Archive for the 'About nothing, really' Category

So the other day I was getting out of my car after work and when I opened the door, I was hit in the face by a powerful smell.

It smelled like a swimming pool full of semen, you guys.

I’m not talking about that delicate whiff of it you get in the spring time when the cum trees are in bloom. It was more like what it must be like to be on the “catching” end in a Japanese Bukkake film.

As I walked into the house, I made a mental note to tell Hippymom Supernanny that if she’s going to be filming porn in my driveway while the kids are napping, she needs to hose down a little better because seriously?

I mean, what she does during her break time is her business, but mop up woman, for the love of god!

But I forgot to mention it to her and thank goodness I did because the next day I noticed this sticking out of the mulchy area that frames the driveway:

Oh, hello! And, EW! Whatthefuck?

As I got closer I realized this was where the smell was coming from.

There is a penis mushroom that smells like Japanese Bukkake porn growing in my yard.

So I yelled to Mister “THERE’S A DICK IN OUR YARD!” and he ran outside with his camera and took that picture for the Queefies because who would believe that The Crissys have penises growing out of the ground at their house?

Actually, if you know us, this is completely believable, but anyway.

I felt very protective of our penis mushroom because I was afraid that the guy across the street, Captain Underpants, had a blog and that he would see it and he would post about it on his blog first. But then I realized that was silly because Captain Underpants only cares about swearing “fuckingcocksucker!” at his car and shoveling snow in his undershorts. Oh and he wears his soccer gear just for shits, even when there’s no game.  So, I’m pretty sure I’m the first one in our neighborhood to blog about this.  Also, I’m not sure Captain Underpants is what you’d call a reader never mind a mushroom identifier and certainly probably not a writer.

I’m just being paranoid, but can you blame me?  Penis mushrooms are very special.

And it looks really nice next to the statue of Mister.

And of course we looked it up.

We are truly blessed to have such a marvelous thing in our yard.

Thank you, Satan.

Hey.

It’s been a while, I know, but I finally have a chance to say “sup?” to the Queefies!  I’ve been trying to do this for ages.

So, we went on our annual vacation to Beautiful Newport RI and during my first time on the beach with my super cute new bathing suit from Land’s End, I flashed everyone when I mistakenly thought the weight of the skirt bottom was an actual skirt and proceeded to take it off.

Mister took a picture of it and promised to photoshop my bum so you couldn’t see it but he didn’t do a good enough job so I’m not showing you my bum picture. Sorry. But I’d like to thank Mister for letting me do it so he could get a picture first.  I’d love to say that it happened only once, but that would be a lie. It happened again the next day at the pool.

That bathing suit has been relegated to “private use only.”

Vacation was lovely until on Wednesday we were going out to celebrate my birthday when I went to put on my jewelry and IT WAS GONE!! I tore through our room and it was just not there anywhere!!!

The hotel maid took my wedding rings and my great grandmother’s diamond ring.

Yeah.

It’s a huge loss for me and it’s been several weeks now, but it still feels like it just happened. I feel like I’ve lost my great grandmother all over again. I was close with her, you know.  She left me her favorite piece of jewelry.  I feel like I’ve let her down because I failed to protect it. I was looking forward to passing that ring on to Girlfriend or Homeslice one day, and now I can’t.

And we called the police and we went to pawn shops and emailed pictures of my stuff all over the place.  I’ve been checking craigslist and we’ve reported it to insurance which only covers a small amount, but at least it’s something.

That maid is guilty as sin. She was the only one who could have entered our room, and she admitted that my rings must have fallen off the bathroom sink and into the pile of towels on the floor. The police never said the rings had been left on the sink… how odd that she knew that, right Queefies? Of course they searched the hotel laundry room.  Guess what?  NO RINGS.

She also admits to having left our room door open!

Who leaves a room door open???

DIRTY THIEVES DO!

Last I heard, she still has a job.  The stupid Long Wharf Resort offered us a free dinner and a new vacation.  Well, whoopty frickin’ doo! That totally makes everything better.  They can suck it because it’s been a while now and nobody has called us to work out a way to make things right like they said they would, so here I am on the Internet using my big mouth to tell you DO NOT VACATION AT WYNDHAM RESORTS BECAUSE THEY WILL STEAL YOUR STUFF AND TRY TO DISTRACT YOU WITH A STEAK!! I never, ever want to go there again.

