Crissy went on a little bit of a shopping spree on Saturday sans Girlfriend and it was glorious. She was able to try on clothes without spending the entire time arguing with Girlfriend about getting out of the stroller (she peed under a rack at Old Navy once and Crissy had to use a Clearance sweater to mop it up. It’s okay though because the sweater was u.g.l.y.) or searching her bag for a cup of juice, a bag of bunny crackers, or her beloved die cast Thomas the Tank Engine.

And Crissy got a bunch of essential things like pants for work and her first pair of skinny jeans since 1986 and she’d show you pictures but you really don’t give a rat’s ass and also Crissy got some things she’s needed for a while but just put off getting.

Like these little Sockettes, for example:

They’re actually called shoe liners but Crissy thinks Sockettes is better. Try saying it.

Sockettes.

Now try it with an Outrageous French Accent.

Sockettes! Awhuhuhuhaw!

See?

Fun.

For the uninitiated, these little jobbies are meant to be worn in lieu of socks so that the wearer can look stylishly sock-less whilst her tootsies stay warm and dry and comfy all day long.

They’re supposed to HIDE in the shoe.

As in not visible.

They are the most bullshit product ever made.

Granted the ones pictured above are not the ones Crissy bought. She got the Target brand ones but really they’re the same thing and Crissy was sooo excited about her new Sockettes that she rushed home to try them out with all her favorite shoes and this is what happened:

FAIL.

Big. Giant. Fail.

So Crissy has decided that what she will do instead is just go the opposite direction and just wear the loudest, most obvious socks she can find.

These are rather nice…

Puet sucez mon pénis, Sockettes.

Awhuhuhuhaw!

This weekend Crissy took Girlfriend to dancing class which is going rather well except for the lovely habit girlfriend is in now where she participates and enjoys and then drops to the floor and starts to cry approximately 10 minutes before the class ends and the teacher winds up dancing with Girlfriend on her hip while she puts her hands down the teacher’s shirt.

Crissy thinks this may be an elaborate plan because Girlfriend might be a lezzie.

We’ll see.

And we were waiting for class to begin and Girlfriend was in the play area with another little dancer and she went up to her and very sweetly said “would you like to play with me?” and the Little Cuntbitch looked her up and down, put a puss on her face and was all “No. I’m here to dance.”

And Crissy’s heart broke into a thousandy million tiny pieces as Little Cuntbitch’s mommy giggled like “oh aren’t they sweet?” and looked on with pride as if her kid didn’t just snub my kid and Crissy wanted to pull her greasy fucking pony tail right off her head and beat her with it. Crissy thought about making a comment to Little Cuntbitch’s mommy like “nice sweatpants, cow. I’m going to kill you now.” but she wants to set a good example for Girlfriend and so entertained homicidal fantasies in her head as is proper behavior for a mom at dance class with her daughter. Crissy is pretty sure she made the right choice. Also, Michele and Alena weren’t there yet for backup and Crissy was not sure how many of the other mommies were friends with Little Cuntbitch’s mommy.

Crissy would have played out the violence in her head with her Barbies for you but she just now thought of it.

Sorry.

Maybe for tomorrow.

And Girlfriend seemed totally unphased by it but can Crissy get real with you Queefs for a moment?

It brought Crissy right back to her formative years when Crissy was a wee little Crissy and had the misfortune of being a lowly teacher’s daughter in a town full of rich assholes whose children excluded her and made fun of her because her clothes weren’t Jet Set or Esprit or Liz Claiborne and her mom drove this:

instead of this:

And we didn’t go on vacations to Bermuda or Hawaii. We took picnics to the park and the zoo for our vacations.

And Crissy had only one other little kid who would play with her because Puttin’ on the Ritz (that’s what the Mean Girl gang called themselves) didn’t like her either because her dad was a teacher too and her mom had a beat up old Volkswagen Rabbit and she had 8 brothers and sisters and wore hand me downs and smelled like cabbage.

