So Aaaaaannnyway,

we made some wonderful cookies for Alena’s birthday on Tuesday. We brought some over to her on a Hello Kitty plate that Girlfriend decorated with stickers and they were a big hit. I saved about 10 for Mister because he always whines like a big baby if I bake for someone else and he doesn’t get any. He’s really a pain in the ass that way and they’re all gone now because he had himself a little stoner festival and ate them and shit all over their self-righteous, high horsey, veganness by putting whipped cream on them.

It’s like he didn’t care that they were vegan at. all!

So here’s the video and you should get this cookbook too because it’s realistic and doesn’t call for a lot of weird, dirty hippy ingredients that make the Whole Foods people moist in their crotchal areas. It’s almost like it’s for non-vegans and stuff.

And if you want the recipe, let me know and I’ll email it to you. I’d post it but I’m too lazy to type it out here and I’m banking on the fact that no one cares.

Except for cute little Leah who’s preggers . The baby likes cookies. Don’t worry Leah. My baby liked cookies too.

Cookies and VODKA!

No.

I’m only kidding.

It was TEQUILA.

See? NOW you can call Child Protective Services.

Troll.

Good Morning Internet!

Thank you so much for all your birthday wishes and e-cards and mail mail cards and everything yesterday.

I’m pretty tired this morning from snorting coke off hooker’s thighs opening presents so I’ll fill you in on all the super sexy details later and leave you with this video.

It’s a secret family recipe so don’t go fucking telling everyone.

OH! I almost forgot!

I’m over at Chris’s today talking about some crap that happened recently at The Stop & Shop so come see me.

It’s still my birthday so you have to do what I say.

Do it.

DO IT.

We had the worst night on Monday.

When I got home from work, Mister was very angry because Alice had gone through the kitchen trash again even though we keep it in a cabinet and even though I give her a tummy yummy to keep her busy when we’re not home.

And then he went upstairs to find that she had also carpet bombed Girlfriend’s room, which never happens.

NEVER.

I’m serious. This dog is a saint.

And she was obviously fucked up on something because she was panting and shaking and looking at her bum like it was some sort of entity she didn’t recognize because that’s what she does when she has The Farting.

So we figured she must have eaten the empty bag of cocaine coffee filter from the trash and that she has a cocaine Starbucks buzz like you read about. But we weren’t too concerned because we thought it would wear off and she’d be fine.

But no.

Around midnight, Alice was very much not. fine. and was sitting on my head and panting with her whole body so I got out of bed to seek advice from the Internet to weigh her chances of surviving the night sans medical attention as opposed to putting on a bra and driving 45 minutes to pay out the ass at the 24 hour doggie emergency room when she hurled and had explosive swamp ass simultaneously on my foot (!) and all over the only room in the house that still has wall to wall carpeting.

Why do dogs always pick the carpeting?

It was so violent that it scared her so she ran around the room spraying evil from both ends.

It was a lovely experience really and exactly what I wanted to be doing at midnight.

So I snapped on my rubber gloves and cleaned up the mess with some bleach and paper towels and oh my it was a smell that dare not speak it’s name.

And you know I wasn’t going to let Mister sleep without being informed of current events in the computer room.

So I woke him up and he brought Alice outside while I cleaned and then joined them outside to wait out the storm. She seemed a little better after running around the yard and doing her thang so we all went back to bed and fell asleep.

And then our drunken friend called to tell us George Carlin died.

Yes, thank you but he’ll still be dead tomorrow so…yeah you’re a douche.

So we went back to sleep for maybe an hour when Girlfriend falls out of her bed and screams her head off demanding Tinker bell band aids and medicine for the pain which were totally unnecessary because she landed on her feet when she “fell” about a foot and a half to the floor.

Yeah.

We’re nothing without high drama around here.

That’s just how we roll.

And then she demanded to sleep in our bed and knee and elbow us all night.

And then we were out of coffee in the morning.

I was so groggy in the shower that when I went to put shampoo in my hair I missed and put it in my left eye instead. As if that wasn’t irritation enough, when I was soaping up my bath poofy I splashed body wash into the same damned eye so I walked around all day with a stingy red crack whore eye.

It’s a look I sport quite often actually.

Once out of the shower I noticed that the house still smelled of last night’s doggie pukeapalooza and upon investigation discovered more issues under my nightstand. And under my bed. And in my closet.

Having finally cleaned up what I thought was the last of the shit or barf or whateverthefuck it was I head downstairs to make breakfast and I find what?

More shitbarf.

On the couch.

Freaking. Sweet.

So I cleaned that up too and headed off to bring Girlfriend to her 3 year doctor’s checkup. She did great and didn’t tell the doctor to fuck off even once and I even overheard the doctor say to her nurse “kids like her are the reason I went into this field. She just made my day. She’s just adorable.”

I’ve never been more proud.

And then we left with our prescription for a lead screening blood test but apparently our stop off at the potty was enough to make me forget that the blood lab is downstairs and upon exiting the potty I marched us right back up to the window at the pediatrician’s office and presented them with the slip for the blood lab.

The receptionist was very polite and didn’t really judge me much and directed me downstairs.

“Oh, right. I knew that. How stupid of me…”

Jesus Kristen!

So we got through the blood lab and Girlfriend received 2 stickers and a giraffe band aid for being so brave and I got nothing even though I cried twice and almost passed out.

Once I got out to the car I realized I didn’t have my sunglasses.

So I went back to the pediatrician’s office with my crack eye still stinging like a motherfucker to see if anyone had turned them in.

The receptionist who clearly has prior experience working with the retarded, the infirmed, and the drug addicted just looked at me, patted her head, and said “do they look like the ones on your head?”

Oh.

So we made a couple of quick stops and came home with a special treat for lunch for both Girlfriend and for mommy for being brave at the blood lab and found out that the entire house smells like a diarrhea swimming pool.

It’s funny how you don’t notice a stench until you’ve been away from it for a while.

It’s also funny how when you’re totally focused on your child you don’t notice that your eye is fucked up.

Upon investigation in the mirror I noticed that my still stingy crack eye had apparently leaked yucky goo that I must have wiped across my face inadvertently and it had dried on in a lovely cumshotesque pattern down my cheek.

I’ll be expecting that call from both the ASPCA and Child Services any moment now…

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.