First of all, thank you for being here for the feminist rants, real issues and the general chaos we usually get up to in Flying Bra.

Wander into…

As you know I look at the world through a sharp, funny lens here. But behind the scenes, I also study the impossible— human nature— hence, the hectic heretic. I like to study complex human systems and coach visionary artists who are trying to build unconventional lives. I’ve launched a sister publication called THE ABSURDIST STUDIO where I share my antidotes for human nature, deep-dive essays and my strategic frameworks for mapping out creative chaos. A fun mix of mystic and funny, come subscribe over here.

We know this.

We’ve heard it all before. And yet, we must be reminded to stay vigilant for our younger sisters. Promises made for an enhancement to lead to an enchantment, often an erasure leads to a fracture. So easy to slip in the gown of distortion -to ground breaking proportions. Plus you’ll only attract the jerk that can only rob you of your best abortion, [him!]

Contortion into someone else’s idea of who or what you should be. The illusion was that you would be happier if you did it their way. In forfeiting what you know is right and true for you personally, you give away your power. It is time to take it back.

GLAMOUR PUSS

Flash and Flare

Glitter and Glow

Much too fast

Too little too slow

I see you are low

‘Cause you think you’re a Jane doe

But that promise you seek

Is a thief of your mystique

Glamour Puss

Glamour Puss

So you want to be new

On a trail you think is tried and true

And you’re puckered up

But you’ll finish runner up

Glamour Puss

Glamour Puss

This may sound cavalier

But its a tint I cannot cheer

And if your dignity is smeared

Oh you may disappear

Glamour Puss

Glamour Puss

Chasing the status quo

Is an avenue I know

WELL

It will always interfere

With what hold most dear

YOU

Glamour Puss

Glamour Puss

Flash and Flare

Glitter and Glow

Much too fast

Too little too slow

𐃏

Help your sisters with this disease called "Never Getting Enough of What You Really Don’t Want!" This brings us to introducing our next episode song from Shell Hath No Fury—a chant called "Never Getting Enough of What You Really Don't Want."

“Glamour Puss” features lyrics written by Laura La Sottile, who also serves as the song’s primary composer, lead vocalist, and pianist.

^{All Rights Reserved ✧ Copy Right 2026}

Shell Hath No Fury 🐚 Musical Podcast Series

I WISH I STILL HAD THAT FIGURE…

OH MY WHAT A HYPOCRITE!

ALL this fussing, for no good how, and all necessary cussing can make a woman wild with a percussing vow!

^Prologue

Eyes follow you to the light spot                                                                                   jackets rustling                                                                                                                         laugh or two, a stomach knot,                                                                                             shoes scuffling                                                                                                                            tables clank and clot. 💨

Verse 1

A dark little arrangement

Singing in a hollow dive

Manners are on the song list

On stage and in life will deprive 

Highlights and low lights ambience of well-spoken jive

‘Cause the world doesn’t always know what to do with me.

Chorus

Too deep for shallow waters

Too wise for surface talk

Too attuned to the unseen

To keep on that walk

Lady- like, Lady- Like, Lady-Like Composure

Verse 2

A dark little arrangement

Chasing the run in your stocking

Legs like fancy folded napkins

Don’t come easy when the old self dies

Pretending to be solid not wise

‘Cause the world doesn’t always what to make of me.

Bridge

Longing for my place to be

When all along Mother Earth

Born, already gave me the key

But, the world does not always know what to do with me

But, the world does not always know what to do with me.

Verse 3

Too deep for shallow waters

Too wise for surface talk

Too attuned to the unseen

Misunderstood by the ones that mock

Lady- like, Lady- Like, Lady-Like composure.

Verse 4

A dark little arrangement

Singing in a hollow dive

Keeping my voice in the background, quiet

No more guessing that lie

I know the depths of my riot

No matter if the world doesn’t know what to make of me.

Chorus

Too deep for shallow waters

Too wise for surface talk

Too attuned to the unseen

Misunderstood by the ones that squawk

Lady-like, Lady-like, Lady-like composer

Composure, Composure, Composer, Composure

Lady-Like, Lady-like, Lady-Like me!

