Archive for the 'Crissy’s House is in an Idiot Colony' Category

Sigh.

My dreams of having a maidlaundressnanny have been crushed, guys.  HippieMom SuperNanny has left us.  The halcyon days are over.

Her husband got a fancy new job and they had to move away.  Far, far away and so I no longer have her at the house, doing battle against the filth and the dishes and the laundry.

Our new childcare arrangements are so complicated we had to make a spreadsheet, but we’re making a go of it and not replacing her because there is no replacement for HippieMom SuperNanny.

We cannot bear the thought of even trying.

It’s only been one day and the house is already falling to crap.

Queefies, how is it possible that I can vacuum and wash the floors on Monday night and by Tuesday evening, even though nobody has been in the house all day, the place is a total fucking shitshow?

I have one theory, and one theory only.

It’s THIS:

Alice and Vivian have all the dogs in the neighborhood over for a dog party and the recalcitrant shitbirds ham it up in my kitchen!

I leave in the morning, and the two of them start barking out the windows, exactly like how it takes place on 101 Dalmations when the puppies go missing, and the next thing you know, they all come over here.  Tequila brings beer (ironically, she doesn’t like hard liquor), Henry‘s got da Chronic, and Talus brings the hos.

The end.

So the other day I was getting out of my car after work and when I opened the door, I was hit in the face by a powerful smell.

It smelled like a swimming pool full of semen, you guys.

I’m not talking about that delicate whiff of it you get in the spring time when the cum trees are in bloom. It was more like what it must be like to be on the “catching” end in a Japanese Bukkake film.

As I walked into the house, I made a mental note to tell Hippymom Supernanny that if she’s going to be filming porn in my driveway while the kids are napping, she needs to hose down a little better because seriously?

I mean, what she does during her break time is her business, but mop up woman, for the love of god!

But I forgot to mention it to her and thank goodness I did because the next day I noticed this sticking out of the mulchy area that frames the driveway:

Oh, hello! And, EW! Whatthefuck?

As I got closer I realized this was where the smell was coming from.

There is a penis mushroom that smells like Japanese Bukkake porn growing in my yard.

So I yelled to Mister “THERE’S A DICK IN OUR YARD!” and he ran outside with his camera and took that picture for the Queefies because who would believe that The Crissys have penises growing out of the ground at their house?

Actually, if you know us, this is completely believable, but anyway.

I felt very protective of our penis mushroom because I was afraid that the guy across the street, Captain Underpants, had a blog and that he would see it and he would post about it on his blog first. But then I realized that was silly because Captain Underpants only cares about swearing “fuckingcocksucker!” at his car and shoveling snow in his undershorts. Oh and he wears his soccer gear just for shits, even when there’s no game.  So, I’m pretty sure I’m the first one in our neighborhood to blog about this.  Also, I’m not sure Captain Underpants is what you’d call a reader never mind a mushroom identifier and certainly probably not a writer.

I’m just being paranoid, but can you blame me?  Penis mushrooms are very special.

And it looks really nice next to the statue of Mister.

And of course we looked it up.

We are truly blessed to have such a marvelous thing in our yard.

Thank you, Satan.

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.

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 ******

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.

So, um,  haiii!

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.

*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

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.

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

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

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

They’re in our bedroom.

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

YOU’RE WELCOME, CRISSY STREET.

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

I’m serious.

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

No. Fucking. Grass.

It’s all dead.

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

Grubs.

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

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

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

IT WAS JUST A FLESH WOUND.

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

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

Let’s see…what else?

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

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

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

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

Here’s mine.  I made mine.

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

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

Tequila’s  trying to kill me. Probably.

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