Crissy Gets a New Car. Finally Shuts Up About it.

Well, Queefies.

After years of loyal service, we have retired Sasha.

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Girlfriend is totally beside herself because Sasha is a part of our family.

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She drove both Girlfriend and Homeslice home from the hospital.

She rescued Vivian.

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She kept us safe.

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And now, she’s just sitting in the garage, waiting to be driven, longing to feel the wind in her hair once again. Mister and I cannot bear the thought of selling her, but at the same time, we don’t need her anymore. I feel like Henry VIII, tossing aside Catherine of Aragon for Anne Boleyn.

But unlike Henry VIII, I actually feel bad for my douchery. Sasha has always been good and loyal and virtuous. She’s just old now and not very thrilling anymore. It happens to the best of us, right, Queefies?

Remember when Crissy begged and begged Mister for a new car because  all she wanted in the whole wide world was to drive the shit out of some hot little number even though it scared the hell out of her?   Remember the day Mister tried to teach her and it did not go so well, Queefies?

Good times.

But then remember how after a little practice, she got better and felt not quite so scared?

And then years went by and Mister finally let Crissy get her Dream Machine. Crissy made a list of ALL the things she wanted, and after looking for almost two years, we found Anne Boleyn.

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Except her name is Roxanne.

(I have no idea why all our car pictures are in parking lots.  That’s Mister’s department.)

She’s exceptionally fast and nimble.

She’s what they call “a six banger” or something. I told Mister “my new car is a six banger” and he looked at me like I’m a crazypants, but I think it’s because he’s just jealous because I’m fancy now and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

But it’s been a rough month, Queefies. Roxanne and I have been driving everywhere and my commute to work is a pressure cooker.  It’s constant stop and go traffic and everyone is in a hugefuckinghurry.  It only takes a second to recover from a stall, but my fellow commuters are the worst kind of assholes and they start with their horn bullshit straight away.

I’m actually quite brilliant at creeping along at 15mph in 1st gear constantly stopping and starting without stalling (that much).

Needless to say, I had to get a refill on my Xanies just for the ride to work.  But now  I’m finally able to drive Roxanne without panic attacks and pulling over to cry and hyperventilate.

YAY CRISSY!

And poor Mister has been very patient with my obsessive need to keep driving so I can get better. We do not have one of those relationships where the girl is allowed to drive,  so this is clearly killing him.  It’s killing me a little bit too because he gets all bent out of shape when I hit curbs, but they’re the same curbs I’ve been hitting all along so he can just shut it.  I’ve been driving like this for 22 years and I’ve never had a problem. Some curbs are just begging to be hit, amiright?

Anyway, we haven’t had a car payment in about 13 years and so having to pay for a car is new.  I’m considering party bingo or selling “special brownies” to Girlfriend’s Brownie Troop.

We all know how selling my panties went, so I won’t be doing that shit again.

Anyway, so far Roxanne has been worth all the pain.

Zoom zoom, Queefies.

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Crissy makes a video!

Tomorrow, you guys are gonna get a treat!

We made a video at work just for funzies and I’m gonna share it with you because it’s about my glamorous life as a Mrs. Fancypants.

Plus, you get to see Crissy, plus her work environment, plus her co-workers, plus you get to laugh because I’m ridiculous and that’s why you come here.

Wait for it…

 

Yo! Who’s the Bitch with the Tats? My original title had an f-bomb in it, but I thought better of it because I’m mature now.

Hey, Queefies.

I’m thinking about getting a tattoo only I don’t know what it’s going to be or where I want to put it.

I think it should prolly go somewhere that’s easily hideable, so when I’m wicked old and stuff I don’t make the nursing home staff throw up every time they have to change my bum.

Like, nothing would be worse at that point than to have like a big tramp stamp that says “JUICY” on it.

That would be an unfortunate and ironic mistake, I think.

I thought about getting it on the back of my neck so I can hide it or show it off according to my whim.  That’s where it might end up, but  I don’t really like tattoos.  They look really great on other people, but I’m not sure I’m A Person Who Gets Tattoos, ya know?

Like, am I that girl?

Next thing you know, I’m getting my clit pierced and hanging around with dudes name “Bug” and “Razor.”

That’s what happens to girls who get tattoos isn’t it?

Seriously though.  What business do I have getting a tattoo at 37?

I must just want one now because I work with The Young People and most of them are tattooed.  I want to be Fancy Lady Who Works With The Young People And Gets Tattoos or some such nonsense now.

OMG!  Speaking of people who think they’re fancy but they’re really not, have you been watching Real Housewives of New Jersey?

WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?  Every last one of those people is a disgusting pig.

What’s wrong with that one girl’s hairline?  It’s half way down her face! Or is that just a really unfortunate eyebrow situation? If I were her, I’d totally buy myself a new hairline with all that money.  Instead, she buys stupid looking shit to put in her kids’ hair.  Why does she do that?  I think it’s because they got her hairline, but she’s not fooling me, Queefies!

You can’t make up for bad genetics with ugly barrettes, moron.

Just like you can’t fix stupid, you can’t fix cave woman hair.

That’s what I always say.

I’d better be careful though because these people are like animals. For all I know, Lady Guido Hair is going to come and tear my extensions out of my head if I had any but I don’t SO TAKE THAT LADY GUIDO HAIR!

I win.

Anyway, who gets a tattoo at 37?   I do.  (Possibly)

Should the Queen deface the Royal Bodkin?

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OMG you guys! Soooo many changes!

I’m not dead yet!  I swear you guys!

I’ve been very busy doing some very BIG things!

I don’t work at the library anymore.  I quit.

I quit because I GOT A FANCY LADY JOB!!!!!

Yes!  I did!

It’s my second week as a real, full time fancy copywriter and social media maven at a web development, PR, advertising and marketing company.  I work for my friend Gina who is so much fancier than your friend Gina I can’t even tell you.

Can you believe this shit?  It’s dreams coming true here, people.  DREAMS COMING TRUE.

And we had to hire a babysitter for Homeslice and guess what?

SHE DOES THE DISHES AND THE LAUNDRY AND OMG SHE DUSTED!

I have a maidlaundressnanny.

I just need a whore and all my dreams will have come true. All of them.

This  sure beats the Great Brain Tumor Crisis of Early 2011, I can tell you that much.

So yes.  I am a real writer with a real job and stuff now.  I kind of miss the library, but it’s more the people than the job.  That job was boring as hell.  Now I’m really busy all day and I get to wear cute clothes instead of the dingy corduroy pants I bought at Saver’s that I wore to the library. The people at my new job are super nice and everyone is so helpful and its totally okay to say “motherfucker” so obviously I fit right in.

Basically, I’m on cloud nine these days and I have to go now because I need some more fancy lady clothes and I have to buy them online because I’m sooooo busy being Queen.

I love you, Queefies!

OMG and PS:  I’m up on the Toy With Me’s talking about my vibrators again:

Je Joue Gi-Ki. Gumby For Your G-spot!