Yesterday Crissy was in quite a tear indeed. After waking up late at the glorious hour of 7:00AM(!!!!) the entire household was thrown into a panic to get out of the house on time. It was chaos.

And Crissy was running late having packed two lunches and making two breakfasts and getting herself and Girlfriend showered, dressed, peed, and out the door for school and work.

Crissy drove like the wind to the Sandbox Preschool to drop Girlfriend off and as she turned the corner near the school she realized she was going nowhere fast because before her sat a big, big, gigantic YUKON blocking the street.

So Crissy waited.

And she waited.

tick-tock…

Some of us have a J-O-B to get to Cock Knocker!

Move your fucking pig!

And do you know what the fucking hold up was Queefs?

Some fucktard, some assclown, some dickweed, was blocking the street because he wanted a parking spot RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE SCHOOL. The rest of the street was totally clear. Plenty of parking spots for everyone but this fuck face decided that he couldn’t possibly walk fifty feet to the school with little Jayden or Brayden or Caydence or whatever fucking yuppy snot name he named his fucking kid and so he decided that it was okay to block the street and sit and wait for a good spot to park his big fat hog.

And he’s not the only Dickmo in an SUV. They all have those HUGE ASS SUVS. They drive Range Rovers, Navigators, Suburbans, Yukons, Explorers, and there’s even some weird looking Mercedes abomination. And Crissy can totally see why it’s necessary to drive such a thing. Everyone knows you need the largest vehicle possible to deliver little Landon and little Ashlyn to school safely. You don’t know what could happen in the five minute trip from your house to the school.

There might be some peasants trying to cross the street and you might need to run them over so you’re not late for your busy street blocking appointment.

And so they fight to park their giant cars RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE SCHOOL and then when they get into the play yard they all stand around with the chitting and the chatting and block the fucking entrance to the school so that Crissy and Girlfriend have to fight their way through the crowd of mommies to get inside.

Again, some of us have J-O-B-S to get to and can’t stand around clucking like a bunch of damned hens.

Crissy is mad and she’s already fed up with the Preschool Mommies.

Crissy feels a Barbie attack coming on.

Wait for it…

It will be bloody.

Oy.

Crissy is really sorry she didn’t comment on your blogs yesterday but she was not at work which is the only place where she is able to read blogs because Girlfriend is very high maintenance. And Crissy was not at work because Girlfriend was terribly, terribly sick.

Yesterday was a real pain in the ass kind of day for your poor, poor wretched Crissy and her poor, poor wretched baby girl who came down with the Monkey Plague and had to be rushed to the doctor because she was wheezing so hard her little chest and belly were heaving from trying to get some air.

And she was coughing so hard she threw up on Crissy’s rug and we had to throw it away.

And the doctor said she was glad that Crissy brought her in because Girlfriend needed a treatment of Albuterol immediately and then would need an inhaler to bring home because The Bronchitis had given her The Asthma or something like that. And so the nurse came in with the drugs and a mask that was spewing cool mist from it and was all “put this over Girlfreind’s nose and mouth” and Girlfriend was all “Oh, Heeelll no.” And she fought and kicked and cried until she couldn’t fight any more and let Crissy put the mask on her but only if the doctor and nurse would go away.

The whole thing was the most terrible ordeal but when it was all over, Girlfriend was able to breathe again for the time being and she felt much better.

And she looked at her doctor and said,

are you ready?

Wait for it…

“That was friggin’ absurd!”

Crissy is a proud mommy today, Queefs.

At least she didn’t say “fuck.”

This weekend Crissy took Girlfriend to dancing class which is going rather well except for the lovely habit girlfriend is in now where she participates and enjoys and then drops to the floor and starts to cry approximately 10 minutes before the class ends and the teacher winds up dancing with Girlfriend on her hip while she puts her hands down the teacher’s shirt.

Crissy thinks this may be an elaborate plan because Girlfriend might be a lezzie.

We’ll see.

