Today I will share with you my favorite vegetable lasagna recipe because this girl and this whore and this little cutie over here who does it every day on her blog, are like all culinary and stuff and I’m feeling inspired.

So here, have another video.

It’s not as long as last week’s I swear to Jeebus.

Happy back to work Tuesday after a bless-ed long weekend! Ya-ta-da-da!

I know you’ve been dying to hear about how the birthday extravaganza went so I won’t keep you in suspense any longer.

To tell you the truth Internet, I don’t really know because I don’t remember the party. Just a few snippets here and there and that’s it. And no. I wasn’t drinking. I was working my ass off. I busied myself so much with eating lots of things containing mayonnaise and sour cream and white flour while flying around hostessing that I got the party amnesia. And then after the party I drank many drinks containing alcohol just to help me chill the fuck out after all the excitement and I am still feeling screwed up from all the sugar and I am most certainly still hung over and that was 3 days ago so you can only imagine the debauchery that took place.

Oy.

From what I’m able to piece together, the party went something like this.

And Girlfriend and I made this cake together. It was lemon cake with blue butter cream frosting. We made the whole thing from scratch.

Are you impressed with us Internet because I am.

And the kids had a ball.

I set up a long piece of paper and had trays of paint and all sorts of interesting objects to drag across the paper with the paints.

Girlfriend and Mackenzie had the most fun with the expressive arts project.

Painting is Girlfriend’s most favoritest activity.

Her adorable little birthday dress is toast. I put the tee shirt on her but it was too late. Contrary to what I believed, Washable Tempera paint is not, in fact, washable at all. As I learned after frantically searching the Internet for a way to fix her dress, you’re supposed to mix dish soap into the paint in order to make it washable. WTF?? There are several parents who now hate me for ruining their children’s clothing.

Whoopsie.

But hey! I warned them in the invitation that the kids would be painting so It’s not all my bad.

Oh and she received a digital camera from us. This is her very first self portrait taken in her bedroom mirror.

Annie Leibovitz can suck it.

And then on Monday, using the new red wagon Girlfriend’s Auntie Cya bought her for her birthday, we walked to Crissy’s town’s Memorial Day Parade that is held conveniently 2 blocks away from Crissy’s house.

Alice was scared of the fire trucks and scratched the shit out of Mommy’s lap, but Girlfriend had a ball and even made a friend whose parents invited us to come to a Memorial Day barbecue with them. And of course we went to that because far be it for the Crissys to turn down free food and mixed tropical drinks all within stumbling walking distance of the house. Plus we had the wagon just in case anyone passed out was too tired to walk home.

He-llo!

So that’s it I think and oh, wait. Rewind to Saturday when I went to have my hair done and when I told the girl I wanted it lighter for the summer I didn’t mean I wanted it to be white. But it is. I have white hair.

Like Betty White only she’s more blond than me.

And it’s much shorter. And I keep running back to the mirror, even though it hurts so bad you guys, just to see if it’s still fucked and that I still hate it and the answer is always YES.

I hate it so much I want to kill myself.

So aside from the hair tragedy and the crying jags whenever I catch myself in the mirror, the weekend was pretty great because I am really, a very brilliant party planner and people called the next day to say they had fun and to thank us again and that’s always nice to hear.

You’re not even going to believe it, but I had a life this weekend again!

That makes 2 weekends in a row and if this keeps up I’m going to have to change my name from Crissy to Crissy Gone Wild and I’ll have to start ripping my shirt off, showing my thong, and making out with my friends at the slightest provocation.

Because that’s what people with exciting lives do.

I think. I have no idea, really.

Any-who, I don’t know if I ever mentioned that I hang around with boys a lot, but I do.

A lot.

All of my lady friends live in prohibitively distant parts of the country (ahem Valerie, ahem Rachel), or they have nursing jobs (Kendra) and work fucked up hours, or they’re just not cool enough to come over and drink tequila do scrapbooking projects with me.

Whatever, but because of all this time spent with boys, I’m becoming a course woman.

I bought myself a scoot.

Not really, but don’t I look like I’ve been riding all my life?

Thought so.