Oh how Puttin’ on the Ritz made Crissy’s childhood painful. And Crissy took it all like a bitch because she didn’t know how to handle a bully and instead was always trying to get out of school with multiple fake illnesses because she didn’t want to face the mean girls.

Sniffle.

Sigh.

And Crissy knows this isn’t the only time some little twat is going to be mean to Girlfriend and so Crissy is just thinking of taking her out of dancing class and putting her in Ninjutsu class instead because fuck the dumb shit.

Girlfriend should be kicking ass and asking questions later.

How long do you Queefs figure it will take for Girlfriend to become a Ninja?

PS: Wanna win a free purse?  Click here and go visit Handbag Planet to find out how!

As we moved along the Equestrian trails at Schmuckytown Woods on Sunday, Girlfriend came across a large pile of horsey poo and exclaimed

“WOW! Mommy look! That’s the biggest pile of shit I’ve ever seen! And it’s fancy too! It’s got corn in it!”

and so on second thought it may not have been horsey poo after all because Crissy has never never seen corn in horsey poo but maybe that’s because she’s never really taken a good look before. And Crissy is a little bit afraid of horses because they’re rather large and even though this may or may not have happened

Crissy generally makes it a point to avoid horses and stick to enjoying them from a distance.

It’s all because of when Crissy was a wee little 6th grade Crissy and she slept over her friend Gina’s house and Gina had horses and one stepped on her foot and it HURT wee little 6th grade Crissy’s delicate footie, not to mention how much it hurt wee little 6th grade Crissy’s crotchals after riding him.

Anycrap, Crissy would have taken a picture of the mystery crap but she sort of draws the line at putting pictures of poo on her blog.

(Holy shit! Crissy has found her limit! who’d a thunk she even had one!?!)

Crissy is thinking that maybe instead of a horsey that one of the Woodland Gays was experiencing issues that day and had to use his woodsy cradle of love for another purpose.

Too much corn, perhaps.

On Sunday Crissy and Mister took Girlfriend and Alice for a walk at Schmuckytown Woods and it was rather enjoyable even though Girlfriend is slower than a bag of turtles and Crissy had to keep stopping to make sure she hadn’t fallen into a gully or a ravine or a cavern or anything.

And we came across a Miracle Tree and some very interesting horsey poo but Crissy will tell you about that later because as much fun as the Miracle tree and the horsey poo was, nothing can compare to the other magical thing the Crissys found during their walk.

The Crissy’s discovered that it was the perfect sort of day to catch sight of the fascinating creatures called the Woodland Gays in their natural habitat.

And they didn’t even need their binoculars because all they had to do was walk along the trails to encounter the badly dressed out of shape middle aged married men walking alone along the trails carrying backpacks full of gay porn, kleenex, condoms and lube and there you have a Woodland Gay.

You can also identify them by their mating call which sounds an awful lot like the Woot! Woot! Disco Call made famous in discotheques and gay bars the world over.

And one must be careful not to go too deeply into the woods because you do not want to disturb the Woodland Gays during their mating ritual.

They are shy creatures and sometimes prefer to hide behind trees and peek out at you.

Here’s one such fellow now.

(This picture is not from yesterday)

And the Woodland Gays, if on a trail and confronted directly with recreating families like the Crissys, will not make eye contact and say “good afternoon” because they know that you know what they’re really there for and it ain’t a nice hike in the fresh Schmuckytown Woods air.

They’re looking for a whole ‘nuther type of adventure.

They don’t want you to know that they know you know that they know that you know and they know and everyone knows.

Or something.

And so everyone pretends that the Woodland Gays aren’t.

But they so. are.

And when Crissy sees them she wants to shout “Tell your wife you’re gay! She’s probably sick of you anyway!” And also Crissy would set up a booth in the woods and interview potential gay bffs but she has a feeling the Woodland Gays are not the type of gays that will help her pick out a pair of pants that make her ass look wonderful.

