So I came upstairs from doing yoga yesterday and Mister said to me “I have a stalker.  He wants to kill me.” And I was all “WHAT?…lucky.

And then he told me the story of how he commented on some nice lady’s blog where she had written that her husband was pissed at her for writing about him and so forbid her from writing anything about him ever again, good or bad, and Mister said:

“If you can’t write about your husband, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say he’s got some insecurity issues he should be dealing with.  Hell, I provide a good portion of my wife’s blog fodder. In return, she poses for pictures which end up as flickr fodder. We have a system.”


That was about a month ago, and Mister forgot all about it until he got an email yesterday morning that said this:

“If your gonna post to my wife about me watch what you say. I come from a fighter history and love to play with my fists. So fuck off and follow someone else. People don’t get that on the other end of a computer a person exist. If this was said in my presence it would get bad. Have you heard the song Walk from Pantera? Thats how i prepared for my cage fights and pre football games. If i hear from you again there will be a problem and i will take the next step bitch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”


The next step being what?  Flying out here so he can play with his fists on Mister’s face? That makes sense. That’s what anybody would do in this situation. Absolutely.

The Internet is very serious business, you know.

And poor Mister was confused and he wasted like, five whole minutes backtracking to figure out what the guy was even talking about.

I’m so jealous!!

This whole thing makes me sad because of all the shit I say and how much I could potentially piss somebody off–Escalade Pajama Cunts, stupid people, circus clowns, republicans, assholes, Jesus freaks, Doocebags, people who suck, sweaty lesbian fitness gurus (I say that with all the love in my heart, Jillian), woodchucks, etc. NOBODY HAS EVER THREATENED TO KICK MY ASS BEFORE!

Sure.  I’ve got hecklers, but all they ever do is come over here and they’re all “meh-meh-meh.  youR abitchhh!!1!!!! meh-meh-meh. You’re blog isnt’ even worth trashing.” ( It has come to my attention that that might actually be true). I mean come! On! Internet!  You can do better than that.  I know you can!

Quite frankly, I’m hurt. All Mister has to do to get awesome death threats is make some random comment on some lady’s blog and all hell breaks loose (eventually…later on.).  And what’s worse is this is the guy’s facebook picture (edit: it is no longer the actual facebook picture):



All I can say is that if Wolverine decides to catch a plane and brave Holiday Travel Season to come and show Mister his Super Cool Villan Claws I have to warn him.

I don’t care a fig about “cage fighting” or “pre football” and Mister doesn’t only know that song, he can play it on the guitar.

With his dick.



You may have heard about it, but probably not.  It’s too hard for “cage fighters.”  See those gloves I’m wearing?  They have weights in them for extra POWER.


American Gladiators

You don’t want me to play with my giant padded stick thingy on you.

No sir.

So, come on you guys.  Don’t any of you want to kick my ass?

Maybe just a little bit?



Crissy was telling you about her weekend and then POOF!

David interrupted her before she could show the Queefies a picture of her new hair!

Behold!  The beauty and the glory of the Queen’s highlights!


And it had been since EASTER since she got her hair did and her Shannon had a tear in her eye and said she thought Crissy had left her and her exact words were more like “bitch, where the fuck you been?” and you can see why Crissy and Shannon get along like vodka and cranberry and Crissy promised she would never leave her and then she kissed her long and deep and touched her boobs and her fanny a little bit and that made her feel much better and then they moved on and Shannon created Crissy’s hair because Crissy sometimes forgets things these days like her phone number and that she’s driving and she just recently had a bonding moment with her Papa over such things that happen to the brain addled except he’s 93 and Crissy is only 30 hummhummmnana and so it must be the sleep deprivation that’s making her a retard and so far be it for Crissy to know what to do with her hair!

Because shit, you guys.

Crissy goes around channeling Amy Winehouse (is that how she spells her name?  Crissy is too lazy to go and check) some days and it’s just not pretty or cute so thank goodness for The Shannon and you know what Crissy really wants you guys?