The traverse up to the stage, is where a strange corruption tries to bend you. A red carpet of sorts, and all the while the integrity lies within us to make that walk transformative or swamp. Life is a comedic stage in tragic stages.

US women, we have a lot to CUSS ABOUT!

So here we are, doing our work and still no matter how many pickets we’re still fighting our way. Slapping the hands that grope. Letting go of the rope that limits. You have your dignity, your talents, your magnificent instinct…so what is your stage? Fatal? Or Transforming?

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As women step in the forefront

Of this great cascade

The Scientific Realm amplifies

Its default cause n’ effect

Rivers surge beneath our feet

To deep waters of the sea

As finally the Dick-Taters

Take their final bow

In their theatre of destruction

We begin our new era.

Make it a big love.

Welcome!

Big News: I’m taking back the mic! 🎙️

“Friends,

I’ve been writing to you at FLYING BRA for a while now, but it’s time to add a little more noise to the revolution.

I’m thrilled to announce my new podcast: SHELL HATH NO FURY🐚

It’s about taking back the mic—trading passivity for active power through the things I love most: entertaining songs and stories. Think of it as dismantling the patriarchy, but with better melodies and a lot more laughs.

Check out the first episode here and let’s reclaim the narrative together—one high note at a time. It’s one woman, a mic, and a few GarageBand Loops--at least until the rest of the band catches up.”

A very dramatic version of normal life madness!

BETRAYAL BECOMES YOU!

Family is like Fly Paper 🪰
A memorable sticky Trap
You are tagged an escaper
Truth is there’s been a kin-nap

A designer eclipse
Inside a familiar Fun House
Kiss my flower lips
And let them douse
You with Potpourri

Dried petals for 3 O’Clock Tea.
It’s a perfect dilemma
And perhaps it will choke thee.
To bend the light
Betrayal is unforgettable.

Family is like Fly Paper                                                                                                            A memorable sticky Trap                                                                                                     You are tagged an escaper                                                                                                Truth is there’s been a kin-nap

Betrayal is a mere upheaval                                                                                               You best be seated                                                                                                                           For this soul retrieval                                                                                                                           On a bumpy night                                                                                                                        You’ll feel cheated                                                                                                                    And your Heart can’t make it right

But betrayal becomes you..
Oh oh, betrayal you are so sweet
Betrayal can make you weep
But so remember
Not to become bitter and god forbid Cheap!
Unforgettable, Unforgettable, Unforgettable
Betrayal Becomes you Betrayal becomes you…..

Laura La Sottile ©2026

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La Sottile here…..I am taking back the mic! 🎙️

From the creator of the Flying Bra newsletter comes Shell Hath No Fury- a space for reclaiming the female voice through song and stories and as much comedy as the muses will provide. Expect some laughs, some truths and a whole lot of music. Subscribe now or wherever you get your podcast. The band hasn’t caught up yet, but we’re starting anyway. Madeline is warming up on her sax right now on the bow!

EPISODE ONE AIRING JULY 7th, 2026

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P.S. Thank You AI for allowing me to keep my girlish figure.

Love LA 🩵

Top 12 %

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Welcome to Stories from the Drip series where the strange, the divine, and the absurd collide. First, we meet Ms. Ok in Manhattan- her name suggests a simplicity that her life definitely lacks. In Switzerland we’re followed by the formidable Madam Fielderhupenpllatz, who is currently navigating a world that refuses to spell her name correctly. Then, we look to the skies of Uxmal for Chacmool, the ancient Mayan rain god, whose thirst for more than just water might be causing modern-day chaos! Off to the stage of Paris to take a sharp turn into the mythic power of Morgaine and Lily Von Schtupp where they are put to the test as they face off her flesh eaters and climb the castle of freedom. Five stories, five worlds, and one wild ride!

©Laura La Sottile 2026 FLYING BRA Presents Fumetti Cafe “Stories from the Drip.”Laura La Sottile performer & satirist certifies the alchemy of Life’s tragic stage comes in comedic stages. TRASHEDIES is an entertaining and immersive collection of Feminist Auto-Fictional Stories mixed with humor, irreverence, worldliness and poetry. Each story a new land, a growing perspective, a clear understanding that you are responsible for your own empowerment. Incrementally accepting that you bought the ticket to your own shit show. No time to whine… time waits for no one. Flying Bra Productions Presentz TRASHEDIES. A collection of Funny Feminist Fiction Tales novelette published by Austin Macauley Publishers, New York.

