Archive for the 'Toy With Me On Wednesdays' Category

Apparently, the lovers have had a falling out because Frank was in the garden, Alice’s garden, where she enjoys a delicious salad buffet herself, and he was there gankin’ her vittles and so she BIT THE BASTARD! He jumped up in the air and bit her back but she still got in a couple of more bites before the little garden fucker ran under the fence.

It was glorious, and he didn’t even break the skin.

GO ALICE!!!!!!!!

Does anyone have a Rottweiler I can borrow to finish him off? I figure it’s not really killing if your borrowed dog does it. That’s completely fine with Buddha, right?

Anyways, I’m looking for a killing machine to borrow for a day or two. You can email me if you have one.

And now I shall announce the winners of the Vajazzle Haiku/Limerick contest!

Ya-ta-da-da!!!!

They are in no particular order as they were equally fabulous:

Axe:
There was a young lady named Gidget
Who put sparkles all over her twidget.
There was so much dazzle
When she did her Vajazzle
That she blinded a horney young midget!

Melissa:
I yearn for a twidget that gleams
Shiny crotch would fulfill hubby’s dreams
Save money on blow
Escalade cunts won’t know
That my FUPA’s much more than it seems!

Plain. Bare. So boring.
Vagazzle! Shine like Cullen.
Happy Pants for all

Christian:
On manjazzling…

The dentist looked at me odd
I thought to myself “Oh god,
how do I explain
the reason for my pain
is I chipped my tooth on his rod?”

Bat Cave Twidget:
There is a girl from New York
Who all day long wanted to pork
But three years it had been without carnal sin
So please Vajazzle this dork.

Yeah, that’s the best I got. Even I can smell the desperation

The Problem Child:
If you want to vajazzle your stuff
A waxing, to lessen the muff
Might well be in order
Else ‘jazzling might border
On just a bit more than enough.

Y’all need to email me with your info so I can mail you the sparkly bits.

But really, it was hard to choose because everyone did a wonderful job and I’m really, very proud of you all for giving it a try. Writing is hard, yo. That’s why they pay me the big bucks.

wait.

PS: Toy with Me today! It’s all about how I don’t understand Casual Sex. Because I don’t.

****** Fuck Buddies & Booty Calls ******

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 Vajazzling.com 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.

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

GO!

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

Today is a TWM day, so I’m going to send you over there instead because I’ve got a TON of crap to do this morning before work:

Sexomnia – Kind Of Like Sleep Walking But With Fucking

But totally come back tomorrow so I can tell you all about how I touched Edward Cullen on his naughtypenis and he LOVED it.

I have pictures.

Several.

See you tomorrow.

So did I ever tell you guys about how this one time I found myself at a Public Enemy concert with my friend Suzi?

That’s us at the beach together rockin’ some coordinating bikinis and matching scrunchies just a couple of weeks before the concert. We were two of the littlest Miss Blondies you ever did see and so you can imagine how we fit in with the Public Enemy crowd in the early 90’s, right?

Mmm-hmm.

To get ready for the concert, we put on our new outfits from Gap, straightened our hair with her clothes iron, and debated whether or not pearls (I shit you not) would be cute with our outfits or if they were too much for Public Enemy and we decided that pearls are never a mistake so we went with it.

Pearls.  To Public Enemy.  We sure did.

How we wound up there in the first place is sort of interesting, actually.  Our boyfriends at the time were two spoiled trashy little East Side rich-boy types who thought they were players. They were walking past the Providence Biltmore Hotel when they saw Public Enemy going in and they totally spazzed and were all like “HOLY SHIT IT’S PUBLIC!! ENEMY!!” and so Public Enemy gave them tickets to the show instead of shooting them.

I think they were just waiting for later to shoot them.

So there we were, four preppy white kids in spiffy Gap and Ralph Lauren outfits, two of us wearing pearls for chrissakes, in a sea of black people who were wearing all black clothing and sort of all moving together to the music and saying all the words. They were fired up, you guys. It was a pretty extraordinary thing to witness, actually, except for the two Miss Blondies who were massively drunk on Mind Erasers humping one another and shouting “FIGHT THE POWER!!!” in the middle of that dark sea of oneness.

We were having a marvelous time, but accidentally making a mockery of the whole thing, I guess.  One nice lady came over and said something like “y’all are crazy.  You’re gonna get killed!”  And then we looked up and our dates sort of had a circle of guys around them, kind of like they were also gonna get killed too. It was as if nobody cared or even knew that we were personally invited to the concert by the performers themselves! WTF, you guys? I thought we were cool. Before I knew it, my boyfriend had me over his shoulder and Suzi was over her boyfriend’s shoulder and we were out on the street after waving “bye-bye” to the bouncers who patted us down on the way in.

