Papal Paws

At the beginning of the week, I announced I was going to run for Pope.  The minute I hear the job was open, I was all over it.  I  reached out to my minions on Book de la Face, asking for their vote. I assured them of my Catholic heritage, my knowledge of the Catholic church, my up-to-date status with the sacraments, asked the baby Jesus (all 8 pounds, 6 ounces of him) for his blessing.  Hell, I am even still married in the Catholic church's eyes.  I like wearing hats, I'm already an ordained minister, I'd look fabulous riding in that sweet Pope-mobile.....

It was going great.....until that dang Ellen got in on the act:  







Hey, b*tch--it was MY idea FIRST!

She's not even Catholic.  This is so not fair.  Bitter, party of one.








Knowing that I could never beat Ellen at anything, I turned my eyes to other potential activities.  It was then I learned that Mother Monster had sustained a devastating hip injury...requiring her to cancel the remaining stops on her "Born this Way" tour.  It didn't even take me the time it takes to put one paw up to decide this was my calling......

I was born to fulfill Gaga's obligation of completing the tour.  

I know her moves.  I know the lyrics.  I have PAWS UP license plates.  I have tattoos.  I'm Catholic. I was born that way.  I'm a shoo in!

Although I'm not willing to eat a meat dress, I am willing to wear one.

Now, some of you probably think I'm kidding. I'm not.  Why would I kid about such a serious topic? Meat dresses are serious business.  We can't let the Born This Way Ball come to a meat-grinding halt.  After all, there a bazillion little monsters out there waiting for Mother Monster to come home.

I have decided that my advanced age (well, in comparison to the actual age of Lady Gaga) demands that I be Grandmother Monster, not Mother Monster. I wish I could say otherwise, but the truth hurts.  I could have spawned Lady Gaga, which makes me her mother, which makes me your grandmother. That makes all the fans at the concerts my little grand baby monsters.  For this leg of the tour, fans will now be required to scream, "Paws up, Grandma monster!"

Not exactly the same ring to it but you get the idea.

I do have one request, though: I cannot wear those shoes.  I cannot even stand up, let alone walk or dance, in the shoes of which Mother Monster is often seen.  I can't do it.  I can don the meat dress but I can't walk the walk in those things.  Didn't her mother tell her that wearing such shoes would lead to leg injuries?  Look at her now--sidelined by a bad-surgery-needing-gam.  Someone should have warned her that those shoes are lethal.

I'm changing it to the "Born This Way to Wear Gym Shoes" tour.  Paws up, laces tied, meat tenderized. I'm putting on my Poker Face and hitting the road.