It’s September Queefs!

And you know what that means?

It’s the time of the year when Crissy and Mister try to decide whether to have another baby or not.

“Why September?” you ask.

Why not September?

And Crissy will be honest with you. Mister is really sitting more on the no fucking way in Hades will I get you pregnant and I’ll chop my balls off right now if you keep asking me about it woman side of the fence and Crissy is sort of straddling the middle where she at times thinks romantically about the baby and then at times remembers that her first baby is a fire monster and does she really want to have two fire monsters?

Nay, nay Queefs.

Nay, nay.

But Crissy isn’t getting any younger and next year Crissy and Mister will very old indeed and be at risk for having a Downsy baby or a baby with some horrifying issue featurable on the Discovery Channel or whatever and even though the Downsy babies seem very sweet and charming and nice and all, the Crissys would rather have a healthy baby who will eventually grow up and disappoint them bitterly get the fuck out of their house.

And also it means that Crissy will have to have Sexy Time when she doesn’t particularly feel like having Sexy Time and she hates that and she could always just go with a Play Through but she doesn’t really want the baby growing up knowing that he or she was conceived while Mommy watched Ghost Hunters and complained that Daddy was bouncing his butt too high and was blocking the tee-vee.

That’s no way to get knocked up. Babies should be conceived in a romantic way during screaming drunken wildness involving approximately 3 midgets and a large black double ended dildo. And the whole thing should be a blur and a month later Crissy should find herself sitting on the side of the bathtub holding a positive pregnancy test and scratching her head because she can’t quite remember how it all went down and she’ll be worried that the baby will be a midget with an incredibly large black penis.

That’s a much better story to tell the baby as it involves people his/her size.

And what will happen to the blog? When will Crissy find time for the blog? Crissy barely has time for it now.

And what about Crissy’s booze and pills? Those judgy doctors frown upon the booze and the pills.

And what about all the cool clothes Crissy just got at Savers? Who will wear the purple Ralph Lauren blazer?

And who will take care of the baby? Certainly not Crissy!

And most importantly, what if the baby comes out not pretty?

So September is a month of negotiations and Crissy is ovulating in a couple of weeks and so we have two weeks to decide if we will make a go of it this month or not but just in case, Crissy is looking for suggestions for some good porn titles.

Particularly ones involving short people (not children, short people).

It seems appropriate for the occasion.

Saturday morning was Girlfriend and Alena’s first tap/jazz combination dancing class.

Girlfriend started out by waking up at 3:30 am and staying up for the rest of the morning.

Here is a picture of her in her dancing outfit having breakfast.

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If anyone didn’t believe Crissy when she says Girlfriend is a fire monster, Crissy submits the above photo as evidence.

And here are the girls looking very excited for class to start and getting jiggy with it in their matching outfits

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Aren’t they just the sweetest thing?

And here’s Alena breaking it down

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And here’s Girlfriend busting a move

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And then they get into class and we have this

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And this

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Girlfriend liked the skipping around the room part…

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And then out of nowhere we have this

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She did not fall down. She simply decided that dancing sucked balls and threw herself on the floor and Crissy and Mister had to carry a screaming and crying Girlfriend out of the dance studio and bring her home without ever even getting her into her tap shoes.

What happened? Didn’t Girlfriend like the dancing?

Girlfriend had better like the fucking dancing because Crissy spent a lot time and a lot of monies on this project already.

Check it:

Tap shoes: $35
Ballet slippers: $15
Dance outfit: $29.50
Dance class registration fee: $20
Time spent at open house waiting in line (whilst suffering from that monkey disease Crissy had a couple of weeks ago) to register Girlfriend for class: 45 minutes
Trips to dance shoe store 1/2 hour away from home to purchase shoes and return to pick up special order shoes for Girlfriend’s delicate little super narrow tootsies: 2
Telephone calls to dance shoe store to check to see if Girlfriend’s shoes had arrived at the store: 3
Hours spent fantasizing about attending her first dance recital: countless

Girlfriend will be Shirley Temple-ing and Good Ship Lollipop-ing her ass off if Crissy has anything to say about it.

But of course she doesn’t because we all know who the boss is around here and it is certainly not Crissy.

Crissy is Queen of Fucking Everything (Except for Girlfriend).

She should change her title.

As it turned out Girlfriend asked to go to bed as soon as she got home which is so unheard of that Crissy and Mister knew there was something very wrong and then she woke up after a 3 hour nap with a fever of 103 degrees.

Oh.