And we were waiting for class to begin and Girlfriend was in the play area with another little dancer and she went up to her and very sweetly said “would you like to play with me?” and the Little Cuntbitch looked her up and down, put a puss on her face and was all “No. I’m here to dance.”

And Crissy’s heart broke into a thousandy million tiny pieces as Little Cuntbitch’s mommy giggled like “oh aren’t they sweet?” and looked on with pride as if her kid didn’t just snub my kid and Crissy wanted to pull her greasy fucking pony tail right off her head and beat her with it. Crissy thought about making a comment to Little Cuntbitch’s mommy like “nice sweatpants, cow. I’m going to kill you now.” but she wants to set a good example for Girlfriend and so entertained homicidal fantasies in her head as is proper behavior for a mom at dance class with her daughter. Crissy is pretty sure she made the right choice. Also, Michele and Alena weren’t there yet for backup and Crissy was not sure how many of the other mommies were friends with Little Cuntbitch’s mommy.

Crissy would have played out the violence in her head with her Barbies for you but she just now thought of it.

Sorry.

Maybe for tomorrow.

And Girlfriend seemed totally unphased by it but can Crissy get real with you Queefs for a moment?

It brought Crissy right back to her formative years when Crissy was a wee little Crissy and had the misfortune of being a lowly teacher’s daughter in a town full of rich assholes whose children excluded her and made fun of her because her clothes weren’t Jet Set or Esprit or Liz Claiborne and her mom drove this:

instead of this:

And we didn’t go on vacations to Bermuda or Hawaii. We took picnics to the park and the zoo for our vacations.

And Crissy had only one other little kid who would play with her because Puttin’ on the Ritz (that’s what the Mean Girl gang called themselves) didn’t like her either because her dad was a teacher too and her mom had a beat up old Volkswagen Rabbit and she had 8 brothers and sisters and wore hand me downs and smelled like cabbage.

Oh how Puttin’ on the Ritz made Crissy’s childhood painful. And Crissy took it all like a bitch because she didn’t know how to handle a bully and instead was always trying to get out of school with multiple fake illnesses because she didn’t want to face the mean girls.

Sniffle.

Sigh.

And Crissy knows this isn’t the only time some little twat is going to be mean to Girlfriend and so Crissy is just thinking of taking her out of dancing class and putting her in Ninjutsu class instead because fuck the dumb shit.

Girlfriend should be kicking ass and asking questions later.

How long do you Queefs figure it will take for Girlfriend to become a Ninja?

PS: Wanna win a free purse?  Click here and go visit Handbag Planet to find out how!

As we moved along the Equestrian trails at Schmuckytown Woods on Sunday, Girlfriend came across a large pile of horsey poo and exclaimed

“WOW! Mommy look! That’s the biggest pile of shit I’ve ever seen! And it’s fancy too! It’s got corn in it!”

and so on second thought it may not have been horsey poo after all because Crissy has never never seen corn in horsey poo but maybe that’s because she’s never really taken a good look before. And Crissy is a little bit afraid of horses because they’re rather large and even though this may or may not have happened

Crissy generally makes it a point to avoid horses and stick to enjoying them from a distance.

It’s all because of when Crissy was a wee little 6th grade Crissy and she slept over her friend Gina’s house and Gina had horses and one stepped on her foot and it HURT wee little 6th grade Crissy’s delicate footie, not to mention how much it hurt wee little 6th grade Crissy’s crotchals after riding him.

Anycrap, Crissy would have taken a picture of the mystery crap but she sort of draws the line at putting pictures of poo on her blog.

(Holy shit! Crissy has found her limit! who’d a thunk she even had one!?!)

Crissy is thinking that maybe instead of a horsey that one of the Woodland Gays was experiencing issues that day and had to use his woodsy cradle of love for another purpose.

Too much corn, perhaps.

Saturday morning:

While in the shower getting ready for Dancing Class Part Deux, which went perfectly btw, Girlfriend offered Crissy the following piece of helpful beauty advice:

“Mommy. Your butt is bumpy and rough like Daddy’s face. You need to shave it with some butt cream. A smooth butt is more important than a bumpy one. It’s nicer and more luxurious too.”

