If you dare wear short shorts, Nair for short shorts.

That’s going to go through your head all day now.


(No I’m not.)

So I had to buy some new shorts for our upcoming vacation because the ones I had last year? Yeah, no. They’re a definite no. go. I’m too damn fat for them this year. There was overspill muffin top and camel toe inducing tightness and society says that doesn’t look nice and so I must obey.

And last year’s itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikini? Also not so much this year. It looks more like a tourniquet so I have to get a new one of those too so my ass doesn’t turn blue from lack of circulation because nobody likes a blue assed girl.

I think society should pay for the new shorts and the new bikini since they’re the ones who are being such assholes about the whole thing.

And as if I wasn’t depressed enough at the thought of having to buy bigger shorts because it means that somehow after working out every single day and watching what I eat I still managed to gain 10 lbs (!) over the past year, I turn around to see that my husband has tried them on.

And they fit him.

Better than me.


Work it baby,


Own it.


That’s right people. He’s a Junior size 5.

This is so wrong on so many levels and it can be very depressing when your 6 foot 4 husband can fit into your clothes! He outweighs me by 75lbs!




And he eats like shit and he never works out. He calls his workouts “in situ” meaning he gets his exercise by working around the house.

That’s bullshit!

I work around the house too but I gain weight.

What the fucking fuck?

So anyway I should probably tell you so you’re not surprised when you come to see me on Monday morning and find there’s a man in my blog that I’m having a few guests come over to keep an eye on the place while Crissy gets a little well deserved R&R and her husband prances like a pretty princess around a seaside resort town in her new shorts.

You already know all of these people because they’re regulars around here and I’m hoping that they’ve all tried their keys in the door to make sure they work because after today I will be unavailable for consultation.

Monday we have Chris from Surviving Myself
Tuesday is Lynne at In The Rays of a Beautiful Sun
Wednesday is my bff Rachel from Get Your Freak On, which is on hiatus right now because she got a J-O-B.
Thursday you’ll hear from Kiala at Face of the Cookie
Friday is Melissa from Recovering Californian

Okay, I’m going to go and get packed and try to explain to my husband again why
A. It is unacceptable to wear women’s shorts in public or in private without some sort of nod in the direction of hair removal. At. Least.
B. He may not bring his scuba gear for use in the resort’s swimming pool again this year.

That’s right Internets, laugh it up.

My life is a hell.

You know who I love? Kelly Ripa. Not in a scary stalker kind of way where I want to kidnap her and keep her in my basement and try to make a Kelly Ripa suit out of her (it puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again. Right Precious? Ruff! Ruff!) or anything like that but in a way that makes me want to hang around with her and drink soooo many watermelon martinis that we wind up holding each other’s hair back in the bathroom of some hip Manhattan bar. But I haven’t put much thought into what Kelly and I would do together if we were friends. None. at. all. Clearly. I just think we’d hit it off because she’s so cute and so funny just like me. Only kidding. I’m cuter and funnier. Everyone knows that. I don’t even mind if she’s roughly the size of a smurf, give or take an apple or two, I’d still lick her sideways. I don’t even know what that means. And I love the new commercial she’s in, the one for Electrolux appliances (boiling water in 90 seconds! What will they think of next?), even though I think the wardrobe people got the shirt she’s wearing totally wrong, but that’s so typical of wardrobe people anyway so no big shocker there. I mean my wardrobe people are always fucking up and I have to yell at them in Spanish “No comprende el estupido bitcho me look fatso en rojo! Asso holio!” and then I have to beat them with a belt or else they’ll never learn, but her shoes are cute so I guess that makes up for it somewhat. And this always makes me laugh: And I love how Regis calls her “Pipa.” I wish someone had an adorable nickname for me. Anyone?

CBS can suck my dick.

I am hideously depressed because my most favoritest TV show has been cancelled.

What am I supposed to do on Friday nights without watching Moonlight and having fantasies, very, very naughty fantasies about being “turned” by vampire Hottie Mc Hot Hot Mick St. John?

I mean look at this dude!

Dark, brooding, HOT. AS. HELL.

And he’s a vampire.

