Archive for the 'I Touch Myself' Category

So the other night, Mister calls me at work to run a few porn titles by me because porn titles always make me laugh, even when I’m at work and feeling like death, it warms the cockles of my heart like nothing else can.

And then he came across midget porn. I don’t know why I was so surprised by it. Midgets are people too, right? They get their little freaks on just like everybody else, I imagine, but the very idea of it was funny until he came to the next one–Midget Zombie Porn.

And so of course I HAD TO see it because who wouldn’t want to see Midget Zombie Porn?  Nobody wouldn’t want to see it, that’s who.

He also downloaded the plain old midget porn too, just for shits and giggles, and all of it was awesome in it’s bizarre glory. It had these two escaped prisoner boy midgets dressed in prison uniforms and handcuffs who supposedly broke into a house to hide from the police.  In that house lived a hot Latina woman who was a lettuce farmer.

Right? But wait, it gets better.

There was some sort of silly banter and the prisoner midgets said they haven’t touched a woman in 10 years and so the lettuce farmer starts stripping her clothes off and the midgets (who appear to have normal size dicks, btw) double team her on a bed covered in heads of lettuce. And the farmer was rubbing the lettuce all over her boobs and everyone had smooshed green lettuce streaks all over them.

It was hilarious, but also a little bit gross because of my food and sex issues, and I will never look at a head of iceberg quite the same way again.

But as if that wasn’t bizarre enough, the Midget Zombie Porn was even better.  It starts off with a confused slut ( I dare you find porn that doesn’t have any confused sluts in it.  The gauntlet has been thrown down.  Go forth and seek it, my friends), wandering around what looked like fairgrounds or some sort of antique car show or used car lot or something and she was all alone and stumbly when out of nowhere, a midget zombie starts following her. 

OH NO!!!

Run confused slut! RUUUNNNNN lest you be accosted by a tiny zombie in a size 2T sweatsuit and halloween makeup!

And she runs into some messy office-type building, screaming and kicking at the little zombie dude until he pins her to the couch and what do we have here?

Suddenly she goes from sucky actress to blow job maven and then there was anal and she was all “fuck me with your mini-dick” and it was just about the most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen. 

So yes.  Midget Zombie Porn.

Highly recommend it.

I want you guys to tell me about the weirdest porn you’ve ever seen because I’m totally turning this into a TWM post and wouldn’t you like to see your weird porn stories published over there? I would.

Also, I must have more weird porn in my life!

This post is full of announcements, just fyi.

First:

Check this out, y’all! My bestickered crotch is featured on vajazzling.com!

Me and Jennifer Love Hewett are bffs now, so I win!

Suck on that, bitches.

Also, Homeslice is crawling now.

I couldn’t wait until she could crawl, but now I sort of want her to cut it out.  It’s like, “You GO little ninja!” and then it’s like “GIT BACK IN YER CAGE OR I’LL GIT THE HOSE!”

A couple of days ago, I was loading the dishwasher and when I turned around, she had a mouth full of dog food.  At least it was Iambs, right?  Because I’d never feed my baby any of that Purina shit.  Only premium dog food for my kid!

And she ate a ladybug off the bathroom floor while I watched in soapy horror from behind the shower doors.  I froze up and did the whole slow motion nnnnnnnooooooooooooo!!!!! thing but it was too late.

So now HER karma is fucked, too.

Basically, everyone in our house is totally in trouble with Buddha now.  Except Mister.  He’s managed to somehow keep his karma clean.

I’m making him drive us everywhere and carry us all down the stairs until Buddha is done ass raping me.

Let’s see…what else do I want to tell you guys?

I think I might have The PMS so I win again!

Now I get to try that Diva Cup thing!  I’m pumped!  Are you pumped? Because I am or whatever.

