Photos
Kirstie Alley was so nervous that her palms were sweating. Of course, Kirstie Alley’s palms were always sweating, but she could tell that this time they were sweating because she was nervous, not because her body was working overtime to process the sugar from an entire box of ice cream sandwiches. Well, OK, Kirstie Alley wasn’t a doctor, so maybe her palms were sweating from both nervousness and 12 ice cream sandwiches eaten with an animal-like vengeance in a bathroom stall just three minutes earlier. Kirstie Alley ordered a mocha Chai tea latte made with half-and-half and three Diet Cokes to calm her nerves.
On stage, another poet was reading something about a lake? And the lake was also her mother? And she wanted to bathe in her mother’s tears? So the lake was crying? Kirstie Alley had never particularly been a fan of poetry readings (NOT ENOUGH FROSTING!), but when she had received the email filled with animated GIFs of gnomes baking bread asking her to come to the Dreamcatcher Cafe tonight and read some of her Twitter postings, she figured it would be fun, and besides, maybe a casting agent would be here, or a branding expert for a diet foods corporation looking for a new, but mildly famous, and definitely moon-shaped face.
The poet finished and walked off stage. There was a smattering of mild, polite applause. Then, the skinniest woman Kirstie Alley had ever seen, a wisp of a woman who couldn’t weigh more than 200 pounds, got up to the microphone. “Up next,” she said into the microphone, squinting at the peel of feedback, “we are lucky to have one of the bravest new voices of our generation. Please welcome to the stage, Ms. Kirstie Alley!”
This was it! As Jim Carrey said in The Mask, IT’S SHOWTIME!
Kirstie Alley was still nervous and had a little bit of diarrhea as she climbed the stage. But she thrust back her shoulders, droplets of sweat popping everywhere, and reminded herself that she was a performer. How many of the frail men and brassy women in this room that smelled vaguely of BO and hemp clothing had the courage to do what she did? Well, most of them, since after the poetry reading ended, the cafe hosted an open mic poetry reading, and most of the audience was just waiting for that, but Kirstie Alley didn’t know. She gripped the mic, which disappeared into her flesh like an old friend.
Kirstie Alley cleared her throat. “This first poem,” she began, a weird Joker-smile creeping crookedways along her face, “is called ‘Run.’” She cleared her throat again, and found half an ice cream sandwich in there. She swallowed, and then she read her poem.
“EVERYONE RUN TO YOUR NEAREST SONIC AND GET A FREE ROOT BEER FLOAT!!!! RRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!!!!! Thank you.”
The crowd erupted into applause. Kirstie Alley’s dress was matted to her body with sweat, but now the sweat wasn’t nervousness and treats, it was the flush of pride. And treats. She smiled a big, creepy, gargoyle smile, and lowered her head. “Thank you. This next poem is called ‘A Haiku for Joy Behar.’” Kirstie alley took a deep, ragged, gurgling breath. “and WHY has Joy Behar turned into such a self righteous cooz head? OOOOooo that’s right…..FOREVER!!!”
Again, the audience lost their minds. Gone was any shred of Kirstie Alley’s anxiety or self-consciousness (although the mild case of diarrhea remained). This was why she got into this business in the first place! Her fans loved her. Her fans needed her!
“My final poem is a freeform poem and it is called ‘Kirstie’s Poem.’” Kirstie shook her oily, ravaged hair, which was plastered across her brow. And she closed her eyes as the poetry took her. “HELLO PEPPER SPRAY HEADS! hope you got your finger on the BLOCK trigger!!!! go get em killers!! going to dinner with friends..then off for some sex with Vicky…..lmao…I wish it worked that way…LMAO would be much easier!! GOING TO DINNER….TINY LITTLE BIT THAT IT IS…lol…enough to wittle me down. and huge compared to our HAITI friends..will return soon a a aaaa roma ro ma ma… ga ga oo la la …want a GOOD romance…LOVE HER HELLO FUN PEOPLE…I just danced for an hour and I’m feeling lazy so I’m going on a HIKE…hike teacher could care less if I’m whining..lol GOOD MORNING BABY LOVE HEADS..our children are our future..we gotta take good care of em..kiss your babies all day long At MarleeMatlin MY B DAY WAS GREAT FUN!!!! I miss you..our lives are so crazy busy..when it rains it pours…anyway come visit me!!” Kirstie Alley opened her eyes. “Thank you, I’m Kirstie Alley.”
