So I let Alice out for her morning pee pee and who’s in the yard but this guy:

No, it’s not another Jehovah Witness. It’s Frank.

And if you’re not familiar with Frank, click here.

After that do try to keep up with us here, people.

Despite Mister’s best efforts to pee all over the yard in an attempt to scare Frank away, the varmint remains undeterred. In fact, I think Frank is a peeaphile because he’s still coming by for snacks every day.

He got my mint.

And my chives.

The little sonofabitch.

And Alice knows full well that we’re mad at Frank and so what does she do?

Chase him?

Bark at him and tell him “GO HOME FRANK!”?

Nay, nay.

She walks right up to him and ESKIMO KISSES HIM!!!! (is it still okay to say Eskimo Kissing? I know sitting Indian Style is now criss cross applesauce, so is it Eskimo American Kissing, or do we call it something else? Nosy nosy canoodle? Help me.)

Why not just let him fuck you Alice? And then you two can live happily ever after in a nest down by the pond and raise your little family of mint eating Schnauzerchuck babies.

I mean seriously!

I just paid $40 to have her hair cut yesterday, and she has a vet appointment on Friday at which I will be forced, again, to defend her when the vet tells me she’s “overweight” and I will have to cover her ears to protect her against his insensitive remarks and insist that she’s just fluffy!  and then choke the vet until he concurs and also it will be expensive. You’d think the least she could do is refrain from flirting with garden eating woodland creatures.

Where is the love?  Where is the gratitude Internet?

When there’s no respect for The QOFE, I turn into a cranky pants.

Just sayin’.

Yesterday morning I was hanging around the house having a Boo Radley moment when the fucking door bell rings.

I open the door with a pants-less Girlfriend (who had just peed her panties) on my hip and who stands before me but two pubescent Jehovah Witnesses. They’re dressed in suits from Salvation Army and carrying equally sad looking brief cases full of “information” or as I call it “throw that shit in the recycle bin.” The tall one’s voice cracked as he says “good morning ma’am. Are you busy?”

“YES! I am!” I said and threw the door closed.

Fucking hooligans.

Had I been feeling better I would have invited them in so I could tell them how great birthday parties are and that some families get to keep daddy and mommy’s paychecks instead of handing them over to the church, or the temple, or the hall, or whatever they call it, but I was sick so whatever. Fuck them.

“Why are the Jehovahs sending their children to you? Don’t they know you’re Satan’s whore and can turn their boys into fire monsters without any effort at all? ”

I’m glad you asked.

They used to visit our old house and my stoopy husband would actually spend time talking to them. They came once a week at least and caught us in various states of wrong.

I once answered the door in my underwear holding a soaking wet and shaking Alice (long story, but I’ll give you the short version; I was giving her a bath).

Once I had my shirt half off with a 5 month old Girlfriend sucking from my boobie.

Mister answered in his underpants while holding a cast iron frying pan.

I dropped an f-bomb on them.

One day I opened the door to find a couple who looked exactly like Mister and me except I did not like her bag and so I said “Um, holy shit! The only thing is I would never carry that purse. So, yeah. No thanks.”

I told them we were devoted Catholics.

When that didn’t work, I told them we enjoy sacrificing kittens to the Dark Lord in our living room.

But nothing phases these fucking people!

They’ll take anybody!

I begged Mister to let me tell them to fuck off, but he wouldn’t and so off they did not fuck.

In fact, he enjoyed their company so much that when we moved, and this is unfuckingbelievable, he GAVE THEM OUR NEW ADDRESS AND INVITED THEM TO STOP BY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He Did!

And I went coo-coo for coco puffs when he told me what he had done and I think my head actually did a full 360 and the baby, who was only two at the time, said her longest sentence yet: “Daddy, I’m scared of Mommy.”

And every time they come I’m reminded of that scene from Poltergeist when this dude

comes up the front path singing “God is in his holy tem-ple.”

Remember that?

They seem so nice and then just when you trust them BAM!

No birthdays for you!

I’m up on Back Fence PDX today too. Sorry for all the reading. NO I”M NOT! Go read it people. You’ve got an opportunity to worship me some more today, you lucky sons of bitches.

I feel like ass today. Not AN ass, just ass. I’m sick. But unfortunately it’s not amoebic dysentery like I’ve been praying for all these years. It’s almost like mono with a little bit of nausea and headaches and sore throat to go with it.

So instead of a real post today, I’m going to share with you a story that I wrote for Surviving Myself’s short story contest. I could not for the life of me figure out an ending, so I didn’t use it. I hate having things hanging around unfinished so maybe you guys can help me out with it and we’ll call it a group project.

Oh, how FUN!!!

Anyway, here is the story.

