Crissy didn’t tell you this, Queefies, but her dishwasher exploded last week and it make a horrible chokey coughing sound and then a metallic grinding sound and then it just stopped.  And when Crissy tried to start it again, it did another terrible, terrible death rattle and then FLAMES SHOT OUT FROM UNDER IT.

And so that was the end of a thirty year old Kitchen Aid dishwasher.  Not too glamorous, but very dramatic. And so for the past week, Crissy has been washing dishes.  WITH HER HANDS!

It’s been a hell because you cannot wash dishes with a Homeslice on your hip, Queefies.  And a Homeslice hates to be put down for any reason, even so Crissy can do the dishes.  It’s no excuse if you ask a Homeslice and so Crissy had to wash dishes WITH HER HANDS while a Homeslice CRIED HER ASS OFF.

The good news is that the new one comes today and thank goodness for the Toy With Mes because Crissy’s first monies are going to go toward the new dishwasher.

Your queen leads a very glamorous life, you know.

And speaking of glamor,  It’s WEDNESDAY and you know what that means!

Today Crissy will educate you on the Make-your-own-dildo and Clone-a-pussy kits!

Come on!

Let Crissy ask you something, Queefies.

Is it just Crissy or does this thing scare the piss out of you?


Imagine that little fucker falling out of a tree at you! Crissy would lose her mind.

It’s called an Aye-Aye and it’s from Madagascar and look at his little hands!

That’s so not right!

The babies are sort of cute,

But baby things usually are cute.

Even baby gila monsters are kind of cute in a get that freaky looking thing the hell away from me sort of  way.

But Crissy thinks God is and always was a really big pot head, and when he created the Aye-Aye he must have been smoking some particularly good KB with um, St. Francis, and was all “Hahahahahahaha! Yo check this out, mang! Hahahahahahahaha! This is some fuckin’ sick shit right here! Folks gonna be all scared of this thing and like, run away from it and shit! Hahahahahaha!” And St. Francis was all “God, you know what? You one crazy muthafucka!”

And then they went to White Castle.

The end.

So in Girlfriend’s backpack there was a giant wad of papers regarding various bullshit going on at the school, and with it was a lovely orange slip explaining the snacktime policy.

And it says:

We are aware that snack has caused a bit of confusion.  Please refer to the calendar.  If there is an “S” listed, that means someone in the class will be bringing in a group snack.  ON those days, you do not have to bring in your own snack/drink. On pizza days, you will see a “D” listed.  This is the drink/dessert snack used with pizza.  We will offer dessert/snack to every student.  You can check the calendar in the kitchen to sign up for either “S” snack/drink or “D” drink/dessert snack.  The snack at pizza time does not have to be dessert.  When you sign up to bring in the pizza, drink/dessert, you do not need to pay for pizza that day.

And it goes on to explain how the lunchboxes should only contain re-usable drink and food containers and only cloth napkins and label everything with your child’s name and for the love of all that is good and decent in this world,  NO MOTHERFUCKING PEANUT BUTTER.

(actually, they allow peanut butter, but if there is peanut butter that day, the allergic kids have to sit at another table and Crissy does not want Girlfriend to be the one who brings the poison so it’s as good as forbidden if you ask Crissy.)

And Crissy is all for re-usable containers and cloth napkins and everything.  No problemo, really.   Crissy just thinks the snacktime policy meant to clear up the confusion is  confusing.  Maybe Crissy is just wicked tired and shit, but she had to read that mother three times before it made any sense to her and she considered making a diagram where snack drink dessert equaled “S” and drink dessert snack pizza equaled “D” but only sometimes on special “P” days and then when Mister came home, she gave it to him and he was actually clutching his tummy from laughing so hard because what the fuck?

But Crissy thinks she’s confused because the slip is written in anyone?  anyone?

Escalade Pajama Cunt Language.

As the Queefies know, Crissy does not speak that language, the language of pajamas out in public paired with violently sparkly gigantic diamond earrings, fake tans, and huge SUVs.  And you know what, Queefies?  Anyone with pierced ears knows you cannot sleep (or use the phone) while wearing big earrings.  It is impossible, which means they take the time to put them on in the morning, but cannot take the time to PUT ON A PAIR OF FUCKING PANTS!


