Listen, the winner of Stoogie’s MILF Sweepstakes is username Soapbox, voter number 277. If that’s you, you have only one week to get in touch with stoogie or you lose sucka.

So go claim your prize!!!

And the winner of the Blogger’s Choice Awards for Hottest Mommy Blogger is…

CRISSY!!!!!

Woot! Woot!

Crissy didn’t have a speech prepared or anything!

Ahem.

First, Crissy would like to thank her daughter, Girlfriend, without whom she never would have qualified for the category in the first place:

Thanks Girlfriend! Mommy loves you and is sorry that now that we’re super famous and stuff you’ll have to hide from the paparazzi scum even more than before.

Crissy would like to thank Mister for getting her pregnant with Girlfriend in the first place:

Thanks for slippin’ one past the goalie Mister!

Crissy would like to thank her mom for teaching her that a well placed f-bomb is all a girl needs to get ahead in this world:

Thanks Mommy! You were right! As usual…

And of course Crissy has to thank her dear, dear friend, her Champion, her knight in shining armor, the man she is leaving her husband for just as soon as he tells her his real name, STOOGEPIE!

We will make the most gorgeous little comic babies together!

And mostly, Crissy would like to thank her loyal readers for voting for her. She had to beg, and Stoogie had to coerce, but YOU DID IT!!!!!

You made Crissy the true Queen of Fucking Everything!

This is a victory for us all.

You now have the Queen’s permission to leave work, proceed to the nearest bar, and get stinking drunk.

Do it in the name of the Queen.

So yesterday didn’t seem like such a bad day for visiting Crissy and I’m glad you all went over to check her out at Arjewtino’s place. You’re so sweet to do that and Crissy hopes she didn’t sound snotty when she said she had trouble with her blog because of all the traffic coming to it. Crissy did not mean to sound snotty, she was just trying to explain why the Queefs couldn’t visit. If you read yesterday’s post you know Crissy is in no position to act snotty.

And if that wasn’t enough for you, here’s more Crissy humiliation for your reading pleasure.

It’s about Gym Class.

Gym class was the bane of Crissy’s existence since first grade when that dullard of a gym teacher, Mr. Kinniberg, tried to make her wear sneakers with her skirt and tights. What kind of an asshole wears sneakers with tights?

Right?

RIGHT?

And so began Crissy’s long history of sitting out during gym class.

You see the problem is Queefs that Crissy is not what you would call coordinated.

I know what you’re thinking: This can’t possibly be true.

You’ve seen Crissy’s Wonderful Dancing…

But it is true, and it made gym class utter torture except for those glorious six weeks in high school when they’d make us do Square Dancing.

Everyone sucked at that and it really leveled the playing field. Or the dance floor or whatever.

In 7th grade, Crissy was late for class and so ran across the gym floor to get to the locker room while everyone was already lined up for attendance, and Crissy slipped in her pink ballet flats and slid on her stomach head first into the locker room door. Legs akimbo, books everywhere.

In 8th grade Crissy and her friend Jennifer got detention for laughing when the gym teacher, his arms loaded with basketballs, fell through a swinging door and onto the gymnasium floor in a cacophony of bouncing balls. He made Jennifer and Crissy stand against the wall while he berated them in front of everyone.

During flag football, Crissy stood as far away from the action as possible and if the ball came anywhere near her, she’d run away from it. Crissy was always the last one picked for the team. In fact, nobody picked her. The teacher assigned her to a team and everyone on it would just be like “oh, man! Nuh-uh! Do we have to? Awcomeon!”

In 9th grade she got hit in the head with a field hockey stick, passed out on the field when she saw the blood run into her eye, and woke up with the gym teacher, the nurse, and her dad (did Crissy mention that her dad taught at her high school?) standing over her with worried looks on their faces. Crissy had to be taken to the hospital for stitches. They got the school nurse and a teacher’s aide to help Crissy change into her regular clothes to go to the hospital. You should have seen how lovely the blood looked all stuck in Crissy’s heavily sprayed 80’s hair. It was lovely.

But in light of all that, one of Crissy’s favorite gym class moments had to be when we were playing volleyball and the ball bounced straight off the side of Crissy’s head, then off her friend Stacy’s fist, and then back into Crissy’s tummy which knocked the wind out of her and landed Crissy flat on her ass.

And yes, it was co-ed volleyball.

The boys saw everything.

And the whole class just stood there snickering as Crissy got up and ran to the locker room and proceeded to cry it out old school with the snot running down her mouth and chin and the uncontrollable sobbing and all of that fancy stuff.