Dedicated to my cousin and long time friend Michelle Sottile who inspired me to create the podcast series.

The science of sexual urges, wrapped in a teen drama.

Sexual encounter of the first kind. Sex must happen first, otherwise you won’t get your ticket on the peer-steam-roller express apparently. “I’m a steamroller baby, and I am about to roll all over you.” This is one of the many songs I sing by James Taylor, he’s really cute.

✨More importantly, my white princess phone is ringing…

That was my friend Micheala. She’ll probably have sex much later in life. We are all different and much the same says Martin Luther King.

My question as of right now, as I wait for his call is; Is this a portal of all portals?

Is my Vagina a portal? Perhaps, a portal to all oceans since Vaginas smell like fish? I can’t say that my vagina smells like fish, or anything for that matter. Perhaps, once you introduce your vagina to other flesh-mixing-in with yours it begins to smell otherwise. Those tadpoles are up bound and maybe they leave little fish poops behind.

✨More importantly my white princess phone is ringing…again. The numbers light up!

A crank call…probably that weirdo in math class.

I’m too shy, although you’d never know it. Back to portals and such. How to merge equally seems reasonable enough at this time. Well, my passion box is calling, echoing to come into its vastness and measure the thickness of the walls. Also known as a hornific untamed teenage hankering lust mess.

✨More impotency, I mean more importantly, my white princess phone is ringing…again!

“Hello, Lady Captain of the Hornifics speaking.”

My crazy aunt Marie blubbering away telling me how I should answer the phone properly. I say, “Okay, okay.” I hang up.

If I could get my own number! Yes! How difficult could this be? That way my Mama wouldn’t be tempted at all to eaves drop. I learned in class that eavesdropping came from an “eavesdropper” originally referred to someone who stood right in this drip zone under the windows in order to listen to conversations happening inside.

I find this fascinating, I too feel like I’m under a drip zone.

✨More Importantly, my white princess telephone is ringing again! I love how it lights up and sparkles. I know this is him…just the way the phone lights up. I can’t talk to you right now. I have to pick this up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was far too nervous to keep telling you my story. I could barely talk about anything because I was waiting for his call to come over and have sex for the first time.

So here it is:

The union was clumsy and reserved and not knowing yet how to express my own instinctual knowledge of my body and to share that knowledge without taking out the romance was tricky, to say the least. Yes I said, of course, unwrap that rubber. Use your teeth to open it and spit the tab! Not on the phone! Romance, romance seems an unsurmountable wave of imagination soaring in mid-air with no attempt to land for me. Poetic words floating above like flies. The rosy opaque hues around the passionate interlude is a machine into play, heightening a very base human instinct. I guessed my way through. I had to because he was too drunk, yes, hammered. I too had a few drinks. But, funny for me this fleshy embrace sobered me up quick, eye opening. Among whatever else was opening. It would take a smack truck to keep me from observing every nuance of this highly regarded appointment with attaching two humans together like cork and bottle.

I had plenty of instances, in the dark, except for my white princess telephone lighting up willy nilly, which gave me the courage for more curiosity.

I felt like a Tester. He didn’t have to buy me and hold onto his receipt in case of exchange. It was either going to gel or spray, or not, no taking back. This first fresh encounter would be etched into Pandora’s box. The only thing trapped inside was Hope for many more orgasms. And probably some hope for many more orgasms. Besides, I knew for sure I was not on sale. Certainly, no discounts. Let’s call him Pally, he was my boyfriend for two years and also my pal since I was 6 years old. I asked him to wait, he did, which made me like him more. But, now he was not able to harden, no plank to steer, it kept bending, hail Gumby.

The woman, or in this case the girl, has always more to lose. Not only in pregnancy and freedom, reputation, physical danger and much more I think than he.