Shannon does them and  Crissy has always wanted Mermaid Hair but it would cost $1,000 for Shannon to do the Mermaid Hair on Crissy and that’s her “I’m giving you a huge break because I’ve been doing your hair for eleventy million years” price and so Crissy is just going to have to put that Mermaid Hair on her Dream On Crissy list with the BMW and the Maidlaundressnannywhore.

Somebody should photoshop Daryl out of Crissy’s hair so the Queefs can see how pretty she’d look.  You know, if it’s even possible for Crissy to be any prettier.

Also, Crissy’s new favorite words are bum and fanny.

Oh Queefies.

Tomorrow is Crissy’s 35th birthday and she’s all in a kerfuffle over it and it’s not that she’s going to BE IN HER MID THIRTIES HOLY SHIT that is bothering her.

She’s got a case of Birthday Anxiety because if something shitty is going to happen, it’s going to happen on Crissy’s birthday because it’s usually the day when people closest to Crissy decide to act like total assholes and treat Crissy like trash.

And so every year, Crissy’s birthday rolls around and Crissy becomes more and more anxious as the day approaches until she’s a total mess on the actual day because she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop or the cake to explode in her face or something and she tells herself that everyone is acting weird around her because they’re planning a big, wonderful surprise for her but it never happens and it turns out the people are just assholes being their assholian selves.

It’s also Dead Grandma Helen’s birthday and it makes Crissy sad that she’s not alive anymore because Crissy’s family always had a party for Crissy and Grandma Helen and now they don’t.  Note to the Queefies: Don’t be born on the same day as somebody who might die before you.

Does Crissy sound depressed to you?

Crissy thinks so.

Maybe it’s the THREE WEEKS STRAIGHT OF RAIN AND 65 DEGREE TEMPS that has Crissy all bummed out.

But don’t worry about Crissy.  There are fun plans for tomorrow night and  Crissy is looking forward to having dinner with Rich and Michele and hopefully Mister will be able to make it because of course he has to work late and maybe he won’t be there.

But it will be fun no matter what because Crissy plans to drown in copious amounts of alcohol and maybe be Party Asshole which will make Rich and Michele laugh and that will make Crissy laugh too.

Also, Crissy’s step-mom said she’d buy her this for her birthday:

Crissy got a microwave last year and a fridge this year and if this keeps up, she’ll have a whole new kitchen by the time she’s 40!


And Crissy’s mom and her mother-in-law are paying for her two pairs of glasses so that’s really nice too.

As for Mister, Crissy does not think she’s getting a present because the trip to the vet with Alice pretty much ate up all the money he had budgeted for a present and so for her birthday Mister gave Crissy the gift of not having to clean up bloody diarrhea.


But you know what?  That is a pretty sweet gift when Crissy thinks of it because it keeps on giving every time Alice goes potty outside and not on the antique grandmother dining room rug.

But if he could, Crissy would tell Mister to buy this stuff Mister would bestow the following gifts upon Crissy:

A shopping trip here and here.

And Crissy still wants that bike from last year.

And she needs to get her hair did because seriously?

Crissy is not really blond and it is becoming rather apparent that Crissy’s real hair color is more like that of a field mouse without all the glitz and glamor of actually being fieldmousian.

Shhhhhhhh! Tell nobody.

And of course on the list every damn time and nobody has gotten it for her yet is this:

Seriously people.  They’re not getting any cheaper.

Crissy would totally keep going with this because her list of needs and wants is pretty much endless as befitting the Queen of Fucking Everything but Homeslice is crying and it means only one thing.

Crissy has to go.

Yesterday Crissy was sitting at her desk when she came to this book that needed cataloging.

It’s a book about contacting your Spirit Guide or guardian angel or whatever you want to call them so they can be a bigger part of your life or something like that.

And at first Crissy loves the idea of having a Spirit Guide because as you know Crissy is plagued by fears of clowns, escalators, garbage disposals, being in open spaces, being in closed spaces, and things that spin too fast and it brings her comfort to think that perhaps she’s not walking through the dangers of everyday existence all alone.

Crissy also thinks that her Spirit Guide must be pretty badass because she lives a pretty awesome life and is lucky in so many ways that other people are not, and she has gotten away with a considerable amount of jackassery like driving a car after too many vodka sodas or flirting with strange boys without so much as a single incident.

