Archive for the 'Bow to Your Queen Bitches' Category

I’m 36.

I feel every single last second of 36 this morning, Queefies. Pole dancing class kicked the ever lovin’ shit out of me. I’m bruised and battered and I feel like I’ve been gang raped from gripping the pole so close to my crotchals and then sliding down it.

It’s the sliding that does it, you know.

And the gripping.

So, for my birthday today, the first thing I would like is to not feel gang raped.

The second thing I would like is this bike:

The picture is too big for the page but fuck it, it’s my birthday.  Anyway, it’s the Electra Karma 3i.  It’ s totally badass and I don’t ride bikes but I don’t care.  I would ride this bike until the wheels fell off.  And my crotchals won’t even hurt from the seat because pole dancing class will toughen me up really good!

I ask for a variation of the same bike every year and every year Mister acts like he’s going to buy it for me, but he doesn’t.  He’s such a crybaby about the mortgage.  It bores me.

Little does he know, I can go and dump that same amount of money at Target in a single afternoon and come home with baby diapers and hair conditioner and more short sleeved v-neck tee shirts than you can shake a stick at.

That’s a funny expression isn’t it?

I don’t think I’ve ever shaken a stick at anything.

Waiting for me right now is a bag from Victoria’s Secret, which is a gift for Mister and not really for me at all.  I haven’t opened it yet, but I’m pretty sure there’s no bike in there.

I’ve gotta run now, Queefies.  I have to go open my new thong underpants  now.

PS: I don’t really like thongs because  HAVING A STRING UP YOUR ASS ALL DAY IS NOT COMFORTABLE.  I’m 36 now and so it’s okay to stop pretending thongs don’t suck.  I feel so incredibly liberated having admitted that to the Queefies I think I’ll say it again!

I SHAKE A STICK AT THONG UNDERPANTS!!!

I’m sure I’ve shattered some fantasies, whatever.  I’m in my late thirties now.  I can do that and not even care.

PSS: for my birthday, Girlfriend says she’ll do what I ask her to do the first time I ask.  That’s pretty much the most awesome present ever!

I went out for dinner with Michele last night you guys.

It was the first time I had any kind of food I did not plan, shop for, and prepare myself in weeks and it was glorious, although we could tell Amy Our Waitress was disappointed in us because we had a couple of salads and some waters with lemon. Her face totally fell when she realized she was waiting on two lame ass pussies instead of a couple of gals goin’ out for a calorie fest,  Cosmos, and casual sex with moderately attractive younger men.

I don’t know what she was thinking because we were both wearing cardigans.

Also, it was Ruby Tuesday’s. If I’m going to go out and carry on, I’m not going to do it at Ruby Tuesday’s. I only go there for those fucking delicious croutons and that pasta salad they have with the peas in it. I love that pasta salad.

We did manage to redeem ourselves with Amy Our Waitress when we ordered chocolate cake (one piece to share, of course) and two decaf coffees.

I know, I know. ROCK ON!

And after that decadent dining experience we went to the Grand Opening of a Saver’s!

Shut up.

I’m almost 36 years old. This is my idea of a good time. Don’t ruin it.

And that, my dear, dear Queefies, is where I found Sad Jesus on VELVET!

NOW you’re jealous.

*this post is like, 15 posts in one, so if you want to read it in pieces that would be perfectly fine*

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*

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

Hey Queefies!

The shoppings went very well yesterday.  I didn’t know this, but my brother is a raging hormone.  He got the shoe store girl’s phone number.  It was…an experience to sort of have to stand back with Homeslice in the stroller while he worked his man-whore magic on the salesgirls of  Schmuckytown.  One girl asked if we were his wife and baby.  After I swallowed the throw up in my mouth, I said we were his sister and niece after he answered her with a question: “does that turn you on?”

Oy.  I was so embarrassed.  My lady friends almost never do stuff like that.