I actually went to a Gap that was still withing a 20 minute radius of my house, I mapquested it, it was 19 minutes drive so I was good with it, and when I got there, I grabbed a saleslady and asked her to explain the sizing chart.  And

surprise, surprise, she couldn’t make sense of it! So then she helped me carry all the pants to the dressing room because a person with a malformed and disproportionate body like mine cannot carry so many pants, and  just as I suspected, it turns out that I am not a size 16/00.

Ah-HA!

I win!

Oh, and I forgot to tell you guys about how my sugar thing went.  When I said I was going off sugar, I meant refined sugar, like the shit you find in cookies and candy and crap and well?

It worked.  I’m off the sugar, but now I just drink more. I win again!

And for the most exciting news of all, I won this purse on eBay:

Ain’t she pretty?

The winning of this purse may just be the first sign that Buddha is all set now.  Here’s hoping.  I haven’t killed a ladybug in a while.  I even lovingly scoop them out of the sink when I brush my teeth so as not to spit on them.

Annnndddd I think I’m done here, but today is a Toy With Me day, so YOU WIN!

HA!

My Friend’s Husband is a Dildo Nazi

I originally wrote this post for Toy With Me, but somebody else submitted one on the same topic only two hours before me, so I had to eat it.  Both Dingo and Michele sent me links to this and it’s total suckage because I’m wicked sick, and I struggled through writing it and even got my mom to babysit so I could do it, and then I had to start all over again with something else.

The ladybug karma is still fucking with me, obviously.

I SAID SORRY, OKAY BUDDHA?

I mean, JEE-ZUS!  Buddha does not fool around with that karma business.

Anyway, have you guys heard of  Vajazzling yet?  It’s the new, sexy way to get your bling on.

It’s bedazzling for your pieche!

Yup.

What they do is they wax your pubical area, and then they glue tiny Swarovski crystals (because only the best will do) to it.

Jennifer Love Hewett had it done and now everyone and their pussy is doing it too.

And now I want it, obviously.

1) because I’ve always loved TheGhost Whiperer and if it’s good enough for her crotchals, it’s good enough for mine.

B) I’ve kind of always felt like my twidget was, well, sort of plain.  I mean I shave it and everything to keep it neat and tidy, but really? It doesn’t make a statement.

It just sort of sits there like…a vagina.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking a lot about what sort of pattern I might want and I thought of maybe getting racing stripes or something, but then I decided that some kind of message would be better, like… PINK or JUICY.  Wouldn’t that be cute?  Or maybe  just a sparkly WELCOME sign.

This seems to me like the Best Idea Ever because as you know, I have a hard time finding jeans that fit me just right.  They’re always too long or too short or too size 16/00, but if I get Vajazzled, I’ll never need to wear pants again!  I’m already fancy just the way I am!  And I’m totally ready to hit the dance floor as my own disco ball!  Woot! Woot! (that was the disco call, in case you didn’t know)

Imagine the looks on the Escalade Pajama Cunt’s faces when I drop Girlfriend off at school with my JUICY disco crotch?  I dare say, it will make their JUICY sweatpanted asses look just silly.

Who’s the fashionista now, ladies?

That’s right.  It’s ME!

But it’s wicked expensive you guys and I’m trying to save up for that Volvo because as it turns out, blow jobs do not make the world go round and you actually have to PAY for things with MONIES.

I had no idea.

So I got to thinking that maybe I can save myself the $50 and do my own using Girlfriend’s stick on earrings.

And it totally works!

Yay for DIY Vajazzling projects!

Turns out Mister isn’t the only Macguyver up in Crissy’s hizzy.

I ‘m totally going to suggest we do this for the next girl’s night.  Fuck getting pedicures and all that other stupid shit.  We’re getting Vajazzled, baby!  I’ll bring the stickers!

All three of my friends are going to LOVE this.  It’s exactly like Nerds Gone Wild when a Pediatrician, a Rabbi-in-training, a Librarian/Historian, and a Mommy Blogger go out to get their (one per person) drink on.  Last time, we shared a piece of chocolate cake and like, our forks touched places on the cake where other people’s forks had touched it.