And Miss Teabag, the same-sex-oriented P.E. teacher, followed her into the bathroom and tried very hard to coax poor humiliated Crissy back out onto the field or the rink or the pit or whatever but Crissy wasn’t having it.

Much to Crissy’s surprise she was very understanding and left Crissy the fuck alone. One of the popular jock girls, Amy Eisenberg, even went up to Crissy after class and said “you know, not everybody is good at everything. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

And that meant the world to Crissy that she said that. But Crissy was still humiliated and vowed to miss every gym class from then on.

And she did a decent job of it and even tried this one out on ol’ Miss Teabag:

“I have a phobia involving anything that involves balls flying at my face.”

But she just smiled, clapped Crissy on the shoulder, and said “go get changed.”

Crissy is sort of taking a day off today but not really because our new bloggy lover, Arjewtino, (Crissy doesn’t know if Arjewtino minds taking a gentile as a lover but I’m sure he’ll let her know) asked her to write a guest post about the humiliations of growing up female. Crissy felt all sorts of special that he picked her for the assignment and it touched her in a very private place and so she jumped at the chance and it only took her like 3 weeks to get around to writing it.

And oh the fun she had! And now she feels like she should go back into therapy but whatever.

It was worth it.

And on another note, Crissy would like to say that the Blogger’s Choice thing is coming to an end and we should know who won very shortly and then Crissy will shut. up. Sadly though, her TOP THREE (!) status has been sending her so much traffic that the webhost cannot handle it.

Fucking pussies. What the hell are they doing over there anyway?

So yeah. Because of all the riffraff coming over here ( Just kidding. Hi new Queefs! Welcome! Enjoy! Just don’t leave your beer bottles and empty dime bags all over the place mmmkay?) Crissy is hard to visit these days.

So come see her over at Arjewtino’s place.

Knock before you come in though.

We might be naked!

Crissy was rummaging through her brain archives just the other day and she found this story about how when back in the day, way before Mister and Girlfriend, she used to tool around the East Side of Providence with her friend Suzi and drink way, way, too much at the bars and then kiss boys they hardly knew.

And Crissy thought it would be the perfect time to share this little gem with her Queefs since our delightful Ben, from No Ordinary Rollercoaster, is having a little drinking story contest in an effort to raise awareness of the harmful effects of binge drinking.

Crissy doesn’t know what that even means, but apparently drinking until you puke your guts out of the window of a moving car on the highway is a bad thing. Crissy sort of always thought that was the goal because nothing takes your mind off your troubles better than hurling at 75 mph.

Or getting pulled over by the Po-Po like in Crissy’s story for today…

Ahem.

Once upon a time Crissy and her friend Suzi were dating two boys, Alex and Adam, who were just fresh out of parentally enforced drug and alcohol rehab and so naturally to celebrate the boys completing their programs we all met at Crissy’s boyfriend Adam’s house to drink our asses off. From what Crissy hears, Adam turned out to be gay and went on to become a lion tamer in the circus, but that’s a story for another time.

Anywho…Crissy and Suzi drank and drank and had lots of fun talking smack to a statue of Nefertiti at Adam’s house and acting like silly girls and then Suzi realized that she forgot Alex’s Congratulations on Getting Out of Rehab gift at her apartment and also she forgot to feed Skylar, her cat, so Crissy and Suzi got into Suzi’s cute little black BMW and drove back to Suzi’s to pick up the gift and feed the kitty.

Crissy and Suzi made it safely to the apartment and in a continued bout of sillyness and giggles decided to sample a little cat food themselves.

It was Meow Mix.

And if any of you Queefs are ever tempted to eat Meow Mix, Crissy would caution you against it. It’s very tuna-y, it sticks in your molars something fierce, and also it doesn’t go well with vodka sodas.

Maybe a nice light white wine would have been better but what did we know? We were young and foolish.

And so we fed the cat and grabbed the gift and stumbed back down the stairs and into the car to go back to Adam’s fancy East Side mansion.

So there we were in the car around midnight, smoking cigarettes and loudly singing the Beastie Boy’s No Sleep Till’ Brooklyn with all the windows and the sun roof open, Meow Mix still stuck in our teeth and unbeknownst to us, we were doing 55 in a 25 going the wrong way down swanky Blackstone Boulevard.