When Crissy  drops Girlfriend off, the EPCs literally corner the principal of the school and barrage her  with comments regarding her policies and she tries to make them all happy by creating the most complicated snackdrinkpizzadessertdrinksnack policy ever. Crissy has better things to do than care about such trivia, but the EPCs are always trying to manipulate the principal to suit their particular busy schedule of personal trainer appointments and pedicures and blowing their pool boys and dog trainers.  I HAVE TO MAKE A SNACK EVERY DAY?  THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS! WHO CAN I TALK TO ABOUT THIS?

Just pour some juice in a sippy cup,  throw a handful of a pretzels in a gladwear container and you’re done,  asshole.

Crissy thinks she should be in charge of the snacktime policy because Crissy has a whole ‘nuther kind of  language for them.

PS: Did you know that CUNT actually stands for Can’t Understand Normal Thinking? It does! It’s the perfect name for them, no?  Crissy is so smart.

PSS: Crissy is up at Toy With Me this morning!  WHAT?  It isn’t Wednesday! But the glorious thing Crissy wrote for Wednesday was so glorious they decided to post it today AND Crissy will have something else for Wednesday too!  Holy shit!  COME LAUGH YOUR ASS OFF ON A SHITTY MONDAY MORNING!

Oh Queefies, thank you! You’ll all get virgins and chocolates in heaven unless you’d prefer sluts to virgins or just double chocolate instead of sex, but you will be rewarded for your loyalty to the queen! They pay Crissy to bring the party, you know and when the party doesn’t come, Crissy looks like an ass. Or at least she feels like an ass–sort of like when you tell a joke at a party and everyone walks away.

That’s tough.

So anyway, thanks for that and you know what else makes Crissy so mad you guys?

Peanut butter.

The other day Crissy was stirring a jar of peanut butter and she realized that she hates stirring a jar of peanut butter.

It’s annoying as shit, isn’t it?

The oil gets all over the place and Crissy winds up with peanut butter all over her hands and the counter and her clothes and almost none of it stays in the jar and so by the time it’s all stirred, there’s only a half a jar left and a giant cleaning headache Crissy didn’t count on. And the whole time she’s stirring, Crissy is thinking to herself “I must be doing this wrong. This shouldn’t be a problem.” And Crissy can never find the proper peanut butter mixing tool. A butter knife just sort of mushes it around instead of stirring, and the handle on an iced tea spoon is too thin and feels like it’s going to bend. Nothing else fits into the mouth of the jar and so Crissy is totally fucked (or “porked” as her dad always says) and she rarely gets the peanut butter mixed properly and some of it is soup and the rest is like peanut dust and when Crissy tries to spread it, it rips the fucking bread, creating a whole ‘nuther situation that displeases an already frustrated Crissy.

And so out of frustration, Crissy turned to Facebook to enter a formal complaint about how peanut butter stirring sucks ass and


What is the world coming to, Queefies, when the Queen of Fucking Everything is owned by a jar of peanut butter? Crissy refuses to accept this!

There must be a better way!

And you know what? The Facebook peoples all had marvelous suggestions that totally blew Crissy’s mind and so she thought she would share them with the Queefies just in case she’s not the only one who’s angry about peanut butter and it turns out that K8 is a genius because she said to just store the jar upside down and so the oil stays at the bottom and it makes it less messy and Marc, Crissy’s realtor, suggested to just buy it already mixed instead and then her friend Jessica suggested buying Peanut Spread instead because there’s less fat in it and you don’t have to mix it and Crissy didn’t even know such a marvelous thing existed and apparently Schmuckytown Stop and Shop isn’t as badass as she thought it was because why didn’t Crissy know about this Peanut Spread?

Queefies, there is a new day dawning.
The sun has come over the mountain, and all of Crissy’s peanut butter woes have been solved!

Next you’re going to tell her there’s an easy way to get past the safety seal on a bottle of vitamins without injury.

Crissy is disappointed by the number of Queefs who have been going to see her at Toy With Me on Wednesdays and so she is witholding her Wednesday posts from you until further notice. Don’t get mad. You brought this on yourselves, you naughty, bad, Queefies.

Crissy should spank each and every one of you, very roughly.

And the good, loyal, wonderful Queefs who come to support their Queen Crissy shall receive 40 hot virgins and all the chocolates they want when they get to heaven.

You pick what you want, but Crissy has written a glorious thing for them and you can even learn stuff about Crissy that you don’t know yet (what?) and it actually made Mister laugh ,which he never does because he does not think Crissy is funny. Until now.

So go to Toy With Me and if Crissy’s glorious thing isn’t posted yet, it will be very soon.