I think we were probably there a total of 15 minutes. We went back to the East Side where we drank Amstel Light and had lovely dinner at a bar called Amsterdam and I threw up calamari in Suzi’s BMW.

The End.

So there it is. That’s my Public Enemy story.

And on the Toy with Mes I have for you My First Pole Dancing Class = Hilarity

Ya-ta-da-da!!!!!!!!!! I’ve been dying to tell you guys that I’m a pole dancer now!

So we bought this swingset for Homeslice and Girlfriend, right?

And it took us a long time to find just the right one for just the right price with just the right quality and we were very excited to show the picture to Girlfriend and what does she say, Queefies?

“It doesn’t have a lot of stuff to do.”

Um, excuse me?

There’s a playhouse with a fucking veranda, three swings, a rock wall,  a picnic table, a sandbox, and a slide.  It’s nicer than our house, really.

Maybe Mister and I will live out there instead because apparently, she wants Disney out in the yard and anything less is unacceptable.

Clearly,  Girlfriend is spoiled to death, so to toughen her up a bit, we’re not going to put mulch under the swingset/palace.  We’re gonna put rocks like we had when we were kids.  My swingset was made of metal and it had a couple of swings and some monkey bars and a trapeze and that was it. It was not made out of some nice non-splintery cedar with rounded edges.  There was no playhouse, picnic table, veranda, etc.,  and if we went too high on the swings, the back would come out of the ground and we spent entire afternoons trying to get the whole thing to flip over.  I think my brother actually did once.  I can’t remember.  And instead of this “playground grade mulch” we had rocks to land on and if you fell off the monkey bars because you were clowning around like a dumbass, you got fucking hurt and it was your own fault for being stupid and you learned not to be a dumbass anymore.

Kids today are soft.

And so we spent half a billionty monies on a swingset that we want more than Girlfriend does.  Homeslice is pretty excited about it, but she’s only just recently discovered how much fun a ball is, so you know.  She’s easily impressed at this point.

And it’s a Toy with Me day today!

Come find out why I’m wearing these ridiculous socks!  Surra de Bunda–Punched by an Ass

Today we’re talking about Girlfriend’s graduation.

But first you have to look at this picture of Homeslice on her birthday:

“das right bitches.  I’s eatin’ some cake. Whachu doin’?”

And then Saturday was the graduation and it was at 10am at the Schmuckytown Pubic Library and it rained which meant that it would be inside.  Here is the sweaty line of sweaty people. See if you can pick out the EPCs–sort of like Where’s Waldo? only with Escalade Pajama Cunts instead of you know, Waldo.

But I’m getting ahead of myself here because before we got there, there was all kinds of kerfuffles because I am the one in our family who has to get everyone clean, dressed, fed, packed, and ready to go and Mister kind of just wanders around like there’s nothing going on and he doesn’t know what he’s wearing and he doesn’t know we’re leaving or what time the thing is even though I told him 55 times per minute and he’s polishing camera lenses and having a sip of juice and I’m apoplectic (Holla Melissa Lion!) and sitting in the car with the kids and he’s still in the house looking for whateverthefuckhelooksfor and it’s 9:36 and we still have to pick up my mom and one day I’m going to have a stroke trying to get out of the house on time.

But we got there eventually and waited in that there line you saw.

Do you guys remember how Girlfriend felt about dance class?

Well, how do we think she felt about being paraded around in front of all those people in that great big line up there?

Yeah.

That Guy on the Left looks like he’s getting ready to punch her in the face, “Hulk, ANGRY!” Seriously, his face is doing something weird there, like he’s about to morph into something wicked fucked up.

And she wanted me to save her but her teacher put her in a headlock kept her walking the line:

I didn’t save her because she has to learn how to not be such a pussy, amiright?

Girlfriend needs to sack up and deal.

No.

And yes, but no.

She had a big dance number to perform and she had to at least try to get over The Pussyitis.

Or, you know, not.

They were supposed to be doing We Go Together from Grease, but no.

They just…no.

A couple of them did a few little things toward the end there, but for the most part they all just stood there like they had just downed a bunch of Quaaludes.

Nobody says Quaalude anymore. I’m bringin’ it back. You heard me.