And I’ve taken up skateboarding.

And fighting with boys about whose turn it is to use the skateboard.

Pay particular attention to our crappy looking back step area. It’s about to undergo a magical transformation of deckery and flowerishness that will make you weep because you live inside my computer and not on my new deck.

And then on Saturday, we dropped Girlfriend off with my ma and went to Thayer Street.

I love Thayer Street. I once bought 4 hits of acid and a dime bag a really funky necklace from a Rasta guy right in front of Store 24. Thayer is right near the Brown University and RISD campuses and so you get a very interesting mix of people. Basically it’s where rich kids from Brown and RISD art freaks collide. It’s also where the poor hang out spare changing people, but I usually just spit my gum into their cups and shout “get a job asshole!”

They love that.

On the way there, we saw this:

when you see people dressed this way on a 75 degree day, you know you’re getting close to Thayer. Not seen in the picture are the black vinyl pants she was wearing under the cape. I’m sure she smelled fresh as a daisy after wearing that get up on such a warm day.

Just sayin’.

Here’s Thayer.

Parking anywhere near Thayer is a pain and I was very lucky to find a place where I didn’t have to parallel park because I don’t know how to do that because everywhere I go has valet.

Sasha should be safe here for a bit.

(If you can name the movie where the valet comment came from, consider yourself high fived)

We had an awesome lunch outside at Paragon.

This is not lunch but a gratuitous picture of me at lunch.

Here’s my husband and my husband’s lunch.

I had salad and Diet Coke and he had beef and chicken satay with a Harpoon.

After lunch we went shopping at Zu Zu’s Petals and spent $140 on a simple cotton dress.

Because that’s what you do at Zu Zu’s Petals. You buy things because they are pretty and because they accept Visa.

Why in the name of Jesus are the keys always on the bottom of my purse?

They really need to put lights inside purses. Or they should line them in white so you can see in there.

And then Sunday we packed a picnic lunch and went to the park.

I alternated between marching in place

and just looking bitchy.

Daddy and baby and doggie.

And then we walked over to the ice cream place.

Keep eating ice cream and people at the beach will try to drag you back into the ocean, asshole.

I’m going to quit eating. Full stop.

Tomorrow.

I’m serious.   I think I’m behaving quite nicely but the number on the scale keeps climbing, so I must be doing something very wrong somewhere. So in an attempt to end the food and booze jackassery I’m going to report to you Internets, Bridget Jones style, how many calories I consumed, how many cocktails I had and how much exercise I got on the previous day.  I expect harsh chastisement for naughty behavior.  I know I can count on you.

Anyway, Happy Monday people!

PS: If you’d like to see more pictures of Thayer Street and learn how to make a ghetto see saw using an old splintery board and a propane tank, go visit my husband’s new photo-blog.

-OR- How I Got My Gunt

Okay so yesterday concluded Crissy’s Cat Mid-Week Extravaganza.
Those of you who think it was wrong to get my cat loaded will be pleased to know that he got his revenge on us on Wednesday night when he ate the seedling vegetables that were in my greenhouse window in the kitchen. I came downstairs for my morning yoga torture festival to find dirt and baby basil, baby cucumber, baby squash, baby tomato, and baby Shasta Daisies all over my kitchen floor and counters.

You’d think he would have been grateful for the schwag. But no. Apparently he’d prefer Purple Haze cat nip instead.

Douche.

Anyhow, here’s something else that bores the shit out of me and causes all sorts of problems in my life.

Work.

This is a picture of my desk.

Notice the Vegan cookbook that came in for me yesterday. It’s arrival was the most exciting thing that happened all day. That and the fun Lynne and I had running around doing our hijinks after our director left for lunch.

But I’m getting ahead of myself here because before lunch, this is all the work I had to do.

By lunchtime this is all the work I had done.

As you can plainly see, I am a very dedicated blogger and online shopper worker.

Obviously I had an exhausting morning and needed to take my break.

Here is the message board on the break room fridge.

“Fuck cheese and salami inside my ass.”

Lynne added the swear words to make the Internets laugh. We think we might add swear words every day just to make ourselves laugh and also to piss off and offend people because that’s what we really like.