The Newport police have been able to do NOTHING.  She even had a warrant out for her arrest at the time of the theft, but they can’t charge her with stealing my rings because they can’t put them in her possession.  The detective said that the evidence in hand is circumstantial and would be shot full of alternate theories by a defense attorney.

Suddenly, I’m a HUGE believer in waterboarding…

This criminal is out there with these things that mean so much to me and I just can’t get over it. I keep picturing my great grandmother’s ring being sold for peanuts, dismantled for the diamonds, and melted down for the platinum.

My mother gave me her wedding rings to wear (thanks, mommy!!) and they’re pretty, but they’re just not mine. I miss the feeling of heaviness my rings had.

Being robbed is the worst feeling ever.  It’s so much worse than realizing you’ve just taken your pants off at the beach.  I look at those pictures up there and I see I still have my stuff, and now I don’t anymore. Mister bought me a new watch to replace the cheap Target one the maid took. It was exactly the same one I had, and when I opened the box, I burst into tears because it felt like it belonged to me in another lifetime. It was like having my things back, but not.

There’s just something missing.  And I feel naked all the time…

If any of you have any other ideas for things we can do to try to get my stuff back, send your Crissy a message.  Or if you know a witch that can spin a badass curse, I could totally go supernatural on some motherfuckers right now. CALL ME!

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)

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Did I tell you guys that Girlfriend, aka Madame Royale, goes to acting class? She loves it because she gets to be a diva and people don’t send her to the naughty step for it. They actually encourage her diva-ness there!

Here is a video of her performing a song she wrote. The lady with the camera is her acting teacher and I don’t know who the dude with the guitar is, but he’s kinda cute.

PS: I didn’t say “motherfucker” at the meeting! I didn’t even say “crap” or “hell” so there were no fire trucks at all coming out of my mouth! But then again, I purposely didn’t talk very much just in case there was one waiting there, but still. It didn’t happen so, Hi-Five! Great success! I was not Fancy Lady Meeting Asshole.

It’s always better to post something rather than nothing, so this is part one in a two part series I call

“What Crissy Does All Day, Pretty Much.”

Ya-ta-da-daaaaaaaa!!!!

This is Facebook chat, btw.

There’s a poll at the bottom.  You should do it or whatever.

Lynne: 5:27pm you still at work beeotch?

Me:5:28pm I am. I’m chatting with Deb and Rachel and you. I am popular. i was bored, but I’m not anymore.

Lynne: 5:28pm I’m chatting with deb too! You are fucking popular did you blog that comment thread?

Me: 5:29pm what a whore she is!

Lynne: 5:29pm she likes me better

Me: 5:29pm No. I didn’t blog it. I can’t blog from here. It doesn’t save. No she doesn’t.

Lynne: 5:29pm oh well fuck that noise tell elaine you have to go home early to blog it she does too she told me specifically that she likes me better she said “I like you better than Kristen”.

Me: 5:31pm She did not because she told me she likes me better than you.

Lynne: 5:32pm She told me she told you that but she said she was lying to you

Me: 5:32pm I gave her a breast pump. What did you give her? I thought so.

Lynne: 5:32pm I gave her a reason to live

Me: 5:32pm Hahahahahaha

Lynne: 5:32pm beat that bitch

Me: 5:33pm I can’t. You win.

Lynne: 5:33pm I always do what time you outa that hellhole?

Me: 5:33pm 6:00 I just asked deb straight out who she likes more.

Lynne: 5:33pm did you accomplish anything today? she will lie to you she told me she would

Me: 5:34pm hahahaha I accomplished nothing today as per my usual work ethic.

Lynne: 5:34pm she just told me she likes me better

Me: 5:34pm She’s also chatting with Joanne. maybe she likes her better than she likes both of us.

Lynne: 5:34pm she doesn’t, she likes me she just told me joanne must have defriended my ass because I don’t see her

Me: 5:35pm You use disgusting language. That’s why.

Lynne: 5:35pm oh, is that it? i defriended that person today because she supports some “one man, one woman” group

Me: 5:36pm Fuck her.

Lynne: 5:36pm i’m going to go have lesbian sex on her front lawn just for that

Me: 5:37pm Ooooo! I will help!