And it was just as well because I kept having emotions and I sort of lost it when they sang When a Child is Born in sign language. It was fucking beautiful, okay? And then again when they did a little ballet scarf dance thing to Time to Say Goodbye.

Right? Are you kidding me?

Fucking Satan would have lost his shit, I’m telling you. Even That Guy on the Left was a little misty. I totally caught him “HULK, sad.”

But now I have an official Graduate of Preschool.

That’s the school principal, Mrs. Jeannie. Girlfriend adores her, but I still had to go up with her to get her diploma because she was so not going up there by herself even after a pep talk from her teachers. She was just like, “fuck that noise, you bitches are crazy.” But she didn’t say that.

And we just found out that they passed a vote for all day kindergarten this fall. I’m the only person I know who’s not overjoyed.

SHE’S JUST A BABY DON’T TAKE MY BABY!

I’m not ready for Kindergarten, Queefies.

PS: Today is a Toy with Me day. In a rare serious moment, I’m telling a story of trauma that I’ve never told you guys before. You should come and read it: Catcalling–Creepy or a Compliment?

So, um,  haiii!

I forgot I had a blog because I’ve had my head up my ass.

I know you’ve been dying to see/hear all about The Birthday Extravaganza, and so here is my back yard full of people gettin’ a little bit tipsy:

Well, I was tipsy anyway.  I didn’t really notice if anybody else was because when you’re tipsy, you don’t give a shit.

And here I am serving cake(s). I made them myself from a boxed mix and so they weren’t dense or flat or lopsided or condemned or anything except that when I lit the candles on Girlfriend’s horse cake, I accidentally I lit the plastic horse’s head on fire and so Mister came flying from across the room yelling “the horse is on fire! the horse is on fire!”

You should never do that Queefies or else you could have a stampede much like this one.

Horse sounds a lot like House.  People could get confused.  It could end in tragedy.

Other than that I didn’t see the big deal about the flaming horse because it just looked like it was a candle instead of a plastic toy I bought over at the Dollar Depot, but whatever.

He worries when I’m around fire.

Anyway, me cutting cakes.  That plant looking thing that William is about to stuff his face into is really dirt dessert.  It’s cute and I served it with a garden shovel because I’m extraordinarily creative.

Some women are drippin’ with diamonds, some women are drippin in pearls, lu-cky me, lu-cky me, look at what I’m drippin’ with, LITTLE GIRLS! (and two boys)

Here’s Girlfriend’s posse.

And the next day we took Homeslice for her first carousel ride:

This is Girlfriend on her first ride:

Do they look alike?  I can’t really tell except sometimes I forget their names and sometimes I call one of them Alice.  I only thought it was my grandmother that did that.  I hope I don’t turn into her.  Toward the end there, she got naked a lot and wandered around the house like that.  She looked like a peach with nipples.

I hope that doesn’t happen to me.

Remember how I don’t like things that spin too fast like my washing machine or pinwheels or any kind of spinny thing?

Do I need to remind you of The Storyland Turtle Ride Incident of 2008?

I didn’t think so.

Well I went on the carousel and I was glad I was there to comfort Homeslice because she was afeared of it because as it turns out, the Slater Park carousel is too fast for babies.

I had to comfort her the whole ride.  I almost threw up from the strain of it, but I stayed strong for my daughter because I’m an excellent mother.

And the next day we loaded the cherubs up into the wagon and took them to what turned out to be the lamest parade in the history of lame parades.  And that’s saying something Queefies because parades are pretty lame by virtue of their very existence.  But it’s what you do when you have kids and there’s a parade going through your neighborhood.  You pack trail mix and fish crackers and water and you sit there on the side of the street with all the other assholes and you pay $8 for a Hello Kitty balloon that winds up stuck in a tree approximately .05 minutes after you purchased it and so you spend the rest of the parade listening to The Crying.

This guy was the coolest thing about the parade.

I know.  I also got to shake hands with  the mayor of Providence.  He said Homeslice is gorgeous and he should know because he’s A GAY and everyone knows they know all about beauty.

Homeslice was so bored she fell asleep.  Of course, she’s not sleeping in this picture, but just imagine that her eyes are closed and there you go.

That kid in the background looks pissed, right?  That’s because it was her Hello Kitty balloon that got caught in the tree.  I bet you thought it was Girlfriend’s but I fooled you.  I was smart and I went to Target and bought flags and pinwheels from the dollar bins and handed them out to Girlfriend, Homeslice, and Alena at the parade because I’m smarter than many parade goers.

And this was me last Memorial day weekend, also taken at the carousel:

Remember that bullshit?  I almost exploded, I swear to Jesus.