PS: All you bloggers who have not pimped the stoogepie sweepstakes (which, btw has grown a bit and is now worth about $1,200!) must report to stoogie to learn about the nude MILF Pimp Prize because he has an $800 camera for one lucky blogger to win. Your odds are pretty damn good since so far we have Chris, Maxie, Ben, Adminerella, My stupid husband, Melissa, Dingo, and Rachel M.. So pimp this shit and you have a really strong chance at getting something out of it. You also have to let stoogie know you did it because he’s not God you know. Close, but no.

PPS: Right now three fucking MEN are beating Crissy for Hottest Mommy Blogger and it goes up Crissy’s bum sideways. Crissy will consider it a great victory to at least hand their hairy asses to them.

The Crissys just found out that their house is on the list of historic homes in Schmuckytown. They sort of knew it was special because when they bought it they found a picture of it in a book called Schmuckytown Historic Architecture or something like that.

While this may seem like exciting news at first and maybe Crissy’s house might get one of those nifty little oval shaped white signs that says something like built in 1920 by Captain Mike Hunt it is actually a big pain in the Crissy’s asses because it means that whatever we do to our house it must be approved by the Historical Preservation Society.

Remember when Mister wanted to put this statue in the front yard?

Well it means that now some historical dude is going to come by and tell us “No. The Crissys cannot put a large homo-erotic statue of Mister on the front lawn.”

How unreasonable!

And if the Crissys want to paint their house purple with an orange door and giant swastika shaped polka dots all over it, we cannot do that either.

Not historical. Even with the swastikas.

And remember when Crissy and Mister had a sword fight and Crissy had to strap one on and talk man to man with Mister about replacement windows and state loan programs to rid our windows of lead paint that may or may not be giving Girlfriend The Retardation as we speak this very moment?

Well, we got the report back and it turns out that the Crissy’s dirt is also a lead hazard and we have to get all new dirt now too and they have to dig up Crissy’s wonderful garden. Remember how hard she worked?

And the whole kerfuffle started when we applied for the loan to help us pay for our new windows and it was approved and everything was hunky freakin dory until last night when Mister got that call.

“Bad news Mr. Crissy. Your house is a historic landmark. We have to be in contact with the National Historic Commission before we can proceed with your window replacement project. They will cost twice as much as originally estimated due to the fact that they now need to be in keeping with the historic character of the house. They may decide that we cannot replace them at all, but only repair them since they are original to the house. Also it’s going to take forfuckingever for things to go through all the necessary red tape and bureaucratic bullshit inspections.”

(Crissy added that last part about the red tape and the bullshit)

And it’s not like the Crissys weren’t going to put in windows that go with the house. Of course they were going to! What pisses the Crissys off is that now it’s going to take a lot longer to get things done and some persnickety doucheface is going to put his nose up Crissy’s ass and try to boss Crissy around and

nobody bosses around the Queen of Fucking Everything.

(except Girlfriend)

(and sometimes Mister but only on Very Special Nights)

PS: Go see the lovely and hilarious Ms. Dingo! She’s helping out with Stoogepie’s super contest where you can win $600 worth of awesome stuff and a chance to see Crissy in the nakeds and also she made a really, really funny picture of Crissy that you have got to see!

A $600 prize to see her naked?

Wow.

Um.

Crissy had a post all ready for you for this morning and then she came across Stoogepie’s Naked MILF contest.

And you should all go see because Crissy’s blog is having such naughty sex with Stoogepie’s blog right now that Crissy’s blog doesn’t think she’ll be able to walk after this.

Like, ever again.

You see, it all started a while back when Crissy said on Mister’s blog that if she wins Hottest Mommy Blogger that she would post a naked picture of herself on her blog. And, well, Stoogepie is doing all he can to make sure Crissy makes good on that random thing she said but she doesn’t care because it won’t be the first time she’s been naked on the internet.

Whatever.

It’s just boobies.

Crissy also thinks Stoogie really, really doesn’t want Dooce to win Hottest Mommy Blogger.

Crissy doesn’t either.

Dooce gets everything, Crissy gets nothing.

Crissy wants a turn.

So you all need to go see Stoogepie because he’s offering a prize worth $600 and all you have to do is vote for Crissy for Hottest Mommy Blogger to enter.