Crissy swears her butt is already very, very luxurious and nice and not bumpy and rough like daddy’s face.

Girlfriend has an active imaginary life.

Saturday evening:

Crissy is about to have a dinner party at her house and is taking yet another shower while Mister and Girlfriend are drying off after theirs and Mister is at the vanity toweling away when Girlfriend walks underneath him like a bridge, looks up at his balls, sticks out her tongue and

NEARLY TEA BAGS HER FATHER!!!!!

Crissy sees this horrible, horrible thing about to occur and screams “NOOOOO!!!” and it came out sounding exactly like the slow motion “NOOOOOO!!!!” but that’s okay because Crissy got Girlfriend’s attention and Mister put his leg down and the world was saved.

Again, Crissy saves the day and no parade, no flowers, no media frenzy.

WTF?

Of course, Girlfriend has no idea what tea bagging is and was just doing it because kids are impulsive like that but holy God you guys.

Can you imagine the vodka it would take to wipe that shit out of memory?

They don’t make enough, Queefs.

Crissy realizes that she’s been talking non stop about babies and making babies and bringing them to dancing classes and she did give you guys a respite yesterday when we talked of horsefucking so you’re going to sit through another post about Girlfriend and you’re going to love it because Crissy doesn’t have much else to write about right now.

Well, she does, but it means she has to take pictures of her dying garden and she’s feeling like it not so much right now. It depresses the crap out of her to look at it.

Ahem.

Recently Crissy went to Girlfriend’s preschool orientation and heard about all the rules about snacks brought to school. Every parent is required to bring in 5 snacks per year. These snacks, for 32 precious little ones, must come complete with 32 drinks and 32 cups and 32 plates and 32 napkins and 32 whatever else a person needs to serve the snack. The snacks must be “healthy” and if there is any packaging it must be “earth friendly.” This could get expensive and Crissy thinks maybe she should just buy 32 new BMWs for the children and just be done with it for the year but a BMW is not an appropriate snack and it is probably not earth friendly. So, no.

And if Crissy chooses to make something with her own two wonderful little hands she must submit the recipe to the other parents for approval because god forbid and heavens to myrgatroid we don’t want anyone getting sugar when they’re not supposed to or for FUCK SAKE AND THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS DECENT AND GOOD IN THIS WORLD NO GOD DAMNED NUTS!!!

We don’t want any of the precious ones dying of anaphylactic shock because Crissy sent in cookies and did not submit a recipe for prior parental approval. Crissy swears that if any one of those losers rejects her submitted recipe she will bust balls on them so hard when it’s their turn that all that will be left for them to send in is water and air popped rice.

Crissy is just saying.

So Crissy’s turn is coming up in October and she plans to make Nutless Orange Cranberry Bread and maybe bring in a couple of these juice boxes to go with it:

That’s enough for 32 kids, right?

At first she thought of milk but she’s sure little Enid is lactose intolerant and her mother will bitch and Crissy will have to cram the milk up little Enid’s mom’s butt.

And Crissy thinks that would not be the best way to make friends with the moms at Girlfriend’s school.

See?

Prolly not appropriate.

Might make for awkwardness on field trips…

So Crissy counted the votes and the “yes! Crissy should have a baby because tales of her vomiting at Target will entertain the Internet” votes are just a little bit ahead of the “Of course Crissy should not have a baby because babies are boring” votes. Sadly, it seems that Mister is on the No side and if you read through the comments from yesterday you’ll see he has devised an elaborate plan involving dipping his balls in scalding hot water to prevent any second babies from happening.

And so it seems Queefs that we are still on the fence about the whole baby or not baby thing. Maybe Crissy will go to the Dollar Depot and purchase a Magic 8 Ball and ask it whether or not she should have a baby.

And if Mister does not cooperate with Crissy she will just have to go to stud and so she will be taking applications for Stud Service. Had she known that Mister would be so dead set against the plan then she would have perhaps propositioned the representative from National Grid who recently came to install a new wireless gas meter to Crissy’s basement natural gas dispensing device thingy.