He was confused. Kevin could have sworn that he grabbed a plastic baggie on his way out to take Snow White, his girlfriend Monica’s spoiled little Maltese for a walk. “Where the hell did it go?” he wondered as he fumbled helplessly for the baggie. After a full search of the pockets in his suit, all he turned up was his purple Brooks’ Brother’s tie that made him feel like a corporate big dick whenever he wore it.

“You better not have to take a shit you little shit bag!” grumbled Kevin.

But today was not Kevin’s lucky day.

Snow White started spinning in a circle, the telltale sign that she was going to “go apples” as Monica so delicately put it.

“Noooooooooo! No! No! Please Snow White, not! Now!”
But it was too late.
Snow White went apples.
On the sidewalk.
In front of a church.
With the doors open.
During a funeral.
“Fuck it!” he said to himself. And he was hoping for a fast get away before anyone noticed he did not dispose of Snow White’s apples, but the dog wasn’t moving. He tugged on the pink rhinestone encrusted leash, but the bitch just wouldn’t budge. “Let’s! fucking! Go!” he said through his teeth, a little bit of spittle landing on his lower lip. Snow White still refused to move and was still squatting, but nothing seemed to be coming out…there seemed to be something… stuck…
“Awwww…fuck me!” said Kevin as upon closer, hands and knees investigation, he realized that Snow White had what resembled the string of a tampon from Monica’s trash sticking out of her butt with a wad of shit dangling from the end of it.

He scanned the ground for something to pull the string with.

Nothing.

“Of all the god damned times NOT to find fucking litter on the ground…”

The people sitting toward the back of the church heard the commotion and turned to see Kevin on his hands and knees staring at the dog’s ass.

“Good morning” whispered Kevin, embarrassed as hell, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

AND THEN WHAT HAPPENS???

Hell if I know.

Help me Internets!

I’m not sure, but I think that the story I submitted is being posted today, so go see it.

It’s a real EYE opener.

Ha, ha, ha, ha!!!

I’m funny.

I found this purse the other day I was all “I love it!” and Girlfriend was like “don’t buy it mommy. It’s too stupid. I want to go home!”

This worried me a little as usually she is quite the little fashionista and has very good taste, except for all the stuff with Hello Kitty and Elmo on it, but whatever. Everyone has their weaknesses.

She loves these shoes, for example

and she will not take them off, not even to sleep. It’s kind of cute actually, but you see what I’m saying don’t you Internet? Her taste isn’t exactly without it’s hint of the flamboyant and the colorful.

So I bought the bag despite her protest and showed it to Mister when he got home. He looked at it and said “it’s blue.” That’s all he said. Not “that’s nice!” or “wow! Can I borrow that?” Nothing. So I’m guessing everyone hates my new bag, but I love it. It makes me feel Very Fancy and I can shoplift at the grocery store all the live long day fit all the essentials inside it because it is HUGE.

I used it all weekend.

You’re jealous as hell, aren’t you?

Right?

RIGHT???

Maybe I’ll let you borrow it sometime.

Makes 2 dozen delightful moist and chewy cookies.

1/2 cup raspberry preserves
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup canola oil
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp almond extract
1/2 cup plus 2 tbsp unsweetened coco powder
1 1/2 cup all purpose flour
3/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt

Preheat over to 350. Lightly spray cookie sheet with pam.

Stir together raspberry shit, sugar, oil, vanilla, & almond extract.

In a separate bowl, sift together the dry ingredients and dump into the wet stuff. Do it in stages. Dump, stir, dump, stir, dump, stir, just like that. See? And then stir until combined and then roll the dough into walnut-sized balls and then flatten them with your palms. I hope you washed your hands before you started this project. Place on the cookie sheet and bake those fuckers for like 10 minutes. They don’t spread out when they’re baked so don’t panic. When you take them out, let them cool for 5 minutes before you transfer them to a rack to cool the rest of the way. I cannot recommend using a dish towel as a pot holder like I did because I burned my finger a little bit. So don’t be a lazy douchewad. Use the potholder. That’s why God made them.

And you’re done!

Eat them.
YUMMY!

And for the love of all that is decent and holy in this world, do not put whipped cream on them or else the vegan mafia will come and beat your ass with whips made of hemp.

So Aaaaaannnyway,

we made some wonderful cookies for Alena’s birthday on Tuesday. We brought some over to her on a Hello Kitty plate that Girlfriend decorated with stickers and they were a big hit. I saved about 10 for Mister because he always whines like a big baby if I bake for someone else and he doesn’t get any. He’s really a pain in the ass that way and they’re all gone now because he had himself a little stoner festival and ate them and shit all over their self-righteous, high horsey, veganness by putting whipped cream on them.

It’s like he didn’t care that they were vegan at. all!

