Ask Girlfriend

Dear Girlfriend,

How do you keep your girlish figure and what do you recommend for me to do the same?

Kid’s yoga.  You should do that. And eat healthy food like a carrot once in a while and only have one cookie.  That will keep you fit and trim and dazzling.

Dear Girlfriend,

What makes Alice get diarrhea?

Worms in her throat. And coffee. Sometimes that gives my mom diarrhea too.

Dear Girlfriend,

I am not a good money manager. What should I do to save lots of dough for a fabulous trip to Hawaii?

Sincerely,

Pisses her money away

Don’t go anywhere right now because you’ll lose more money.  You should wait until you get to the airport and only give them some of your money and tell them you only want to go to Hawaii. You don’t want any of the other stuff.

Dear Girlfriend,
How do you get a boy to like you and want to marry you?

You have to love him and give him presents.  Very good presents.  But not a Wii or anything, okay? The Wii will make his brain fall asleep and it’s not good for him.  Also, it helps him not do the dishes.

Dear Girlfriend,
Why doesn’t my baby sleep better at night? How did you get your sister to sleep long enough that Mommy doesn’t pull her hair out and want to kick kittens?
Love,
Tired all the time

I rub my sister’s back and I sing a song to her.  When that doesn’t work I tell her to shut up. You shouldn’t kick kittens.

Dear Girlfriend,
I’ve been really busy lately and I think my stuffed animals are getting
lonely. All day long they sit up on the shelf waiting for me to come
home and play with them but I’ve got lots to do! What is the best way
to keep my stuffed buddies entertained and keep them from getting all
dusty when I don’t have time for them?

Also, what would you think of some purple streaks in my hair?

Busy in Gastonia

You should stay upstairs and not do what your mother says.  Don’t go to work if you don’t want to leave them. You should buy purple extensions and only put them on your hair sometimes. That’s what I do and it’s perfectly fine.

Dear Girlfriend,

How do you react when Mom embarrasses you in front of your friends? How do you get Mom to stop?

I always walk away and sometimes I flick a balloon in her face and sometimes I make a huge mess in the dining room.

Dear girlfriend: How do you suggest I do mischief at work and not get in trouble for it?

You should do all your work and not stop and walk right past your boss like nothing’s wrong. You should put on a disguise. Get new clothes and dress up like a girl when you do bad stuff and put on fancy shoes and make nobody see you.

Here’s my question for Girlfriend: I have my HS reunion this weekend and it’s at some swanky bar and the dress code is “cocktail”. I don’t have an LBD so WHAT DO I WEAR???

Um. You should buy one or you could borrow one from your mom! How old are you? Did you grow up with any money? You should wear a jewelry dress that has jewels all over like beads and other stuff or like a sunshine made out of yellow beads or orange beads because sometimes the sun looks orange. I don’t know what you’d do if it rains. Maybe you should just go to the zoo with your friends from school instead. Then you should get some strawberries from the grocery store and make a strawberry milkshake.

My question for girlfriend: My 4 year old son is starting preschool for the first time next month, any advice for his first day of school? What should he do to make friends?

He should bring everyone a present. And only go outside to play when the teacher says you can. Anyway when I started preschool I was kind of nervous. I had my own backpack and my own cubby. I made friends by playing all by myself and I was really jazzy, and so other kids joined in so they could be jazzy too. I was in the boat outside. I was having very much fun. And then Christiana came over and played with me. And then some other kids. I made friends very quickly and so will that little boy. Say “good luck little boy. Stay calm and play by yourself until somebody joins in. That’s what to do.”

Dear Girlfriend,
I have long hair, long enough so that I can sit on it, but my boyfriend says he likes it when girls have short flippy hair. Should I cut off my beautiful long hair so he’ll like it better?

Sincerely,
Rapunzel’s Evil Twin (who, frankly, has been stewing over that comment for days and days because first of all it’s been five years and NOW you’re gonna make comments and if we’re speaking of hair let’s talk about your ass! and really if we’re cutting anything off around here it’s gonna be your balls mister. whew. okay, /rant. But I’d still like to hear what Girlfriend has to say.)

You should only cut it a little bit. Just do one huge trim. It’ll grow back, I promise. It’s too long anyway because you could trip and fall on it if you’re running. I wouldn’t cut mine because it’s not too long. It can get in your face when it’s too long. Or she can put it in 27 pony tails. What color is her hair, anyway? I hope she doesn’t say purple or red.