The fantastical equalizer must be assured. The motion, the toing-and-froing that can stop the chatter of existential pursuits, the builder of blood’s accumulation, to gorge-ely go, where everybody wants to go, and stay! Where the necessary corners flood to release the damming of the overall busy confrontation of the nature of fornication. Whew! That was as mouth-full.

Oh, so not having an amazing orgasm BEFORE him is really fucked up! He made smudgy red faces and awkward breathing sequences. He was trying after all. I was mostly fumbling about trying to look relaxed. Searching for instructions and keeping the wrench handy, because I heard about the necessary torquing and gripping.

Passion being on the highest setting, it was a challenge to clash flesh without causing injury. Between teeth and scalp and shoulder, and a possible eyeball being pushed back into the brain cavity due to pressure from, I believe, an elbow? But! No lack of hornific desire, but did it have a full reciprocating end?

His head hit my chin and I bit my tongue. I squashed his only nut with my powerful thighs. It was a particle collision. I just had to get the science down.

Yes! Finally, a semi-hard enough dolled out wallops of whip cream. Quickly though, little slug shriveled back and hid.

✨More importantly, my white princess telephone rang just then! It was my Mom telling me she’s on her way home. Her timing was as sharp as a stubbed toe in the middle of the bloody night. Pally was out of there as quickly as he had come…cum, came, cum or whatever.

See, I chose Pally after he chose me. I prefer the strong silent type because I could rest and observe and not have to make small chat or flutter my eye lashes, or lick my nose to show how long my tongue is. He wasn’t the one, Pally boy. I desired love. Love, a different serving of mischievousness, full of hearty lessons. I understood incrementally there was a difference between raging roaring wonderful passionate sex and that ‘other’ feeling…Don’t get me wrong, I love the whole juice fleshy exchange, but hell, its labor intensive and I must reap its rewards. Boys, men whatever they were, seemed to be fighting a whole war of their own, quietly in the back groin.

It was Jon Barrows. Jon without an H he’d say, as if that would make a difference in pronouncing it. My junior prom, I chose him. He was always saying without talking. Now, I realize this may have something to do with his inability to express his feelings. But, at the time I took it for knowledge and sexy wisdom.

Tall, he was tall, Jon, which I thought would create a sore neck when kissing him, but it did not because he would swoop down to me like an eagle and that’s when his deep worldly brooding stormed up against me like a gale wind. His adolescent whiskers brushed against my upper lip and tickled my nose like elephant eyelashes. He knew with me he had the key. He never took it for granted…until…

🐡 THANK YOU FOR LISTENING, MAD 🐡

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The Myth

According to the poet Hesiod, Zeus commissioned Pandora as a punishment for mankind after Prometheus stole fire from the gods. She was given a jar (often translated as a “box” in modern retellings) with strict instructions never to open it. Once opened, all the hardships of humanity escaped. Horrified, Pandora quickly closed the lid, trapping only Hope inside.

Welcome to Stories from the Drip series where the strange, the divine, and the absurd collide. First, we meet Ms. Ok in Manhattan- her name suggests a simplicity that her life definitely lacks. In Switzerland we’re followed by the formidable Madam Fielderhupenpllatz, who is currently navigating a world that refuses to spell her name correctly. Then, we look to the skies of Uxmal for Chacmool, the ancient Mayan rain god, whose thirst for more than just water might be causing modern-day chaos! Off to the stage of Paris to take a sharp turn into the mythic power of Morgaine and Lily Von Schtupp where they are put to the test as they face off her flesh eaters and climb the castle of freedom. Five stories, five worlds, and one wild ride!

©Laura La Sottile 2026 FLYING BRA Presents Fumetti Cafe “Stories from the Drip.”Laura La Sottile performer & satirist certifies the alchemy of Life’s tragic stage comes in comedic stages. TRASHEDIES is an entertaining and immersive collection of Feminist Auto-Fictional Stories mixed with humor, irreverence, worldliness and poetry. Each story a new land, a growing perspective, a clear understanding that you are responsible for your own empowerment. Incrementally accepting that you bought the ticket to your own shit show. No time to whine… time waits for no one. Flying Bra Productions Presentz TRASHEDIES. A collection of Funny Feminist Fiction Tales novelette published by Austin Macauley Publishers, New York.