Makes me get all gooshy inside and also a tad moist in the panty every time I think about him. My boss and I are about a heartbeat away from quitting work and stalking Alex O’ Loughlin, the guy who plays the role of Mick St. John, not that it matters what his name is in “real life” because I believe that Alex O’ Loughlin is really Mick St. John and not Alex O’ Loughlin at all and I know this because vampires are real.

I saw it on the tee-vee so it must be true.

And they live amongst us and live normal lives.

Well, except for the whole sleeping in a freezer and drinking blood thing.

And do you know what people are doing to protest the attempted murder of Mick St. John by the douchebags at CBS? They’re donating blood. This makes sense because Mick St. John is a good vampire and he doesn’t feed on people because he’s a humanitarian, really and he has respect for human life unlike naughty vampires who go around sucking people dry and GOD I’d give anything to be sucked dry by Mick St. John. Any. thing.



Where was I?

Oh, right. Mick gets his meals from the blood bank and sometimes the morgue, so it makes sense that legions of Moonlight fans are donating blood to try and save him.

So Mister and I are thinking of doing it too, and me especially since I have my superhuman ability to bleed so what’s a few pints to a girl like me, right? And Mister loves Moonlight too and he kept saying he felt “gutted” all day Friday after he heard the terrible, terrible news. But the problem we’re having is that we want the blood to go to vampires only. I’ve never donated blood before since I’m sure I’d throw up and pass out because I’m a really big baby that way and I about bring my mom with me for a blood test, so I don’t really know how it works when you go, but I think I’ll insist they write on the bag o’ blood “for vampires only.” And then they’ll have to honor my request because it’s my blood and I get to say what happens with it. Don’t I? Like I could also have them write “for smart people only” except it’ll be “for vampires only” instead.

You can do that, right?

So here’s where you guys come in. You can either go here and sign the petition to end the merciless slaughter of vampires or you can go to the blood bank and donate some blood and say that Crissy sent you and that you only want the blood to be given to vampires, preferably Mick St. John. There are like, tens of you, so if you all go I’m sure that the blood bank will call CBS and tell them the news and they’ll be so overwhelmed by such a grand gesture that they will have to put the show back on and then I will have single handedly with the help of tens of people saved the day thereby making millions of Moonlight fans very, very happy and also making Mick St. John fall in love with me real. hard. and we will get married and he will turn me into a vampire and that means I will live forever which also means I will be able to blog forever and don’t you want that to happen?

I promise I won’t bite you.



Happy back to work Tuesday after a bless-ed long weekend! Ya-ta-da-da!

I know you’ve been dying to hear about how the birthday extravaganza went so I won’t keep you in suspense any longer.

To tell you the truth Internet, I don’t really know because I don’t remember the party. Just a few snippets here and there and that’s it. And no. I wasn’t drinking. I was working my ass off. I busied myself so much with eating lots of things containing mayonnaise and sour cream and white flour while flying around hostessing that I got the party amnesia. And then after the party I drank many drinks containing alcohol just to help me chill the fuck out after all the excitement and I am still feeling screwed up from all the sugar and I am most certainly still hung over and that was 3 days ago so you can only imagine the debauchery that took place.


From what I’m able to piece together, the party went something like this.


And Girlfriend and I made this cake together. It was lemon cake with blue butter cream frosting. We made the whole thing from scratch.


Are you impressed with us Internet because I am.

And the kids had a ball.



I set up a long piece of paper and had trays of paint and all sorts of interesting objects to drag across the paper with the paints.


Girlfriend and Mackenzie had the most fun with the expressive arts project.


Painting is Girlfriend’s most favoritest activity.


Her adorable little birthday dress is toast. I put the tee shirt on her but it was too late. Contrary to what I believed, Washable Tempera paint is not, in fact, washable at all. As I learned after frantically searching the Internet for a way to fix her dress, you’re supposed to mix dish soap into the paint in order to make it washable. WTF?? There are several parents who now hate me for ruining their children’s clothing.


But hey! I warned them in the invitation that the kids would be painting so It’s not all my bad.

Oh and she received a digital camera from us. This is her very first self portrait taken in her bedroom mirror.


Annie Leibovitz can suck it.