So here’s the video and you should get this cookbook too because it’s realistic and doesn’t call for a lot of weird, dirty hippy ingredients that make the Whole Foods people moist in their crotchal areas. It’s almost like it’s for non-vegans and stuff.

And if you want the recipe, let me know and I’ll email it to you. I’d post it but I’m too lazy to type it out here and I’m banking on the fact that no one cares.

Except for cute little Leah who’s preggers . The baby likes cookies. Don’t worry Leah. My baby liked cookies too.

Cookies and VODKA!

No.

I’m only kidding.

It was TEQUILA.

See? NOW you can call Child Protective Services.

Troll.

For today I had a lovely little video planned for you wherein Girlfriend and I made vegan chocolate raspberry cookies for her friend Alena’s birthday, but then I woke up to find a hater on my blog again.

Apparently my rantyness yesterday about crosswalks and my ignorance of crosswalk law, ruffled the feathers of this dude who wrote,

I certainly understand your frustration. The thing is, you said…”you have to STOP when a pedestrian enters the crosswalk.” But that is not true entirely. A pedestrian cannot enter the crosswalk until it is safe to cross. Once it is safe to cross and you start to cross you have the right of way. If there is a pedestrian crosswalk signal you only have the right of way when it says you do.

So no, they don’t have to stop just because you walk out into the crosswalk, you have to wait until it is safe before you try.

It’s a common mistake, you are not alone. But if you are going to rant, you might want to get the law straight first.

cheers

And so I called him a condescending prick.

And then this morning this was there and I don’t know why I’m putting all this here because you could go to the comments section from yesterday’s post and read it all yourselves but anyway, here:

Hmmmm, if information offends you…I guess. I just would have guessed from the tone of what you write you could handle bluntness. You call people “cunt” just for not saying hello. Get over yourself.

Okay SERIOUSLY?

And I’m not writing this so you guys will go over there to fuck him up because

A. He doesn’t deserve the traffic and the attention. There are 550 of you coming here, that’s right playas I see you!, every day and I’m not willing to share you with people who don’t play nice and worship the Queen.
B. His blog is the most self important bunch of bizzaro crap I’ve ever seen. There’s nothing to even comment on.
C. This isn’t really even about him and his stupid comment. I’m just using it as an example.

There’s a bigger picture here.

Last week we had this lady:

Wow. I thought I’d see what one of the “hottest mommy bloggers” was writing about. I guess I am officially shocked at the extreme irreverence. I’m not bible-thumping or anything - but I don’t get it. This is funny? This is intelligent? This is just plain sad.

I’m not really sure what shocked her the most, the Jesus watching porn thing, or that Jesus pooper scoops his own lawn and doesn’t make St. Francis of Assisi do it instead, but it doesn’t matter because I actually was happy that someone finally took offense to something. It’s about damn time. I write some pretty offensive shit. So I said:

denise- I love you!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMING!!!! Without people like you, being irreverent just wouldn’t be nearly so much fun. Come back again and bring your friends!

And then after that Chris, Rachel, stoogepie, Kiala, Dingo, Megkathleen, Melissa, and Jesse, and if you did it too and I forgot I’m sorry, all went and kicked her ass for the unprovoked assault. She apologized because she realized it’s rude to attack people on their own blogs.

Now I really don’t mind an opposing opinion. That’s fine by me. It’s the way that people handle things that bothers me. A few months ago, poor Kiala was brutally attacked after she made a JOKE on Twitter. It was awful and I felt terrible for her.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m nervous about the world. Everyone is so angry and looking for someone to shit on. Maybe it’s because they feel so shit on themselves?

I have no idea, but I’m wondering if anyone has a sense of humor anymore.

Except for you good people, I’m thinking there are a lot of folks out there who don’t.

I’m scared, Internet.

Hold me.

Yesterday was my unpaid domestic labor day, which means that I don’t report to a job I actually get paid for.

Weeee!

And so I did my chores and errands and took Girlfriend for a walk to my Grandfather’s house to go and use the pool. Usually it’s a really pleasant walk because there are some beautiful old houses in my neighborhood and I love nothing more than trying to look inside to see if there’s anyone naked in there how it’s decorated. On the way there we passed another pedestrian and I said “good afternoon” and the fucking woman didn’t say “good afternoon” back. She just looked at me and decided not to!
Fine.
Be a cunt.
I don’t care.

And then about a minute later, I reached the crosswalk I had to use to get to Papa’s house. It’s a busy street, but around here, and I don’t know if this is a universal law or whatever because I was totally drunk the day we covered that in driver’s ed, you have to STOP when a pedestrian enters the crosswalk.

