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.

WHY DIDN’T THE DIRECTIONS SAY TO MAKE A FROSTING WALL THINGY, JESSICA?

This is excellent news because Mister’s real birthday is this coming Sunday and so I get another chance to fuck it up in some other way. I’m very excited, so be sure to look for another fascinating cake update next week.

I might not do lemon buttercream layer cake this time though. I might do something daring like…an unfrosted vanilla sheet cake. Maybe I’ll let Girlfriend toss a few sprinkles on there to make it fancy.

Aaaaaand let’s see…Princess Twattington is up to her old tricks but I avoided the whole mess and ate at my desk like I said I would. Also, I may or may not be coming down with a cold and so I may or may not have licked the rim of her coffee cup.

Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.

Maybe I should be win an award for being the most passive aggressive person ever.

Oh, and I’m probably going to be fired pretty soon because I write about work sometimes, and I didn’t know this until a couple of people emailed me about it, but this here little blog has been written about in a real book about libraries and librarians:

It’s getting a lot of buzz and I even saw an interview with the author on Salon.com, and there’s a copy of it sitting on my boss’s desk right now, so yeah. It’s only a matter of time. I’m on page 64 in the section about poop.

I’m very proud, obviously.

And in other, more dangerous news, I think my Fed Ex guy hates me. Or my mail. Or me AND my mail because yesterday I got a package that I ordered eons ago and it was kind of fucked up. It was in a new box with a filthy scrap of the old box taped onto it. It was so damaged that you couldn’t even read my address anymore, but somebody knew where it was going because it got to me. Somebody purposely beat the hell out of my box of baby clothes from Kohl’s in an attempt to send me a warning.

I’m next probably.

This is why I prefer UPS. The delivery guy’s knees look cute in the summer uniform and nobody that cute would ever kick a mommy librarian blogger’s ass.

PS: Remember that scene from The Jerk? “It’s these CANS! HE HATES THESE CANS!!”

PSS: We have a new pet! My dad and stepmother got Girlfriend a baby bunny without my permission! Yay! (makes a gun with her hand, shoots herself in the head) Let me introduce to you the newest member of the Crissy family, Sally the Baby Bunny:

Stop laughing at me, you motherfuckers.

PSSS: It’s a Toy with Me day today. It’s all about Japanese toilet rituals because it is. Flush Your Husband Down the Toilet!

You know who you are, Victoria’s Secret Catalog Returns Department.

Today marks the beginning of  the most stressful weekend I’ve had since Christmas, as we have the big Easter Dog and Pony and Bunny extravaganza happening at our house.  Everyone is coming, so for all you stalkers, make sure you bring an extra memory stick for your camera because there will be plenty of photo ops over here.  We’re exactly like the Kennedys, you know.  We even have sail boats and large sunglasses and drinking problems.

So today we dye eggs, make cupcakes, and get three loaves of bread started.  Tommorrow we do the cookings and the cleanings and also go to  a 1st birthday party for Homeslice’s little friend, baby Elizabeth.

But at least we got the Easter pictures done last week:

And then there’s of course the obligatory “Pissed off Girlfriend” picture:

Have a crappy Easter, fuckface.

I’d sell your heart to the junkman baby
For a buck, for a buck
If you’re looking for someone
To pull you out of that ditch
You’re out of luck, you’re out of luck

The ship is sinking
The ship is sinking
The ship is sinking
There’s leak, there’s leak,
In the boiler room
The poor, the lame, the blind
Who are the ones that we kept in charge?
Killers, thieves, and lawyers

God’s away, God’s away,
God’s away on Business. Business.
God’s away, God’s away,
God’s away on Business. Business.

Digging up the dead with
A shovel and a pick
It’s a job, it’s a job
Bloody moon rising with
A plague and a flood
Join the mob, join the mob
It’s all over, it’s all over, it’s all over
There’s a leak, there’s a leak,
In the boiler room
The poor, the lame, the blind
Who are the ones that we kept in charge?
Killers, thieves, and lawyers
God’s away, God’s away, God’s away
On Business. Business.
God’s away, God’s away,
On Business. Business.