And then on Monday, using the new red wagon Girlfriend’s Auntie Cya bought her for her birthday, we walked to Crissy’s town’s Memorial Day Parade that is held conveniently 2 blocks away from Crissy’s house.


Alice was scared of the fire trucks and scratched the shit out of Mommy’s lap, but Girlfriend had a ball and even made a friend whose parents invited us to come to a Memorial Day barbecue with them. And of course we went to that because far be it for the Crissys to turn down free food and mixed tropical drinks all within stumbling walking distance of the house. Plus we had the wagon just in case anyone passed out was too tired to walk home.


So that’s it I think and oh, wait. Rewind to Saturday when I went to have my hair done and when I told the girl I wanted it lighter for the summer I didn’t mean I wanted it to be white. But it is. I have white hair.

Like Betty White only she’s more blond than me.

And it’s much shorter. And I keep running back to the mirror, even though it hurts so bad you guys, just to see if it’s still fucked and that I still hate it and the answer is always YES.

I hate it so much I want to kill myself.

So aside from the hair tragedy and the crying jags whenever I catch myself in the mirror, the weekend was pretty great because I am really, a very brilliant party planner and people called the next day to say they had fun and to thank us again and that’s always nice to hear.

Yesterday we covered a few things that Girlfriend says and does but today is my turn because you really come here to hear about me and all my glamorishness and you’ve all been lovely and attentive during Crissy’s Mom Week and I appreciate that so much. I love you all except for the people who punched or threatened to punch kittens. They are naughty people and should be spanked twice and put to bed straight away.

I never understood my mother until I became a mom myself. I always thought she was a little bit, how do I say this and not sound like a bitch, insane? But I have discovered that living with a child is like living with a drunken, retarded midget with octopus arms and the power to spit and throw long distances. They turn ordinary people into forgetful, distracted, crazy batshit people.

And they make you do stuff you never in a million thought you would, like:

  1. Trade my jello shots for a tray of Alphabet Jigglers.
  2. Have to hide in the bathroom to eat a piece of chocolate.
  3. Wait until the ungodly hour of of 7pm to enjoy my first cocktail because that’s when her highness retires for the evening.
  4. Be unable to cook dinner without Curious George on TV in the kitchen regardless of whether or not Girlfriend is in the room at the time.
  5. Spend my day protecting one small white dog.
  6. Carry a pair of Curious George panties in my purse in case of an accident.
  7. Bring food to a resturant.
  8. Spray Febreeze to repell monsters.
  9. Prefer watching Sesame Street to watching the news. (There really isn’t much difference between the Today Show and Sesame Street, right?)

And the retarded midget makes for some crazy yelling too.

“No, you may not stir your bath water with the toilet brush.”
“Sit down, sit down, sit down, sit. Sit. Sit. Sit. Sit. Down. SIT! DOWN!”
“Oh! Oh God. No. Stop. Please don’t lick my boss’s leg!”
“Are you pooping right now?”
“We do not sit on tomatoes!”
“Hey! Be careful with that! If you lose it, you won’t have it anymore!” (I’m a genius, I know)
“NO! The doggie doesn’t like it when you stick things in her bum! No. she. doesn’t!”
“Put the remote control down and step away from the toilet!”
“Put. your. shoes. on!” X infinity + 10.
“No. Ice cream is not a good breakfast.” (sometimes you have to lie)

Anyway there’s like a million more things that I could include here but I don’t have time because today we will spend the day doing so. much. crap. and collecting last minute items for the birthday extravaganza to take place on Sunday. You’re all invited but only if you bring a new BMW for Girlfriend because that’s what she really wants.

Her favorite color is blue.

And hey, thanks for voting everybody. I think we should turn this blogger’s choice awards into a crusade against queer blogs (and I don’t mean that as in blogs written by gay people. I mean blogs written by geeks and losers). I won’t shut up until I at least beat out TrendyTots stylish finds from tots to teens. Comethefuckonnow! and then we’re going after Klessis The Bento Maker. What in the name of Jesus and Mary is a bento and how does one base an entire blog on it? From what I can tell, all this woman does is take pictures of her kid’s lunch box contents every. day. and I think she’s an abusive mother because she puts stuff like fish soup in there. What kid wants to eat that shit?

Anyway I have to be a hotter mommy than the fish soup lady right?