It was too hot for TV that’s for sure.

We practically had a lezzie gang bang.  Just sayin.

So yes.

DIY Vajazzling.

Why pay $50 bucks to have a stranger touch your pubicals, when I can do it with stickers I got at Christmas Tree Shops for $1?

Homeslice and I went to our first visit to Monica the Ninjerapist last Friday, and I felt a little disheartened afterwards because I was expecting her to tell me I was doing everything right, and that all I need is a little talk therapy and then I’d be right as rain just as soon as I finished my cookie and found Morpheus.

But nay, nay, my good people. Not so much. Turns out, I have a little of the PPD and a little of the SADS and if you them dump together and shake em’ around, it makes a lovely bag of mixed NUTS.

Freakin’ Sweet! High five!

I should be happy that she didn’t think I was sick enough to suggest a lobotomy or an antidepressant or something because I’m decidedly anti-medication and anti-lobotomy. The three things she suggested I work on, however, pissed me off a little bit.

Check it:

1) I’m supposed to quit drinking any and all wine/akahol full stop. Did you hear that? Let me say it again. She said to QUIT DRINKING! Apparently one 750ml bottle PER WEEK is too much. And believe me, I tried to negotiate with her, I really did:

But she’s a ninja. They don’t negotiate.

f) Stop! eating! chocolates! Have I told you guys that I absolutely loathe working at night?  Well, I do.  I hate it.  I crash around 1:00pm, I stumble and slur my words, and then I go to work for 7 hours.  It’s awesome.  What’s more awesome is that I haven’t been fired for showing up to work drunk because when I land there after taking care of the little children all day, I’m a hot. mess.  Here’s a picture of me at my desk which was taken by Mister this very Tuesday past:

As you can see, I’m looking all kinds of motherfuckin’ enthusiastic right there.  And my boss keeps a big, big super fat ass jar of chocolates on her desk and every time I feel like cutting myself, I eat one. Needless to say, I wind up eating a crapload of fucking candy. Monica says that instead, I’m supposed to do yoga and drink herbal tea.

What kind of fucking bitchery is this? I’d rather cut myself!
Yoga at my desk? Shenanigans!
Herbal Tea? Pssshaw!
What an assbag.

(I just made that up. It’s a delightful combination of Jackass and Douchebag. Assbag. You can use it.)

10) She says I have to break off my lesbian affair with Jillian Michaels!!! This is unimaginable to me that a ninjerapist would suggest I actually not exercise, but that’s because it’s not what she’s saying at all. She just wants me to do more yoga instead. Because it’s therapeutic. Jillian is too punishing and not “loving enough to (my) kid self.” Don’t look at me funny. That’s what she said. And then I punched her in the face and made her do Plank Jacks and Rock Star Jumps until the tears flowed from her eyes and she begged me to let her stop. I’m pretty sure that’s what Jillian would have done had she been there.

No. I didn’t really do that, but I wanted to is what I’m saying.

I don’t think I want to pay her to be my friend anymore.

But I did her suggestions anyway just in case she knows what the fuck she’s talking about, except this past weekend I drank more just on priciple, and I did manage to cut out the chocolates at work and so now it’s just totally joyless instead of mostly joyless because herbal tea is not a replacement for fucking chocolate. Not on this planet, or on Planet Mental Health, or on any other planet in the world.  Even ET thought Reeces Pieces were the shit. 

Amiright? I rest my case. 

And then I found out that she doesn’t take my health insurance and so instead of taking United,  I’m going to ask if she takes Cunnilingus instead because that’s the only way I can pay her.  I think I mentioned to you last week that she’s working the whole “lesbian therapist” vibe and so I might take this chance to answer that question once and for all.

Although, my gay-dar doesn’t go off when I’m around her, but that means nothing because you know, Ninjerapists are crafty.

My friend Rachel says her gay-dar sounds like the disco call–WOOT! WOOT! when it goes off, but I think that only applies to men.  What does a lesbian gay-dar sound like because maybe my gay-dar is going off and I just don’t know.