Keep your questions coming, she loved it!  How often does a 5 year-old get to tell a bunch of grownups what to do?

MORE QUESTIONS!

Okay, so maybe Jazzercise is like, fun or whatever

Remember how Lynne and I had an eecards fight about the gayness of Jazzercise vs tap class, and then she challenged me to a gay-off?

Well, I finally went to her Jazzercise class because Pole Dancing is over now, thank Jesus, and you know what?

It’s completely gay and I love it because gay is fun. I grapevined and chassed, arabesqued and some other stuff I forgot the name of, but it was fun and I may have caught a little bit of The Gay because I wanted to touch Lynne’s sweaty bum the whole time.

And after class, the teacher said I “looked great out there” and can I just tell you how good that felt? Because I got nary a word of encouragement from the pole dancing teacher, and I’m the kind of student who will bust her head open just for a “well done! Excellent head busting open!” because I’m a nerd like that.   When I don’t get my teacher approval, I’m a sad kitten.

(Do yourself a solid and never, ever search Google images for “sad kitten.” You’ll want to kill yourself. Twice.)

Anyway, during our last class, and this is totally my fault because I’m an asshole for moisturizing before class which is the #1 thing you DO NOT do before pole dancing class, she kept looking back and saying “after 6 weeks of class you SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO THIS!” and I wanted to shout ” But I CAN! I CAN DO IT!” but I didn’t.  I was too embarrassed to admit that I broke rule #1  and that I was just too slippery to do any of the moves.  Every time I tried to jump up and hold myself on the pole, I’d just go “ssssssswwwwwwwwwwwweeeee” right down.

That pole is ruined forever now.

It’s been Crissy’d.

It’s forever going to be known as “the bad pole” because I don’t think they’ll ever get the lotion off of it. I thought of switching poles, but I didn’t want to ruin all of them, so I chose to sort of stand there and look like a dink  and not get the teacher’s approval I so desperately wanted.

But then Jazzercise Lady gave me the thumbs up and I was happy.

So I’m going to take Jazzercise classes, I think.

I still want tap shoes so badly it hurts, you guys.

Tap shoes.

Swoon.

Lynne won’t go to tap class with me because she say’s it’s stupid.  Maybe I can go with Girlfriend.  She doesn’t think it’s stupid.

Oh wait.

Yes she does.

I don’t care what anybody says.  Tap is cool.  There were almost fisticuffs yesterday at work between Lynne and me because she just won’t admit that tap is completely awesome.

I fully intend to prove how wrong she is as soon as I find an adult beginner’s tap class which is very difficult to do for some reason.  It must be that the Awesomeness Of Tap is intimidating for some people.

PS: This week on the Toy with Mes I have a bunch of random news/wtf? products for you! Random Awesome Stuff in My Inbox

PSS: Starting tomorrow,  we will test out a little idea I had.  Girlfriend is going to have an advice column called “Ask Girlfriend” where you write to her with your non-drug/gambling/hooker problems, and she gives you her advice.  I don’t know if this will work or not, but we’ll give it a whirl.  I just need your questions or this bus ain’t goin’ nowhere.

crissy@crissyspage.com

Okay so maybe I *do* have a life, sometimes. Like, a couple times a year.

Yesterday Mister took the day out of work so we could go to this annual party thrown by an Internet Service Provider for all the tech nerds and their families from all the colleges across RI. It’s at the beach, kids are super-welcome (they even provide kid food and a variety of beach toys for them to keep), they feed us an amazing dinner (steak and swordfish with grilled vegetables and roasted potatoes and clam cakes and chowder), and THEY HAVE FREE WINE. All the wine you can drink. And beer. They have beer too. And lemonade and juice boxes and iced tea and water and soda.

This party is kind of the highlight of our summer every year because it’s completely awesome. obvi. They always invite Save the Bay to entertain the kids on the beach, too. Girlfriend loves this part of the party because they drag a huge net through the water and catch a bunch of little sea creatures to put in buckets to look at and learn about and then they bread them and fry em up!

No, they don’t. They take them back to headquarters and perform bizarre “experiments.”

