Sorry.  I’m not dead.  I’m…I don’t know what I am, actually, but I’m at least alive enough to tell you about an awesomesauce contest I’m having!

Because of this picture:

the people over at have sent me 5 DIY VAJAZZLING KITS!!!! to give away to you fine people!  I am sorry, however, to report that none of them say “JUICY” on them.  But there are star bursts and butterflies and some sort of supernova thing and WHO DOESN’T WANT A SUPERNOVA on her twidget?

Nobody doesn’t want a supernova on her twidget, that’s who. It’s just like, whoa. Impressive.

Also, I don’t understand why these things are just for girls, so I’m opening this contest up to the fellas, because fuck it.  We need all the participants we can get, amiright?

Vajazzling: not just for pussies anymore.  It’s for dicks now too. You heard it here first.

So, what you have to do to win one of these fine DIY Vajazzling kits is write a wonderful Haiku about Vajazzling. It can be funny, or touching, or sweet, or emo or whatever. I don’t care. I just have to think it’s deserving of recognition. Just remember that I’m educated in the ways of the poem, so no pressure but I know what I’m looking at. I guess the boys can write about Manjazzling because it doesn’t make sense for them to write about Vajazzling when they’re really going to Manjazzle, right? Unless they’re trying to win the kit for a lady friend. Then they can write about Vajazzling and it’s okay.

Are you still with me?

So do yourself a solid and sit down with your pencil and your paper and write me a Vajazzling/Manjazzling Haiku and hopefully, by this time next week, your crotch will be a hell of a lot sparklier because right now, if we’re all being honest here, it’s not that pretty.

You have one week. Winners announced next Wednesday! And don’t worry. You have almost zero competition because the Internet has all but dried up and died.

Or a limerick!
I just decided you can do that too.
Haiku or Limerick, or both if you want.
You choose.


PS: It’s a Toy with Me day! Sex Toy Parties–Lessons in Humiliation

*this post is like, 15 posts in one, so if you want to read it in pieces that would be perfectly fine*

So we did it Queefies.

The great big gigantic patio/deck project is all done.  Mister is pretty much a super hero and as usual, he built the whole thing with his dick. He’s got a few small abrasions on it, but that’s just because patio bricks are kind of rough. I mean seriously, he’s not THAT strong. Let’s not be nuts here.

I helped, of course.  I hauled wheelbarrows full of gravel and sand and brick.  I’m so proud of myself though you guys because I must have moved a ton or more of gravel and about a ton of brick and like, an assload (that’s a standard measurement, right?  Assload?) of sand and I didn’t get tired and I’m not sore and I didn’t even cry.  I thank my girl Jillian for all of that ass kicking. Also, it’s because I’m fucking awesome.

And then after that whole project was done, I planted a mimosa, an oak, a dogwood, and two hydrangeas.  And then the Richard and Micheles came over and I got totally absolutely undeniably hammered from just two glasses of wine, but that didn’t stop me from having more wine and then after that some tequila and then I felt horrible mommy guilt for putting Homeslice to bed in a dirty dress with sand in her diaper, but it turned out okay because she woke up and I got her into some proper pjs and wiped her down with a washcloth.  So I didn’t have to wake up at 3am and beat myself up over it. Instead, I woke up at 3 am and felt guilty for worrying about it so much and for burdening everyone with my mommy neurosis.

I fucking rule.

Anyhoodles, that was our weekend.  We worked like dogs.

OMG!!! I didn’t tell you guys!
The dog officer came and took Maudette’s puppy away!

The dog officer came and took Maudette’s puppy away!

I was standing there washing dishes and watching the little fuckface dig holes in my new mulch, when the van pulled up. And I was all “take the dog! take the dog!” and the dog officer got out and lured him over to her. She saw me in the window and asked who he belonged to, and when I motioned in Earl and Maudette’s direction, she nodded and said “this little guy is coming with me” and it was just like one of those moments when Mr. Wilson catches Dennis doing something naughty and he’s thrilled to pieces. And then I was all “TEQUILA ATTACKED ALICE!” and then I ran into the house because I didn’t want to get caught talking to the dog officer because remember I’m scared of Earl and Maudette and Tequila and the puppy.