Of course there have been those two or three stalkers, but nothing really very bad ever happened to Crissy so that’s pretty impressive there Spirit Guide!


Crissy is glad you’re a badass.

But then when Crissy thinks about it, she’s not so crazy about the Spirit Guide idea at all in much the same way that she is at once comforted and horrified by the idea that her Grandma Helen is watching over her.

Tell Crissy something Queefs.

Where do Grandma Helen and Crissy’s Spirit Guide go when she’s being a very, very, naughty, bad, bad girl and sneaking downstairs and eating ice cream over a 100 calorie pack of chocolate cupcakes at 2 am?


OR WHAT ABOUT when taking it in the Cheney during Sexy Time with Mister?

Does Grandma Helen pull up a chair and WATCH?

And this is what Crissy was thinking about at midnight last night and she woke Mister up to ask him what he thinks of that idea and he thinks his Spirit Guide not only watches, but actually guides him

“Get your butt up a little higher there Mister…that’s right! Oh! Not that high it’s going to come out...Awwwww! I told you that was too high! How long do you think it is, buddy?” and then Mister’s Spirit Guide just looks at Grandma Helen all incredulous like and says “why do I even bother, Helen?  He never listens!”

And if these Spirit Guides are real, what about all the little children who are sick or abused or neglected or stolen from their mommies and daddies? Their Spirit Guides clearly have their heads up their asses if you ask Crissy.

What about the people who get very sick or get into terrible accidents? Again, Spirit Guide, being an asshole.

And does Alice have a Spirit Guide?


So many questions, Queefs.

And Crissy dare not make fun of the Spirit Guide because what if he/she reads Crissy’s blog?


Crissy just freaked her own freak with that one…

Maybe Crissy should just read Sylvia’s book because if Mister is ever going to see the Cheney again, she needs an answer.

The Bush is bad enough, but the Cheney?

Grandma Helen would not approve.

You know what makes Crissy so mad you guys?

People who walk right through a door you’ve held for them and don’t bother to acknowledge you and say “thank you ” thereby forcing you to shout “YOU’RE WELCOME YOUR HIGHNESS ” at them?

People who use the last shred of toilet paper and don’t bother to replace it?

Forever 21’s bullshit return policy?

Yes, but that’s not all.

What makes Crissy really, really mad are old people who drive.

They suck.


And Crissy isn’t saying that old people shouldn’t be allowed to drive. Her Papa is 93 and he drives like the wind and Crissy thinks that’s just dandy. He’d be devastated if he couldn’t drive anymore and Crissy understands and sympathizes with that, she really does. She also understands what a bummer it would be for both herself and Papa if she had to drive him around to do his groceries and go to the foot doctor and stuff.

And that is why Crissy is going to call Obama with her new idea since he’s trying to do all this work on the infrastructure and everything and Crissy thinks that while all the constructing is happening they should build a separate lane for the old people to drive in so that normal people, people who drive at the perfect speed and always use their directionals, don’t have to share a road with the cotton heads.

Crissy shouldn’t have to be forced to endure Grandpa in his Buick/Mercury/Cadillac with all the POW and USA and WWII and Proud to be an American Veteran trucker caps proudly displayed on the back deck right there next to the spare tissues so that he cannot tell if there is anyone behind him as he drives along at 15 miles per hour for miles and miles forcing Crissy to cross the double yellows and shout “KICK IT IN THE PANTS GRANDPA!!! THE HORSELESS CARRIAGES GO FAST!!! and risk a ticket because seriously? Crissy is too busy and important for this jackassery.

And Crissy thinks this lane should also be reserved for drunks, teenagers, moms in SUVs and Minivans who must be driving while breastfeeding or organizing their Target lists or something, assholes on the phone, and perhaps the worst drivers out there, the uninsured poor and the Dirty Foreign People who cannot read English street signs and so Mister has to shout things out of the windows at them like “andale senor!” and other sorts of foreign language things like that.

Some of you may think Crissy is kidding but you will thank her when you’re just driving along without aggravation. Unless you’re an Asshole on the phone and then you’ll be stuck behind Grandpa and then you’ll finally know how it feels to be Crissy and that will be sweet.