Lynne: 5:37pm ok, you can be my lesbian sex partner

Me: 5:37pm Or paint her car with a lezzie sex scene and write “slut mobile” on it.

Lynne: 5:37pm yes!

Me: 5:37pm i dare say the car painting is more painful You can look away from the sex on the lawn, but you have to deal with the car.

Lynne: 5:38pm we could paint the car and then have sex on it

Me: 5:38pm That would be pretty good.

Lynne: 5:39pm and yet chilly

Me: 5:39pm And have someone film it and send the film to her mom.

Lynne: 5:40pm photoshop her face on one of ours so her mom thinks shes a lez

Me: 5:41pm I think we have a plan…

Lynne: 5:41pm a caper even

Me: 5:41pm We’ve been looking for one of those!

Lynne: 5:41pm i know, finally! a lesbian caper even Sue is online too, we could drag her lesbian ass into this too

Me: 5:42pm she’s not even almost a lesbian.

Lynne: 5:42pm yea, i guess, plus she’s in Florida and we can’t wait

Me: 5:42pm no. this requires swift action.

Lynne: 5:43pm it’s almost an emergency

Me: 5:43pm hahahaha do I have to shave or are hairy lesbians better?

Lynne: 5:44pm hmmm im not sure about that google that maybe there’s a poll online about whether hairy lesbians are more popular oh, now jenn is online and i see joanne, she didn’t defriend me whew!

Me: 5:45pm I will pose this question to the internet.

Lynne: 5:45pm maybe you could do a poll on your blog do you have many lesbian followers? Besides Ash.

Me: 5:45pm I think I will!

Me: 5:46pm I have hippy lesbian followers. Remember the free birthers?

Lynne: 5:46pm oh yes. you offended them once as I recall

Me: 5:47pm I did, but not too badly. They know they’re weird.

Lynne: 5:47pm that’s important to be aware of your own dementedness

Me: 5:48pm I know all about my dementedness. That’s why I have Monica. I’m chatting with 4 people! This is a record!

Lynne: 5:49pm holy crap! you’re cheating on me with 3 people?

Me: 5:51pm You’re not woman enough for me. Plus, I’m a ho-bag.

Lynne: 5:51pm tell me something I don’t know

Me: 5:51pm I’m so popular tonight! Helen came down to loan me her new CD. (*editorial note: Helen is an adorable and sweet librarian everyone loves. She’s in her 70’s)

Lynne: 5:51pm System of a down?

Me: 5:51pm No. Insane Clown Posse.

Lynne: 5:52pm oh right. that’s her favorite

Me: 5:52pm She’s getting a pic of the band tattooed on her ass.

Lynne: 5:52pm She’s such a rebel.

Me: 5:54pm She secretly drives a motorcycle. You know all those stunts you see on TV where they jump cars and stuff? That’s her.

Lynne: 5:54pm I thought I recognized her once when she took her helmet off! I was right

Me: 5:54pm yes. 5:55pm I admire her 5:55pm She totally looks like Hilda that muppet.

Lynne: 5:55pm totally

Me: 5:55pm http://muppet.wikia.com/wiki/Hilda I showed it to her once. She didn’t laugh.

Lynne: 5:55pm LOL!!!! She does look like her

Me: 5:56pm She’s adorable. It’s like they made the puppet to look like her.

Lynne: 5:56pm She didn’t appreciate that?

Me: 5:56pm yes and no.

Lynne: 5:57pm I wish the would make a muppet of me. its a dream of mine

Me: 5:57pm hahahahaha I want to have my own barbie.

Lynne: 5:57pm that would be nice too!

Me: 5:57pm it would wear schlubby library clothes and have bags under her eyes

Lynne: 5:58pm hahahahahaha

Me:5:58pm and her boobs would leak. And she’d come with a huge bag of tampons

Lynne: 5:58pm that would be a big seller! Mine would come with slim fast and an office chair. She’d get randomly fat and skinny she’d also come with cake maybe a bonus easy bake oven

Me: 5:59pm Instead of growing hair, she’d have a growing ass.

Me: 6:00pm I just posted it as my facebook status.

Lynne: 6:00pm hahahaha this chat is pretty fucking funny

Me: 6:01pm We are always funny. What are you even talking about?

Lynne: 6:01pm I don’t know, I lost my mind

Me: 6:01pm I think we’re tired.

So basically what this conversation reveals are two very important questions:

1.