Anyway, we decided that he’s going with college boy prep with a little skater thrown in for edgy-ness.  And by “we” I mean the royal we because he wanted to go punk and I was all,”no.”  The skater stuff  was a compromise between the punk and the prep.  I had my hands full because the boy had no idea what he was doing.  I pulled out a pair of elastic-waisted grandpa shorts and he was like “I’ll try ‘em, whatever, you say,yo ”

And then I went through his closet and pulled out all the hideous.  He had PLEATED FRONT PANTS in there, you guys.  I took out all the polyester, including the bowling shirt with the blue flames on it and made him pinkie promise that he’d only be wearing natural fibers from now on. He had a black silk shirt and pants set that reminded me of The Velvet Fog episode of Seinfeld.  We had a fight over the leather shirt.  He insists it’s a “natural fiber” and therefore should be allowed to keep it.  I might have to go in there when he’s not home and take it.  Either that or I’m going to call my fantasy gay, Carson Kressley, to come and tell him what’s what.  Have you ever seen him straighten somebody out?  It’s a beautiful thing.

And then we went to the fridge and I pulled out the fucking Wonder bread and beat him with it.

So yes.  He’s a work in progress but we got a good start, at least.

And now there’s a ton of shit for you guys to go read!

I wrote another toy review and did a video with Mister:  We-vibe  II review.

And there’s a contest to win one here!!!  We-vibe II contest! I’d be proud-er than proud if one of my Queefies won it!

And I have a post going up today, too.  I’ll get you that link when I have it.

UPDATE: here it is! My Husband Posted Pictures Of Me On A Porn Site. I Liked It.

I’m kind of feeling a video caper coming on and I’m trying to decide what it’s going to be.

The other day I was giggling to myself because I was thinking I would do a video of me tossing random shit into people’s carts at Target.  Like, I could get one of those little hand basket things and fill it with condoms and tampons and douche and hemorrhoid cream and pregnancy tests and Gas-X and just go around the store tossing the stuff into unwitting people’s carriages.

I think it would be a hoot.

I would need to bring Lynne with me though, because you can’t do something like that and not about pee your pants laughing. Not that it wouldn’t be fun with Mister but you know, Lynne was there when the brilliant idea was conceived, so she should be there when it’s born.

I’d have to learn how to control my laughter which is something I’m not really good at. I laugh at all the wrong moments, usually.

Funerals are hilarious. You can’t take me to those. I’m an embarrassing and inappropriate date.

That’s why we wussed out on the whoopee cushion thing, you know. Remember we were going to go into the Stop & Shop with a whoopee cushion and Mister was just going to stand next to people with it hidden under his arm and squeeze it to get their reactions?

We actually showed up to do it, but we were laughing so hard in the parking lot, we couldn’t pull it off:

So, I have to work on that because you cannot be a right and proper Vagisil planter in people’s carriages if you’re going to give it away with laughter and giggling.

If I can pull it off, that will take care of the Other People of the World because I mostly don’t like people and I want to hurt them.

And I know what to do about Earl and Maudette and Tequila now. It’s better than nematodes.

Mister sent me this thing on Facebook about a guy who, to get back at his asshole-y neighbor, put an ad on Craigslist and gave her address and said she wanted to pleasure as many men as possible before she left for work in the morning. And so all these dudes like, showed up at her house at all hours in the early morning looking for blow jobs and shit.

Bwahahahahahahahaha!

How awesome is that?

All we need is that Chris Hansen from Dateline to sit in her living room and ask people what the hell they’re doing, and it’s made for TV hilarity.

This goes way beyond ordering pizzas and sending dildos in the mail to your neighbor’s house. I mean, if I did that to Earl and Maudette, they’d probably be thrilled! “Well, lookie here, Maudette! Somebody sent us a pizza! It doesn’t have anchovies, but it came with a free dildo! Woo-hoo!”

I thought I might place the Craigslist ad for Tequila and not Maudette. I’d say something like “Big white girl likes to bite and have her collar yanked. Enjoys public defecation and stranger crotch sniffing. Can lick own pussy. Will pee on command.”

Actually, now that I think about it, they’d probably be able to roll with some pervs from Criaigslist coming over. “Tequila! Fella here says he’s wants to see you…”

They may even be the pervs from Craigslist.

I’m actually really scared of all three of them.

PS: I’m not at Toy with Me today so if you go there, don’t expect to find me! I’m there on Friday this week. I don’t know why other than the fact that the admins are going on vacation. I hope the Queefs will still come even though it’s a Friday and I know Fridays are pretty light.

This post is full of announcements, just fyi.

First:

Check this out, y’all! My bestickered crotch is featured on vajazzling.com!

Me and Jennifer Love Hewett are bffs now, so I win!

Suck on that, bitches.

Also, Homeslice is crawling now.

