Archive for September, 2008

Crissy went on a little bit of a shopping spree on Saturday sans Girlfriend and it was glorious. She was able to try on clothes without spending the entire time arguing with Girlfriend about getting out of the stroller (she peed under a rack at Old Navy once and Crissy had to use a Clearance sweater to mop it up. It’s okay though because the sweater was u.g.l.y.) or searching her bag for a cup of juice, a bag of bunny crackers, or her beloved die cast Thomas the Tank Engine.

And Crissy got a bunch of essential things like pants for work and her first pair of skinny jeans since 1986 and she’d show you pictures but you really don’t give a rat’s ass and also Crissy got some things she’s needed for a while but just put off getting.

Like these little Sockettes, for example:

They’re actually called shoe liners but Crissy thinks Sockettes is better. Try saying it.

Sockettes.

Now try it with an Outrageous French Accent.

Sockettes! Awhuhuhuhaw!

See?

Fun.

For the uninitiated, these little jobbies are meant to be worn in lieu of socks so that the wearer can look stylishly sock-less whilst her tootsies stay warm and dry and comfy all day long.

They’re supposed to HIDE in the shoe.

As in not visible.

They are the most bullshit product ever made.

Granted the ones pictured above are not the ones Crissy bought. She got the Target brand ones but really they’re the same thing and Crissy was sooo excited about her new Sockettes that she rushed home to try them out with all her favorite shoes and this is what happened:

FAIL.

Big. Giant. Fail.

So Crissy has decided that what she will do instead is just go the opposite direction and just wear the loudest, most obvious socks she can find.

These are rather nice…

Puet sucez mon pénis, Sockettes.

Awhuhuhuhaw!

This weekend Crissy took Girlfriend to dancing class which is going rather well except for the lovely habit girlfriend is in now where she participates and enjoys and then drops to the floor and starts to cry approximately 10 minutes before the class ends and the teacher winds up dancing with Girlfriend on her hip while she puts her hands down the teacher’s shirt.

Crissy thinks this may be an elaborate plan because Girlfriend might be a lezzie.

We’ll see.

And we were waiting for class to begin and Girlfriend was in the play area with another little dancer and she went up to her and very sweetly said “would you like to play with me?” and the Little Cuntbitch looked her up and down, put a puss on her face and was all “No. I’m here to dance.”

And Crissy’s heart broke into a thousandy million tiny pieces as Little Cuntbitch’s mommy giggled like “oh aren’t they sweet?” and looked on with pride as if her kid didn’t just snub my kid and Crissy wanted to pull her greasy fucking pony tail right off her head and beat her with it. Crissy thought about making a comment to Little Cuntbitch’s mommy like “nice sweatpants, cow. I’m going to kill you now.” but she wants to set a good example for Girlfriend and so entertained homicidal fantasies in her head as is proper behavior for a mom at dance class with her daughter. Crissy is pretty sure she made the right choice. Also, Michele and Alena weren’t there yet for backup and Crissy was not sure how many of the other mommies were friends with Little Cuntbitch’s mommy.

Crissy would have played out the violence in her head with her Barbies for you but she just now thought of it.

Sorry.

Maybe for tomorrow.

And Girlfriend seemed totally unphased by it but can Crissy get real with you Queefs for a moment?

It brought Crissy right back to her formative years when Crissy was a wee little Crissy and had the misfortune of being a lowly teacher’s daughter in a town full of rich assholes whose children excluded her and made fun of her because her clothes weren’t Jet Set or Esprit or Liz Claiborne and her mom drove this:

instead of this:

And we didn’t go on vacations to Bermuda or Hawaii. We took picnics to the park and the zoo for our vacations.

And Crissy had only one other little kid who would play with her because Puttin’ on the Ritz (that’s what the Mean Girl gang called themselves) didn’t like her either because her dad was a teacher too and her mom had a beat up old Volkswagen Rabbit and she had 8 brothers and sisters and wore hand me downs and smelled like cabbage.

