When you have a baby everything about your relationship with the person who knocked you up and volunteered to stick around married to changes.

For example, let’s say it’s 2 in the afternoon on a Sunday and there’s nothing to do but Make Sexy Time.

Can’t do it.

There’s this hanging around:

How freaking cute is Girlfriend’s school picture? Too cute, Queefs. Too cute.

Or let’s just say that it’s 2 am and you’ve had a dream about Sexy Time and you’d like to see how it ends and you need to finish the deal.

Nope.

This is in your bed:

because it’s got a cold or there were Aliens in her closet (Crissy swears she does not talk to Girlfriend about Aliens. Girlfriend developed this fear all by herself. She knows they’re coming too. Obama, CALL US!!!) or some fucking thing that requires her to sleep in your bed with you.

And sometimes this does a little cock blocking:

And this is a big offender too:

She decides that Sexy Time is the best time to rest her head on mommy’s shoulder and insist on getting Lovey Time For Alice.

And Crissy is getting rawther frustrated because it’s not like Crissy is one for having the Sexy Time all the time but Jeezus does it suck when the more than willing handyman with the all the right tools is only two feet away from her and yet cannot fix her situation.

And it’s not like Crissy can rub one out either because again,

Hi!!!

Crissy is getting ready to hump her co-workers (you’ve been warned Lynn-e) or her desk chair or the UPS delivery guy.

ANYTHING.

Crissy must find some way to solve her little problem before she does something unfortunate.

Halloween was very fun even though Mister wouldn’t let Crissy hand out the candy.

Mister dressed up in his old Navy Officer uniform and looked very handsome indeed. Those uniforms really accentuate the bum area. Crissy does not have a picture as it is very hard for Mister to take a picture of his own ass. Trust Crissy. It was rawther special.

Crissy did not really have an outfit planned except for the fact that Mister has some sort of sick fantasy about Goth chicks and has been bugging her to dress as one for 13 years and Crissy said “fine.”

Crissy just dug through her closet and put stuff on until she thought it was quite enough. She’s not sure she quite nailed Goth Chick but she did nail something.

And Crissy had intended to stay home and pass out candy while Mister took Girlfriend to do her trick or treats but as it turns out Mister kicked Crissy off the porch and sent her and Girlfriend out with Michele and Alena because he was afraid of what happened last year.

Crissy doesn’t know if you know this but sometimes she can be a little bit fresh. Crissy gets mad when adults with sleeping NEWBORN babies in strollers come around and trick or treat. She wants to be like “sorry. Crissy is fresh out of breast milk for your baby. No candy for you! NEXT!” And it pisses Crissy off to no end when ADULTS from the city come to the suburbs WITHOUT CHILDREN OR COSTUMES and go around trick or treating begging.

Crissy is not amused.

She does not take kindly to the poor taking advantage of good natured suburbanites and last year Crissy may or may not have had one too many drinkies snicker’s bars and may or may not have said something to one of them like “what the fuck are you dressed as? A douchebag without a fucking costume? That’s brilliant. Get off my porch. No candy for you!” And Mister does not think this is the way to handle the situation.

Crissy does not understand why.

You have to be tough with these assholes or they walk all over you and take you for Dum Dums and Air Heads.

Right?

Of course.

And so Crissy knows you’ve been dying to see pictures.

Here’s Crissy with Girlfriend who was dressed as a cowgirl on a horse and Alena who was a tomato. Michele and Crissy were very proud that we had the only two little girls who weren’t dressed as princesses. We attribute it to our superior parenting.

Here’s a better shot of Girlfriend. And Crissy looks completely blown out. That was totally part of the costume. Yeah.

After they did their trick or treats the girls wanted to come home and count the candy. They dumped the stuff out on the floor and proceeded to have the same argument that anyone with a sibling remembers having on Halloween night.

“THAT’S MINE!”
“NO!”
“GIMME IT!”
“NO!”
“I’LL BUST YOUR HEART!”
“I’LL KILL YOU TWICE!”

Awwww…

Children are so precious.

Here is Michele’s husband Rich dressed as some sort of gay Hawaiian wizard. Emphasis on the G.A.Y. He played show tunes out the window of his house and stood on the front steps playing the clarinet or this horn he has in this picture. It was by far the scariest house in the hood. Parents could be seen ushering their children gingerly by without stopping. Crissy thinks Rich’s house was the best one because Rich gave her as many peanut butter cups as she wanted.

Look at this fucking guy. At least he had on a costume.

Einstein popped by for a visit which was really sweet of him. Or her. Or something.

Best homemade costumes of the night: a bag of leaves and her brother, a bag of chips.

“You STAY on the sidewalk. you DO NOT go in the street or we go home right! now! Do you understand me?”

Since when do ten year olds have boobies bigger than Crissy’s? Shut. Up. It hasn’t been since always!

And you know that boy was just dying for an excuse to wear a tiara right?

And we all had terrible colds and so were in bedfordshire by 9:30.

That’s Crissy’s Halloween story.

Tell her all about your fabulousness.

The other day Crissy looked out her window to see her friend Michele running by the house. Crissy threw open the window and yelled “run bitch! RUN!!!” at her.

The woman looked up to see Crissy standing in her window in her underpanties and guess what?

Not.

Michele.

Whoopsie.

Thank goodness that the woman looked up at that moment though because the next thing out of Crissy’s mouth was going to be “nice ass!”

Crissy has requested that Michele wear a name tag when she goes jogging from now on.

You know what Crissy hates?

Crissy hates it when she’s awake at 3:00 am being a Nervous Nelly, a Doubting Thomas, a Debbie Downer, a Worry Wart (Crissy hates that expression. It’s gross.) and she has to lay there listening to her bedmates, Mister, Alice and Big Pussy, just doing nighty nights without a care in the world.

And Alice is all “snork, snork, oink!”

And Big Pussy is all “puuuuuuuurrrrrrrr, puuuuuuuuurrrrrr, puuuuuuuuuurrrrrrr.”

And Mister is all “Hooonnnnkkkkkkkkkkkkk.”

And it makes Crissy feel just a little bitter and resentful and homicidal because they’re sleeping and she’s up worrying about Aliens and anal probing and writing ridiculous blog posts in her head exactly like this one and things like that and they’re not and she is very, very tempted to be like

“OH MY GOD!!! FIRE! FIRE!!! WAKE! UP!”

And then when they wake up all panicked and stuff Crissy will play innocent and say “What? I was asleep this whole time. I didn’t say anything.”

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Good luck getting back to sleep ASSHOLES.

Crissy is not going to blog today because she is out of sorts. And she’s not even hung over.

This is very surprising.

Crissy has just emerged from the shower and while moisturizing realized that she forgot to shave her right leg and rinse the conditioner out of her hair.

Alice has to be at the groomer’s in 30 minutes so Crissy will have to leave the house this morning all hairy (well, partially anyway) and greasy.

Thank Jeezus and Mary it’s Friday, Queefs.

That is all Crissy has to say about that.