So Crissy counted the votes and the “yes! Crissy should have a baby because tales of her vomiting at Target will entertain the Internet” votes are just a little bit ahead of the “Of course Crissy should not have a baby because babies are boring” votes. Sadly, it seems that Mister is on the No side and if you read through the comments from yesterday you’ll see he has devised an elaborate plan involving dipping his balls in scalding hot water to prevent any second babies from happening.

And so it seems Queefs that we are still on the fence about the whole baby or not baby thing. Maybe Crissy will go to the Dollar Depot and purchase a Magic 8 Ball and ask it whether or not she should have a baby.

And if Mister does not cooperate with Crissy she will just have to go to stud and so she will be taking applications for Stud Service. Had she known that Mister would be so dead set against the plan then she would have perhaps propositioned the representative from National Grid who recently came to install a new wireless gas meter to Crissy’s basement natural gas dispensing device thingy.

All Crissy could think about when Brown Sugar was in her basement is the hide-a-bed inside her sofa and how the finished basement room in her house was perfect for shooting naughty Jungle Fever films and he looked very strong and could probably lift her onto the bar and that she’d call the video Crissy and the Chocolate Lovah and Crissy won’t lie to you Queefs. He smelled sweet and spicy and his skin looked smooth and creamy like a Lindt chocolate truffle and Crissy just wanted to lick him up and down and all over and –

Wait.

Crissy forgot what she was talking about…

So aaanyhotblackmaninthebasement, Crissy is still undecided about the baby but she is very glad that most of the Queefs think it’s a good idea because she would never want to do anything that her loyal subjects disapprove of.

Perhaps she’ll just adopt another dog or maybe Angelina Jolie will give her one of her extra babies or perhaps tell Crissy how she can get a little Mexican house boy instead.

She’ll name him Taco and teach him to speak English by reading to him from the Bartender’s Bible.

Oh holy hell Queefs.

Crissy is hanged over today because her brother is in town and even though he does not drink Crissy took it upon herself to drink enough for both of them because she’s a superawesomefantatic sister like that.

And now this morning?

oy.

Crissy would capitalize that but it would hurt her head.

And the hangover is a very bad thing to go into work with because librarians don’t get hangovers (except for the one in rehab getting cured off the Wild Turkey but Crissy is going to venture a guess that she does not plan on getting hangovers anymore) and so there is no sympathy to be had today among the Church Ladies at the li-berry.

They would judge Crissy harshly for her love of The Drink.

And they cannot handle “foul language” either.

Except for Lynne who can roll with a cuntfacecocksuckermotherfucker and that’s why Crissy wants to fuck her loves her so (see Lynn-e? Crissy told you she’d tell the Internets that she’s in love with you!) and also Crissy and Lynne are forced to hide their fucks and their assholes and their douchebags away and speak in Text Message Language when they are around the Church Ladies and it confuses them and they think Crissy and Lynne are strange but what are Crissy and Lynne to do?

WTF?

WTFF?

OMFG!!

And when they hire a New Girl, Crissy and Lynne have a meeting about whether or not the New Girl is “cool” like them or if she is a Church Lady by dropping an S bomb on her at first in conversation with each other and nonchalantly gauging her reaction and then slowly pulling out the heavier artillery until she breaks and her face turns all Church Lady-ish and then via eye contact they decide not to let her into their club.

So far it is still only a club of two with a few people who can “handle” Crissy and Lynne but nobody is as cool as they are so far.

Needless to say Crissy will have a long day at work today and she has to bring Girlfriend in with her because she has no babysitter and she must suffer in silence and know that you fine people feel her hangover pain possibly right along with her on this fine Thursday morning.

Wait.

It’s Friday.

Fine Friday morning.

DAMMIT!

ow. that hurt crissy’s head. no more capitals today okay queefs?

On Saturday night Crissy and Mister took Girlfriend to Chuck E. Cheese for the first time and holy shit you guys. If Savers was crawling with Poor Monkey Breath People, Chuck E. Cheese was loaded with Mutants Who Smell Like Feet .

It was sooooo dirty and stinky that when Crissy picked up a salt shaker to salt her cardboardish pizza IT STUCK TO HER HAND!!!