The audience was in tears and some were screaming “Truth! Truth!” Kirstie smiled and took a bow, and she was about to step off the stage when a figure came running towards her. “Kirstie Alley?” the figure asked. Kirstie nodded and smiled her terrifying smile. “My name is President Obama,” the figure said, and then President Obama stepped out of the shadows and the figure was President Obama. “I don’t have any idea what a hiking teacher is, but i do know what a Poet Laureate is, and I want to make you the Poet Laureate of the United States. My staff and I have been traveling the country and secretly hiding out in the backs of weird smelling coffee shops and hippy community centers looking for the right person, and I think you are that person. Let’s shake on it! It’s a deal!” The secret service was standing all around him and they were crying and nodding and reaching out just for the briefest of touches of the dampened fabric of Kirstie Alley’s frock.
Kirstie Alley could not believe it. She was such a good poet and she didn’t even know it. She could not wait to tell her family and her friends. She could not wait to tell her astonishingly large number of Twitter followers. But there would be time for all of that later. First, it was snacktime. And Kirstie Alley was FFAMISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHED.
 |
 |
You Might Also Like
 When Books Are Outlawed, Only Outlaws Will Be Babies… |  Timothy Has Something To Share With The Class |  Let’s All Enter This Bill Murray Poetry Contest |  Jon Stewart Vs. Bill O’Reilly (Again) |
Leave a Reply
Sign inSign in with FacebookYou must be logged in to post, reply to, or rate a comment.
Um, “A Haiku for Joy Behar”, was not a haiku!!! Why is Kirstie Alley such a poet FRAUD??? Yeah, that’s right…FOREVER!
Try again.
Um, “A Haiku for Joy Behar”, was not a haiku!!! Why is Kirstie Alley such a POET FRAUD HEAD??? Yeah, that’s right…FOREVER!
Oh fuck, this is embarrassing.
As long as I’m going downhill, I’ll admit, right here, right now, that I saw every episode of Fat Actress even though they canceled Dead Like Me to make room for it. Fuck yeah!
What?! That’s why they canceled Dead Like Me? That settles it, Kirstie Alley is now my enemy.
Seconding that!
Smash cut to a gluttonous feeding frenzy that almost makes you want to throw up. Did she just eat one of her own fingers?!
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Tears.
Someday people will learn that hating on the obese is just as bad as racism and then you’ll be sorry, bro.
We’re already evolving, I mean, just look at how many people are taking a stand for ginger-hating!
No.
Someday people will learn that hating on alcoholics and drug addicts is just as bad as racism.
“Alcoholism is a disease, but it’s the only disease you can be yelled at for having.”
hold on, I just heard Jeremy Piven’s dating January Jones? All of the self-worth gains made after today’s Gifting Lounge post has been negated by the universe-is-ultimately-a-bad-place vibes created by this information.
Hey you guys want to hear a story? When I was 17 I worked at a coffee shop and a surprisingly large (literally! ha!) number of severely obese people would come in and order Grande breves… which is half and half instead of milk. I would sometimes just give them 2% instead because I did not want to be a murderer.
weren’t you ever afraid of angering the fatties? I mean, hippo rage might not be a real thing…but it’s totally a real thing: *mouth frothing* “WHO FUCKED UP MY COFFAY!”
and for the record I’m *not* racist against fat people (fatcist?)…there are many levels of fat. There’s the big but healthy, big but beautiful, maybe I could lose a couple, sloth fat, gross fat, dangerous fat, robust, heavy, skinny fat, phat fat, FORMALLY fat (those guys can be just as sensitive about the fat they used to have)…and many others. Skinny people are all anorexic. i’m just saying.