All Crissy could think about when Brown Sugar was in her basement is the hide-a-bed inside her sofa and how the finished basement room in her house was perfect for shooting naughty Jungle Fever films and he looked very strong and could probably lift her onto the bar and that she’d call the video Crissy and the Chocolate Lovah and Crissy won’t lie to you Queefs. He smelled sweet and spicy and his skin looked smooth and creamy like a Lindt chocolate truffle and Crissy just wanted to lick him up and down and all over and –

Wait.

Crissy forgot what she was talking about…

So aaanyhotblackmaninthebasement, Crissy is still undecided about the baby but she is very glad that most of the Queefs think it’s a good idea because she would never want to do anything that her loyal subjects disapprove of.

Perhaps she’ll just adopt another dog or maybe Angelina Jolie will give her one of her extra babies or perhaps tell Crissy how she can get a little Mexican house boy instead.

She’ll name him Taco and teach him to speak English by reading to him from the Bartender’s Bible.

It’s September Queefs!

And you know what that means?

It’s the time of the year when Crissy and Mister try to decide whether to have another baby or not.

“Why September?” you ask.

Why not September?

And Crissy will be honest with you. Mister is really sitting more on the no fucking way in Hades will I get you pregnant and I’ll chop my balls off right now if you keep asking me about it woman side of the fence and Crissy is sort of straddling the middle where she at times thinks romantically about the baby and then at times remembers that her first baby is a fire monster and does she really want to have two fire monsters?

Nay, nay Queefs.

Nay, nay.

But Crissy isn’t getting any younger and next year Crissy and Mister will very old indeed and be at risk for having a Downsy baby or a baby with some horrifying issue featurable on the Discovery Channel or whatever and even though the Downsy babies seem very sweet and charming and nice and all, the Crissys would rather have a healthy baby who will eventually grow up and disappoint them bitterly get the fuck out of their house.

And also it means that Crissy will have to have Sexy Time when she doesn’t particularly feel like having Sexy Time and she hates that and she could always just go with a Play Through but she doesn’t really want the baby growing up knowing that he or she was conceived while Mommy watched Ghost Hunters and complained that Daddy was bouncing his butt too high and was blocking the tee-vee.

That’s no way to get knocked up. Babies should be conceived in a romantic way during screaming drunken wildness involving approximately 3 midgets and a large black double ended dildo. And the whole thing should be a blur and a month later Crissy should find herself sitting on the side of the bathtub holding a positive pregnancy test and scratching her head because she can’t quite remember how it all went down and she’ll be worried that the baby will be a midget with an incredibly large black penis.

That’s a much better story to tell the baby as it involves people his/her size.

And what will happen to the blog? When will Crissy find time for the blog? Crissy barely has time for it now.

And what about Crissy’s booze and pills? Those judgy doctors frown upon the booze and the pills.

And what about all the cool clothes Crissy just got at Savers? Who will wear the purple Ralph Lauren blazer?

And who will take care of the baby? Certainly not Crissy!

And most importantly, what if the baby comes out not pretty?

So September is a month of negotiations and Crissy is ovulating in a couple of weeks and so we have two weeks to decide if we will make a go of it this month or not but just in case, Crissy is looking for suggestions for some good porn titles.

Particularly ones involving short people (not children, short people).

It seems appropriate for the occasion.

Saturday morning was Girlfriend and Alena’s first tap/jazz combination dancing class.

Girlfriend started out by waking up at 3:30 am and staying up for the rest of the morning.

Here is a picture of her in her dancing outfit having breakfast.

If anyone didn’t believe Crissy when she says Girlfriend is a fire monster, Crissy submits the above photo as evidence.

And here are the girls looking very excited for class to start and getting jiggy with it in their matching outfits

Aren’t they just the sweetest thing?