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2. If you were a Barbie, what accessories would you come with?

Here’s mine as illustrated by my friend, The Other Kristin:

PS: Tomorrow we’ll see Mister get involved in the action.  That’s right.  It’s a threesome just like the Three Stooges except with better haircuts and bigger boobs.

Lets Talk About Our Periods, OK?

People give you stuff!

It’s true!

Since I found out about my not not tumors, I have been showered with gifts (okay, only three, but three is still more than zero which is what I was getting before)!

Mister bought me an MP3 player which I have yet to figure out. As soon as I conquer driving his mean machine of a car, I’m totally going to figure that sucker out and then I’ll be cool like everybody else from 2005. It’s a really basic and cheap one called “Sansaclip.” Is that the stupidest name ever or what? It’s not sexy like an iPod or anything and it’s clear it’s not even trying to be. Seriously. They could have called it…”the cheapest MP3 player ever” and it would have been better. “Sansaclip.”

Bloody hell.

It’s almost as stupid as naming your blog “Crissy’s Page.”

Seriously though, I think I could have come up with a better name for it than “Sansaclip.” I would make a brilliant marketer because I know when somebody is giving something a totally fucked up name. Like, what about this dust rag I saw at Marshall’s the other day:

Your Monday eyes are not fooling you, Queefies. Someone has named a dust rag “FANNY.”

Maybe I’m not like most people, actually, we know I’m not, but I don’t like the idea of dusting my dining room table with a Fanny.

Marketing people, CALL ME!

And then my friend, The Other Kristin who is watching Homeslice at this very moment (holla!), brought me a bottle of wine with this card she made on it:

“so i totally stopped by walgreens and the bastards did not carry congrats on your 10 non cancerous tumors cards. i know… the nerve right? so i made one for you, but i suck at writing poetry, so this is it. this is all you get. no cute little limerick or rhyme or whatever, just a picture of what i think the inside of your head might look like.

oh and mike thinks you should name them. he is willing to help you out if you don’t know what to name them. he was thinking dopey, happy, sneezy, bashful, grumpy, sleepy, and doc. or that maybe you can name them after jon and kate’s kids.”

She said she wished I had been there to see the look on the guy’s face when she asked him to attach that card to the wrapped wine bottle. She said she was all “what? She’s not gonna die!”

And then The Melissa Lion knitted me this awesome kitty hat because I had found one on Etsy and I wanted it but it was too expensive, so she made me one!!!

Isn’t it a miracle???

How people like, knit things, is beyond me, but here it is, on my head and I can’t wait to wear it to work. I wear a hat and scarf all day at work because I get cold. I also drink hot water because there’s only so much tea you can drink and I can’t fathom putting anything cold in my body.

Does anybody else do that? Drink hot water or is that just a brain tumor thing?

Mister now has a request for Melissa. He would like her to knit him this hat:

Anyway, if you don’t have any brain tumors, I highly recommend getting some because people just start giving you stuff.

to go check out her ToyWithMe post!

Have you guys bought the Cracker Barrel cracker cuts cheese yet?  Do you know how much easier my life has become since I stopped being such a hippy and started buying some “convenience products?” It is so much easier, you guys.

Both Girlfriend and Homeslice live on cheese and crackers and quite frankly, my stress level needs to go down so instead of trying to cheap out and buy the other kind of cheese, you know, the kind you have to stand there cutting yourself like an asshole, I started letting them do it for me and I don’t mind paying them either. Basically, I’m saving someone’s job by letting them cut the cheese for me.

That’s right, I said “cut the cheese.”

My life is easier now, plus I’m basically a hero and am keeping the people over at Cracker Barrel in their jobs and NOT contributing to unemployment statistics.

You can all line up to kiss my ring now.

You’re welcome, Cracker Barrel people. Also Stop & Shop people because I buy my fruit salad pre-made now too.

Also, Lexapro helps.

I used to care about buying convenience products, but now I take a pill for that.

So I guess you’re wondering where I’ve been for the past couple of weeks. 

Or not, but I’m going to tell you anyway.

I’ve been battling SUPERFUCKED ANXIETY (yes, that is the clinical term) which is almost the worst kind of anxiety you can have. It’s way more uncomfortable than ACUTE ANXIETY or ASSHOLE ANXIETY, but it’s not as bad as CRAZY BATSHIT ANXIETY, but almost.