Dedicated to my cousin, and long time friend Michelle Sottile who inspired me to create the podcast series.

La Sottile here…..I am taking back the mic! 🎙️

From the creator of the Flying Bra newsletter comes Shell Hath No Fury- a space for reclaiming the female voice through song and stories and as much comedy as the muses will provide. Expect some laughs, some truths and a whole lot of music. Subscribe now or wherever you get your podcast. The band hasn’t caught up yet, but we’re starting anyway. Madeline is warming up on her sax right now on the bow!

EPISODE ONE AIRING JULY 1st, 2026

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P.S. Thank You AI for allowing me to keep my girlish figure.

Love LA 🩵

Morning Prayer

Architect of your inner World ~Series

Infinite Spirit, source of all light and truth, as I begin this new day, I return to the center of who I am. I release all burdens from yesterday, all fears about tomorrow and anchor myself in the moment- for this is the gift for me today- all day. Thank you for breath, for clarity and for another opportunity to live with intention, strengthen my heart ♥️ to feel love, not lack. Strengthen my mind to think truth, not fear. Strengthen my soul to remember that I’m whole, I’m worthy, I’m equipped, and I’m enough. Let every word I speak today plant peace 🕊️. Let every step I take carry purpose, let every encounter I have reflect compassion.

I now step forward, not chasing outcomes, but sowing powerful energy, trusting that what is meant for me will unfold in divine timing.

AWOMAN

You know when you don’t listen to your gut! It begins to moan and groan and cause you much dis-ease! Finally, regardless of your stubbornness and denial, the universe intervenes on your behalf. The heavens themselves change your destiny!

Welcome to ‘Stories from the Drip’ Series where the strange, the divine, and the absurd collide. First, we meet Ms.Okay in Manhattan- her name suggests a simplicity that her life definitely lacks. In Switzerland we’re followed by the formidable Madam Fielderhupenpllatz, who is currently navigating a world that refuses to spell her name correctly. Then, we look to the skies of Uxmal for Chacmool, the ancient Mayan Rain God, whose thirst for more than just water might be causing modern-day chaos! Then off to the OUI hours of the morning in gay Paris to take a sharp turn into the mythic power of Morgaine & Lily Von Schtupp where they are put to the test as they face off her flesh eaters and climb the castle of freedom in Italy. Five stories, five worlds, and one wild ride!

©2026 Laura La Sottile All Rights Reserved

FLYING BRA Presents Fumetti Cafe “Stories from the Drip.”Laura La Sottile performer & satirist certifies the alchemy of Life’s tragic stage comes in comedic stages. TRASHEDIES is an entertaining and immersive collection of Feminist Auto-Fictional Stories mixed with humor, irreverence, worldliness and poetry. Each story a new land, a growing perspective, a clear understanding that you are responsible for your own empowerment. Incrementally accepting that you bought the ticket to your own shit show. No time to whine… time waits for no one. Flying Bra Productions Presentz TRASHEDIES. A collection of Funny Feminist Fiction Tales novelette published by Austin Macauley Publishers, New York.

Dedicated to my cousin and long time friend Michelle Sottile, who inspired me to create the podcast series.

Madam Fielderhupenpllatz

💔HEARTBREAK can be refreshing & 👁️ Opening!

You know you’re really trying hard to get out of your own skin when you set yourself up for HELL in Heaven. In other words, you’ve signed up for a silent retreat in the woods by yourself for a week in a foreign land to get over your boyfriend! The cacophony of voices, demon thoughts, strange images, and unfamiliar sensations ~ tangled like fishing string hooked to two fish going in different directions in uncharted waters. Your attempt to be brave repeatedly gets dashed when the day to day ordinary things intreat the webs of your soul to be the spider and the bait.

©Laura La Sottile 2026 FLYING BRA Presents Fumetti Cafe “Stories from the Drip.”

Laura La Sottile performer & satirist certifies the alchemy of Life’s tragic stage comes in comedic stages. TRASHEDIES is an entertaining and immersive collection of Feminist Auto-Fictional Stories mixed with humor, irreverence, worldliness and poetry. Each story a new land, a growing perspective, a clear understanding that you are responsible for your own empowerment. Incrementally accepting that you bought the ticket to your own shit show. No time to whine… time waits for no one.