And then, oddly enough, the police were behind us pulling us over which we thought was just about the funniest. thing. ever. and Crissy is not afraid to tell you that we were not worried about getting in trouble with the police because we were two of the hottest little blondies you’ve ever seen and here we were in a BMW in a richy-rich neighborhood in the middle of the night being very, very naughty indeed.

What could we possibly be up to that the police would be concerned about?

And do you know why the officer pulled us over? It wasn’t the speeding the wrong way down a one way street. It wasn’t the blasting stereo. It wasn’t even that we smelled like a distillery.

There was a headlight out and the officer wanted us to know. And when he asked Suzi to put on the high beams to see if those lights were out too–or maybe Crissy was driving? Things start to get a little fuzzy at this point in the story, the windshield wipers went on instead.

Woopsie Ossifer!

Anyway, the officer was very understanding about the headlight and everything and let us go on our way without even a mention of the one way thing or the 30 mph over the speed limit thing or the drunk thing and we went back to Adam’s house and laughed about it all and had a toast to the Pigs and then at some point went home and passed out.

Crissy and Suzi woke up together at Suzi’s apartment in Suzi’s bed, both of us terminally hungover, and um, well, we were wet.

As it turns out, Crissy had wet both the bed and Suzi.

Ever pee in somebody’s bed?

It’s awkward as ass.

Just the other day, Mister said to Crissy

“I’ve always thought of you as being pretty conservative.”

Crissy is wondering if Mister thinks she’s conservative because she wears pants.

Or maybe he was talking to Alice?

Crissy is confused.

Yesterday Crissy was in quite a tear indeed. After waking up late at the glorious hour of 7:00AM(!!!!) the entire household was thrown into a panic to get out of the house on time. It was chaos.

And Crissy was running late having packed two lunches and making two breakfasts and getting herself and Girlfriend showered, dressed, peed, and out the door for school and work.

Crissy drove like the wind to the Sandbox Preschool to drop Girlfriend off and as she turned the corner near the school she realized she was going nowhere fast because before her sat a big, big, gigantic YUKON blocking the street.

So Crissy waited.

And she waited.

tick-tock…

Some of us have a J-O-B to get to Cock Knocker!

Move your fucking pig!

And do you know what the fucking hold up was Queefs?

Some fucktard, some assclown, some dickweed, was blocking the street because he wanted a parking spot RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE SCHOOL. The rest of the street was totally clear. Plenty of parking spots for everyone but this fuck face decided that he couldn’t possibly walk fifty feet to the school with little Jayden or Brayden or Caydence or whatever fucking yuppy snot name he named his fucking kid and so he decided that it was okay to block the street and sit and wait for a good spot to park his big fat hog.

And he’s not the only Dickmo in an SUV. They all have those HUGE ASS SUVS. They drive Range Rovers, Navigators, Suburbans, Yukons, Explorers, and there’s even some weird looking Mercedes abomination. And Crissy can totally see why it’s necessary to drive such a thing. Everyone knows you need the largest vehicle possible to deliver little Landon and little Ashlyn to school safely. You don’t know what could happen in the five minute trip from your house to the school.

There might be some peasants trying to cross the street and you might need to run them over so you’re not late for your busy street blocking appointment.

And so they fight to park their giant cars RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE SCHOOL and then when they get into the play yard they all stand around with the chitting and the chatting and block the fucking entrance to the school so that Crissy and Girlfriend have to fight their way through the crowd of mommies to get inside.

Again, some of us have J-O-B-S to get to and can’t stand around clucking like a bunch of damned hens.

Crissy is mad and she’s already fed up with the Preschool Mommies.

Crissy feels a Barbie attack coming on.

Wait for it…

It will be bloody.

Oh my goodness Queefs yesterday was just the most glorious fall day and Girlfriend and I went out to the garden to harvest the last of the tomatoes and the eggplant and the green peppers

when Crissy noticed something.

It was this:

and this:

and if that’s not enough, this:

Her zinnias, her sun rays, and her marigolds are destroyed. These are the very same flowers that she planted from seeds given to her by her grandfather that are descended from his very own prized flowers and motherfucking Frank

got in there and smashed them all up.

And you know he did this just to be an asshole don’t you Queefs? Why else would he wait all summer and let them grow to their fullest potential and then go rummaging through Crissy’s garden and Papa’s flowers are the only thing he touched?

It’s woodchuck sarcasm is what it is.

Dick.

He wants Crissy to know who has the power.

And Alice continues to be totally fascinated by Frank.

That’s pretty much her day–sticking her head under this hole in the fence waiting for Frank to come.