Goddamn there’s always such
A big temptation
To be good, To be good
There’s always free cheddar in
A mousetrap, baby
It’s a deal, it’s a deal
God’s away, God’s away, God’s away
On Business. Business.
God’s away, God’s away, God’s away
On Business. Business.
I narrow my eyes like a coin slot baby,
Let her ring, let her ring
God’s away, God’s away,
God’s away on Business.
Business…

And those are the lyrics to Girlfriend’s favorite song.  It’s by Tom Waits.  I’d like to thank my father-in-law for playing it for her and singing it to her.  He thinks he’s hilarious, you know.  She busted out with that one when she was about 2 1/2 and we were at Target standing in an aisle with two elderly nuns.

EDIT BY THE PIMP: here’s the song…

She was all “God’s away, God’s away, God’s away on business!”

Luckily, I think they were deaf so it’s completely fine.

I love random playback of inappropriateness at inappropriate times though, don’t you?

The song is going through my head because this morning, we do, in fact, have a leak in the boiler room and I have to survive the morning with no water because we had to shut it off so as not to flood the house.  My father-in-law, being the great dad that he is, will be coming over this afternoon to help Mister fix the broken water pipe and will without a doubt, be singing in chorus with Girlfriend about a leak in the boiler room the entire time. I need to brush up on the lyrics so I can join in.

Also, any work people reading this, it’s my official calling in.  I won’t be at work tonight because somebody has to watch the kids while they fix the leak.  Don’t any of you say you can’t phone it in on your blog because I totally just did.

Suck it, bitches.

And Homeslice was awake all night with teething pain and the Monkey Pig Typhoid Cold Flu.  I might take her to the doctor’s.  I’m debating.  And I was feeling much better after my Monkey Pig Typhoid Cold Flu but I’m getting re-sick.  My hair hurts again and I have a sore throat.  I blame Homeslice and all her snots.

There’s baby snots in my hair right now, fyi.  I just had it blonded, too.  It looks awesome even with the snot.

And I got Lady Days finally and it’s beastly.

It’s pretty much Armageddon here as far as I’m concerned.

So I will spend the morning baking 32 festive green mini cupcakes for Girlfriend’s St. Patrick’s day thing at school with no water for clean ups.

Sa-weet!

So yes.

The universe woke me up with great big “HAPPY MONDAY, FUCKFACE!”

PS: I don’t know why the formatting is all shaquaed up there.  It’s the least of my problems today.

PSS: I don’t mean this to be complain-y.  I’m just sharing with you what it’s like to be Queen.  It ain’t all glamor and midget porn, you know.

Wanna know what I ate yesterday?

Oatmeal with wheat germ, butter, and brown sugar.  I put just a little bit of butter and brown sugar, so it tasted like, I don’t know, paper? I’d have put banana in it but my mom ate the last one when she was visiting the other day. (Whore)

Orange juice

Half a mango

One handful of Whole Foods brand organic chocolate animal cookies, consumed in the dark in my pantry with the door closed so Girlfriend wouldn’t catch me eating them BECAUSE COOKIES ARE BAD FOR YOU AND YOU CANNOT EAT THEM EVERY DAY.

One handful of dry roasted peanuts.

Water, water, water, water, water, water

Cheddar cheese on whole wheat bread with pickles on the side. (Btw, you guys HAVE TO get this book.  I’ve been making bread like a motherfucker!) (Don’t worry.  There are NO semen recipes in it)

Then I get to work, and here’s where being tired and sad and wanting to go home turns into a Food Craptacular:

Immediately upon entering break room to put my dinner in the fridge- BAM! One mini cupcake from the break room table. It wasn’t even good, I knew that, but I ate it anyway. WTFF?

A couple of hours later…

Baby carrots and 1 tablespoon of peanut butter

1 Cookie

1 Apple

1 Chocolate from somebody’s Valentine’s sampler

1 Cookie

Amy’s Palak Paneer and a salad for dinner

1 Piece of Denise’s birthday cake

And then I went home and went directly to bed before I could eat one more thing that would make me want to shoot myself in the face with a bazooka.

