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

And it took us a long time to find just the right one for just the right price with just the right quality and we were very excited to show the picture to Girlfriend and what does she say, Queefies?

“It doesn’t have a lot of stuff to do.”

Um, excuse me?

There’s a playhouse with a fucking veranda, three swings, a rock wall,  a picnic table, a sandbox, and a slide.  It’s nicer than our house, really.

Maybe Mister and I will live out there instead because apparently, she wants Disney out in the yard and anything less is unacceptable.

Clearly,  Girlfriend is spoiled to death, so to toughen her up a bit, we’re not going to put mulch under the swingset/palace.  We’re gonna put rocks like we had when we were kids.  My swingset was made of metal and it had a couple of swings and some monkey bars and a trapeze and that was it. It was not made out of some nice non-splintery cedar with rounded edges.  There was no playhouse, picnic table, veranda, etc.,  and if we went too high on the swings, the back would come out of the ground and we spent entire afternoons trying to get the whole thing to flip over.  I think my brother actually did once.  I can’t remember.  And instead of this “playground grade mulch” we had rocks to land on and if you fell off the monkey bars because you were clowning around like a dumbass, you got fucking hurt and it was your own fault for being stupid and you learned not to be a dumbass anymore.

Kids today are soft.

And so we spent half a billionty monies on a swingset that we want more than Girlfriend does.  Homeslice is pretty excited about it, but she’s only just recently discovered how much fun a ball is, so you know.  She’s easily impressed at this point.

And it’s a Toy with Me day today!

Come find out why I’m wearing these ridiculous socks!  Surra de Bunda–Punched by an Ass

But first you have to look at this picture of Homeslice on her birthday:

“das right bitches.  I’s eatin’ some cake. Whachu doin’?”

And then Saturday was the graduation and it was at 10am at the Schmuckytown Pubic Library and it rained which meant that it would be inside.  Here is the sweaty line of sweaty people. See if you can pick out the EPCs–sort of like Where’s Waldo? only with Escalade Pajama Cunts instead of you know, Waldo.

But I’m getting ahead of myself here because before we got there, there was all kinds of kerfuffles because I am the one in our family who has to get everyone clean, dressed, fed, packed, and ready to go and Mister kind of just wanders around like there’s nothing going on and he doesn’t know what he’s wearing and he doesn’t know we’re leaving or what time the thing is even though I told him 55 times per minute and he’s polishing camera lenses and having a sip of juice and I’m apoplectic (Holla Melissa Lion!) and sitting in the car with the kids and he’s still in the house looking for whateverthefuckhelooksfor and it’s 9:36 and we still have to pick up my mom and one day I’m going to have a stroke trying to get out of the house on time.

But we got there eventually and waited in that there line you saw.

Do you guys remember how Girlfriend felt about dance class?

Well, how do we think she felt about being paraded around in front of all those people in that great big line up there?

Yeah.

That Guy on the Left looks like he’s getting ready to punch her in the face, “Hulk, ANGRY!” Seriously, his face is doing something weird there, like he’s about to morph into something wicked fucked up.

And she wanted me to save her but her teacher put her in a headlock kept her walking the line:

I didn’t save her because she has to learn how to not be such a pussy, amiright?

Girlfriend needs to sack up and deal.

No.

And yes, but no.

She had a big dance number to perform and she had to at least try to get over The Pussyitis.

Or, you know, not.

They were supposed to be doing We Go Together from Grease, but no.

They just…no.

A couple of them did a few little things toward the end there, but for the most part they all just stood there like they had just downed a bunch of Quaaludes.

Nobody says Quaalude anymore. I’m bringin’ it back. You heard me.

And it was just as well because I kept having emotions and I sort of lost it when they sang When a Child is Born in sign language. It was fucking beautiful, okay? And then again when they did a little ballet scarf dance thing to Time to Say Goodbye.

Right? Are you kidding me?

Fucking Satan would have lost his shit, I’m telling you. Even That Guy on the Left was a little misty. I totally caught him “HULK, sad.”