Oh how Puttin’ on the Ritz made Crissy’s childhood painful. And Crissy took it all like a bitch because she didn’t know how to handle a bully and instead was always trying to get out of school with multiple fake illnesses because she didn’t want to face the mean girls.

Sniffle.

Sigh.

And Crissy knows this isn’t the only time some little twat is going to be mean to Girlfriend and so Crissy is just thinking of taking her out of dancing class and putting her in Ninjutsu class instead because fuck the dumb shit.

Girlfriend should be kicking ass and asking questions later.

How long do you Queefs figure it will take for Girlfriend to become a Ninja?

PS: Wanna win a free purse?  Click here and go visit Handbag Planet to find out how!

Crissy has a very big problem.

She’d show it to you, but she has a very strict policy against being ugly in front of her Queefs.

Also it won’t fit into the frame of the picture.

Crissy would call it a zit or a pimple but that would be an understatement. Those words are too cute.

It’s more like this:

It’s a second face growing on Crissy’s chin.

Nay.

It’s more like a small town growing on Crissy’s chin.

It has applied for it’s own zip code.

And it wouldn’t surprise Crissy to see this thing if she wasn’t so meticulous about her skincare regimen or if she was expecting her period.

But she is and she’s not.

So WHAT THE FUCKING FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK????

WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS????

How is Crissy supposed to enjoy her weekend?

And Crissy has tried to cover it up with some concealer and some loose powder but it just slides off the sides and creates a bulls-eye type ring around it instead.

Sort of like Saturn.

And Crissy has been trying to burn it off by obsessively putting Retin-A on it every thirty seconds or so. This seems to be working but Crissy doesn’t think that Shane, her face doctor, would approve of this method.

But Shane doesn’t have to walk around with this thing on his face so he can just suck Crissy’s dick.

So what Crissy wants to know is if her Queefs have any better ideas for how she can make this thing go away.

Like,

Right.

Fucking.

NOW.

The lovely people at Coach know that Crissy loves her fun and colorful mommy purses and so whenever they have a new fabulousness coming out they shoot her an email because they know it will make her hate her life by showing her another beauteous thing she cannot have. And it makes them feel very happy and superior and snotty.

And here is the latest.

It’s the Sabrina bag from the new Madison collection and it’s only $358.

It’s practically free when you think about it.

And Crissy likey.

Crissy wanty.

Crissy whines but Mister no buy-y no matter how much Crissy promises the suck-y fuck-y.

He just goes on and on about oil and food and something about winter and tits freezing off and Crissy puts her fingers in her ears and shouts “lalalalalalalalala! I can’t hear you boring man!”

Sigh.

You Queefs know how much Crissy loves her bags don’t you?

Remember this one?

And how much Crissy loved it?

And do you know what Crissy found in that dark abyss when she cleaned it out yesterday Queefs?
No?
Well, she will tell you because Crissy finds her purse contents fascinating.

• 1 umbrella
• wallet containing receipts but no money.
• coupon organizer with no coupons in it because Crissy can never remember to bring them.
• Life organizer with like three things written in it from January when Crissy swore she would become someone who is organized and writes her appointments down in a calendar instead of on scraps of paper which promptly get lost and leave Crissy apologizing to Dr. office staff personnel for missing the appointment and please do not charge her $25 for being a moron.

(ahem…)

• kleenex
• Sally beauty supply membership card
• ginger candy she put in her bag for her pregnant friend Jennifer to help with the puking but Jennifer had the baby already (it’s a BOY!) and Crissy never got it to her. Maybe next time.
• one plastic tube thing of honey
• one partially eaten strawberry Cow’s Tail
• 2 lipsticks. I Mary Kay lipstick in Shell down to a tiny nub (Hi Rachel! Consider this my order for more Shell)
• 1 sample size tube of concealer because you never know when you’re going to have to conceal a gun or a knife or an eight ball of coke or something.
• keys. duh.
• sunglasses. double duh.
• 1 grape Fruitabu
• gum. Crissy has a very serious gum addiction
• 3 pens including one with a frog wearing boxing gloves and when you press the buttons he punches you.
• Princess Jasmine panties
• Old navy khaki shorts size 3T
• one hair elastic
• one hair clip
• One My Little Pony
• Chuck E. Cheese tokens
• 16 gum wrappers
• unidentifiable dirt like substance

And so what if Crissy treats her purse like a dumpster?