Do you see a pattern here Queefies? Because I do, and that’s why I’m about to do something unimaginable, something I never thought I would do, something that has absolutely nothing to do with Lent (because I’m giving up anal for Lent just like every year).

I’m going into sugar de-tox, you guys.  I’ve been eating like this every day since Christmas 2008 and I’m tired of feeling like shit about it.  It’s not so much that it makes me fat.  It’s that it’s a monster and it demands more and more and more of itself and it’s never happy or satisfied.  There’s always another cupcake, another cookie, another whatever and I’m all done with it!

So, for the next week, I will not eat any bullshit food.

None. Nada. Nein.

Who’s with me?

Let’s ALL do it!

One week.

No sugary treats.

If you guys see me eating a cupcake or some such nonsense like that any time between now and next what day is it?, you need to slap it out of my mouth and shove it up my ass (except I gave up anal for Lent, so probably don’t do that last part).

Today Homeslice and I will have adventures on the East Side of Providence over at Monica’s, and then at Whole Foods. All the fancy stuff is on the East Side of Providence, you know.  And then tonight, we all go across the street for our weekly Pot of Crap dinner with the Richard and Micheles. I’m making pizza, it’s very exciting.

Try to control yourself.

I’m just concerned about the drive over to the East Side because I’m like 85% sure we’re going to die in a car crash. Just this past week, I’ve been run into the ditch THREE times by 2 asshats who were texting and came over the yellow line and nearly hit us head-on, and one stupidcuntbitchasshat who decided to drift into my lane without even looking when I was right next to her. Yes.  I was trying to pass her because she was doing 45 in the fast lane on the highway with her head resting on her driver’s side window.  What the fuck, woman?  She could have killed Girlfriend and me!  Homeslice was on the other side. She probably would have been okay.  But when I beeped the horn at her, she didn’t even notice.  She didn’t even take her head off her window.

So, I’ve decided that my next car will be one of these:

Sexy, right?  That’s actually the sexiest picture I could find. It’s not the BMW,but you know what?  At least we won’t all die in this car because some fucktard was texting his girlfriend.   And you see where the fog lights are mounted right there on the front?  I’m going to take those out and have Mister Macgyver some kind of flame thrower arrangement so that when somebody tries to kill us, I can burn them.  He’s totally brilliant at ghetto rigs.  He can do it.  Once he figures it out, he can do your car too.  It’s up to us to teach them, you know.

SOLIDARITY BROTHERS AND SISTERS!

btw, this is my official announcement to Mister that he’s buying me a Volvo.  He doesn’t know yet.  He’s going to be Very Excited.

Like, $45,000 exciteds.

PS: We don’t actually have $45,000 for a new car.  I’m just feeling like a rich lady because I made $130 selling my stuff on eBay last week, so clearly we can afford a new car.

PSS: I’m not good at math.

PSSS: That’s why I think I might have to bust out my feminine wiles for this one.  It’s going to take some convincing.

PSSSS: By feminine wiles I mean promises of blow jobs and steak every Friday night.

PSSSSS: I’d watch the comments section if I were you.  Just sayin.’

PSSSSSS: If you don’t help support my cause, I will totally ban you from this blog.

I’m not talking about this Olivia, btw:

She’s not real and therefore, cannot die.  At least, I don’t think she can die.  Anything is possible, I guess.

I’m talking about this one, for those of you lazy so-and-sos who didn’t click the link:

So yes.  Olivia.  RIP.  Nobody is talking about it because her death isn’t sexy like Brittany Murphy’s.  I hate the fucking media.  I really do.

Dicks.

Olivia contributed way more to the world, I dare say.

Anywho, thank you guys so much for all the wonderful recipes yesterday!  You’re all so helpful, and it took you forever to type all that in! You saved me from having to sit here searching the Internet.  It came to me! YAY!!!