I am the Hottest Mommy Blogger for the second year in a row.

Because yes.

And it looks like the Dumb Whorewives of Douchebag County, who are not hot and not mommies got kicked off for cheating their asses off.  Who knew there was actually a scrap, a shred, a modicum of legitimacy to The Blogger’s Choice Awards?

I certainly didn’t.  Voter driven contests are a disaster.

But I’m happy I won because for the past seven months, I’ve been sitting here at 6:00 am with baby vomit on my pajamas, fighting to keep my sense of humor (sometimes failing miserably) when really all I want to do is sit here and rant at the Internet because being a mommy is fucking hard, and it sucks at least 80% of the time on good days.  On bad days, it sucks 100%  of the time.

And I’m also happy because my friend, Aunty Becky over at Mommy Wants Vodka, came in second.  Yay for Aunt Becky! If you don’t read her blog, you really should.

Perhaps the best thing though is that we both beat Doosh and that’s a victory for EVERYONE if you ask me.

Except for those Cheating Whorewives.  They can suck it.  HARD.  I’d rather have seen Doosh win.  Probably.

Anyway, I’m not doing the naked thing again this year.

Here.  Have a picture of my ass.  That’s good enough, right?

That’s the least dressed I’ve been in any picture in the past year.  Deal with it.

Hottest Mommy Blogger 2009 out.

PS: Mister won second place for Best Photography blog, and Stoogie is Hottest Celebrity Blogger, and Dingo won The Blogitzer (I don’t know what that is, but it sounds Very Impressive) That’s right, people.  You’re barking with the big dogs.

Morning Queefs and Queefettes!
Stoogie and I have made another Very Special Blog Baby. We were talking about literature and books and how the classic stories turn girls on and how most porn isn’t made for ladies and so wouldn’t it be great if we could make literature into porn for chicks? And so we did.  We turned it into porn.  You’re welcome, neighbors.  We’ll start the actual film production very soon, but until then, you’re just going to have to rub one out to these storyboards:

You should probably go over to Stoogie’s place now and touch him on his bum.  He loves that.

You should also go to Toy With Me and touch my bum some more (you realize that if you leave a comment over there, you can win a really nice little toy for yourself, right?).  Today we’re talking about how I’m throwing my husband a vasectomy party.

Crissy has noticed that there’s this thing going around the blogs and everyone is all TMI! TMI! LOL! and Crissy thinks it’s really silly. What is it called? TMI Thursdays or some such thing?

Blogs by their very nature are TMI. Nobody needs to know what you made for dinner, but you write about it and people read because everyone who reads blogs likes TMI so just stop claiming TMI and just write about how you blew it up in the bathroom at your bff’s wedding and ruined dinner for everyone or how you whacked off to a picture of your sister in a bikini but only the one time. OKAY? No need to warn about the TMI.

Ahem.

Crissy feels better having gotten that off her enormous and luscious chestal area.

And now it’s time for Crissy to come clean Queefies. It wasn’t really Crissy’s friend who had to take the Plan B pill. It was Crissy. Crissy was just pulling your legs you dumb bunnies.

You were totally fooled, weren’t you.

And Plan B was necessary because there was an Accident in the Bedroom and there was a catastrophic failure of pull and pray Plan A, as Crissy and Mister were totally shit faced and Mister forgot all about Plan A.

The other two times this has happened are called Girlfriend and Homeslice and so Crissy and Mister have learned that they are incredibly fertile together and that any slip-ups eventually wind up with names and college funds.

And so Plan B because Hhheeeeeeelllllll no.

And it wasn’t too bad and Crissy expected it to do violence to her and in her head she pictured something just like this happening to her:

So she was pleasantly surprised when really the worst thing that happened was she ate about 5 big handfuls of chocolate covered almonds and about humped the corner of her desk because for whatever reason Plan B made Crissy want to do more Sexy Time.

They must put something in the pills to make sure people come back for another dose really soon.