Go. GO NOW QUEEFS.

And if you haven’t voted for Crissy, what the fuck is the matter with you? Right now Crissy has only one vote more than the woman who takes pictures of her kid’s lunch box contents and calls it a blog.

Crissy knows she’s hotter than that lady.

At Crissy’s dinner party on Saturday night we were all talking about something Crissy can’t remember because she had two bottles of wine whilst everyone else had their polite single glass of it when she told the following story and everyone laughed.

Or at least she thinks they may have.

She can’t remember for certain if it was everyone or just her, but whatever.

Here goes.

When Crissy was a wee little Crissy of about 13 years old, her grandmother subscribed to Seventeen Magazine for Crissy to read when she visited. And Oh! how Crissy loved it! And she found a mail-in offer to send away for a free sample of perfume. The girl in the picture was so pretty and stylish and she was sitting on some bleachers with a bunch of boys around her all looking very interested in her and the ad said something about feeling fresh and confident all day and Crissy thought “Wow! I want some of that! I want to be confident!”

So she sent away for her free sample and it was this stuff:

And Crissy had never even had her period and her boobies had not yet come in (it should be any day now!) and so how was she to know that Feminine Deodorant Spray was for The Crotch Rot and not a light floral scent to spray about your wrists and neck area and wear to Jr. High?

And Crissy was very proud of herself. She thought she had discovered a new fragrance that the other Jr. high school girls had not.

No Love’s Baby Soft

or Le Jardin for Crissy.

(Do any of you chicks remember dousing yourselves in this shit or is Crissy the oldest one here again?)

Crissy was a real Trend Setter.

And she made sure EVERYBODY knew about it.

“If you smell FDS, it’s me! I’m Shower Fresh!”

she exclaimed loudly as she strutted confidently through the hallowed halls of Schmuckytown Jr. High, smelling like a box of scented tampons.

And Crissy did this for a long, long, time because she remembers sending away for a new sample multiple times until one day she was at the drug store with her grandmother and she came upon a shelf of FDS. Of course she excitedly ran to it to see what other intoxicating scents might be available and as she looked around she noticed something.

Wait.

What?

Why do they keep it next to the tampons and stuff and not in the perfume case with the other perfume?

And then the sun came over the mountain and it dawned on poor little Crissy that she had been spraying herself with crotch spray and bragging all over school about it and her heart just sank and she wanted to die.

Just.

Die.

Lacking any convenient means of suicide, Crissy was forced to sort herself out and she convinced her grandma to buy her a bottle of the Love’s Baby Soft instead and so Crissy was once again socially acceptable.

Well, she tried to be anyway.

She’s still waiting for that to happen too.

Any day now the boobies and the social acceptability will happen.

Crissy is confident.

Saturday morning:

While in the shower getting ready for Dancing Class Part Deux, which went perfectly btw, Girlfriend offered Crissy the following piece of helpful beauty advice:

“Mommy. Your butt is bumpy and rough like Daddy’s face. You need to shave it with some butt cream. A smooth butt is more important than a bumpy one. It’s nicer and more luxurious too.”

Crissy swears her butt is already very, very luxurious and nice and not bumpy and rough like daddy’s face.

Girlfriend has an active imaginary life.

Saturday evening:

Crissy is about to have a dinner party at her house and is taking yet another shower while Mister and Girlfriend are drying off after theirs and Mister is at the vanity toweling away when Girlfriend walks underneath him like a bridge, looks up at his balls, sticks out her tongue and

NEARLY TEA BAGS HER FATHER!!!!!

Crissy sees this horrible, horrible thing about to occur and screams “NOOOOO!!!” and it came out sounding exactly like the slow motion “NOOOOOO!!!!” but that’s okay because Crissy got Girlfriend’s attention and Mister put his leg down and the world was saved.

Again, Crissy saves the day and no parade, no flowers, no media frenzy.

WTF?

Of course, Girlfriend has no idea what tea bagging is and was just doing it because kids are impulsive like that but holy God you guys.

Can you imagine the vodka it would take to wipe that shit out of memory?