And so Crissy tried to harvest what was left of her zinnias and some of her marigolds and some of her sun rays and cursed Frank the whole time while Alice waited for her prince to come.

And so now whenever something in the house get ruined, we’re going to blame Frank. The wheel on Girlfriend’s train breaks? Frank did it.

Somebody spent the mortgage money on shoes?

Frank.

And then just so that Crissy wouldn’t think her afternoon was crappy enough, Girlfriend was running barefoot through the grass and stepped on a motherfucking bee who stung her little footie.

She screamed a scream Crissy has never heard before and then spent the rest of the afternoon with her foot propped up on a pillow with an ice pack on it and flying high on Benadryl, Ibuprofen, and cherry popsicles.

So fuck you Frank for wrecking Crissy’s flowers AGAIN and fuck you bees for stinging girlfriend AGAIN.

In fact, fuck you Nature with you creatures and your…your…sunshine.

Crissy is in crisis mode Queefs.

She cannot for the life of her think of a good Halloween costume for this year and so she needs your suggestions.

Like, now.

The Crissys were going to have a little par-tay but as it turns out only half the people can make it on one night and half can make it on the other so we cannot come up with a night where everyone–yes, all 5 of our friends–can make it.

And Crissy can remember a time when they had the. most. wonderful. Halloween parties and Everyone and their gay best friend would come and just fill Crissy’s house with sparkly party people who were high on pot brownies snickers bars and pineapple infused vodka fruit punch. So many people used to come that it was single file only through Crissy’s house and there was always a line for the bathroom.

It was glorious Queefs.

But now everyone has kids and real jobs and are in prison or the witness protection program at least and so now Crissy’s parties are just like…

And people have to be careful not to drink too much so they can get home to relieve the babysitter at a reasonable hour.

SNOOOOZZEEEE.

So instead of having a party the Crissy’s are going to one thrown by childless people and it will be fabulous like their parties used to be.

But what is Crissy’s costume?

It has to be something Totally Fabulous.

And it can’t be something Crissy has done before.

Crissy, along with our friend Matt have already done the schoolgirl thing:

That would be Mister’s sister, Cya, biting Matt’s boobie.

And Crissy was Holly Golightly one year.

But she did not go lightly. She go-ed hard!

And Mister was Indiana Jones that year too. That’s where Crissy got the whip. Crissy knows Holly Golightly did not have a whip. Don’t be silly!

And a couple of years before that at their old house Crissy was a Naughty Miss Congeniality with a condom stuck to her shoe and her dress tucked into her underpanties and Mister was Pickle Pants Spiderman:

We call him Pickle Pants because he stuffed his crotch with a pickling cucumber.

What?

It’s cold on Halloween. There was shrinkage!

And finally, last year Crissy and Mister were Pam Anderson and Borat:

And that was a lovely costume indeed and Crissy let everyone touch her boobies because they were made of silicone inserts, tube socks and a very padded DD bra.

Crissy was obsessed with them.

But what this year Queefs?

Help Crissy find a costume. And it must steal all the attention away from the party and the onion dip and the little cocktail weenies and onto her because that’s what she really likes…

Crissy has caught the Monkey Plague from Girlfriend and spent most of the weekend in Bedfordshire doing this:

And the Biggest Pussy Ever is really irritated because Girlfriend takes up so much space in the bed that he is forced to sleep on the very edge so that he doesn’t get any ugliness of the human on him. And he’s been eating Crissy’s plants and barfing them up in inconvenient places like under the dining room table and in Crissy’s shoes (not the cute ones everyone loved last week) just to punish her for the invasion of his daytime sleeping place.

He’s such a bitch sometimes.

Anyway this all means that Crissy didn’t really have a chance to prepare another genius, brilliant, fantastic, astoundingly smart and funny post for you today because of all the wheezing and sleeping and the sore throating and the whining at Mister that she did that took up the bulk of her weekend.

And so Crissy is never one to post OPF (Other People’s Funny) but today that is what she is doing because it is Monday and she is just now joining the land of the living and the breathing.

Ta-Da!

Click to make it bigger so you can read it. Don’t be lazy Queefs.

You know how people ask you this annoying question: “if you could have lunch with anyone in the world, who would it be?” And you’re supposed to pick someone really impressive and shit like Dali Lama or Obama or Oprah or Toonces the Driving Cat or somebody like that?

Well Crissy picks whoever wrote that crap up there. Everyone else is useless to her.