I totally forgot to tell you guys that the other day, after taking Homeslice and Girlfriend to the Children’s Museum of Providence, I came out to the parking lot to find that some asshat had parked sooooofuckingclose to me that I think they must have had to climb out of the passenger’s side to get out because no human being could fit in between there, except me. I could fit, but only because I was determined to punish them, so I held my breath and tippy toed in between so that I could reach the driver’s side door handle and put my gum under it. I considered doing the old standby door slam, but the car was a total ghetto whip. That wouldn’t have been enough punishment for them. Actually, it wouldn’t have been any punishment at all. So, I had to break out the big guns–the one reserved only for *very special assholes* and I put my gum under the door handle. I slammed my door into theirs just for good measure but it was weak. It was too close and I couldn’t get enough momentum.

And then today I almost, ALMOST, punched some bitch out because instead of oh, I don’t know, holding the door for me when I was obviously struggling to get the stroller through, she FUCKING SLID IN BETWEEN THE STROLLER AND THE DOOR AND STEPPED OVER THE STROLLER TO GET OUT WHILE I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DOORWAY WITH THE WHEELS CAUGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She like, jumped over us instead of even just waiting for me to get through!

I was so fucking pissed you guys! So. Pissed. And I know I’ve got The PMS, but still. I think I’d be pissed anyway because people just fucking suck. I would have decked the bitch, but I was still struggling to get the stroller through the door.

I wanted to be like “HEY! COME BACK HERE SO I CAN KICK YOU IN THE UGLY FACE!”

But then I remembered that I now keep a can of pepper spray in the stroller…

No. I didn’t spray her, Queefies, but I could have and next time I will because Mister still hasn’t rigged up that flame thrower I wanted mounted to the stroller wheels.

That’s a perfectly good reason to pepper spray people, right? Just because they’re assholes?

I think so. In fact, I think they should list that on the package.

Pepper spray is good for stopping:
viscous animals
homicidal maniacs
criminals
cases of epic jackassery
rapists
assholes

Tiffany!

This is genius! to send to her friend.

So, Congrats Tiffany!  Email me your email and I’ll email you the $25 gift card after the Noble Works Cards people email it to me!

Runners up who get absolutely nothing besides a special mention from the Queen are…

CortGirl with this one because she has a new baby and she pretty much hates everyone right now.   I think I need to order a case of them to keep in my car to hand out to people.

Kate!  With this one because I like wine.

The Other Melissa with this one because I feel like that’s me.

CuppyCakes picked this one that I totally love!  I feel like that’s me, too.  Especially after the card The Other Melissa picked out.

Melissa’s family sounds awesome and I want somebody to make me a cake that says “here’s your fucking cake” on it.  I love the card she picked out, too.  Seriously, somebody needs to send me that cake.  My birthday is in almost a month.  Make that shit happen.

And so yes.  You guys are awesome for participating!  Don’t let it ruin your Monday if I didn’t mention your card here!  I loved them all, but Homeslice just woke up and I have to run.  Blame her.  She’s a Monday ruiner for sure.

So I chaperoned a field trip at Girfriend’s school yesterday. It was a beautiful day to be outside with a gazillion little kids with snotty allergies and Homeslice on my back in the backpack. The EPCs kept to themselves, which was very thoughtful of them, and we had a really nice time.

Until.

There was an incident.

You see, Girlfriend has very recently become rather sweet on a boy named Jack (swoon). We saw Jack on Mother’s Day at the garden shop, and ever since then, she’s been crazy for the boy.  She even put together a bag of all her dinosaur movies to give to him as a present because she knows he likes dinosaurs.

She’s got it bad, you guys.

And he has a baby brother just about Homeslice’s age.  Here’s a picture of her with little Spanky (that is not his real name).  They’ll be in the same class when the time comes, and so maybe I’ll have two girls in love with the Jack family.

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But Homeslice already has a suitor:

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His name is William.  He’s in love with Homeslice because “she likes (him) and she doesn’t talk.”

He’s a nice little boy and I think Homeslice is picking up what he’s putting down.  She’s playing it cool, but I see her glancing in his direction.  He usually has cake when it happens, but cake is the way to my heart, so clearly the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“Gee is that some cake?  And who is that handsome fellow holding the cake?  I wonder if he’d be interested in giving me his cake…”

That sort of thing.

But Jack is a nice little boy, too.  He was very nice to his baby brother at the flower store, and yesterday he was all over Homeslice (this could get complicated.  William, this is your official heads up.  You’ve got competition from an older man.)

Girlfriend’s teacher tells me that Girlfriend gave my father-in-law a hard time leaving school on Tuesday because it would leave Jack alone in the playground with that whore,  JULIE.