And now she refuses to go back to the class because “dancing is too stupid!” and so Crissy will have to spend additional monies on a bribe to get Girlfriend to try the class again.

Either that or she will cram herself into that dance outfit and those tap shoes and take the class herself and she will tap circles around those kids!

So far this week Crissy has warned the Queefs about The Mutants Who Smell Like Feet at Chuck E. Cheese and the Monkey Breath People at Savers and now she will tell you about the Asshats at the Library.

It shouldn’t come as much surprise to Crissy when she finds icky people at Chuck E’s and Saver’s, but the library should be a place where nice clean people who smell like fresh laundry come to read very sophisticated books about physics and things that Crissy does not understand.

Sadly, not so much.

The library patrons are somewhat cleaner people than the others Crissy encountered last week and this is because people at the library can read (sometimes) and so have successfully followed the directions on the bar of soap, but just because they are clean-ish folks it does not mean that they are smart people or sane people, or normal people.

For example, A Crazy Bat Shit Lady, Crissy thinks she must be in her 70’s somewhere, comes up to the desk. She’s wearing a bad, bad, bad wig that’s on crooked and poorly pinned to her head, a polo shirt that’s 2 sizes too small, enormous gym shorts hiked up underneath her boobs, with black sheer panty hose and white orthopedic sneakers and she carried a handbag sooooo big Crissy could have stuffed her in it and Crissy was certain it was full of those gummy spearmint leaves and lots of peppermints and stuff. And she’s so pleasant and sooooo perky and cheerful that Crissy wants to smack her mouth when she asks her to find a book of wedding quotes so she can write “the perfect thing” in her granddaughter’s wedding card. Awwww…so sweet! So Crissy gives her about 5 books and then she looks at Crissy and says “Jesus Christ! There’s a lot of shit! If I don’t find something in here I’m porked.”

Huh. Didn’t see that one coming.

Not sane.

NEXT!

And then right after Crazy Bat Shit Lady, a delightfully bemulleted Diesel Dyke who looked an awful lot like Jo from Facts of Life without the pleasant smile and the eye liner:

(some of you are way too young to know what The Facts of Life was and that makes Crissy want to go cry in her bowl of fiber cereal a little bit)

came to the desk with guns so big her arms didn’t touch her sides and in James Earl Jones’ voice requests Debbie Macomber’s romance novel, Rainy Day Kisses.

And the request seemed so odd to Crissy that she just sat there for a second struggling to find the meaning of it all before she got up and found the book for Ms. Diesel or Mr. Diesel or whatever.

Apparently everyone has a soft side and then they go pump iron and comb their mullets.

Not normal.

NEXT!

And then there was the bus load of men who are afflicted with The Retardation. They actually don’t bother Crissy at all because they’re really the sweetest creatures in the world and they love their architecture books and their encyclopedias and they are always asking Crissy to help them find them and they ask every single time and you’d think they’d remember where their favorite books are, but no.

It’s like they’re retar…

Oh.

I get it.

Not smart.

Clearly Crissy had quite the weekend with the publicness and had a few moments where she considered barricading herself in her house but then she quickly remembered about the problem she would have getting the vodka and so she decided against it.

For now.

On Saturday night Crissy and Mister took Girlfriend to Chuck E. Cheese for the first time and holy shit you guys. If Savers was crawling with Poor Monkey Breath People, Chuck E. Cheese was loaded with Mutants Who Smell Like Feet .

It was sooooo dirty and stinky that when Crissy picked up a salt shaker to salt her cardboardish pizza IT STUCK TO HER HAND!!!

But Girlfriend had a wonderful time because a three year old’s standards for cleanliness and politeness are far lower than Crissy’s. For example, Girlfriend thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to pick her nose and it’s even okay to pick a friend’s nose every now and again.

Crissy is just glad Girlfriend isn’t one of those handsy in the pantsy kids.

And Crissy didn’t have an entirely bad time because Mister let her use his camera (!) and she was excited to look around and see all of the blog fodderishness and she was able to take a few pictures of some of the Mutants Who Smell Like Feet so that it’s almost like we were all there experiencing it together.

This may provide an excellent means of birth control for those of you who are childless at the moment. Trust me if you have a child you will find yourself in Chuck E. Cheese at some point. You may thank me now for saving you from this fate.

So, without further ado, it’s Crissy’s Chuck E. Cheese Style Achievement Awards!!! or the Mutants Who Smell Like Feet Awards!!!