BUT!

Crissy shouldn’t have had to go through that in the first place and so guess what Queefies?

Crissy is having Mister neutered.

No more crotch fruit.

Only crotch peas.

Last night this  book came across Crissy’s desk and at first she rolled her eyes and was all “stop it you silly lesbian” but then as she read through it started to make some sense to her and so she’s  going to give it a whirl and see how we do with it.

Poor Jillian.  They try to make her pretty.

Crissy is being mean to Jillian because Jillian makes Crissy’s fanny hurt.  Jillian is a whore.  A sweaty whore.

So do you Queefies know what Crissy has decided to do for you because she is magnanimous and loving?

Since lots of you are probably like Crissy and you don’t have time to be driving to no gym to work out and shit and you don’t have a million monies to buy workout DVDs that suck, she is going to do you a favor and test them for you and give you the full report and if it’s hard enough or silly enough, Crissy might do a demonstration video for you.  If you’re lucky and you promise to bury your face in her crotchals.

So the first one that Crissy will review for you is this one called Banish Fat Boost Metabolism by Jillian Michaels since the theme for today is  anyone? anyone?

Jillian Michaels.

The Sweaty Whore.

Crissy liked her rather a lot on the Biggest Loser Cardio Workout and so she gave this a try.  At first, Crissy thought the workout was for little pussy girls because at one point during the warm-up Jillian said “your heart should be banging out of your chest right about now” and Crissy was like, “not so much” and then!

It sneaked up on Crissy and she was praying for sweet, sweet baby Jesus to come and drink from her breast and then take her away to heaven because that Jillian was kicking Crissy’s fanny all over the place!  At one point, Crissy was sure she could see David and Grandma Helen pointing and laughing and telling her to just go into the light but really it turned out to be the sun coming through the window and Crissy didn’t recognize it because it only just rains here now.

By the end of the thing, Crissy pretty much felt her lungs burning and her legs were shaky which is a really good feeling.  The cool down stretching totally sucked though and Crissy wound up with that awful blue balls feeling and so she did some yogacizing  to make up for it (speaking of yoga, ever done like an hour of power yoga and then rubbed one out?  Try it. You’ll be stoned as a motherfucker all day… not that Crissy knows anything about that).  The next day, Crissy was moderately sore so the workout did something.

Crissy gives this DVD 5 out of 6 Queef stars and Crissy plans to come up with a better rating system for next time because she plans on doing this at least once a month or whenever the hell she feels like it.  The Queefs are to help her by making suggestions of videos they want Crissy to review for them if she can possibly get her hands on them otherwise the next one is Turbo Jam.

Or Hip Hop Abs.

Are you Queefs pumped?  Crissy is pumped!

Isn’t Mister the cutest in his new sunglasses?  They’re Rocawear or something like that which Cya informed Crissy is what all The Homies are wearing and Crissy just shops at Target and so she doesn’t know a lot about The Homies but she worries that him wearing these glasses is sort of like walking around wearing a FUBU shirt and looking like a total fucking jackass but he still looks hot even if Jay-Z is totally going to kick his ass for stealing his sunglasses.

Or maybe Jay-Z will just want to make Sexy Time with Mister cuz he’s totally fuckable but sadly Crissy has no interest in Sexy Time whatsoever and so Mister just follows her around and is all octopussy around her and stuff but Crissy is just like “Get OFF ME!” and stuff so are there

Any volunteers?

He likes it when you smack him in the ass and call him a nasty little slut blow jobs and a little back door action.

Interested parties should fill in the form below.

PS: He’d probably even consider the boys at this point because it’s only skin after all…

Guess what?

Crissy’s New Glasses Came In!

Let Crissy show you them, Queefies!

These are the Caviar ones for when Crissy is feeling like a fancy pants:

Then there’s these too because Crissy sometimes feels a little more serious and so she has the Vera Wang ones for those times when she might cut a bitch:

You can’t keep your hands off Crissy now, can you?