Archive for December, 2007

Sho-ould Old Ac-quain-tance Bee For-got And Ne-ver Na Na Hummm….

Does anyone actually know the words to the New Year’s song, what is it called, Old Anxiety or something?

Hmmm…let’s see…resolutions…

I always make a bunch of goody two shoes promises for the upcoming year. I resolve to do stupid shit like “lose weight, stop drinking, become a vegetarian, be more patient, be more loving, be more grateful…blah, blah, freakin’ blah”.

Ya know what? Resolutions always end in disappointment because they make life suck. This year I’m all about the fun stuff!

I hereby resolve to do the following in 2008:

  1. Develop a quiet but demanding cocaine habit. I think it’ll make me a more interesting person.
  2. Take up smoking full time.
  3. Quit flossing. It’s gross and time consuming. Who needs teeth anyway?
  4. Quit yoga. It’s too much effort.
  5. Quit moving altogether. I’m just going to sit from now on. I like to sit.
  6. Become a functional alcoholic. Enough pussying around with the wine after dinner. I’m switching to scotch at 7Am.
  7. Eat whatever I want. Life is too fucking short to spend it eating cereal containing things like Millet. Isn’t that the same shit they put in birdseed and horse food?
  8. Have unprotected sex with hot strangers. I’ll start with Johnny Depp and work my way to Alex O’ Loughlin.
  9. Affix a PA system and a flame thrower to the front bumper of my car. “Get off the motherfucking phone and drive!” And then…Kaboom!!!! No more ass monkey.

We’re staying home tonight since even my 14-year-old babysitter has more of a life than we do. I invited a few people over, but no one is coming. Most of them didn’t even find the invitation interesting enough to reject. It’s funny how things change after you have a kid. No one bothers with you anymore–you’re officially lame. It’ll just be my husband and me sitting in front of the fireplace, wearing party hats and fighting to stay awake for the big ball drop.

It’ll be sort of nice actually.

Happy New Year everyone! (insert sound of party horn here)

posted by Crissy in You're NOT hardcore, unless you LIVE hardcore and have Comment (1)

It’s a TOOMA!

Here’s further evidence that I’m 80.

Last night, while putting my daughter in the bath, I got a sharp pain in my right boob. I felt the spot where the pain was coming from and discovered a smallish bump deep underneath my skin. It’s a tumor, I thought. My life flashed before my eyes and I became very depressed because I won’t live to see my daughter grow up.

Today, my entire right boob hurts, but mostly in a place not even close to the place that hurt last night. This means that the tumor grew over night and spread throughout my entire body. It couldn’t possibly be because I keep pressing it to see if the bump is still in there (which it isn’t).

It couldn’t be the first month on a new birth control pill that is wreaking havoc on every other aspect of my being from out of control crying jags to monumental weight gain.

Nay, nay.

I’m dying.

Remember me fondly…

posted by Crissy in Octogenarians n' me,You're NOT hardcore, unless you LIVE hardcore and have Comments (4)


It’s Saturday night.

After feasting on a dinner of soup and bread, I’m enjoying a nice bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and watching British Antiques Roadshow on PBS.

I’ll likely be in bed and off to dreamland by 8:30.

It’s official.

I’m 80.

posted by Crissy in Octogenarians n' me,You're NOT hardcore, unless you LIVE hardcore and have No Comments

Sultry, With a Hint of the Lord

I don’t know if you knew, but I work at a library cataloging books. I see all kinds of shit, but nothing could have prepared me for this. Here I am, minding my own business, when this yoga DVD comes across my desk. It’s called Christoga and contains a 74 minute “Christian yoga” workout designed to strengthen both your abs and your faith in Christ at the same time.

I’m not even fucking kidding you.


Using biblical scripture, the instructors (described by one reviewer as “sultry, with a hint of the Lord”) give Christian names to the traditional sanskrit poses. Listen to bible verses while holding such holy positions as Christ Exalted, Mighty Disciple and, my personal favorite, Salvation Rotation. This is the perfect workout for the good Christian woman who always felt “dirty” practicing yoga. Thank Jesus we can now squeeze our buns and get a devotional all at the same time!

This is wrong on so many levels that I’m just sitting here agog. I mean, what will the Jesus freaks think of next? Pontius Pilates?

I think I’m going to write to Richard Simmons and suggest that we put out a new DVD together. It’ll be a combo of Jazzercize and Islamic scripture called Islamacize: Sweatin’ with Allah. It will of course feature Richard dressed as Muhammed, leading a group of overweight women wearing spandex and Nike cross-trainers under traditional black burkas. They’ll sweat to such Muslim favorites as It’s my Shahadah and I’ll cry if I want to and He’s a Sunnis and he’ll never be any good. The diet portion of the DVD can begin during the month of Ramadan for an ultra fat burning jump start.