Ya-ta-da-da-da-da-daaaaaaaa!!!!

Best All Around Muffin Top

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Most Creative use of Dollar Store Hair Color

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Worlds Largest Tee Shirt and Shorts Combo

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The First Pair of Farmer Jeans Worn by Anyone Over the Age of 3 that Crissy Has Seen Since the 90’s and Crissy is Shocked She’s Not Carrying a Teddy Bear Back Pack to Complete the Whole “I Have the Mentality of a Preschooler” Award.

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The I’m Too Sexy For My Fucking Tee Shirt Award

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Best Use of Most Inappropriate Hat worn to a Children’s Venue

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Pretty In Pink with the Shoes to Match Award

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The Where the Fuck is Your Mother? Award

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And last but not least,

Best Ghetto Whip

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Needless to say that when we got home we had to shampoo Girlfriend’s hair with Raid and scrub her body with boiling bleach water and Brillo pads and Crissy is certain that after the swelling and the burning and the redness goes away she’ll be totally fine.

Crissy is certain we will not be able to drive past Chuck E. Cheese without hearing a lot of whining from Girlfriend because she wants to go in and so Crissy is wondering if anyone knows where she can find a bio-hazard suit?

Savers didn’t have any in her size.

Crissy has had several experiences out in the public this past holiday weekend and so she has decided to take a few days this week to describe them to you Queefs because she hates the publicness and if she could be a total shut in she would do it except they don’t deliver vodka to the house and they don’t let her pay the neighbor’s kid to do it for her anymore and so she must leave the house sometimes.

sigh…

So Crissy has decided to make this Crissy Interacts With the Public Week!

Ta-da!

Crissy has also decided that she’s going to start talking about herself in the third person just like bossy does because she thinks bossy is so very clever to do that and also because she feels that her hilarious hijinks need a degree of separation from herself and so it will be more fun to say that Crissy did such and whatever and not Crissy.

Crissy will do this until she gets bored with it. Or at least until I do. Meaning Crissy, not me. But really me because I’m really Crissy. But I’m so not. She’s her and I’m me and we’re her and that’s that.

I think.

Crissy is already confused.

Aaaaanyhooters, yesterday Crissy attended an event called the Saver’s Labor Day Sale. If you don’t know what Savers is click here and get with the program. It is a glorious day for Crissy as Savers is her most favorite place to shop. It’s a treasure hunt. And on labor day all of that old used junk treasure is half price.

And so Crissy puts her game face on which looks a little something like this:

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(do you not love her new necklace? She got it for $2 yesterday and the saleswoman had to take it out of the jewelry case and bring it to the register because apparently Crissy looks like the sort of lady who would steal a $2 green plastic necklace and then wear it to a party later in the afternoon) and she leaves the house very early and drives over to Savers to stand in line with the thrifty poor and she prepares to shop her ass off which is great fun and it would be funner if the other people weren’t scum.

But they are.

Crissy was forced to stand in line with people who smelled of poverty, stale cheap perfume, cigarettes, and morning monkey mouth except for the anorexic lady in the tee shirt that said “Pain is weakness leaving the body.” She smelled like air.

And the people were not speaking English for the most part and she thought that if another one of them brushed against her pristine lily white arm she might catch Foreign Person Disease and drop dead right there on the sidewalk having left her house before 8:00 am on her day off and never making it into the store to shop and possibly get into a knife fight.

But Crissy persevered.

She almost had to cut a bitch over a luscious purple corduroy Ralph Lauren blazer, but she didn’t because the lady turned out to be rather nice and they actually wound up trying the blazers on and swapping what didn’t fit and it’s too bad they made friends because Crissy was really excited about the possibility of making someone bleed.

Maybe next time.

And before you Queefs get all judgy about Crissy shopping alongside the poor, check out what she scored for a mere 60 monies:

2 Calvin Klein shirts for Mister
1 fleece vest for Mister
2 sweaters for Girlfriend
Jeans and a skirt for Girlfriend
2 long sleeve tee shirts for Girlfriend
3 scarves
2 sweaters
2 blazers
2 skirts and a pair of pants
2 shirts
1 puzzle for Girlfriend
and
1 fabulous green plastic necklace

All brand name and in perfect condition. Some of the stuff even still had tags on it.

Obviously Crissy’s shopping trip was a complete success except for the smelly rude people and so she is seriously considering writing to the Savers Corporate Headquarters to request that they not make her shop with The Great Unwashed again.

Only clean people who smell nice should be allowed near The Queen.