But Girlfriend had a wonderful time because a three year old’s standards for cleanliness and politeness are far lower than Crissy’s. For example, Girlfriend thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to pick her nose and it’s even okay to pick a friend’s nose every now and again.

Crissy is just glad Girlfriend isn’t one of those handsy in the pantsy kids.

And Crissy didn’t have an entirely bad time because Mister let her use his camera (!) and she was excited to look around and see all of the blog fodderishness and she was able to take a few pictures of some of the Mutants Who Smell Like Feet so that it’s almost like we were all there experiencing it together.

This may provide an excellent means of birth control for those of you who are childless at the moment. Trust me if you have a child you will find yourself in Chuck E. Cheese at some point. You may thank me now for saving you from this fate.

So, without further ado, it’s Crissy’s Chuck E. Cheese Style Achievement Awards!!! or the Mutants Who Smell Like Feet Awards!!!

Ya-ta-da-da-da-da-daaaaaaaa!!!!

Best All Around Muffin Top

Most Creative use of Dollar Store Hair Color

Worlds Largest Tee Shirt and Shorts Combo

The First Pair of Farmer Jeans Worn by Anyone Over the Age of 3 that Crissy Has Seen Since the 90’s and Crissy is Shocked She’s Not Carrying a Teddy Bear Back Pack to Complete the Whole “I Have the Mentality of a Preschooler” Award.

The I’m Too Sexy For My Fucking Tee Shirt Award

Best Use of Most Inappropriate Hat worn to a Children’s Venue

Pretty In Pink with the Shoes to Match Award

The Where the Fuck is Your Mother? Award

And last but not least,

Best Ghetto Whip

Needless to say that when we got home we had to shampoo Girlfriend’s hair with Raid and scrub her body with boiling bleach water and Brillo pads and Crissy is certain that after the swelling and the burning and the redness goes away she’ll be totally fine.

Crissy is certain we will not be able to drive past Chuck E. Cheese without hearing a lot of whining from Girlfriend because she wants to go in and so Crissy is wondering if anyone knows where she can find a bio-hazard suit?

Savers didn’t have any in her size.

Welcome to day 2 of Crissy Wants Week!

Woot! Woot!

We could do this forever because as Mister I am sure will tell you, Crissy is an endless bag of need and want and whine, whine, whine.

And what does Crissy want now?

DANCING LESSONS!

Because I’m a wonderful dancer but I think my raw talent needs to be honed and disciplined just a little bit.

The neighbor Michele and I just signed the girls up for a tap/jazz dance class and well, I’m feeling a little jealous.

I mean look ad teh widdle shoozies she gets to wear!

I’m totally taking that silly little bow off though. It’s just gratuitous.

And when we brought the girls to be fit for their dancing shoes Crissy got a little nostalgic for the days when she was just a wee little Crissy and spent Saturday mornings in tap and ballet classes.

She just loved her tap shoes and she would flap-tap-tap on the kitchen floor until her mother’s ears bled.

Good times…

And so I tell my friend Lynne that I want to take tap lessons and she tells me tap is gay.

Well, that’s sort of the point. I get to tap my heart out and be Crissy of the Dance AND possibly meet a nice gay. How fun would that be? Tons of fun, Queefs. Tons. But here’s what stuck in my craw. Lynne takes Jazzercize for Jehovah’s sake! I’m talking the kind with Jazz hands and the whole shebang. That’s gayer, I think.

And so it started the following cacophony of eecards.

And then she came out of her office and handed me this:

And now we can’t decide what is gayest. Tap, Jazzercise, having an argument via eecards, or holding a Gay-Off at the library.

You be the judge QUEEFS.

We place it in your capable hands.

Loser must go with the winner to her respective class.

It’s the new blond.

I’m very serious about my new hair. Tell me you love it or I’ll cut you. SAY IT!

I color it with mostly natural Tresstisse with just a little bit of methamphetamine mixed in.

There’s no fan blowing my hair to make it all light and flowy like this. That’s what the meth is for!

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I could do this all day…

Eat your fucking heart out Carrot Top.