And while Girlfriend was enjoying Save the Bay, I gave Homeslice some Goldfish crackers in her new yellow beach bucket. They were a little bit sandy, but still edible, and this guy came over to me to inform me that there was sand on the baby’s crackers because I guess I don’t look smart enough to notice that on my own, and I was like, “that’s because this is a beach. There’s sand everywhere. Even in my crotch.” And his eyes got really wide like I had just grabbed his junk or something, and he looked at me like “you crazy lady!” and then went to tell his wife what I said. She was all “oh my god! EW!”

I find my entertainment where I can, Queefies. Save the Bay just isn’t that interesting after the 5th year in a row.

But there’s a back story about the guy. I don’t usually just say stuff like that to total strangers. Often. His name is Hugh, and the first time I met him, I called him a “smartass” to his face and avoided talking to him the rest of the party. He’s one of these people who gives you a hard time when you talk to them. Like, everything out of his mouth is some sort of smartypants thing, and you leave the conversation feeling irritated as hell. Nobody Mister works with really likes him and you know what they call him? “F-Hugh.” He doesn’t actually work with Mister though. He’s some kind of contractor. Nobody knows how he’s relevant, but there he is anyway, drinking free lemonade and being a dick.

I saw his shoes on the beach and I totally would have buried them in the sand but his wife was right there with her pig tails and her weird posture. I needed more wine to pull off a semi-lame caper like that.

Let’s see, what else?

I saw the guy who told me that the next time he saw me, I’d have two kids and I was all “no way, Jose! I’m not having another kid!” and then yeah. Two kids, just like he said. Homeslice is totally his fault.

I talked to a very nice deaf lady who ironically could hear me but I couldn’t hear her. I did a lot of nodding and agreeing and she probably thought I was nuts but being odd is sort off my default so it was fine.

I got an unsolicited compliment on my new shoes, which I purchased because Melissa Lion said they’re comfortable and they are! Plus, men dig them and women think they’re cute. You need a pair.

Dansko people, you fucking owe me.

So yes. That was my day yesterday.

BEACH + FOOD+WINE= A LIFE (and a god damned hangover)

I have to go now, people. Homeslice and Henry have gotten into the cat food. They appear to be eating it. I’m not sure what that’s about.

I got a new plant yesterday. Someone was just giving them away and I took it because I love getting new plants. It’s sort of like getting a new pet, except they don’t piss on the floor.

We’ve been pet sitting The Richard and Michele’s dog, Henry, for a week now.

Henry, Queefies, Queefies, Henry.

And Alice doesn’t mind having him around too much as long as he doesn’t get up on her bed which is of course really my bed but Alice likes to pretend it’s hers mostly because she’s a dog and she doesn’t really own anything. Well, she does, I guess. She has a really nice fleece sweater and a life jacket for the boat and a few pieces of bling on her collar there…maybe a couple of drooly stuffed animals but that’s it.

That and a duck feather will buy you a hot dog.

I have no idea what that means.

I’m tired as shit.

I keep almost giving up this blog, but then I don’t.

I tried the Brazil Butt Lift Workout because I heard it wrong and I thought it was the Brazil Blog Lift Workout, but it turns out it’s really for my ass and not my blog. I’m pretty disappointed because this blog is kinda droopy. In fact, if this blog were an ass it would look like this:

It’s hard to have a blog when you have no life. I have my job and I have my pole dancing class (which ends today and I can’t even go) and sometimes I go to Saver’s and find something for the kids from Gymboree for a dollar.

TA-DAAAA!!!

That’s all I got.

Oh, and a new plant.

So, I’m trying to figure out what I can do about this not having a life business.

I kind of don’t have time to have a life.

I signed up for kick boxing class and Jazzercise. I’m pumped for Jazzercise, but kick boxing is sort of a “being dragged kicking and screaming” thing because while I like kickboxing to my sweaty lesbian Jillian videos, I do not want to spar.

I’m a lover, not a fighter, Queefies.

Also, I’m not competitive and I’m likely to let someone hit me just to make them feel good, and because I don’t care if I win stuff that much.

So to recap, I’m excited about Jazzercise, and we’re pet-sitting Henry this week.

The end.