You see Queefies, Girlfriend is involved in a love triangle because Julie likes Jack, too.

I may or may not have given Julie the fruit punch with ex-lax in it.

May or may not have.

While Jack was sitting in the grass playing with Homeslice, Girlfriend came over and sat next to him and said “you know, Jack.  I’m falling in love with you.  I’m going to marry you.”

Jack avoided eye contact, scratched the back of his neck, squinted, and ran away.  And Girlfriend chased him.  And Julie saw that Girlfriend was chasing Jack and so she started chasing Girlfriend.  Jack zigged and they zagged and they wound up smacking into each other and bonking heads, leaving both girls crying in a pile on the ground.  Poor little Jack didn’t know who to comfort first, and so he ran back and forth between them, rubbing their backs and wiping their tears while the girls competed for who could let out the most pathetic cry.

Jack eventually gave up and came to play with Homeslice.

That’s right, Queefies.

Homeslice got game.

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So I’ve got another bug up my ass, Queefies. It was the car, and then the puppy, and before all that it was the windows, and now it’s chickens.

That’s right, she said chickens.

Back around Easter time I saw a thing on Martha Stewart all about chickens and raising chickens and she does it so it must mean it’s classy, right?

But she had all these really fancy looking ones and Girlfriend and I were riveted and now WE WANT CHICKENS! We’re mostly vegetarians around here, and we get a lot of our protein from eggs, and I’m not terribly happy to learn how chickens are treated, even under the best of circumstances, so I’d rather know my eggs came from happy chickens who go for regular manis and pedis and feather fluffings and whatnot. I’m not ever going to eat the chickens, but I will share the eggs with family and friends and feel superior and smug every time I pass the egg section at the Super Stop & Shop’s.

And the beautiful part of this is that we have the perfect spot. You see Queefies, our garage has two levels because it used to be a carriage house. The upper level is where the carriage would go, and the lower level is where the horsies lived. And there’s a small yard down there that looks very much like it belongs to Earl and Maudette.

We could keep the chickens down there, and people will think they belong to them and the Crissys will avoid the stigma of being the assholes with the fucking rooster, while at the same time, having a rooster to piss off Maudette’s hangovers!

The rooster wouldn’t bother me any. Our neighbors growing up had one. It just appeared in their yard one day and wouldn’t leave, so they took care of it. It followed their dog around wherever it went. It was hysterical.

So yes. I want to get chickens. Not right now, I’ve got my hands full right now, but soon.

Chickens.

As you know I’ve been eBaying a little bit for the cherubs and I got to thinking.

“Crissy, you should see if there’s something for YOU on eBay!” And then I was all ” Like, OMG! You’re so smart!”

I’m always shopping for Homeslice and Girlfriend and never for myself. Their stuff is just so cute and shopping for myself is really frustrating because of that whole being stuck in that gray area between 17 and 71 and also I have no money so it’s just more fun to make them look cute.  If I could, I would be an Anthropologie girl.  God, I love that stuff.

(note to Queefies: My birthday is coming up. You guys should chip and get me a gift card to Anthropologie.  I think  about $20,000 should do it.)

So I’ve been Anthropologieing on eBay.  I got a totally awesome skirt the other day and I’d show you but I can’t get the fucking picture.  Trust me it’s gorgeous and I’m thrilled with it.

But can I ask you something?

What is wrong with people?

In my search for fabulousness, I came across a whole lot of dysfunction.  Below are just a few of the pictures I found in my search for “Anthropologie Dress.”

I haave the longest arms EEEVERRRR!

Say that in Oprah’s voice because that’s how I hear it in my head when I say it. I’m so distracted by the arms I can’t remember what the dress looks like. Seriously, I have to keep going back to look and I get distracted every time.  Also the flip-flops are annoying.

And please, don’t get your tired friend to model the most unflattering dress ever made.

She’s not helping you sell that shit. And is it me or is it skeevie to see people wearing the stuff?  I don’t want your pits on my potential new dress, k?

Um, speaking of skeevie…

This dress is on the floor laying on top of an ugly old sleeping bag next to some shoe polish, some dude’s boots, a pizza box, and a bottle cap.  It has zero bids.

Shocking.

Rotate the fucking picture, ASSHAT!

You managed to take the picture, create an eBay account and upload the picture, but you couldn’t figure out how to rotate it?  And put your foot down. You don’t look kicky and cute. You’re a moron.

And who stands like this?

WHO?  I think the poor girl has broken her back!  What would Tyra say?

So yes.  Fucking people.

PS: Toy with Me today! It’s up… Men And Sex Toys – Double Standard?

PSS: Don’t forget my contest to win a $25 gift card!