They got him back, and I nearly ran over the puppy who was running around in the middle of the street on my way home from work last night, so clearly they’re not afeared of the dog officer and/or are slow learners and/or they don’t give a shit.

She wears too much mascara, the dog officer does.

So the yard is ready for the Birthday Extravaganza on Saturday.  It’s already way out of  hand.  There’s a lot of people coming.  Like, a lot.  So you can probably come too.  I won’t notice because there will be so fucking many people.

Here’s a picture of me getting bombalooed on my new patio:


And today is Girlfriend’s birthday!!!!

She’s 5! 


Guess what, Queefies?

I know you don’t like to hear this, but it’s almost bathing suit season.

I’m wicked sorry.


Remember last year when I searched and searched for a swimsuit that would cover my bodacious postpartum assical area?

And  remember how I cried in the dressing room at Marshall’s and Mister had to come in there and get me and take me home and feed me ice cream until the hurting in my heart went away?


Did I not tell you about that?

And do you remember how much trouble I had trying to find jeans this winter after the whole Gap can suck it with their size 16/00 debacle? Don’t even get me started on the POOF! shoes again.

Well, bathing suits are a whole new level of wrong and what the fucking fuck?

It’s the same battle I have with clothing.  Everything is either made for teenage girls, or 75 year old women.  There’s no in between.  I’m totally opening a store called Forever 35 and I’m designing shit for all of us in that no-woman’s-land between high school and retirement home.

Anyway, I spent about 3 hours trying to find something from Victoria’s Secret and if you’ve ever ordered a swimsuit from them before then you know that A) if you don’t buy something in March to wear in June you’re shit out of luck because the thing you want will be on back order until October. B) They have one billionty styles, but somehow not one single thing that will look pretty on your particular particulars.  I don’t know how they manage it. But, I took the risk and ordered three suits which all turned out to be total losers, and I had to take it in the pooper for the return shipping.  Basically, I spent $20 to have my self-esteem assaulted. What a deal!

My beloved Target has lots to choose from as long as you want a triangle top string bikini with mis-matched top and bottoms because there’s no way in Hades you’re going to find a matching top and bottom in your size.  There are an awful lot of woefully disproportionate people out there, Queefies.  I don’t want a string bikini anyway.  I’m almost 36 and although I don’t have stretch marks and I’m in pretty decent shape thanks to my sweaty lesbian friend, Jillian, I don’t feel comfortable in a string bikini.  But, I don’t want to totally pack it in and get a swim burqa either

Actually, I think they’re called “burkinis.”

You know it’s bad when even the model can’t rock it.

And so the Internet search began and you know what, Queefies?

Thanks to a head’s up from Melissa Lion, I found something!

There IS a place where a girl can find something not too stringy, but not too burqua-ish and it is called Popina Swimwear.

I wanted something like that little blue number I had last year that reminded me of  vintage swimwear, like a pin-up girl type thing, and they totally have a ton of stuff just like that! They have a bunch of cute tankinis which I looked at and loved.  They also have  Jantzen Swimwear ,and they make a ton of cute stuff, too.  I came very close to getting this:

Because meow, my friends.

It’s freaking adorable.  I might actually turn around and order it because the more I look at it, the more I kind of want it like a lot and a lot.

But instead of a vintage one piece swimsuit, I decided on this two-piece one for now:

Do you know how hard it is to find a bra top bikini top?  It’s damn near impossible because everything is a triangle or a halter style.  Neither of those look good on me at all.  I need the straps to break up my broad shoulders and also I need them to lift the girls because I’m sorry to tell you Queefies that the glory and the splendor of last year’s nursing boobies have all but disappeared now.  Oh, how the mighty have fallen.  Literally.

I think we should take a moment of silence….

(                                                                                                       )

And I picked out these bottoms to go with it because my hipster underpanties are flattering on me and so I figured these would be good.

So yeah.  It looks all kinds of awesome, and I get to feel like I’m better than everyone on the beach because my swimsuit came from a small, woman-owned business AND it didn’t cost me eleventy billion dollars either.

Suck it, Victoria’s Secret! I’m rockin’ the hotness this year.

OMG… Popina just sent me an email because of this post and are offering an extra 10% discount just for you Queefs!  Just use discount code “pamster” to get the deal.