I don’t know what else to say about this for now so I’ll leave room for you.

Namaste Jesus.

posted by Crissy in Geinus wasted @ your library,Go sell crazy somewhere else! and have Comments (2)

Facebook Follies

I’m a giant approval whore.

There. I said it.

Even though I’m happily married and even more happily off the dating market, I thought it would be a hoot to add the Are You Interested application to my Facebook page. For the uninitiated, Are You Interested is a disgustingly superficial way for people to meet each other–someone expresses interest in you based only on your picture by clicking on “YES” or “NO”.  As the “YES” recipient, you get notification of said interest and the interested party’s picture goes into a pile of others who are also willing to fuck you.

I don’t mean to honk my own hooter or anything, but I’ve got quite the little rogues gallery going for myself.

Unfortunately, well, most of them need some help.

If you’re a guy and your picture appears on Are You Interested, let me give you a few pointers that might help you get laid since that’s what you’re really looking for. You might say you’re looking for “friendship”, but we know.  It’s okay to be honest sweet pea, really.

Okay, so, the pictures, oh my God the pictures!

  1. Make sure your photo is a flattering one. Make sure you don’t look dumb, or fat or whatever. Also, make sure your frat brothers aren’t making bunny ears or flipping the bird behind you.
  2. You making devil horns at the camera. \m/ Excellent… Party on, Dude!
  3. A picture of you posing with your girlfriend is probably not a good choice for this venue. Your wedding photo is also the wrong answer. Are you trying to prove you’re marriage material?
  4. A picture of your giant, drooly Rottweiler. Of the two of you, I’m guessing you chose his picture because he’s the smart and good looking one?
  5. Your pimpin’ ride. You still live with your mom, don’t you sweetie?
  6. A picture of you doing a keg stand or drinking a beer –I don’t mean just holding the glass up saying “cheers!” but actually taking a gulp. I enjoy a nice cocktail myself, but there are moments when I come up for air. That’s when I have my picture taken.
  7. Old dudes. Not interested. I don’t have any Daddy issues to work through. Oh, and I don’t believe for a second that you’re only 34.
  8. You: shirtless in a provocative pose. Me: nauseated. You’re the prettiest princess of them all aren’t you? You probably spend more on hair products than I do. Next!
  9. You and another guy. One wearing some sort of Mardi Gras mask, the other smokin’ hot. I’m guessing you’re the masked man and you asked your hot friend to pose with you…you couldn’t possibly be the hot one because I only attract nerds, fuckwits, egomaniacs, workaholics and alcoholics.
  10. You look like a fucking Serial Killer!
  11. You’re in a full hockey goalie uniform. My, my, my. That is sexy. Can I sniff your cup?
  12. I can see up your nose. While I appreciate that you trim your nose hair and that you do all your own photography, these aren’t the first things I wanted to know about you. By the way, there’s a bat in the cave. Thought you should know.
  13. The giant question mark. Are you The Riddler? That’s so funny, because I’m Batgirl.
  14. You’re wearing George Castanza’s puffy coat. Didn’t you know there was an entire episode devoted to what a baffoon he was for wearing that coat? It’s a joke coat! Do you have the velvet fog suit too?
  15. You’re totally hot, but your name is “Mista Man.” You’ve got more issues than Time magazine, my friend.
  16. This has nothing to do with pictures, but do not automatically add me as a friend. I don’t fucking know you, and now you’ve annoyed the shit out of me. Not a good way to begin a pretend friendship. Can someone please explain this concept to me? Why are there people on Facebook with 398 friends? I have 8.  All of whom I’ve actually met.

Anyway fellas, please take my humble advice and you might just get lucky.  At the very least, you won’t become blog fodder.

posted by Crissy in Go sell crazy somewhere else! and have Comment (1)

Had Ourselves a Merry Little Christmas

We had an awesome Christmas!

Everyone behaved, including me. I was able to keep the bitchiness to a minimum and I actually enjoyed myself a lot. I ate way too much food, drank way too much wine, and danced in front of the Christmas tree with my husband and daughter (the dancing actually preceded the wine if you can believe that one!).

I’ve already been to Old Navy and Target to help relieve them of their surplus holiday inventory, and will spend the rest of the day organizing my daughter’s new toys.

We had a hugely fun holiday. I hope you all did too.

posted by Crissy in Babymamadrama,My babydaddy and have No Comments

Oh Mutant Tree, Oh Mutant Tree…

…how fucked up are your bran-ches?