PS: I just thought of something! I have a new phobia! I’m afraid Girlfriend and Homeslice will be abducted by aliens. I keep checking on them at night to make sure they’re still in their beds because next to human predators, aliens are the second biggest threat, you know. So now it’s things that spin too fast, balloons and kites, my garbage disposal, retarded people, smart people, clowns, perverts, and alien abduction.

PSS: I don’t mean to imply in the title that Henry pissed on my floor because he didn’t. He shit in my basement.

PSSS: It is not lost on me that this post sounds a little bit, um, insane, to some of you, but do not be alarmed. My sanity is no more or less intact than it normally is. I’m just tired as shit. I think I mentioned that earlier.

I, am a finalist.

So yesterday Toy with Me emailed me to tell me that I’ve been selected as a finalist in the 2010 BlogHer Voices of the Year humor category for that story I wrote about selling my panties on Craigslist.

Well.

I don’t follow BlogHer too much because I don’t have time to follow anything anymore, not even my own blog.  I don’t know much about the conference because I don’t have $300 for a ticket, never mind leaving my family for a few days to stay in a hotel room with a stranger who may or may not be a total cuntwad.

That is so not my scene.

But everyone is so, so, so into it.  Every summer the Internets are abuzz with excitement over BlogHer, so maybe I should be too?

I wouldn’t have even known I was nominated for anything if Toy with Me hadn’t told me about it. And now I sort of want to go just to see what all the fuss is about, but the tickets are sold out, of course, and have been for months now. Even if I could afford one, I still couldn’t get one. So I contacted them yesterday (I had to sign up for an account so I could do that) and told them it’s me, THE QUEEN OF EVERYTHING (except BlogHer tickets) and I said they need to send me a ticket so I can come accept my award and give my big speech and everything and do you know what they told me?

Either I can try to buy a ticket from someone who doesn’t want theirs anymore, or I can take this one volunteer spot that just opened up. In other words, I’d have to work for two days to earn my ticket.

Can I ask you something, Queefies?

Did Kate Winslet have to volunteer at the Academy Awards?

Did we see her selling popcorn in the lobby or handing out paper towels in the ladies room?

Nay, nay.

We did not!

SO WHY DOES THE QUEEN HAVE TO WORK FOR HER TICKET?

I’m calling SHENANIGANS! on that and so in protest, I’m not going.  Instead, I’m sending Kathy Griffin  to accept the award on my behalf.  They can just show my picture on the screen and that’ll be fine.  And if there’s some stroke of incredible fucktardery on BlogHer’s behalf and I am robbed of my Humor Voice of the Year title, she’ll stand up, chuck double birds at all of BlogHer and tell everyone to suck her dick, just like I would do if I were there.

I’m just going to have to be happy with that because I just don’t have the time, money, or the energy for anything else.

PS: Our friend Dingo is also a finalist. Go hug her,slap her on the ass, and shout “WELL DONE!  WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!” at her.  She’ll like that.

Alice bit Frank today! The Vajazzling Haiku Winners Announced! And a Toy With Me Day! There’s A Lot Going On Here Today, Obviously. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, I understand.

Apparently, the lovers have had a falling out because Frank was in the garden, Alice’s garden, where she enjoys a delicious salad buffet herself, and he was there gankin’ her vittles and so she BIT THE BASTARD! He jumped up in the air and bit her back but she still got in a couple of more bites before the little garden fucker ran under the fence.

It was glorious, and he didn’t even break the skin.

GO ALICE!!!!!!!!

Does anyone have a Rottweiler I can borrow to finish him off? I figure it’s not really killing if your borrowed dog does it. That’s completely fine with Buddha, right?

Anyways, I’m looking for a killing machine to borrow for a day or two. You can email me if you have one.

And now I shall announce the winners of the Vajazzle Haiku/Limerick contest!

Ya-ta-da-da!!!!

They are in no particular order as they were equally fabulous:

Axe:
There was a young lady named Gidget
Who put sparkles all over her twidget.
There was so much dazzle
When she did her Vajazzle
That she blinded a horney young midget!

Melissa:
I yearn for a twidget that gleams
Shiny crotch would fulfill hubby’s dreams
Save money on blow
Escalade cunts won’t know
That my FUPA’s much more than it seems!

Plain. Bare. So boring.
Vagazzle! Shine like Cullen.
Happy Pants for all

Christian:
On manjazzling…

The dentist looked at me odd
I thought to myself “Oh god,
how do I explain
the reason for my pain
is I chipped my tooth on his rod?”