I couldn’t wait until she could crawl, but now I sort of want her to cut it out.  It’s like, “You GO little ninja!” and then it’s like “GIT BACK IN YER CAGE OR I’LL GIT THE HOSE!”

A couple of days ago, I was loading the dishwasher and when I turned around, she had a mouth full of dog food.  At least it was Iambs, right?  Because I’d never feed my baby any of that Purina shit.  Only premium dog food for my kid!

And she ate a ladybug off the bathroom floor while I watched in soapy horror from behind the shower doors.  I froze up and did the whole slow motion nnnnnnnooooooooooooo!!!!! thing but it was too late.

So now HER karma is fucked, too.

Basically, everyone in our house is totally in trouble with Buddha now.  Except Mister.  He’s managed to somehow keep his karma clean.

I’m making him drive us everywhere and carry us all down the stairs until Buddha is done ass raping me.

Let’s see…what else do I want to tell you guys?

I think I might have The PMS so I win again!

Now I get to try that Diva Cup thing!  I’m pumped!  Are you pumped? Because I am or whatever.

I actually went to a Gap that was still withing a 20 minute radius of my house, I mapquested it, it was 19 minutes drive so I was good with it, and when I got there, I grabbed a saleslady and asked her to explain the sizing chart.  And

surprise, surprise, she couldn’t make sense of it! So then she helped me carry all the pants to the dressing room because a person with a malformed and disproportionate body like mine cannot carry so many pants, and  just as I suspected, it turns out that I am not a size 16/00.

Ah-HA!

I win!

Oh, and I forgot to tell you guys about how my sugar thing went.  When I said I was going off sugar, I meant refined sugar, like the shit you find in cookies and candy and crap and well?

It worked.  I’m off the sugar, but now I just drink more. I win again!

And for the most exciting news of all, I won this purse on eBay:

Ain’t she pretty?

The winning of this purse may just be the first sign that Buddha is all set now.  Here’s hoping.  I haven’t killed a ladybug in a while.  I even lovingly scoop them out of the sink when I brush my teeth so as not to spit on them.

Annnndddd I think I’m done here, but today is a Toy With Me day, so YOU WIN!

HA!

My Friend’s Husband is a Dildo Nazi

I originally wrote this post for Toy With Me, but somebody else submitted one on the same topic only two hours before me, so I had to eat it.  Both Dingo and Michele sent me links to this and it’s total suckage because I’m wicked sick, and I struggled through writing it and even got my mom to babysit so I could do it, and then I had to start all over again with something else.

The ladybug karma is still fucking with me, obviously.

I SAID SORRY, OKAY BUDDHA?

I mean, JEE-ZUS!  Buddha does not fool around with that karma business.

Anyway, have you guys heard of  Vajazzling yet?  It’s the new, sexy way to get your bling on.

It’s bedazzling for your pieche!

Yup.

What they do is they wax your pubical area, and then they glue tiny Swarovski crystals (because only the best will do) to it.

Jennifer Love Hewett had it done and now everyone and their pussy is doing it too.

And now I want it, obviously.

1) because I’ve always loved TheGhost Whiperer and if it’s good enough for her crotchals, it’s good enough for mine.

B) I’ve kind of always felt like my twidget was, well, sort of plain.  I mean I shave it and everything to keep it neat and tidy, but really? It doesn’t make a statement.

It just sort of sits there like…a vagina.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking a lot about what sort of pattern I might want and I thought of maybe getting racing stripes or something, but then I decided that some kind of message would be better, like… PINK or JUICY.  Wouldn’t that be cute?  Or maybe  just a sparkly WELCOME sign.

This seems to me like the Best Idea Ever because as you know, I have a hard time finding jeans that fit me just right.  They’re always too long or too short or too size 16/00, but if I get Vajazzled, I’ll never need to wear pants again!  I’m already fancy just the way I am!  And I’m totally ready to hit the dance floor as my own disco ball!  Woot! Woot! (that was the disco call, in case you didn’t know)

Imagine the looks on the Escalade Pajama Cunt’s faces when I drop Girlfriend off at school with my JUICY disco crotch?  I dare say, it will make their JUICY sweatpanted asses look just silly.

Who’s the fashionista now, ladies?

That’s right.  It’s ME!

But it’s wicked expensive you guys and I’m trying to save up for that Volvo because as it turns out, blow jobs do not make the world go round and you actually have to PAY for things with MONIES.

I had no idea.

So I got to thinking that maybe I can save myself the $50 and do my own using Girlfriend’s stick on earrings.