But now I have an official Graduate of Preschool.

That’s the school principal, Mrs. Jeannie. Girlfriend adores her, but I still had to go up with her to get her diploma because she was so not going up there by herself even after a pep talk from her teachers. She was just like, “fuck that noise, you bitches are crazy.” But she didn’t say that.

And we just found out that they passed a vote for all day kindergarten this fall. I’m the only person I know who’s not overjoyed.

SHE’S JUST A BABY DON’T TAKE MY BABY!

I’m not ready for Kindergarten, Queefies.

PS: Today is a Toy with Me day. In a rare serious moment, I’m telling a story of trauma that I’ve never told you guys before. You should come and read it: Catcalling–Creepy or a Compliment?

Not. cute.

And there was blood and crying and drama and now she has a super fat lip.

And a pediatrician appointment this morning.

There’s a bruise on her leg I cannot explain, she’s got scratches all over her from scratching her itchy eczema, and she had a slight fever last night before bed.

Basically, Homeslice is a hot mess and it looks like we keep her in a bramble patch down by the river.

Also, it’s Girlfriend’s last day of preschool today.  I can’t really think about it without crying, and I have pictures from graduation that I can’t show you yet but I will just as soon as they become available.

For now, I have to go do workouts before these bitches wake the fuck up and demand I take care of them, which I’m not that good at as it turns out.

I gained 5lbs last week!  You have to work pretty hard to gain 5 lbs in a week.

Woot! Woot! I RULE!

I have a dentist appointment.

I HATE the dentist.  I’m not scared of the dentist or anything,  I just hate it because it’s a pain in the ass and because I don’t like people touching me especially on my face area.

And just to make it more of a pain in the ass, I have to bring both kids with me.

Would any of you Queefies mind telling me how in the name of what the Jesus I’m going to keep Homeslice from making out with that mouth sucker outer thing whilst I’m getting my teeth cleaned?  She’s an octopus. She squirms and struggles and crawls and oh shit this is so, so, so, so  not good.  I’m going to end up buying a mouth sucker outer thing before it’s over, I can already tell.

Also, I feel like total shit today.  I’m not sick, I’ve got a god damned hangover.

There was a party.  There was Tequila.  What was I supposed to do?

And then I have to go to work all night.

If any of you stalkers are planning to kill me, now would be a good time.  Preferably before the dentist.  Seriously,  just go for it.

PS: Working at night is totally kicking my ass.  I hate life about 90% of the time because of it.  I can’t do it anymore and so DOES ANYBODY WANT ME TO WRITE SOME WORDS ON THE INTERNETS FOR THEM?  PLEASE?

PSS:  Do you ever have one of those nights where you’re just like “I’m not going to drink at the party because I have way too much functioning to do tomorrow.”  And then as soon as you walk into the party someone says, “hey, you want a drink?” and suddenly you’re all “FUCK YEAH!” and then you wind up drinking like an asshole?

PSSS: Don’t you hate it when you do that?

PSSSS: Do you do that too or am I the only stupid douchebag here today?

PSSSSS:I find it hard to believe that I’m the only stupid douchebag here.

I forgot I had a blog because I’ve had my head up my ass.

I know you’ve been dying to see/hear all about The Birthday Extravaganza, and so here is my back yard full of people gettin’ a little bit tipsy:

Well, I was tipsy anyway.  I didn’t really notice if anybody else was because when you’re tipsy, you don’t give a shit.

And here I am serving cake(s). I made them myself from a boxed mix and so they weren’t dense or flat or lopsided or condemned or anything except that when I lit the candles on Girlfriend’s horse cake, I accidentally I lit the plastic horse’s head on fire and so Mister came flying from across the room yelling “the horse is on fire! the horse is on fire!”

You should never do that Queefies or else you could have a stampede much like this one.

Horse sounds a lot like House.  People could get confused.  It could end in tragedy.