I started lactating, I think I told you that, and my lymph nodes are still popped out, and now I’m going to Monica the Ninjerapist once a week and taking Lexapro and Xanax just so I can get through the day.

I think what happened is I had some PPD going on after having Homeslice and I didn’t deal with it properly.  I let it go, thinking I’d be able to handle it myself if I just exercised enough and ate vegetables, but guess what?  I didn’t fix it and it got worse.

Around Halloween time, I started to feel like I was really going south and then I had all those female problems that freaked my freak and then I got bronchitis and then my lymph nodes popped out and that was the last fucking straw.  Crissy went bye-bye and in her place came a trembling disaster of fear and anxiety and obsession over my health. This is what I’ve been looking like lately:

I hate that picture because I can see all my sadness and worry in my face. I wish it didn’t exist, but it is my reality for right now.

And then on Thanksgiving morning, my friend Michele, the one I loved so very much decided to inform me in an email that she did not want to be my friend anymore. Apparently, I am controlling and manipulative like her father and her ex husband and she does not feel safe with me.

ME!

The person who is afraid of her washing machine because it spins too fast!

I know. It’s her loss, she’s obviously crazier than I am, etc, etc, but it still hurt and continues to hurt because she was such a part of my life and I don’t understand what the deal is. I don’t know what I did that was so objectionable. I’m kind of heartbroken and I really needed her support right about now, but she totally bailed on me. She even went so far as to BLOCK ME AND MISTER ON FACEBOOK and has started taking Alena to another bus stop so as to “minimize any and all further contact” with me. I’m expecting my restraining order any day now. I’m surprised I’m not forbidden to look at her house (which is across the street from mine, btw.)

Anyway, I’ve had an ultrasound on my lymph nodes.  I don’t have any results from that yet, but since it was Thursday morning and nobody has called me yet, I’m guessing they didn’t see anything too disturbing.  I would imagine someone would have called me by now.  I hope.  The tech said it didn’t look like anything bad, and so for now I must assume that I am fine and that stress is causing all of this and not The Cancer or a Brain Tumor, which by the way is what my doctor suspects might be happening if it’s not just anxiety.

Yes.

He said “brain tumor” to me and other very scary things like “tube” and “MRI.” But he’s not going to do those things yet because he wants to see if the Lexapro works first.

Let’s pray that it does, my people.  Pray like we’ve never prayed before. And if it does not, let’s pray that this “big goomba that could be sitting there” as my doctor put it, is benign and fixable and pituitary-ish because quite frankly, dying of a brain tumor is a lame way to go. I’d much rather die doing something glamorous like…like… I don’t even know what. It’s hard to think with the Xanax, you know. Makes things a little sllloooowwww….

And so now I pop that shit like candy and hope to Jesus the Lexapro starts to help me soon because right now, I’m a bag of mixed nuts. I walk around shaking and weeping and looking at my kids and hoping I get to watch them grow up.

It’s all DRAMA, all the time. I should have my own TV show because how different is my life compared to those stupid annoying Real Housewives?

Well, they have bigger houses, nicer cars, and fake tits, but other than that, I can totally compete with their drama. In fact, I make their drama look fucking stupid. Because it fucking is.

And so that is where I have been, Queefies.

I am not happy about being on medication, but I was not able to function without it because my anxiety is so overwhelming. I had no choice. I have cut all caffeine and alcohol and chocolate and I exercise every day, no excuses or skipping. I even imagine my anxiety to be a hideous looking monster named Enid who I thrash around my living room during Turbo Jam every morning. It feels pretty good and empowering to do that.

Mister and my mom have been my rocks. They have both put up with endless questions like “I’m okay, right?” “they can fix me, right?” and poor Girlfriend, bless her little heart, has been saying “I know this Mommy, you’re not sick.” I wish this didn’t effect her, but clearly it has.

I joined an online support group that has been helpful, and like I said, the Xanax.

I am hoping to return to myself and I am hoping that Monica The Ninjerapist can help me find myself again, because right now, Queefies.

Crissy is not here.

But I will leave you with this picture because of all the disturbing things I’m going through right now, I don’t think anything is more disturbing than RED HOT DOGS I found at the Super Wal*Mart’s:

Please pray for your Crissy and for all the people who eat red hot dogs.