If she had her new Sabrina bag she wouldn’t do that.

She swears it.

So you guys are going to chip in and get it for her right?

If everyone donates a dollar, and Crissy has more readers than 358 every day so not everyone would have to (Crissy is looking at YOU, Cheapy Cheapingtons. She bets you haven’t voted yet either), then she could have her Sabrina and everyone would be happy.

RIGHT???

huh? HUH???

Who’s with Crissy?

WOOT?

woot?

And then the Crissys came across the third and final bizarre site just off the Equestrian trails at Schmuckytown Woods this past Sunday as if you guys didn’t know where the Crissys went this weekend by now. Crissy promises she will shut. up. about the fucking woods already after this.

It’s like she’s never been before. wtf?

Anyway, here it is:

What the hell?

It was a tree decorated with beads and feathers and angels and all kinds of random crap.

And contrary to what Crissy thought it was not even a memorial for some poor dead Woodland Gay or anything.

And the rocks around the bottom of it had stuff written on them too. The handwriting was different on all of them and Crissy is certain that at some point in the very recent past a bucket full of crazy was poured on this poor tree and it’s surrounding woodland accoutrements.

Wait. Is that a kabbalah string hanging from that stick?

Also, as evidenced by the rainbow flag, they are clearly Woodland Gay friendly.

Here are the rocks Crissy mentioned:

And one rock that you maybe can’t see here said that if Crissy needs a miracle she should take a leaf but Crissy is all stocked up on crazy at the moment so she didn’t take one.

But do you Queefs think there might be some of those Miracle leaves left because Crissy’s thinking that maybe she should have taken one anyway just in case the coo-coo for coco puffs crazy people are right.

It’s the same feeling of self doubt that she gets when she deletes all those emails that say “if you don’t forward this to ten friends in the next 5.2 seconds your head will turn to lime jello and start to smell like fish.”

What if it actually happens?

As we moved along the Equestrian trails at Schmuckytown Woods on Sunday, Girlfriend came across a large pile of horsey poo and exclaimed

“WOW! Mommy look! That’s the biggest pile of shit I’ve ever seen! And it’s fancy too! It’s got corn in it!”

and so on second thought it may not have been horsey poo after all because Crissy has never never seen corn in horsey poo but maybe that’s because she’s never really taken a good look before. And Crissy is a little bit afraid of horses because they’re rather large and even though this may or may not have happened

Crissy generally makes it a point to avoid horses and stick to enjoying them from a distance.

It’s all because of when Crissy was a wee little 6th grade Crissy and she slept over her friend Gina’s house and Gina had horses and one stepped on her foot and it HURT wee little 6th grade Crissy’s delicate footie, not to mention how much it hurt wee little 6th grade Crissy’s crotchals after riding him.

Anycrap, Crissy would have taken a picture of the mystery crap but she sort of draws the line at putting pictures of poo on her blog.

(Holy shit! Crissy has found her limit! who’d a thunk she even had one!?!)

Crissy is thinking that maybe instead of a horsey that one of the Woodland Gays was experiencing issues that day and had to use his woodsy cradle of love for another purpose.

Too much corn, perhaps.

On Sunday Crissy and Mister took Girlfriend and Alice for a walk at Schmuckytown Woods and it was rather enjoyable even though Girlfriend is slower than a bag of turtles and Crissy had to keep stopping to make sure she hadn’t fallen into a gully or a ravine or a cavern or anything.

And we came across a Miracle Tree and some very interesting horsey poo but Crissy will tell you about that later because as much fun as the Miracle tree and the horsey poo was, nothing can compare to the other magical thing the Crissys found during their walk.