Bat Cave Twidget:

There is a girl from New York
Who all day long wanted to pork
But three years it had been without carnal sin
So please Vajazzle this dork.

Yeah, that’s the best I got. Even I can smell the desperation

The Problem Child:

If you want to vajazzle your stuff
A waxing, to lessen the muff
Might well be in order
Else ‘jazzling might border
On just a bit more than enough.

Y’all need to email me with your info so I can mail you the sparkly bits.

But really, it was hard to choose because everyone did a wonderful job and I’m really, very proud of you all for giving it a try. Writing is hard, yo. That’s why they pay me the big bucks.

wait.

PS: Toy with Me today! It’s all about how I don’t understand Casual Sex. Because I don’t.

****** Fuck Buddies & Booty Calls ******

So, yes.

Since Sunday, our computer died so thoroughly that even Mister cannot resurrect it (I’m at work right now, fyi), I have had Lady Days for approximately 8 days, Mister and I were both stung by bees, I have a weird monkey flu that makes my throat/chest/tummy/lower back area so tight and painful I can barely breathe, plus I have a fever that makes me snuggle under my blankets on a 90 degree day with no air conditioning.

And now today, I have an itchy rash where my bee sting was, Mister’s bee stung foot is all Frankensteinish and swollen but the dude at Urgent Care said there’s not much he can do about it, I’m still sick and now my ear and throat hurt, Girlfriend has a fever, AND MOTHERFUCKING FRANK ATE MY FUCKING VEGETABLE GARDEN.

The little jerk was actually in there when I went to dump my compost into the bin this morning and I was all “GET OUT!” and the bold motherfucker just stood up in his back legs, looked at me, and kept eating my broccoli!
Can.
You.
Imagine?
And so again I hissed “Fuck! Off! FRANK!” and off he did not fuck! He just stood there looking at me like “yeah? What are you gonna do about it, lady?”

So you know what I did about it, you guys?

That’s right!

I SHOOK A STICK AT HIM!

He finally scurried away and I was able to survey the damage he did to the tender vegetables I have been nursing from seed since MARCH!

He took all my broccoli, cauliflower, basil, cilantro, romaine lettuce, and sunflowers.

And all I can think about is how badly I want some orange nail polish.

Vajazzle me this, Internet

Sorry.  I’m not dead.  I’m…I don’t know what I am, actually, but I’m at least alive enough to tell you about an awesomesauce contest I’m having!

Because of this picture:

the people over at Vajazzling.com have sent me 5 DIY VAJAZZLING KITS!!!! to give away to you fine people!  I am sorry, however, to report that none of them say “JUICY” on them.  But there are star bursts and butterflies and some sort of supernova thing and WHO DOESN’T WANT A SUPERNOVA on her twidget?

Nobody doesn’t want a supernova on her twidget, that’s who. It’s just like, whoa. Impressive.

Also, I don’t understand why these things are just for girls, so I’m opening this contest up to the fellas, because fuck it.  We need all the participants we can get, amiright?

Vajazzling: not just for pussies anymore.  It’s for dicks now too. You heard it here first.

So, what you have to do to win one of these fine DIY Vajazzling kits is write a wonderful Haiku about Vajazzling. It can be funny, or touching, or sweet, or emo or whatever. I don’t care. I just have to think it’s deserving of recognition. Just remember that I’m educated in the ways of the poem, so no pressure but I know what I’m looking at. I guess the boys can write about Manjazzling because it doesn’t make sense for them to write about Vajazzling when they’re really going to Manjazzle, right? Unless they’re trying to win the kit for a lady friend. Then they can write about Vajazzling and it’s okay.

Are you still with me?

So do yourself a solid and sit down with your pencil and your paper and write me a Vajazzling/Manjazzling Haiku and hopefully, by this time next week, your crotch will be a hell of a lot sparklier because right now, if we’re all being honest here, it’s not that pretty.

You have one week. Winners announced next Wednesday! And don’t worry. You have almost zero competition because the Internet has all but dried up and died.

HAIKU!
Or a limerick!
I just decided you can do that too.
Haiku or Limerick, or both if you want.
You choose.

GO!

PS: It’s a Toy with Me day! Sex Toy Parties–Lessons in Humiliation