So I stood there for fucking ever IN THE CROSSWALK, with the baby stroller and the dog and it was just like
zoom…

zoom…

zoom…

As car after car totally ignored the stroller in the crosswalk. And we were hanging out there in danger of being hit until a woman I have seen at the park a few times before stopped for me and waited very patiently as we stood in the middle of the crosswalk in front of her car as cars coming the opposite direction still kept zooming past.

Nobody stopped.

Nobody even slowed down.

I finally got across because there were no other cars coming. She yelled out her window “I can’t believe no one stopped for you!” And I was like “I know it!” and that was that.

Internet, I would like to know WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH PEOPLE???

Do I need to show a little more leg next time I want to cross the street?

Seriously.

It’s always like this around here. My mother is blind and uses a cane so it’s pretty damn obvious that she can’t see but when she tries to cross the street, people honk and YELL AT HER! They don’t stop, they don’t slow down, they abuse her. And my step mom fell while walking her dog and nobody stopped to help her. She was on the ground for 20 minutes crying for help and people just slowed down to stare at her. A 90 year old woman finally noticed her and came out of her house to help her. And nobody stops to let little old ladies cross the street except me. I always stop for the grannies. It’s called being decent.

So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to install one of these in my car

And any time I see some crazy fucktard douchebag asshat I’m gonna burn the motherfucker.

HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Any other ideas?

I’m on a fucking crusade bitches.

As if my Fourth of July wasn’t fascinating enough for you, on Sunday we went to the Mystic Aquarium to celebrate Girlfriend’s bff Elena’s birthday. Elena is the neighbor’s adorable daughter and her third birthday is today. Happy Birthday Elena!

Girlfriend and I had a lot of fun shopping for her gifts and we wound up getting her these,

which I wish they made in mommy size because I really want them. BAD. Normally I would object to grown women wearing any sort of Disney character clothing because nothing says “I have the mentality of a preschooler” like wearing Winnie the Poo across your tits, but I can make an exception in this case.

We got her a bunch of other stuff too and I’d tell you about it, but you don’t care.

And after she opened her gifts, we went off to the aquarium to see the baby Beluga Whale and some other floaty things. Girlfriend fell head over heels in love with the turtles so I think we have to get her one. Does anyone have a turtle? Are they gross?

And we saw one of these

which can easily become one of these

if not paid proper attention to.

And so then I touched the neighbor’s bum while his wife held Girlfriend up to see the fishies

because it seemed like the neighborly thing to do and he seemed to like it and so I think we’ll be very good friends and we already smoke crack together and now there’s some bum touching and it’s all very, very nice and very, very friendly-like.

But Crissy fears it won’t last long. As soon as they realize that every undignified moment of their lives since we moved into the neighborhood has somehow involved the Crissys, they’ll move. And that will make me sad because there’s nothing better than touching the neighbor’s bum.

Oh, and crap! I almost forgot that maybe I’m going to win Surviving Myself’s story contest Next Monday and them I’m up on Back Fence PDX Next Wednesday writing about how the Catholics fucked me up, and then I’m guest blogging for the lovely Miss Nilsa toward the end of the month. I’ll remind you when the time comes so don’t worry about penciling it into your calendars and picking out the perfect outfits just yet.

So, yeah. I’m so popular I can hardly stand it.

Happy Tuesday n’ shit.

On Friday Girlfriend and I found ourselves on a parade float.

It wasn’t a Queen of Fucking Everything celebration and worship parade, per se, but it was close and I had hoped to have a video for you but Mister is a retarded ass monkey forgetful husband and left the video recording camera at home. I’m saddened by this because in still pictures you cannot hear the crowd cheering for me and shouting things like “God save the Queen!” and “Nice ass!” and also “throw candy over here!” which is one I’ve never heard before, but I’m sure it meant something nice and worshipful.

You’ll use your imagination though won’t you Internet, and imagine the cheering crowds?

Hear them?

Catch the Reading Bug at the Queen of Fucking Everything’s Library was the theme for the float and Girlfriend and her friends Ryland and Nathaniel were dressed as adorable little bumble bees.

That’s the lady I call my “boss” riding in front of me and the library “director” in the back. I find it makes people feel good when I call them things like boss and director, and officer.

Girlfriend and I thoroughly enjoyed seeing all the people who came out to worship us celebrate Independence Day.

And the paparazzi chased us down again and tried to interview us, but Girlfriend was unwilling to speak to them and shouted “NO!” at the man with the microphone and then she threw candy in his face.

That’s right, Girlfriend.

We don’t grant interviews to paparazzi scum.

And then after that we went to a party and had a lovely time drinking jello shots and eating cookies at my friend Stacy’s house and Girlfriend got bombalooed on Capri Suns and had to be carried home.

What did you do this weekend?