The Crissy’s discovered that it was the perfect sort of day to catch sight of the fascinating creatures called the Woodland Gays in their natural habitat.

And they didn’t even need their binoculars because all they had to do was walk along the trails to encounter the badly dressed out of shape middle aged married men walking alone along the trails carrying backpacks full of gay porn, kleenex, condoms and lube and there you have a Woodland Gay.

You can also identify them by their mating call which sounds an awful lot like the Woot! Woot! Disco Call made famous in discotheques and gay bars the world over.

And one must be careful not to go too deeply into the woods because you do not want to disturb the Woodland Gays during their mating ritual.

They are shy creatures and sometimes prefer to hide behind trees and peek out at you.

Here’s one such fellow now.

(This picture is not from yesterday)

And the Woodland Gays, if on a trail and confronted directly with recreating families like the Crissys, will not make eye contact and say “good afternoon” because they know that you know what they’re really there for and it ain’t a nice hike in the fresh Schmuckytown Woods air.

They’re looking for a whole ‘nuther type of adventure.

They don’t want you to know that they know you know that they know that you know and they know and everyone knows.

Or something.

And so everyone pretends that the Woodland Gays aren’t.

But they so. are.

And when Crissy sees them she wants to shout “Tell your wife you’re gay! She’s probably sick of you anyway!” And also Crissy would set up a booth in the woods and interview potential gay bffs but she has a feeling the Woodland Gays are not the type of gays that will help her pick out a pair of pants that make her ass look wonderful.

PS: All you bloggers who have not pimped the stoogepie sweepstakes (which, btw has grown a bit and is now worth about $1,200!) must report to stoogie to learn about the nude MILF Pimp Prize because he has an $800 camera for one lucky blogger to win. Your odds are pretty damn good since so far we have Chris, Maxie, Ben, Adminerella, My stupid husband, Melissa, Dingo, and Rachel M.. So pimp this shit and you have a really strong chance at getting something out of it. You also have to let stoogie know you did it because he’s not God you know. Close, but no.

PPS: Right now three fucking MEN are beating Crissy for Hottest Mommy Blogger and it goes up Crissy’s bum sideways. Crissy will consider it a great victory to at least hand their hairy asses to them.

Crissy doesn’t know about you Queefs, but she never knows what to write in cards passed around the office by the Sunshine Committee (Hi Lynne!).

Someone is always leaving or graduating or dying or popping out a kid or somefuckingthing and everyone is expected to sign some lame, happy horseshit card with teddy bears on it for someone they have interacted with for approximately 10.5 seconds during the past 2 years of working together. And nobody knows what to write so they all say either one of four things:

• Best Wishes
• Good Luck
• We’ll Miss You!
• Don’t Forget to Visit Us!!!

Or some people like to get fancy and say all three things together.

• Best Wishes! Good Luck! We’ll Miss You! Come Visit!!!

Some of the more creative folks will write

• Boo. You’re leaving us. We’re sad now.

Crissy does not like to follow the crowd and she prefers to write something funny, but it always comes out sounding perverse and or rude instead.

Ahem.

For example:

• Hope you don’t die during your long commute to your new job!
• I heard you got fired.
• You were stupid anyway.
• Congratulations on your graduation! Try not to get fat (or pregnant) Freshman year at college!
• Good Luck with rehab! Hope you make it this time!
• You’re quitting your job to become a train conductor? Really? (that actually happened!)
• I don’t know you. I don’t care you’re leaving.
• Now that you’re leaving it’s safe to tell you it was me that ate your last veggie burger that you had in the freezer. Sorry.
• Great! Now I can apply for your old job!
• I know it was you that was always using my coffee cup and leaving it dirty in the sink. You’re trash.
• I hope your baby doesn’t get your nose! Best wishes!
• Wait. Which one are you now?

Or sometimes Crissy likes to just go over the top and say something super sappy and nice like:

• May all the future holds for you bring joy to your heart as you watch all your dreams come true before your very eyes and you ride to work on the back of a Unicorn and shit vanilla ice cream.

