Morning Queefs!

You know what made Crissy call her mom on Saturday morning, sobbing into the phone and repeatedly saying “serenity now! serenity now!” to the point where she decided to cancel her busy plans masturbating to Barry Manilow to come over and help Crissy so she didn’t have a total mental breakdown?

Taco’s room.

And that’s because pregnant ladies get this thing called nesting and it’s when you have this urge to get ready for the baby by gathering all the shit you need and getting all the little diapers and onesies and crap ready to roll.

By her fifth month of pregnancy she had Girlfriend’s room all ready already and it did not suprise her midwife at all who said “you’re such the type” with a big eye roll as if preparedness is a bad thing.


And it’s a damn good thing Crissy was so ready because Girlfriend came two weeks early. 

See?  Crissy does things ahead of schedule.

And it’s not like that this time and Crissy has been waking up with nightmares of Taco sleeping in the laundry basket because right now the room looks like this:


Okay. That was last weekend but it looks the same except that Mister has taken the carpet out.

Crissy can’t very well get things ready now can she?

This is particularly difficult for Crissy because she always has a plan, or a list, or an itinerary. If Crissy is not early, then she’s late, which is actually on time. Crissy never lets her car get below 1/4 tank and if it does, Crissy will wake up at 3 am to worry about when and where she’s going to get gas for the car before she and Girlfriend are stranded on the road and will have to pee in the woods and hitchhike to the nearest gas station and probably they’ll be abducted by a homicidal trucker rapist who’s too hopped up on crank and truck sodas to just go and abuse some hooker at a rest area like all normal truck drivers. If there is an assignment or a deadline, Crissy gets to work immediately and never, never waits until the last minute to do things.


Some people might call this anal but Crissy calls it smart because who the hell likes to be in a panic to get stuff done at the last possible second?

Crissy will tell you who.

It’s Mister.

He waits until the last second all the time and that drives Crissy absofuckinglutelyoutofhermind.

And get this– sometimes the last second passes and he’s still done nothing!!!!

This is unbelievable to Crissy.

And you should see us when we have to go somewhere.  We would always be late if it weren’t for Crissy standing at the door with her coat on, jumping up and down and yelling “COME THE FUCK ON!!!”

And this tragic character flaw isn’t even really his fault because his whole family does it.

He doesn’t really know any better.  It’s like the same way that a child raised by wolves doesn’t know better than to take a dump in the middle of the living room.

Thank Jesus Crissy broke Mister of that habit!

If you tell his mother that “dinner is at 6:00,” that’s the time when she starts thinking about getting ready to make whatever it is she was supposed to bring. And that makes inter-family gatherings rawther interesting indeed as Crissy comes from a long line of preparers and her family is there 15 minutes early at least and Mister’s family waltzes in an hour later after Crissy’s family has been pacing around like hungry tigers.

Do you see what Crissy is forced to put up with?

Crissy is late for her workout now because of all the complaining she had to do this morning and in this particular instance “late” does not mean “on time” but really, really fucking late which means she won’t be in the shower by 8:00 to be on the road to drop Girlfriend off at school and possibly flip off some pajamaed cunt in an Escalade by 8:50 and arrive at work by 9:00.

As you can plainly see, Crissy’s suffering is unimaginable and her stress level is through the roof and if those little pussy whiners in the Sudan or Darfur or the Special Olympians or whatever think they have it rough, they need to come and live with Crissy for a while.


OMG Queefs.

Crissy wasn’t going to post today because it’s one of those days when she feels quiet.

Yes, it happens sometimes.

Shut up.

And she just didn’t have much to say to anybody and so was going to take the day off and then something funny happened and she thought she’d tell you because she doesn’t have any real friends to call.

Isn’t that lucky for the Queefs though?

Sure it is.

So anyways, Crissy and Girlfriend are at the Stop & Shop doing their groceries when Crissy goes to the deli counter and guess who is there?


Yes! He was!


And he sliced Crissy’s cheese for her and asked if she liked his thickness and…

huhuhuhuhuhuuuuuu…Crissy bets it’s thick, baby…


Where are we?