And here’s Alena breaking it down

And here’s Girlfriend busting a move

And then they get into class and we have this

And this

Girlfriend liked the skipping around the room part…

And then out of nowhere we have this

She did not fall down. She simply decided that dancing sucked balls and threw herself on the floor and Crissy and Mister had to carry a screaming and crying Girlfriend out of the dance studio and bring her home without ever even getting her into her tap shoes.

What happened? Didn’t Girlfriend like the dancing?

Girlfriend had better like the fucking dancing because Crissy spent a lot time and a lot of monies on this project already.

Check it:

Tap shoes: $35
Ballet slippers: $15
Dance outfit: $29.50
Dance class registration fee: $20
Time spent at open house waiting in line (whilst suffering from that monkey disease Crissy had a couple of weeks ago) to register Girlfriend for class: 45 minutes
Trips to dance shoe store 1/2 hour away from home to purchase shoes and return to pick up special order shoes for Girlfriend’s delicate little super narrow tootsies: 2
Telephone calls to dance shoe store to check to see if Girlfriend’s shoes had arrived at the store: 3
Hours spent fantasizing about attending her first dance recital: countless

Girlfriend will be Shirley Temple-ing and Good Ship Lollipop-ing her ass off if Crissy has anything to say about it.

But of course she doesn’t because we all know who the boss is around here and it is certainly not Crissy.

Crissy is Queen of Fucking Everything (Except for Girlfriend).

She should change her title.

As it turned out Girlfriend asked to go to bed as soon as she got home which is so unheard of that Crissy and Mister knew there was something very wrong and then she woke up after a 3 hour nap with a fever of 103 degrees.

Oh.

And now she refuses to go back to the class because “dancing is too stupid!” and so Crissy will have to spend additional monies on a bribe to get Girlfriend to try the class again.

Either that or she will cram herself into that dance outfit and those tap shoes and take the class herself and she will tap circles around those kids!

Storyland was a blast y’all!

Look how excited we were to be there after driving for eleventy hundred thousand million hours!

And the kids were happy too!

It was a very nice time, really and we were all very, very glad we went. But your Crissy has a little secret to tell you Internettians:

I do not do roller coaster or any other amusement type rides where I’m might shit myself and die.

I am not a trooper.

Take the Turtle ride for example. It’s like one of those teacup rides that spin out of control whilst traveling at breakneck speed in a rotating wave-like motion?

Yeah.

Nooooooo.

Against my better judgment, I figured what the hell? After all, these things are meant for Preschoolers!

But not. for. Crissy.

Ahem.

Here are the neighbors enjoying themselves and being like all normal people on an amusement park ride:

Awww…so normal…

Here’s me having a pre-turtle anxiety attack:

And here’s me screaming my fucking head off:

And here is my preschooler:

Enjoying it!

Lucky for me, someone else made them stop the ride. Either that or they heard Crissy screaming and stopped it for fear someone had become entangled and was having their face ripped off in the machine. Whatever, but I took that as my queue to get the fuck off the spinning turtle of death and stand on the sidelines doing this instead:

It was good and only made me a little dizzy instead of a lot dizzy. Plus I was able to get video of my family and our friends not screaming.

And I did not shit myself, throw up, or die.

Amazing.

And for the remainder of our two day trip I stuck to rides I knew I could handle.

Like this:

And this:

And we saw Cinderella’s castle, aka Mine:

Where I finally caught her sitting in my chair and I just rolled up and whacked her upside her head and said “get out of my chair!” And Cinderella was all “roger that” and so she gathered up her skirts and moved and I didn’t have to shank the bitch.

And the peoples at Storyland said “All Hail! The Queen of Fucking Everything!” and they were very sweet to me.

And the children practically took care of each other the whole time so it was very relaxing.

We only had to lock them in the pumpkin thing for like a couple of hours and that was it.

What?

They loved it!

So yeah. That was my “vacation.”

PS: I want to send a shout out to stoogepie and Mom in Real Life for their fantastic guest posts! Thank you guys!

PSS: If you want to see more fascinating pictures go to my stupid husband’s photo blog.