I think I might go with a pot roast for the meat thing as suggested by k8 because it can be done in my crock pot and not take up my oven.  That sounds smart because what usually happens is I wind up with everyone fighting over oven space to heat up/bake the shit they brought and it always turns into a game of who the fuck are you using my daughter’s/son’s/brother’s oven where my mother’s green bean casserole and my mother-in-law’s potatoes volley for space with my sister-in-law’s thing and it’s a big. giant. clusterfuck.

And then I drink some wine and hide in the garage with a smoky treat.

I don’t give a fuck if the casserole is cold from being in the car, goddammit.

Don’t make me kill you.

This is very sad to me because one of my favorite movies of all time is Clueless, and now the “tragically unhip” Tai is dead.  I love Tai.

That’s sad. Very sad.

What’s also sad is that I am super way behind on Christmas preparations and I need help from people who aren’t clueless in the kitchen.  Do you see how I worked that in, you guys?  The clueless thing?  That’s why I’m the Queen.

I have to make some sort of meat thing and a potato thing and a vegetable thing and also a breakfast thing I don’t know what to make.  I don’t have the head space to come up with anything.

HELP. ME.

I need recipes that are easy, and that I can do with a baby attached to my boob.

Thank you.

Happy almost Christmas.

I’m so tired it’s hard to breathe.

EDIT: here’s the song….

That was a busy weekend.

So Mister’s  snippy snippy went fine on Friday.  Thank you all for your well wishes.  It warmed his heart as his balls froze to death under a pile of frozen peas.  I was feeling a little sad about it, to be honest.  I’m not going to have any babies anymore.  Sigh.  But then Homeslice starts bitching and pulling my hair and I am very comforted that I won’t be having any more babies.  Hoo. Fucking. Ray!

And Mister is maybe a little sad that he didn’t have a son to pass on his family name, but I told him not to worry.  Maybe one of the girls will be a lezbeefriend and she’ll adopt some little Chinese babies with her life partner and the family name will not die with him.  It will just become Chinese instead.

(This cannot leave this blog, but between you and me, my money’s on Homeslice.  I mean look at her!

She’s diesel!  And she’s a little, shall we say, overly enthusiastic, about the boobages.  I’m just saying.)

And so right after Mister got home from his appointment, I went to a party because I’m a very caring wife like that and I know you’ve all been waiting for the final count on the theme sweaters and I am very sad and disappointed to tell you that there was only ONE and it wasn’t even that hideous.  What a bummer.  And there was nary a candy cane turtle neck to be seen.  What is wrong with these people?  There were, however, a large number of red sweaters and snow flake pins, so it wasn’t a total loss. I got a really awesome coffee cup that said “Do you have a library card, cause I’d like to check you out.” on it.  It’s pretty awesome, obviously, and so that nobody would Yankee Swap me for it, I rubbed it on my bum.

I like to think that I always bring a touch of class with me wherever I go.  This was no exception.

And then yesterday we did our Christmas tree.  It looks lovely, but can I ask you guys something?  Do you always picture events like these in a glowy, Hallmarkish scene only to get to the tree place and freeze your ass off while dragging a kid who keeps whining “I’m hungry. Can we get donuts?” every five seconds because she knows Home Depot has donuts (assholes), and when she’s not asking for treats, she’s bitching that she’s cold because she left her hat and gloves in the car, and you just want to kill yourself?  And then when you finally get the fucker home and set up in the stand, people wind up fighting and acting like jerks and you end up decorating the tree all by yourself while fantasizing that the Goblin King came and took them all away?

Or is it just me?

Anywho, that’s my weekend update.  It was fucking fascinating, I know.

PS: I got a shipment of wonderful home made bath stuff that I ordered from the lovely Ms. Darkstar.  She sent me some as a present after I had Homeslice and the stuff is just marvy. I bought some as Christmas presents.  She makes awesome lip balm too.  The orange mango (I’m too lazy to get up and go check on the name) one smells just a like an orange Chuckle.  Serioulsy, you need to order some stuff for the people on your list who, ahem, need to smell better.  She’ll hook your shit up.

A mouse died in the wall of my kitchen, so instead of smelling all those wonderful Thanksgivingy smells this year, we have the stench of decay.

It’s pretty festive around here, obviously.