Oh yes, thickness and that’s when Girlfriend noticed that Vinny has a teeny tiny earring and loudly said to him, “why do you have that earring? Only women wear earrings. YOU LOOK LIKE A WOMAN!!!! Hahahahahahaha! Silly Cheese Man.”


Vinny did not know what to say and so just smiled this dumb smile and sort of looked at Crissy to be rescued but she didn’t do it and you Queefs would have been proud because she was cold as ice and Crissy and Girlfriend just walked off with their cheese and a hair toss and enjoyed a hearty chuckle at Vinny’s expense.

That ought to teach Vinny to toy with Crissy so.

He got owned by a three year old.

Maybe next time he’ll show a little more respect to the QOFE and POFE (That’s Princess of Fucking Everything in case you didn’t know. She’s earned it.).

PS: This will probably drive Vinny wild with desire for Crissy now, right?

Some of you Queefs don’t care about pictures of Girlfriend because you’re young and drunk and everything but Crissy knows that most of you do and so here.

You’re going to look at some pictures of her and you’re going to fucking love the shit out of it because she’s what Crissy feels like talking about today and if Crissy feels like talking about it by golly she’s going to because this is Crissy’s Page.



So suck it.

Girlfriend has been dressing herself lately and Crissy lets her because

A: Crissy is tired and it’s just not worth the trouble to stop her so if it’s appropriate for the weather, Girlfriend is good to go.

B: Girlfriend’s get-ups are Short Bus Chic (she totally gets that from her father) and Crissy thinks she has a future designing either for People with The Retardation or People With Way Too Much Fucking Money.

See this?

Totally something Girlfriend would put together.

So who is Crissy to stop genius at work?

She’s nobody.

First up is this lovely ensemble which you’ll notice is almost identical to the one pictured above but Crissy can assure you it is an original creation by Girlfriend. It was designed to help daddy with the baby’s room.

Crissy took this picture and then Mister posted it on HIS blog. AS. IF. DUDE.


But Crissy will fix his wagon, don’t you worry your pretty little Queef heads about that.

Crissy has the punani and therefore, the power.

There will be no more picture stealing going on up in here.

A little flower child action


If only Janis Joplin had thought to wear tap shoes, who knows how it would have changed the course of her life?

Here’s the special outfit she chose for blowing bubbles out in the yard.


The hat was really cute with it, but Mister made her use the picture without the hat in it even though Crissy said she wanted the picture with the fucking hat in it because the picture is about the ensemble and not about art.

He’s been causing trouble Queefs. Can you tell?

He’s a big pain in Crissy’s ass with the pictures all the time.

And of course Girlfriend does not limit her designs to just herself. Crissy caught her putting lipstick on the dog the other day (Crissy’s most favorite Clinique Black Honey thankyouverymuch. Sorry Rachel. Crissy loves the Black Honey.) and also Mister caught her giving her a hair cut. Both times the explanation was that she was “getting Alice ready for a dog show.”


If you ask Crissy, Girlfriend is lucky Alice lets her keep her face.

She kind of does need a haircut though…

And Girlfriend is such a threat to designers like old Mr. Valentino that he was forced to retire and then go cry in a bag of pug chow.

You know what makes Crissy so mad you guys?

People who walk right through a door you’ve held for them and don’t bother to acknowledge you and say “thank you ” thereby forcing you to shout “YOU’RE WELCOME YOUR HIGHNESS ” at them?

People who use the last shred of toilet paper and don’t bother to replace it?

Forever 21’s bullshit return policy?

Yes, but that’s not all.

What makes Crissy really, really mad are old people who drive.

They suck.


And Crissy isn’t saying that old people shouldn’t be allowed to drive. Her Papa is 93 and he drives like the wind and Crissy thinks that’s just dandy. He’d be devastated if he couldn’t drive anymore and Crissy understands and sympathizes with that, she really does. She also understands what a bummer it would be for both herself and Papa if she had to drive him around to do his groceries and go to the foot doctor and stuff.

And that is why Crissy is going to call Obama with her new idea since he’s trying to do all this work on the infrastructure and everything and Crissy thinks that while all the constructing is happening they should build a separate lane for the old people to drive in so that normal people, people who drive at the perfect speed and always use their directionals, don’t have to share a road with the cotton heads.