I was a very brave and self-righteously thin 17 year old.
Now, however, if the stupid teenager at In N Out forgot to make my order Animal Style I would hippo rage like whoa.
i call it hippo rage because it reminds me of Hungry Hungry Hippos: there is a lot of noise, a lot of mouth flapping and in the end there are no more marbles and you have to wonder who actually had fun.
When I was thin I would gangle rage or rag-doll rage…my thin arms flapping around as I threw my tantrum. huh..Kermit rage?
now that i’m old and paunchy when some punk funcks up my order I just get really tense until there is a sharp pain behind my eye, I usually give up and when I stub my toe three days later I make hurtful comments to my loved ones until finally they leave me because they can?t take it anymore. KIDDING! I just drink.
*Tearfully claps* That was beautiful, Gabe! Many deep belly laughs.
Of course, my problem with poetry has always been a) too confusing and b) not enough frosting.
There are a lot of things in the world that could use less confusion and more frosting.
So true, meaverly. So. True.
I’d say this is kicking her when she’s down, but she’s a Weeble, so.
Hiking teacher??? That sounds like a totally legitimate career path that I believe I need to start looking into.
Don’t waste your time. I have my doctorate in Hiking Educational Sciences and am working at an Ace Hardware store. I blame Big Government.
“She was such a good poet
and she didn’t even know it.”
Sounds like Gabe doesn’t even know he’s a poet, too.
“Honey? What rhymes with ‘Baconator?’”
I, too, have lost many an old friend in that way…
I feel like Kirstie Alley is destined to become the next Rosie O’Donnell
“Honey? What rhymes with ‘Bantha poodoo’?”
Seriously, with all the fat jokes/double standards in here, I can pretty much resign from videogum. Ya know, except for the fact it would make a bunch of assholes very happy.
Just sayin, I got lambasted for barely making fun of fat twilight fans (and thus starting my downhill descent in to BEING DOWN VOTED WITH EVERY FUCKING COMMENT) and I still haven’t recovered. And the shit I said was mild compared to the bullshit I’m reading here now.
And I am kinda fat (SPOILERZ) so it’s kinda funny.
Also, Gabe, it’s Peal. Not Peel. There is no peeling feedback. It can however Peal.
Do I want to get involved, i ask myself? Yes, because I have nothing else to do today and it would be sad if you just disappeared because you were still holding onto this.
#1 let it go. Glug, easier said than done.
#2: Let it go because votes don?t matter. who knows who those people were who downvoted you. Maybe they were fat, maybe they were in the picture, maybe they just didn?t think it was that funny. I know there is this weekly thing where we say votes matter, but really, who cares? (I do. I like to see my name on it, but I accept that it is unlikely and instead hope people I voted for are on it.)
The other thing is (and #3) after a handful (or two) of downvotes you made a comment about being grumpy about the downvotes and then the waves and waves of dvs came?but I think we talked about that already. If your joke falls flat just let it fall. If someone misinterprets what you have to say, that?s one thing, but keep it respectful (not that you don?t but we?ve had too many people who go off the handle and end up saying things that get them banned)
#4 It?s Gabe?s blog and Gabe Rules. (not a typo) Everyone *likes* gabe or they wouldn?t be here. Also, Kirstie is awful and so it?s ok to make fun of her?you poked at normal people who didn?t really put themselves out there to be poked at.
SO, what can we learn? Don’t take things too seriously or too personally, this is a fun blog for fun people (i assume, as I have fun reading the posts and the comments and commenting?though to be fair I don?t know how fun I am). Sometimes we all say stupid things and sometimes people think the smart things we say are stupid (probably because they are stupid).
k. I think I?ve nearly reached my character limit so I will shut up. This is all my opinion and I give it freely because, like I said, you should hang around and I can?t mind my own business.