And that brings us very nicely into TODAY is Homeslice’s birthday!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HOMESLICE!!!

Can you guys believe it’s been a year since I talked and talked to you about my cervix?  Don’t you miss that?

OMG and today is a Toy with Me day! Dangerous Places to have The Sex

This post is overwhelming.  I need a nap.

As you know I’ve been eBaying a little bit for the cherubs and I got to thinking.

“Crissy, you should see if there’s something for YOU on eBay!” And then I was all ” Like, OMG! You’re so smart!”

I’m always shopping for Homeslice and Girlfriend and never for myself. Their stuff is just so cute and shopping for myself is really frustrating because of that whole being stuck in that gray area between 17 and 71 and also I have no money so it’s just more fun to make them look cute.  If I could, I would be an Anthropologie girl.  God, I love that stuff.

(note to Queefies: My birthday is coming up. You guys should chip and get me a gift card to Anthropologie.  I think  about $20,000 should do it.)

So I’ve been Anthropologieing on eBay.  I got a totally awesome skirt the other day and I’d show you but I can’t get the fucking picture.  Trust me it’s gorgeous and I’m thrilled with it.

But can I ask you something?

What is wrong with people?

In my search for fabulousness, I came across a whole lot of dysfunction.  Below are just a few of the pictures I found in my search for “Anthropologie Dress.”

I haave the longest arms EEEVERRRR!

Say that in Oprah’s voice because that’s how I hear it in my head when I say it. I’m so distracted by the arms I can’t remember what the dress looks like. Seriously, I have to keep going back to look and I get distracted every time.  Also the flip-flops are annoying.

And please, don’t get your tired friend to model the most unflattering dress ever made.

She’s not helping you sell that shit. And is it me or is it skeevie to see people wearing the stuff?  I don’t want your pits on my potential new dress, k?

Um, speaking of skeevie…

This dress is on the floor laying on top of an ugly old sleeping bag next to some shoe polish, some dude’s boots, a pizza box, and a bottle cap.  It has zero bids.

Shocking.

Rotate the fucking picture, ASSHAT!

You managed to take the picture, create an eBay account and upload the picture, but you couldn’t figure out how to rotate it?  And put your foot down. You don’t look kicky and cute. You’re a moron.

And who stands like this?

WHO?  I think the poor girl has broken her back!  What would Tyra say?

So yes.  Fucking people.

PS: Toy with Me today! It’s up… Men And Sex Toys – Double Standard?

PSS: Don’t forget my contest to win a $25 gift card!

Maybe I shouldn’t have watched The Sopranos while I was pregnant?

I couldn’t help it though. I was obsessed.

On Saturday night, we went to visit Mister’s cousin Rob and his wife Kristin and their 2 little dudes. Their son Oliver is just a couple of months older than Girlfriend (had she been a boy, her name would have been Oliver, btw. We both picked the same name. What are the chances?) and they had a wonderful time together and I’m sad that they’re related because their babies would be divine.

Not only that, but Girlfriend has already gotten the upper hand in the relationship and so there wouldn’t be any strife like I described to you the other day:

She pretty much has shit under control.

I’m very proud, obviously.

They’re demanding a re-match, but I don’t know. I think it’s best to go out a champion, don’t you think?

And speaking of inappropriate behavior, it’s a Toy with Me day today: Condoms For Kids – How Young Is Too Young?

What if we try to trade Girlfriend the bunny for something else like…a dog.  Dogs are way less work than bunnies and I don’t have to defend a dog against a cat, a dog, an infant, and a five-year-old, and she’d probably take the trade and I can’t deal with the heartbreak when we have to give the bunny away and she’s going to cry to death and holy shit I have a ton of crap to do this morning before work somebody kill me. Why are so many people suddenly following me on Twitter?  I wonder what’s going on.  I’m always the last to know.  I have to hang clothes out on the line somehow and how does one gain three pounds overnight?  Another dog wouldn’t be bad and Alice would have company but it has to be a smallish non-shedding housebroken dog who likes cats, dogs, babies and kids.  What are the chances of finding all of that in one dog? Not too good. A puppy would be better but I can’t handle a puppy right now.  I already clean up shit from the cat and the dog and the baby and wipe Girlfriend’s ass and I’ll bring it up to Mister and see what he thinks.  Work is going to be boring tonight HOLY SHIT WHY IS MY MOUTH BURNING?

Toy with Me today!  Wild Things: Animals are Pretty Kinky.