And with people posting queer shit like this on the fridge, you need a little F-bomb every once in a while. Seriously.

And you know I had to have some of that salami. You how much I love the salami.

But I had to hide my love away because everyone thinks I’m a vegetarian. And I am.

Most of the time.

Here is the break room table. It is my mortal enemy and the reason why I wound up crying in my closet when I tried on last year’s shorts and found a lovely muffin top and camel toe where there had been none previously.

Normally, none of these foods would interest me, but when I’m at work I’m just so damned bored. I go in for water, I come out chowing on some form of bullshit food just to have 20 seconds of pleasure in an otherwise torturously dull day.

Notice how many penis-ish and balls-ish foods we have here. It’s okay to giggle about the honor snacks “munch box.” I do. I mean am I supposed to eat a bag of chips or eat out a co-worker? I’m confused! I don’t know what they want from me!

And who doesn’t love Poppycock?

Nobody. Nobody doesn’t love Poppycock, that’s who.

I think it’s better when eaten in confined spaces such as a random co-worker’s locker,

or snuggled in a shelving unit in the Administrator’s Supply Closet.

And here is my other problem.

It sits behind me on my boss’s desk and talks dirty to me all day.

“Criiiissssyyyy…come and eat me, Crissy. You know you love me, you know you want me, come and take me and tear my wrapper off and lick me! Lick! Me!”

So sometimes people find me doing a jar of chocolates under my desk.

I also like pretzels and twizzlers.

I think I might save this picture until most of the 5lb tub of Twizzlers is gone and then I’ll post it on the fridge.

Ha, ha! Your Twizzler was in the Men’s room! Ha, ha!

Did I mention I use the Men’s room instead of the Ladies?

I do because there are only 2 men who work with us and about 40 women.

Whatever those “ladies” are doing in the staff bathroom?

I want no part in it. But that’s a post for another day.

Anyway, I’m glad it’s Friday and I’m sure you are too.

Happy Weekend Internets!

Wow.

What a busy weekend we had.

Crissy actually had a life!

On Friday we had a birthday party for my husband. He’s 34 now and that changes his official title from “husband” to “old husband.”

Until I turn 34 in June and then we just drop the whole “old” bit.

My daughter, myself.

We both stuffed as much chocolate cake as we could into our mouths because it was so yummy. After that we both got drunk and actually wound up stripping off all our clothes and rolling around in it under the table.

Not really.

Help! Help! I’m being oppressed!

Later that night I was the victim of a brutal attack when Bren didn’t want his picture taken.

On Saturday the sun finally came out and we all went outside to nurse our hangovers do some work in the yard.

Alice had a good fur day and she was feeling fine with her new scarf on.

And Girlfriend is so accustomed to wearing a hat and mittens when she goes outside that she insisted on wearing them even though it was 70 degrees out.

Here she is in her sandbox making “marshmallow soup with pine needles, brick, and muds.” Mmmmmmm…sounds de-lish Girlfriend!

And then I got all Martha Stewart-y and dug a new flower bed where I planted zinnias, cosmos, sugar snap peas, hyacinth, sunflowers, and some purple flower I forgot the name of.

But then my grandfather said it’s way to early to plant my flower seeds and they will probably not come up.

Oh.

And then I pounded bricks into the ground to make a border.

Look at me acting all butch, banging stuff with that orange hammer thingy.

But the entire time all I could think about was how I could glam it up because garden clothes are just icky.

Girlfriend finally ditched the hat which is good because it’s one less piece of clothing I’m going to have to throw away.

I don’t think any kid has ever been dirtier, like, ever.

While pushing her little wheelbarrow she could be heard singing “hel-ping, hel-ping, hel-ping!”

Awwww. Best friends.

And then two seconds later Girlfriend smashed poor Alice in the head with a plastic shovel and had to go inside to the naughty step.

And on Sunday I woke up singing the theme song from Green Acres, so I decided to glam it up a bit like only I can. I poured myself a little mar-tooni and went back to work on my bulb project.

Darling I love you, but give me Park Avenue!

What did you do this weekend?