Other than that I didn’t see the big deal about the flaming horse because it just looked like it was a candle instead of a plastic toy I bought over at the Dollar Depot, but whatever.

He worries when I’m around fire.

Anyway, me cutting cakes.  That plant looking thing that William is about to stuff his face into is really dirt dessert.  It’s cute and I served it with a garden shovel because I’m extraordinarily creative.

Some women are drippin’ with diamonds, some women are drippin in pearls, lu-cky me, lu-cky me, look at what I’m drippin’ with, LITTLE GIRLS! (and two boys)

Here’s Girlfriend’s posse.

And the next day we took Homeslice for her first carousel ride:

This is Girlfriend on her first ride:

Do they look alike?  I can’t really tell except sometimes I forget their names and sometimes I call one of them Alice.  I only thought it was my grandmother that did that.  I hope I don’t turn into her.  Toward the end there, she got naked a lot and wandered around the house like that.  She looked like a peach with nipples.

I hope that doesn’t happen to me.

Remember how I don’t like things that spin too fast like my washing machine or pinwheels or any kind of spinny thing?

Do I need to remind you of The Storyland Turtle Ride Incident of 2008?

I didn’t think so.

Well I went on the carousel and I was glad I was there to comfort Homeslice because she was afeared of it because as it turns out, the Slater Park carousel is too fast for babies.

I had to comfort her the whole ride.  I almost threw up from the strain of it, but I stayed strong for my daughter because I’m an excellent mother.

And the next day we loaded the cherubs up into the wagon and took them to what turned out to be the lamest parade in the history of lame parades.  And that’s saying something Queefies because parades are pretty lame by virtue of their very existence.  But it’s what you do when you have kids and there’s a parade going through your neighborhood.  You pack trail mix and fish crackers and water and you sit there on the side of the street with all the other assholes and you pay $8 for a Hello Kitty balloon that winds up stuck in a tree approximately .05 minutes after you purchased it and so you spend the rest of the parade listening to The Crying.

This guy was the coolest thing about the parade.

I know.  I also got to shake hands with  the mayor of Providence.  He said Homeslice is gorgeous and he should know because he’s A GAY and everyone knows they know all about beauty.

Homeslice was so bored she fell asleep.  Of course, she’s not sleeping in this picture, but just imagine that her eyes are closed and there you go.

That kid in the background looks pissed, right?  That’s because it was her Hello Kitty balloon that got caught in the tree.  I bet you thought it was Girlfriend’s but I fooled you.  I was smart and I went to Target and bought flags and pinwheels from the dollar bins and handed them out to Girlfriend, Homeslice, and Alena at the parade because I’m smarter than many parade goers.

And this was me last Memorial day weekend, also taken at the carousel:

Remember that bullshit?  I almost exploded, I swear to Jesus.

And that brings us very nicely into TODAY is Homeslice’s birthday!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HOMESLICE!!!

Can you guys believe it’s been a year since I talked and talked to you about my cervix?  Don’t you miss that?

OMG and today is a Toy with Me day! Dangerous Places to have The Sex

This post is overwhelming.  I need a nap.

I’m fucking tired. In fact, my tired has tired on it.

So while I was at work, the girls were fine and they were pretty quiet and everything except for the time when Girlfriend said “douchebag” and my friend Celina and I both gasped at the same time and it embarrassed her and she dove under my desk and cried very loudly.

I had to beg her to come out. She’s usually the language police, but not this time.

Girlfriend, not Celina.

But that wasn’t the weird thing that happened.

The weird thing happened when Homeslice pooped her diaper and I realized that I didn’t have a spare with me, so I grabbed a diaper wipe and decided to reach into the back and pull the poop out because the kid freaking stank. Stunk? Stinked? She smelled.

And so I waited until nobody was around and I made my move. I dug into the back of her diaper and I pulled out the poop, wiping her bum as I went and just as I was pulling my hand out of the diaper, who walks though but the director on her way out to lunch.

