red secobarbietols, which he swallowed quickly, having been warmed up with chocolate psychoactives. In less than three split seconds he stumbled up the stairs followed by camera man #33. He lurched into the first bedroom where Elvis and Marilyn were humping like humdingers. Then he passed out on the carpet in a puddle of puke.
To be continued.....
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