Crissy shouldn’t have to be forced to endure Grandpa in his Buick/Mercury/Cadillac with all the POW and USA and WWII and Proud to be an American Veteran trucker caps proudly displayed on the back deck right there next to the spare tissues so that he cannot tell if there is anyone behind him as he drives along at 15 miles per hour for miles and miles forcing Crissy to cross the double yellows and shout “KICK IT IN THE PANTS GRANDPA!!! THE HORSELESS CARRIAGES GO FAST!!! and risk a ticket because seriously? Crissy is too busy and important for this jackassery.

And Crissy thinks this lane should also be reserved for drunks, teenagers, moms in SUVs and Minivans who must be driving while breastfeeding or organizing their Target lists or something, assholes on the phone, and perhaps the worst drivers out there, the uninsured poor and the Dirty Foreign People who cannot read English street signs and so Mister has to shout things out of the windows at them like “andale senor!” and other sorts of foreign language things like that.

Some of you may think Crissy is kidding but you will thank her when you’re just driving along without aggravation. Unless you’re an Asshole on the phone and then you’ll be stuck behind Grandpa and then you’ll finally know how it feels to be Crissy and that will be sweet.


Oh what a time Crissy had on Saturday morning when she went with Mister and Girlfriend to run some Taco’s room construction errands.

We went to a store called Harbor Freight which Mister calls “The Most Wonderful Place on Earth” and it is a store where they sell tools. Really, really cheap but nice tools.

Or something.

Crissy thinks this is The Most Wonderful Place on Earth.

But whatever. Mister is entitled to his opinion until Crissy manages to convince him that all his opinions are stupid. It’s hard because Mister is an arrogant prick a stubborn man.

And when we pulled up, the parking lot was full of Manly Trucks all ready for a day of Manly Things. And groups of men with raging hard-ons were exiting the store giggling like little girls which is something you never see unless it’s around 2 am outside the nudie bar. Except no one was throwing up on his shoes and wondering where all his money went. And they were all pushing carriages full of Manly Tool Things. They would have been jumping up and down and clapping their hands and squealing but remember Queefs these are Men Who Are Good With Tools and so they cannot make such displays for fear people would think they have a touch of The Gay in them and so they just touched each other’s bums a lot and gave a few snaps in a circle instead.



And then we got into the store.

Crissy doesn’t know if it’s her pregnant sense of smell or something but as soon as the doors opened she could tell that there was nary a fellow in the place who had touched toothbrush or soap that morning (Mister included, btw). And the place was just the biggest Sausage Festival Crissy had ever seen and she was surprised they didn’t have a bouncer at the door checking for penises before people could go in.

“You’re good.”

“Dude! Come on in!”

“Nice sack, man.”

And then when a lady comes to the door it’s all

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. WHOA. Pardon me, but you look like you might have a vagina. You’re going to have to either leave it in the car or wait outside ma’am. Those are the rules.”

And maybe there was a bouncer and he was just taking a leak or having a sandwich or something and Crissy somehow slipped through the checkpoint because looking through aisle after aisle with labels on them like Hydrolics, , Rams and Wedges, Wheelgoods, Stuff for Breaking Stuff, and Stuff for Fixing Stuff You Broke, Crissy saw nothing but Men Getting Ready to Do Man Things with Tools. She thought she saw another lady but it was just a dude with long hair and so the only other females there were girl children no doubt sent to the store with daddy to give mommy a moment’s fucking peace for christ sake.

It was so crazy that even Mister noticed it and wished he had a video camera because you just don’t see so many men in such total and utter ecstasy unless somebody is donning a crusty thong and shaking her skanky ass in his face.

Except for sporting events perhaps but Crissy and Mister do not go to those and so really Crissy wouldn’t know anything about the Garden of Manly Bliss that may be there.

And Mister was all giddy over some sanding sponges and a box of things called Brads. Crissy doesn’t know what that is but Brads are very heavy. And Girlfriend and Crissy each got Chenille car wash sponges– a very pretty lime green one for Crissy, and a lovely cornflower blue one for Girlfriend.

By the end of the trip, Crissy did find another lady in the store.

It was the same sex oriented cashier who clearly had to strap one on to be admitted to the building.