She’s pretty cool about allowing us to bring our kids in every so often, for a short time as long as they’re quiet and don’t make a mess,and there I was standing there in a field of puzzle pieces and mashed cheerios with a hand full of diaper shit while she cooed at Homeslice and talked to Girlfriend all about her birthday.

It felt like forever, you guys. I don’t think she noticed that I had a hand full of shit, but what if she had?

I don’t really have an ending to this story.

So we did it Queefies.

The great big gigantic patio/deck project is all done.  Mister is pretty much a super hero and as usual, he built the whole thing with his dick. He’s got a few small abrasions on it, but that’s just because patio bricks are kind of rough. I mean seriously, he’s not THAT strong. Let’s not be nuts here.

I helped, of course.  I hauled wheelbarrows full of gravel and sand and brick.  I’m so proud of myself though you guys because I must have moved a ton or more of gravel and about a ton of brick and like, an assload (that’s a standard measurement, right?  Assload?) of sand and I didn’t get tired and I’m not sore and I didn’t even cry.  I thank my girl Jillian for all of that ass kicking. Also, it’s because I’m fucking awesome.

And then after that whole project was done, I planted a mimosa, an oak, a dogwood, and two hydrangeas.  And then the Richard and Micheles came over and I got totally absolutely undeniably hammered from just two glasses of wine, but that didn’t stop me from having more wine and then after that some tequila and then I felt horrible mommy guilt for putting Homeslice to bed in a dirty dress with sand in her diaper, but it turned out okay because she woke up and I got her into some proper pjs and wiped her down with a washcloth.  So I didn’t have to wake up at 3am and beat myself up over it. Instead, I woke up at 3 am and felt guilty for worrying about it so much and for burdening everyone with my mommy neurosis.

I fucking rule.

Anyhoodles, that was our weekend.  We worked like dogs.

OMG!!! I didn’t tell you guys!
The dog officer came and took Maudette’s puppy away!

The dog officer came and took Maudette’s puppy away!

I was standing there washing dishes and watching the little fuckface dig holes in my new mulch, when the van pulled up. And I was all “take the dog! take the dog!” and the dog officer got out and lured him over to her. She saw me in the window and asked who he belonged to, and when I motioned in Earl and Maudette’s direction, she nodded and said “this little guy is coming with me” and it was just like one of those moments when Mr. Wilson catches Dennis doing something naughty and he’s thrilled to pieces. And then I was all “TEQUILA ATTACKED ALICE!” and then I ran into the house because I didn’t want to get caught talking to the dog officer because remember I’m scared of Earl and Maudette and Tequila and the puppy.

They got him back, and I nearly ran over the puppy who was running around in the middle of the street on my way home from work last night, so clearly they’re not afeared of the dog officer and/or are slow learners and/or they don’t give a shit.

She wears too much mascara, the dog officer does.

So the yard is ready for the Birthday Extravaganza on Saturday.  It’s already way out of  hand.  There’s a lot of people coming.  Like, a lot.  So you can probably come too.  I won’t notice because there will be so fucking many people.

Here’s a picture of me getting bombalooed on my new patio:

And today is Girlfriend’s birthday!!!!

She’s 5! 

*sniffle*

We get in the slightly creepy cashier’s line (I go so often I’m practically dating the slightly creepy cashier) and Girlfriend likes to put the stuff on the conveyor belt, so she does and when she gets to the panty liners, she’s goes “mama, what’s these for?” And I didn’t know what to say and the slightly creepy cashier blushed a little bit and then she goes “OH! I KNOW! IT’S FOR WHEN YOU POOP YOUR PANTS SO YOU WON’T GET POOP ON YOUR PANTIES!”

Oh dear God.

Dear, dear, dear God.

Behind us in line were a bunch of massage school students in their scrubs picking up sodas between classes. They heard that one loud and clear.

I have to find a new Target because everyone there now thinks I shit myself.

This is what I get for plotting to put Vagisil in random people’s carriages. That damn karma again! GAH!

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