And it totally works!

Yay for DIY Vajazzling projects!

Turns out Mister isn’t the only Macguyver up in Crissy’s hizzy.

I ‘m totally going to suggest we do this for the next girl’s night.  Fuck getting pedicures and all that other stupid shit.  We’re getting Vajazzled, baby!  I’ll bring the stickers!

All three of my friends are going to LOVE this.  It’s exactly like Nerds Gone Wild when a Pediatrician, a Rabbi-in-training, a Librarian/Historian, and a Mommy Blogger go out to get their (one per person) drink on.  Last time, we shared a piece of chocolate cake and like, our forks touched places on the cake where other people’s forks had touched it.

It was too hot for TV that’s for sure.

We practically had a lezzie gang bang.  Just sayin.

So yes.

DIY Vajazzling.

Why pay $50 bucks to have a stranger touch your pubicals, when I can do it with stickers I got at Christmas Tree Shops for $1?

You know what TV show I’m totally addicted to right now which means they’ll change my cable and I won’t be able to see it anymore just like the Horrible Ghost Hunter’s Tragedy of ‘08?

It’s The Millionaire Matchmaker.

The other night, she called somebody an “ugly firecrotch bitch.” And then, after she got all up in Firecrotch’s grill, she was all “get her out of here!  Take her away!”

How can you not love her?

You can’t! You can’t not love a person who calls somebody a hilarious name and then has them taken away.

I’m totally going to start doing that, FYI.

From now on, when somebody pisses me off, I’m going to have them taken away.  Wherever I am, I’m just going to start shouting “take her away!” and maybe somebody will do it.

And if that works, I will then start shouting “off with her head!” and see how far I can take this thing.

I love these little experiments.  I’ll keep you posted.

And speaking of experiments, I saw my first bisexual porn the other day.

It was…

weird.

I sort of just sat there with my head cocked to one side going “huh” because even though there was a girl involved, the guys weren’t really interested.  It was really just gay porn that was happening and then some confused, cracked out slut just like, wandered onto the set and started sucking some wenises.

The guys just kind of looked at her like, “TAKE HER AWAY!”

And I was very confused because I didn’t know who the hell I was supposed to be watching and there were wenises going every which way and boys were kissing boys and girls were sort of there too and it was…a cluster fuck. I couldn’t get into it.

Oh, and just a heads up, we’re taking the ladies here today so if you’re stalking us you can adjust your plans accordingly.

So yeah.

That was random.

This morning I had some sort of lunatic idea that we’d go do our Target run BEFORE school.

I know.

SHENANIGANS!

TOMFOOLERY!

I don’t know what I was thinking.

I actually could have made it, but it would have been rushed, and I kind of like to take my time at Target.  I like it sort of slow and thorough, like a good lover. So I’m actually writing a blog post instead of sitting here eating cookies until it’s time to leave.   I ate two before I realized I needed to find something else to do.

Homeslice is actually occupied right now.

Cheerios have changed my life, you guys.  For realz.

I’m going to go make Sexy Time with Target after I drop Girlfriend off at school.

Maybe that’s why we don’t have that Volvo.  I do Sexy Time with Target too much.   Maybe I’ll have to start my campaign soon.  Mister will be getting The Hummers  so I can get The Volvo.  My question is how many Hummers do you guys think it takes to equal a Volvo?

I don’t want to get screwed in this deal.

HAHAHAHAHAHA!

See what I did there?  Screwed? Sexy Time?  Hummers?

That’s why I’m the Queen.

Anyhoodle, I checked my facebook this morning and some nice person (you know who you are) has informed me that DOOSH IS GETTING HER OWN HGTV SHOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I so, so, so need to have The Crissy Show.

Please leave your comments containing outrage and incredulousness below.  Try to include the words “Dooce sucks” if you can.  It’s awesome for my stats.  Doocebags apparently have nothing better to do than sit around googling “Dooce sucks” and then insulting the blogger who dared utter it.

I like to play this game every once in a while and then see my statistics spike up for a couple of days.

Aaaaannnnndddd we’re done here.  Cheerios, while wonderful, sadly don’t contain a sedative.  (mental note to self: write to the Cheerios people and suggest frosting Cheerios with Valium.  This is brilliant. This will get me on Oprah for sure, proving that Doosh isn’t so special after all.  I’m specialer.  Like, way.)