People love that one.

Ps: Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who is helping pimp stoogie’s contest. You guys are soooo awesome. And a special thank you to Melissa Lion who’s throwing in a signed copy of each of her books!

The Crissys just found out that their house is on the list of historic homes in Schmuckytown. They sort of knew it was special because when they bought it they found a picture of it in a book called Schmuckytown Historic Architecture or something like that.

While this may seem like exciting news at first and maybe Crissy’s house might get one of those nifty little oval shaped white signs that says something like built in 1920 by Captain Mike Hunt it is actually a big pain in the Crissy’s asses because it means that whatever we do to our house it must be approved by the Historical Preservation Society.

Remember when Mister wanted to put this statue in the front yard?

Well it means that now some historical dude is going to come by and tell us “No. The Crissys cannot put a large homo-erotic statue of Mister on the front lawn.”

How unreasonable!

And if the Crissys want to paint their house purple with an orange door and giant swastika shaped polka dots all over it, we cannot do that either.

Not historical. Even with the swastikas.

And remember when Crissy and Mister had a sword fight and Crissy had to strap one on and talk man to man with Mister about replacement windows and state loan programs to rid our windows of lead paint that may or may not be giving Girlfriend The Retardation as we speak this very moment?

Well, we got the report back and it turns out that the Crissy’s dirt is also a lead hazard and we have to get all new dirt now too and they have to dig up Crissy’s wonderful garden. Remember how hard she worked?

And the whole kerfuffle started when we applied for the loan to help us pay for our new windows and it was approved and everything was hunky freakin dory until last night when Mister got that call.

“Bad news Mr. Crissy. Your house is a historic landmark. We have to be in contact with the National Historic Commission before we can proceed with your window replacement project. They will cost twice as much as originally estimated due to the fact that they now need to be in keeping with the historic character of the house. They may decide that we cannot replace them at all, but only repair them since they are original to the house. Also it’s going to take forfuckingever for things to go through all the necessary red tape and bureaucratic bullshit inspections.”

(Crissy added that last part about the red tape and the bullshit)

And it’s not like the Crissys weren’t going to put in windows that go with the house. Of course they were going to! What pisses the Crissys off is that now it’s going to take a lot longer to get things done and some persnickety doucheface is going to put his nose up Crissy’s ass and try to boss Crissy around and

nobody bosses around the Queen of Fucking Everything.

(except Girlfriend)

(and sometimes Mister but only on Very Special Nights)

PS: Go see the lovely and hilarious Ms. Dingo! She’s helping out with Stoogepie’s super contest where you can win $600 worth of awesome stuff and a chance to see Crissy in the nakeds and also she made a really, really funny picture of Crissy that you have got to see!

A $600 prize to see her naked?

Wow.

Um.

Crissy had a post all ready for you for this morning and then she came across Stoogepie’s Naked MILF contest.

And you should all go see because Crissy’s blog is having such naughty sex with Stoogepie’s blog right now that Crissy’s blog doesn’t think she’ll be able to walk after this.

Like, ever again.

You see, it all started a while back when Crissy said on Mister’s blog that if she wins Hottest Mommy Blogger that she would post a naked picture of herself on her blog. And, well, Stoogepie is doing all he can to make sure Crissy makes good on that random thing she said but she doesn’t care because it won’t be the first time she’s been naked on the internet.

Whatever.

It’s just boobies.

Crissy also thinks Stoogie really, really doesn’t want Dooce to win Hottest Mommy Blogger.

Crissy doesn’t either.

Dooce gets everything, Crissy gets nothing.

Crissy wants a turn.

So you all need to go see Stoogepie because he’s offering a prize worth $600 and all you have to do is vote for Crissy for Hottest Mommy Blogger to enter.

Go. GO NOW QUEEFS.

And if you haven’t voted for Crissy, what the fuck is the matter with you? Right now Crissy has only one vote more than the woman who takes pictures of her kid’s lunch box contents and calls it a blog.

Crissy knows she’s hotter than that lady.