Call us tree huggers, but every year we purposely choose some poor mutant tree that would otherwise find itself alone in the lot on Christmas Eve. We search for the most wretched looking thing we can find, bring it home and hang elegant blue, silver, and lavender glass ornaments on it. This year was no exception and we had every intention of giving it a good home. But…well…

Let’s start with the Christmas gifts sitting under it. When it comes to gift wrapping, I have no patience or pride in workwomanship. I used to try to make the gifts look nice, but they always come out looking like I wrapped them with my feet. I’ve given up. It’s what’s under the paper that matters, right? Of course it is.

If my substandard wrapping isn’t enough, the dog has been nosing through the gifts and partially unwrapping them. The cat never did seek help for his ribbon fetish, so anything in a bag with ribbon handles has either had them totally chewed off or munched full of little kitty teeth holes and is stiff from his frothy saliva/stomach bile. “Merry Christmas, here’s your spitty bag.”

My daughter has been hanging random things she finds around the house on it. There’s a pair of kid’s sunglasses, a rubber band, a piece of gimp with a single wooden bead on it, a square of toilet paper (unused of course), gold and silver bangle bracelets, a shoelace with 2 pieces of dried ziti dangling from it, an empty container of Italian Seasoning, Mrs. Potato Head’s purse, and an assortment of paper Hello Kitty ornaments she got out of a book my sister-in-law gave her.

In what is most certainly a suicide attempt, it stopped drinking sometime last week and now it’s so dried out that if you even think about looking at it, the needles rain down upon the mutant gifts. When Santa comes tonight, he’ll probably shriek in horror and be all ass and elbow right back up that chimney. I can’t say I blame him.

Merry Christmas everyone!

posted by Crissy in You're NOT hardcore, unless you LIVE hardcore and have Comment (1)

Oops! I Did it Again!

Everyone else is talking about the Spearses, so I’m chucking in my 2 cents too.

Hmm…it seems that Brit’s mom raised two trashy little Bubble Yum chewing freaks!

I think it was really short-sighted for them to have suspended the publication of her parenting book though. With all the advice out there on what to do, I think we could have used an example of how NOT to raise daughters. You know, for the sake of comparison. Dr. Brazelton, for example, might tell us to encourage abstinence, self respect, and/or safe sex practices. Lynne Spears teaches the bend and fluff with full color illustrations. It’s just nice to have options is all I’m saying.

Good news though, Jamie and her babydaddy met in church. Well, praise be! They’ll have Jesus there to guide them! I’m wondering why Jesus didn’t guide them to the condom store…

More good news: Access Hollywood reports that “Ms. Spears is a devout Christian with a spotless reputation.” Fantastic! Call me old fashioned, but getting knocked up at 16 is hardly demonstrative of devout Christian values and a spotless reputation. But what the hell do I know? I waited until I was educated, married, and 30 years old before I got knocked up.

Oh, and I can’t weigh in about the Spearses without mentioning that Brit just made the worst dressed list. Again. This is another head scratcher since I don’t think we’ve actually seen Britney dressed in a long, long, time–if ever. We’ve seen the girls, we’ve seen her “special purpose,” we’ve seen everything but clothing. And didn’t I see something about them photoshopping her head onto someone else’s body because all of those Caramel Macchiatos with extra whipped cream are catching up with her? The poor dear can’t find any clothing to fit her is what’s the problem. Won’t someone please take Britney shopping?

All negativity aside though, I have to say I’m glad for all the Spears drama. It’s loads of good old fashioned trailer park fun, and without it I wouldn’t have had anything to write about today.

posted by Crissy in Go sell crazy somewhere else! and have Comments (2)

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I can actually feel myself getting fatter by the second. 

People won’t stop giving me cookies and chocolates as “gifts”. 

I’m depressed.

I’m angry.

I’m overwhelmed.  

I hate everyone.

It’s Christmas, people.

posted by Crissy in Whatcha Eatin'? and have Comments (2)

My Love in a Paper Napkin

No, I’m not talking about the “dream catchers” my husband leaves around the house for me to find.

This is an actual ad for Vanity Fair napkins. Here’s the stereotypical All-American thirtysomething couple sitting at a table looking at each other like they’re about to have 10 minutes of hot and wild missionary sex with the lights turned off.

And the ad reads:

The {he’s-still-a-great-date} napkin.

The kids are at your Mom’s. The napkin is Vanity Fair. Soft. Thick. And so good looking. Just like the guy across the table.

I’m not even fucking kidding you.


Remember the movie Crazy People when they hired a bunch of lunatics to write advertisements and taglines?

Jaguar: For men who want hand jobs.

This is:

Vanity Fair napkins: We’ll help you mop up afterward.

posted by Crissy in Go sell crazy somewhere else! and have Comments (2)