I’ve totally flaked on the blog.  My bad, yo.

As you know, Mister and I were on vacation last week so we could do shit around the house and I am happy to report to the Queefies that we have THREE NEW WINDOWS!

Mister put them in all by himself.  With his dick.

They’re in our bedroom.

They’re so nice and pretty that we decided not to put our shades back up and so now our whole neighborhood can see us doing bedroom things.

YOU’RE WELCOME, CRISSY STREET.

I did some gardening and planted some Myrtle in the wasteland of dirt and dead grass and weeds that is our side yard.  That’s where Tequila shits and so naturally I blame her for the sad state of things over there.  Clearly, the evil inside her is killing my grass.

I’m serious.

We spent $400 last year and we still don’t have any grass.  We tilled it, re-seeded, and watered the crap out of it and made the most gorgeous lawn and this year?

No. Fucking. Grass.

It’s all dead.

So, I’m planting assloads of groundcover because fuck that $400 noise, and you know what I discovered when I dug the holes for the Myrtle on Sunday?

Grubs.

Somehow, Tequila has started a grub farm in my would-be lawn! It’s loaded with those fuckers!  And now, I have to buy some nematodes to come and eat the grubs because far be it from me to pollute the pond behind our house with some sort of chemical, right?

That dog is diabolical I tell you! She craps in my yard, she attacks my dog, and she keeps grubs as pets.  There’s nothing to like about her, really, and now she doesn’t want us to have grass because it tickles her bum when she craps in my yard.

I took Alice to the vet after the attack, btw.  She’s totally fine.

IT WAS JUST A FLESH WOUND.

(I bought some pepper spray.  Shhhhh!  It’s a surprise for Tequila)

I hope that after the nematodes kill the grubs, they will eat Tequila next.

Let’s see…what else?

We went to a derby party over at Stephen and Ceceley’s house.  My horse did not win, but I didn’t care because I drank an ungodly amount of Mint Juleps and let Stephen take eleventy billion pictures of my porn face, which I will not show you mostly because I don’t really feel like going over to his flickr to find them right now, but I will show you a picture of me and Michele and some guy named Brian (I think) doing shots of bourbon:

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Yes, I am mother of the year, thanks for asking. I do shots with my infant in my lap because I’m cool like that.

I’m also cool because I let my kid decorate her own fancy lady hat,

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which I think came out really great.  Those are feathers AND flowers, fyi.

Here’s mine.  I made mine.

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It has strawberries on it.  And yes.  I planned that shirt to blend into the wall because I am the original and best wall flower or wall strawberry or whatever.  I have no idea why I look so pale.  I’m probably dying or some such nonsense.

You should have seen me before I put on some bronzer.

Tequila’s  trying to kill me. Probably.

PS: I ‘m going to start spelling my name like this: Cri$$y.