Flying Bra Productions Presentz TRASHEDIES. A collection of Funny Feminist Fiction Tales novelette published by Austin Macauley Publishers, New York.

LOVE LA FROM FLYING BRA 💋💗

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Dedicated to my cousin and long time friend Michelle Sottile who inspired me to create the podcast series.

The Feel ~

REMEMBER NAÏVETÉ? Naiveté was equal to a cupcake. Remember when that innocence felt dreamy and the discoveries adventurous? Upon transmission though, you feel pretty dumb. You just don’t know shit. Yeah, you’re stupefied by your own stupidity. There is something really fun about that. I guess, ignorance IS bliss. Sprinkle me…

The Place ~

Take a stroll to Madison Square Gardens, the world’s most famous arena. If you go past the glitz and the grandeur of the joint, and you pass the 20 foot plants, you’ll find a spiral staircase…going down…down…down to the bowels of this palazzo into the BLUE LOTUS MASSAGE PARLOR owned by a woman called MS. OK. OK? OKAY!

ENJOY!

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©Laura La Sottile 2026 FLYING BRA Presents Fumetti Cafe "Stories from the Drip.”

Laura La Sottile performer & satirist certifies the alchemy of Life’s tragic stage comes in comedic stages. TRASHEDIES is an entertaining and immersive collection of Feminist Auto-Fictional Stories mixed with humor, irreverence, worldliness and poetry. Each story a new land, a growing perspective, a clear understanding that you are responsible for your own empowerment. Incrementally accepting that you bought the ticket to your own shit show. No time to whine… time waits for no one.

Flying Bra Productions Presentz TRASHEDIES. A collection of Funny Feminist Fiction Tales novelette published by Austin Macauley Publishers, New York.

Dedicated to my cousin and long time friend Michelle Sottile who inspired me to create the podcast series.

🎼🎶🎶🎼🎶🎼🎶⤵

ESPECIALLY, WHEN THE WORLD is WOWND and NOT TWIRLING JOYFULLY IN ITS PERFECT BALANCE

THERE IS NO PLACE BETTER TO GO THAN WHERE YOU ARE

BUT THERE CAN BE BETTER PLACE TO GO WITHIN

RISK DELIGHT

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Welcome to Stories from the Drip series TRAILER where the strange, the divine, and the absurd collide. First, we meet Ms.Okay in Manhattan- her name suggests a simplicity that her life definitely lacks. In Switzerland we’re followed by the formidable Madam Fielderhupenpllatz, who is currently navigating a world that refuses to spell her name correctly. Then, we look to the skies of Uxmal for Chacmool, the ancient Mayan Rain God, whose thirst for more than just water might be causing modern-day chaos! Then off to the OUI hours of the morning in gay Paris to take a sharp turn into the mythic power of Morgaine & Lily Von Schtupp where they are put to the test as they face off her flesh eaters and climb the castle of freedom in Italy. Five stories, five worlds, and one wild ride!

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🫖 Be Mindful of that Tea!

BETRAYAL BECOMES YOU

Family is like Fly Paper 🪰

A memorable sticky Trap

You are tagged an escaper

Truth is there’s been a kin-nap

A designer eclipse

Inside a familiar Fun House

Kiss my flower lips

And let them douse

You with Potpourri

Dried petals for 3 O’Clock Tea.

It’s a perfect dilemma

And perhaps will choke thee.

To bend the light

Betrayal is Unforgettable.

🪰 Chorus

Family is like Fly Paper

A memorable sticky Trap

You are tagged an escaper

Truth is there’s been a kin-nap

Bridge

Betrayal is a mere upheaval

You best be seated

A soul retrieval.

On a bumpy night

You’ll feel cheated

And your Heart can’t make it right

But betrayal becomes you..

Oh oh, betrayal you are so sweet

Betrayal can make you weep

But so remember

Not to become bitter and god forbid Cheap!

Unforgettable, Unforgettable, Unforgettable

Betrayal Becomes you Betrayal becomes you…..

©LAURA LA SOTTILE 2026

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