They don’t make enough, Queefs.

Crissy realizes that she’s been talking non stop about babies and making babies and bringing them to dancing classes and she did give you guys a respite yesterday when we talked of horsefucking so you’re going to sit through another post about Girlfriend and you’re going to love it because Crissy doesn’t have much else to write about right now.

Well, she does, but it means she has to take pictures of her dying garden and she’s feeling like it not so much right now. It depresses the crap out of her to look at it.

Ahem.

Recently Crissy went to Girlfriend’s preschool orientation and heard about all the rules about snacks brought to school. Every parent is required to bring in 5 snacks per year. These snacks, for 32 precious little ones, must come complete with 32 drinks and 32 cups and 32 plates and 32 napkins and 32 whatever else a person needs to serve the snack. The snacks must be “healthy” and if there is any packaging it must be “earth friendly.” This could get expensive and Crissy thinks maybe she should just buy 32 new BMWs for the children and just be done with it for the year but a BMW is not an appropriate snack and it is probably not earth friendly. So, no.

And if Crissy chooses to make something with her own two wonderful little hands she must submit the recipe to the other parents for approval because god forbid and heavens to myrgatroid we don’t want anyone getting sugar when they’re not supposed to or for FUCK SAKE AND THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS DECENT AND GOOD IN THIS WORLD NO GOD DAMNED NUTS!!!

We don’t want any of the precious ones dying of anaphylactic shock because Crissy sent in cookies and did not submit a recipe for prior parental approval. Crissy swears that if any one of those losers rejects her submitted recipe she will bust balls on them so hard when it’s their turn that all that will be left for them to send in is water and air popped rice.

Crissy is just saying.

So Crissy’s turn is coming up in October and she plans to make Nutless Orange Cranberry Bread and maybe bring in a couple of these juice boxes to go with it:

That’s enough for 32 kids, right?

At first she thought of milk but she’s sure little Enid is lactose intolerant and her mother will bitch and Crissy will have to cram the milk up little Enid’s mom’s butt.

And Crissy thinks that would not be the best way to make friends with the moms at Girlfriend’s school.

See?

Prolly not appropriate.

Might make for awkwardness on field trips…

Wow, well Crissy didn’t know that everyone cared so much about her uterus and it’s potential inhabitants but all the voting and advice has touched her deeply in a very private place.

Thanks Queefs!

But don’t worry all you guys who think Mister isn’t on board with the baby. He is. Crissy just used the words “dead set against” for dramatic effect. Mister and Crissy are usually on the same page with most things but just don’t talk about Replacement Windows, Heating Bills, or Buying Crissy a BMW and we will not have to get the Five-O involved again.

And it’s not just you guys who have been thinking about Crissy. Oh no, no. The emails have been thinking about Crissy and Mister too and they are clearly trying to help them make Sexy Time by sending Crissy’s many suggestions for some very filthy porn to help get Crissy in the mood for some hardcore action.

For example, in the past week Crissy has received the following thoughtful emails:

Warm up your left hand. Get the tissues ready (okay maybe this one is for Mister to do some practice drills)
I know what girls do on a FARM. Do not leave them there lonely.
Does your better half bore you to death? Cheer up!
Schoolgirl aquaintence dwarf
Girls will call you Largissimo!
Huge dick trannies scream orgasm
*SPAM* Blonde Chick Sucking Horse Cock
Do you care about her satisfaction?
Big stiff doggie cock in hot girl tight asshole
She will want to spend a night with you, buddy
Anything you deisre
I am thunderstruck what can people do with females
Huge cock shemales
Wild freaky action in the stable

And Crissy has never seen a huge cock shemale so she clicked on it just for shits and giggles and she found something that she does not understand and she’d show you but the picture was too big and would get you fired for sure so she’ll show you this other thing she found.

Crissy is slightly horrified that this hot chick young blonde girl slut looks a little bit like her and so now she has vowed to stay off the booze and the pills because who knows?

Maybe it is Crissy.

Crissy does not always remember her “adventures.”